#i love parse and i will never apologise for that

[vauxphantasma]

                            I am still talking to you about help. I still do not have             these luxuries. I have told you where I’m coming from, so put it together.                                                      We clutch our bellies and roll on the floor...             When I say this, it should mean laughter, not poison.                  I want more applesauce. I want more seats reserved for heroes. Dear Forgiveness, I saved a plate for you.                                                  Quit milling around the yard and come inside.

Check Please + Litany in Which Certain Things Are Crossed Out by Richard Siken 

inspired by @dutchbrosrebel (x)

[criquette-was-here]

Long Due Replies

Hi everyone! It’s been some crazy few months for me. Real life has taken over completely so I didn’t have a chance to pay attention to my inbox. There are lot of asks on troubleshooting and I apologise for not being able to help on time. I hope everyone who needed help has got it somehow >.< There’s a crazy amount of messages, so I’m going to hide it under the cut.

@shutupshirley said:

Hi Criquette, I’m sorry because this is dumb, but I don’t understand how to install your neighbourhood lighting mod on an installation of Ultimate Collection... do I change out every lighting.txt file I can find across all the expansion and stuff packs? :/

Thank you!!!!

Hi @shutupshirley! I’m not a big specialist on windows version of TS2 and UC but I believe there are two folders you have to look at and they are ‘Fun with Pets’ and ‘Open for Business’

Anonymous said:

What do you imagine residents of Feverfew are called? I keep doing Peruvian but like Ferfewian or some

Oh, yes, I was thinking about this matter at some point! Feverfewian is what I came up with. I even found a wiki article about different names for different town inhabitants to sort of made it up a bit, but I haven’t write down the result I had and now I’ve lost it. I think feverfewians sounds best, it can even have some silly derivatives like ‘fewies’

@3sushiroll said:

Hi Criquette, I'm getting into SC4 and have been getting the hang of it while using the sims 2 hood planner. I've been starting to use bridges and have been using yours. When I put in the tile measurement into the hood planner (ex: 15 tile = 8 in SC4), it doesn't exactly line up in game. Does this usually happen for you and you put in a piece of fake road in the middle or am I just doing it wrong and it should line up super nicely? Thank you for all your wonderful creations!

Hi @3sushiroll! Yes, TS2 parses SC4 roads this way. I always put some decorative road in the gap or I make the shores narrower so that the bride would overlap the road. But to make slopes where the road ends equal, you have to use TS2 terraforming tool to make this flat empty piece of terrain right after the road end into slope so that it would look like the opposite.

Anonymous said:

Hi there, hope you're doing well! I downloaded your simple walkways set and noticed that they float. They don't sit on the ground properly. Is there anything I can do on my end to make them sit closer to the ground? Any help would be appreciated, thank you!

Hey anon! Thank you! Yes, this old set of walkways was made this way. Maxis made neighborhood mode roads float, so I had to do the same with road related decorations. But now you can use these Cobblestone paths or side walks from the Rural Charm, they’re as close to the ground as possible.

Anonymous said:

hey! would it ever be possible for you to create recolors of the cobblestone sidewalks in red brick/cobblestone?

Hi anon! I don’t think so :| I can’t even find the time to fix some Ferverfew related issues >.<

Anonymous said:

Hi Criquette. I liked Feverfew very much. I would like to make some of the houses multi-unit, keeping your doors in place. Is it possible to add the function of apartments to these doors? :)

Hi nonne! As far as I’m aware, you can only default replace those apartment doors which is quite useless. What you can do, is to put an apartment door right behind the front door. This, obviously, would eat up the space but could work as a solution.

Anonymous said:

Hello! I just downloaded Feverview and it's gorgeous! I can't believe all the little details you added, the effort and love you put into this project is incredible. I just had a small question: a few residential lots are fake apartments, I was wondering if you know how to turn them into functional apartments 

Hi anon! I’m glad you liked Feverfew! ^__^ In theory, you can use SimPE or Lot Editor to change lot type from residential to apartment and then implement apartment doors somehow, but since I don’t have AL in my Super Collection, I have zero experience in that.

Anonymous said:

Hi Criquette! :) I just realized recently that if I delete objects in game, I have to delete first the recolors of it. I've already deleted a bunch of objects without knowing about this, so now my downloads folders has houndreds of recolors without meshes. Do you know about anything I can do to find and delete these orphans? (Delphys download organizer just can't make difference)

Hi anon! I’m definitely not a helper on the matter of keeping Downloads folder organised, sorry ^^’‘ I would thing about finding sets of files with similar names keeping eye on the absence of the word ‘mesh’ in the names, and looking at the file size at the same time. And that would take ages, obviously. 

@ardyyy4 said:

Hello Criquette. I love Feverfew so much. But I have a problem. The grass and NHood objects are flickering together and it looks bad. How can i fix it? Thanks.

Hello Arda! That’s because of the neighborhood camera you’re using. I’d recommend you to install this particular camera just to get rid of flickering.

Anonymous said:

Hello! First of great content! Always been a fan! I was wondering if you could give a bit of advice with hood deco, I have downloaded an Ocean floor from Gwenke, and in lot view it only shows up at the very far edges, around my lot it is missing (it does show when render is set to small though). And it shows on beach lots too, I was wondering if you know of way to make it so that it is seen no matter what the view distance is etc? (I have the relevant cheats on btw) Thank you in advance!

Hey nonnie! Thanks :) Have you ticked off object hiding in the settings? Other than that, it could be camera issues.

Anonymous said:

is there a way to stop neighborhood decor from fading? I know there is the „boolprop dontmergenhflora“ cheat, but I still get some fading. for excample when I look at the lot from the street the NH decor by the street fades

That’s definitely sounds like object hiding option from the game settings :}

Anonymous said:

Hey how are you ? I hope all is well. I was wondering how is it that ts2 has no ski deco but in ts1 we had ski slope and skate lake !?? I was wondering can you and the sim community make deco or interactive items such as a ski slope or even snow shoes or just something that goes with seasons n BV pack ?

Hello anon! I hope you’re well too! Ski slope and winter sports related decos is something I wanted to make since 2016, but never had enough time to do so. Sometimes I even think about available TS2 technologies to make an animated ski lift and umm.. may be in the next ten years? ^^’‘

Anonymous said:

hello!! i'm sorry if u already answered something like this (i searched but found nothing) but the better nightlife isn't working for me :(( i put the better nightlife+voielle water on download fold and the decorations still flashing in pink light, i did something wrong? (i use win10) sorry for the inconveniente

Hey anon! Sometimes you have to do these weird steps in order to make it work:

remove Better Nightlife + water mod from your downloads folder,

load the game, load the neighborhood, make some changes, exit game

put Better Nightlife with water back. Toggle day/night with ‘L’ key to see if it works. If it’s not, than the problem is somewhere else. Pink flashing also could be unrelated to Better Nightlife, so I’d recommend to check TS2 graphics setting for Win10 manuals available.

Anonymous said:

Hello there, I'm having a problem with the rural charm, on lot view the roads have yellowish boards (idk how to explain exactly). I saw that was because of CuriousB terrain, but I don't have it downloaded anymore so I'm kinda confused. What should it be? Sorry for bothering,,,

Hello, anon! What’s current season you’re having in your game? It can be the season lighting differences that make roadside and terrain grass colors different. If it’s not, I’d check the Downloads folder to see if there’s still some terrain DRs I’ve forgot about.

@pinkflamingosims said:

Hi criquette! I was wondering if you have any idea why some hood deco cc crashes on mac, like palm 1 to 4 from the tropical 4t2 set by leoz94. Leoz94 says the only difference is the high polycount, but I don't think that's it, it looks a bit high to me but not insanely so, I have  other stuff in that range with no problem... Have a nice - evening?

Hey @pinkflamingosims! I hope you’re doing well! Yes, some hood decos are really make the game crash and frankly speaking, I think that’s jsut package related issues like broken references in the resource tree. The best way to fix this type of hood decos is to make a clean and stable new clone and replace mesh/textures again.

Anonymous said:

Hello and thank you for amazing Feverfew map! I have a problem... ground is flashing red and I cannot fix it, do you have solution for this problem? It's been soooo long when I last played Sims 2 so apparently I did something wrong when installed CC. :(

Hello anon! Thank you! Oh, red flashing could be the result of lighting mod not being installed correctly. I’d start with getting rid of any lighting mods to see if it helps.

@marv61​ said:

Hi Criquette. I just downloaded your terrain of Forkshire, it looks great! I know it has been since 2009 that you uploaded the terrain but I was wondering if you have a completed Neighborhood with houses, trees and all for download? I would love to play your version. Thanks.

Hi Patchman! Oh, goodness no! :D That was 12 years ago, those TS2 files are long gone since then.

Anonymous said:

Hi Criquette, first things first, I love your work thank you so much, you inspire me! Now the question: I have been using the dirt roads from your Rural Lanes set and found that sometimes it is difficult if not impossible to fit them to the slopes of steep terrain. Would it be possible to instead create road pieces as a texture like your Neighborhood Decals? That way they would "stick" onto the terrain regardless of shape. Wondering what you think? Love!

Hello and thank you, anon! The problem with the decals – we can’t see it in lot mode yet. And it must be a DR only so we’d have to ditch one of the Maxis’ decals for dirt road, which isn’t great too.

Anonymous said:

Hi Criquette! Will Betternightlife mod ever be updated to work with lighting mods with dawn and dusk? Is there any that already works with it? I really want to use the light up hood decos!

Hey anon! You can use it with lighting mods that add dusk and dawn to the game. For instance, there’s one here by @dreadpirate​.

Anonymous said:

Hey Criquette! I recently used your template to make lit-up hood deco buildings using the Better Nightlife mod. The day text was great! However, the night texture was being clipped by the day texture. That is, some parts of the day texture was showing through the night texture. Is there a fix for this?

Hello nonnie! I’d recommend to check the meshes to see if day/night parts clip through each other and if they aren’t I’d check if all the day/night TXMT data is correct.

@criquette​ said:

I've installed Fewerfew following all your istructions. Apparently it works but the night lamps are flashing pink even ig I've installed the mod better night light. It seems that this mod does not work properly. Any recommendation?

Being Criquette, you should know the solution to that issue yourself :P Just kidding, sorry, couldn’t resist! If it flashes pink only by night than you have to check your ‘Downloads’ folder for conflicts. If it’s flashing constantly day and night, than I’d better check graphics setting using some windows related guides available across the Internet.

Anonymous said:

Hello, I love Feverfew and it's amazing. I have a problem where Linden Tree 1A isn't showing up in my game even though it's in my downloads folder. Also the railroad tracks are flashing blue, and those are in my folder too. Thanks in advance!  :)

Hello anon! What type of the trees you’re using? Stand alone or default ones? If you’re using defaults, you can find the trees under Maxi’s oaks accordingly. As for the flashing blue railway tracks, check if you have this set in your ‘Downloads’ folder :)

Anonymous said:

Hello Criquette, before asking for help, I came to say that the Brazilian community loves your creations. But, to get to the point, anyway, I have been thinking about creating a Hood (inspired by Rio de Janeiro), so I would like to know how to create Deco Hoods for my game (the statue of Christ), I can't find that anywhere, Would you help me?

Hi there! Ah, most kind, thank you ^^ Well, there’s no big deal in creating hood decos. You have to switch your SimPE to advanced mode and after that neighborhood decoration will be visible in the catalogue to be cloned. I assume you already know how to make lot mode objects and know how to create, edit or convert meshes/textures though.

@hideshio​ said:

Hello! I found your train set (and it's AMAZING) on mts and was wondering if you had a railroad crossing sign? With the lights, X, and the red/white hand that goes down. Or the lights that go across a pole above the railroads. Thank you!  =D

Hello @hideshio​! Well, there is a railway crossing sign with lights and red/white hand included in this set :D it’s not animated though. But still!

Anonymous said:

Hi criquette, I’m a huge admirer of you work and I was wondering if you had any advice regarding road placement. Specifically the difficulty of road pieces that are deco only being able to be placed underneath the actually roads leaving it looking a little off.. if there a way to raise them higher before placing them or some kind of work around? 

Hey anon, thank you! Unfortunately, there’s no way to make decorative road pieces work for lot mode and neighborhood mode at the same time. If you lift them so they look okay in hood mode, they will float in the air in lot mode. Since my latest creations are lot mode oriented, I’ve decided to save my efforts on making road pieces even with neigborhood mode roads.

Anonymous said:

Hey Criquette. I noticed that in my Feverfew none of the buildings across the street of Feverfew Sports Hall show up. I know those are supposed to be hood deco and look like duplex buildings, but I can't figure out what I'm missing. I deleted and redownloaded everything and couldn't fix it. Also the river ends at the first bridge in front of the cathedral, so the boats next to it appear to be flying. What is going on?

Hey anon! There’s definitely some files missing. If you’ve checked and redownloaded all the files, try to replace the Feverfew neighborhood folder with initial one. The game never restores disappeared hood decos by itself. Even if they were placed in the folder after their absence is discovered.

@simping-simmer​ said:

Hi Criquette, am I remembering correctly that there is a trick you can do with SimPE to change the height of individual pieces of hood deco? I’m struggling with putting ships in my dock because if I change a CC ship’s placeability to be able to be on both land and sea, it just sinks, but if I only keep it on sea, it can’t get close enough to the shore to place it in my docks. Does this make sense at all? Lol

Hello @simping-simmer​, you’re absolutely right. You can change the height of placed hood decos via SimPE. Things you need to do are described here and here

Anonymous said:

Hello! I love all your work.  I was wondering if you had ever thought of making some desert roads along the lines of the Terrain Mod: Dusty Roads for Desert Neighbourhoods by Stev84? I love the way this looks in my desert, but unfortunately, this mod makes the road in live mode a floor, which then makes you unable to place driveways.

Hey anon! Thanks ^^ Frankly, I don’t have any plans on creating any desert related CC at all :|

Anonymous said:

Hello Criquette. I would like to thank you for all the amazing work you have done creating content for sims 2. Thanks to you all my projects are possible. My question is: Chainlink fences for neighborhood deco... Do they exist? Searching the web these past day only found for build mode. Do you know of someone who already make some for deco hood? Or kindly will you be able to make some if its not much work? My sports fields and Industrial zones will be pleased for sure! Once again, thank you! :)

Hey anon and thank you! I don’t think hood deco chainlink fences were created by someone yet, but they definitely would be a great addition to the game. I was going to create some while working on Feverfew, but never had enough time to do that. May be i’ll make one at some point in the future!

Anonymous said:

Hello, Criquette. Do you know of any way to place lots without the area around it moving? I downloaded Ousmeo's remake of your Dullsfielde and read his og post using the waytime machine. When viewing that post, Tumblr recommended similar posts, one of which seemed to be a tip to prevent good deco from moving when placing lots nearby, but that post wasn't archived, so I can't visualise it. My guess is that if anyone else knows about this, it must be the best hood decorator that ever was ;-)

Hello anon! Ugh, this TS2 ‘feature’ is driving me mad quite often too! Unfortunately, there’s no easy way to get rid of it. The only way to fix the consequences is to backup initial hood folder and when you finish placing lots, replace spoiled terrain with the initial one with SimPE or HoodReplace.

[tehrevving]

I have a request if you don't mind. Dante x smol shy femreader smut where she timidly confesses him that she is interested in trying light bondage (only gagged and having her wrists tied together)

To the lovely Anon that requested this I want to apologise so much for how long this took me. I really wanted to show a side of Dante that was just genuinely loving and adoring and wonderful, and my perfectionism ended up getting the better of me. Anyway, I finally finished this one. I really hope you enoy it :D

You were nervous as you sat across Dante’s lap, kissing him softly while his big hands pressed against your back. You weren’t nervous about the kissing, or the gentle but obvious promise pressing against your leg of what was to come after the kissing. You weren’t nervous about his large, powerful body or his strength, but you were nervous about something that you were absolutely desperate to ask him and you were nervous about how he might react to your request. You hadn’t been able to get the thoughts out of your head, you were desperate to explore them and you’d finally decided to just talk to him about them. You just had to hope that he would be into your idea too.

He picks up almost immediately on your nervousness, the slight racing of your heart, the quickness of your breath. He pulls away from you, rubs his thumb in a deep arc across your lower back that makes you arch against him. He leans down to kiss your forehead, his voice is soft and his eyes are smiling as he speaks to you, “whatcha thinking about sweetheart?”

You squirm slightly, now wondering if you really want to go through with this. You decide it’s now or never and take in a deep breath, “I want to try something.”

He reaches down and places a finger underneath your chin, tilting your head up so you can’t look away from his eyes. “What do you want to try?”

“When we,” you trail off, “during sex. I want you to tie me up.”

He parses your words slowly, lifting up one of your wrists and presses the underside of it to his lips. The softness of his movements and the specific location on your body he chose isn’t lost on you at all. “Is that all?”

You shake your head and he tilts his head at you, like he’s hanging on every word. “Maybe if you… gagged me too,” you say shyly.

He pauses and stops to think for a moment, making an exaggerated noise deep in his throat. “That’s quite a lot for our first time trying that sort of thing Darling,” he says smiling softly. “If you don’t like it when you’re gagged then you can’t tell me to stop and with your hands tied you can’t touch me to let me know either. Hmm, but,” he grins, “if that’s what you want then I’m sure we can think of something.” He presses his cheek to your temple and rocks you against his lap. He’s still hard. “Do you wanna go and try now?”

You nod, ecstatic that you didn’t ruin the mood but still pretty nervous about what was to come.

Dante adjusts you in his arms, he stands up effortlessly, holding you to his chest as he carries you up the stairs to the bedroom. He lays you down on the bed and then starts rummaging through the dresser. He murmurs to himself a little bit and then pulls out a few fairly old looking ties and lays them out on the bedside table; you’re surprised he even owned any.

He moves over to the bed, leaning over you, “just relax,” he says and then lowers himself down until he’s lying on top of you. His lips press against your own as his tongue moves against your lips, his thick thigh quickly ends up between your legs and he encourages you to buck your hips up against him until your breathing turns heavy. He lets you get in the mood a bit before he moves on, knowing that sometimes you get a little bit shy about sex before the desperation and arousal sets in.

He throws his own shirt off and chuckles when your hands instantly move to press against his chest. He tenses for you, puffing out his pecs as he grins against your lips. He pulls away, tensing and making his pecs jump underneath your hands. The teasing smile on his face is unmistakable, “you better get your fill darlin’ cause soon these bad boys will be off limits.”

You can’t help but laugh almost breathlessly, but you also can’t help but inhale sharply at the thought of what is to come and you’re sure he notices the small whine that escapes from between your lips.

He allows you to touch him until he decides you’ve had enough. He pulls back from you and grins as your hands try to follow him. He picks up one of the ties from next to the bed, “do you still want to do this?” he asks and moves them over to you when you nod. “Arms up,” he says, helping you move them up until your wrists are pressed together up against the headboard.

He wraps the tie gently around your wrists and then the bed. “You need a safe word,” he says as he starts working the tie into knots. “We’ll start with traffic lights. Green for a-okay, red if you need me to stop. Okay?”

“Okay,” you say, not really sure how to reply. Your voice is quieter than you expected. You’ve done a little bit of research, and you know that’s a standard thing but you’re maybe a little bit surprised that he already knew about it too.

“How is that?” he asks, motioning for you to pull against the restraints. They’re tied in very loose loops around your wrists, you think you would slip out of them if you really tried, that’s probably deliberate. They feel comfortable enough, the knots don’t come undone as you tug on them and they’re certainly not cutting off your circulation.

Dante looks pretty impressed with his own handiwork as your wrists don’t come free. He reaches over and picks up another tie looking down at you, “I want you to keep this in your mouth,” his voice is serious, “but I also want you to be able to say your safe word too, so I’m not going to tie it.”

You nod again as he slowly begins to place the fabric into your mouth. The texture is surprisingly rough and it makes your mouth water, all in all it’s fairly comfortable though.

Dante kisses your forehead and your jaw, “make sure you let me know if you want me to stop. For any reason, alright,” he assures you, gently cupping your cheek as you nod.

He doesn’t waste any time, starting almost immediately with teasing your breasts. One large hand palms your left one while his lips and tongue wreck havoc on your right. It feels far, far too good as you writhe and squirm underneath him, his stubble burning at your skin. You lift your hands up to try and push him away, and then realise you can’t as they catch uselessly on your bonds. You moan and buck your hips up, it’s everything you wanted it to be, the restraint, the desperation. Dante can hear your muffled cries, he knows he’s doing too much, giving your sensitive skin far too much stimulation, but he doesn’t care. He simply looks up at you as he hears you already straining at your bonds, he gives a devilish grin before swapping to your other breast.

It’s easier to handle now, somehow but you still can’t help yourself and he pulls away once you start whimpering, “How are you feeling Babe? Okay?” he waits for you to nod in agreement before he laughs and continues to undress you. He pulls your pants off gently, easily and you can hear his sharp inhale of breath as the scent of your arousal hits his sensitive nose. “Wow you’re really into this aren’t you?” he grins, taking another deep sniff and you blush heavily.

He looks up at you from between your legs, he looks absolutely feral and you struggle to tear your eyes away from the sight of him, from the intensity in his gaze. His hands move to the tops of your thighs, gently gripping your skin. He pulls your legs apart so he can fit between them and you squirm in his grasp.

He rubs his scratchy cheek against the soft, sensitive skin on the inside of your thigh. He chuckles as you squirm against him, he always takes great pleasure in overwhelming you. He simply rubs harder once he can hear you straining against your bonds.

He bites down on your thigh and then soothes over the mark with his tongue. You try to exclaim his name but the sound of it is muffled through the wet fabric of your gag.

“Fine, fine,” he teases and then lowers himself down, dragging the flat of his tongue in a slow lick against your folds as he goes. You buck your hips up against his face and cry his name once more. He takes that as encouragement and starts to lick against you harder.

He wants to draw it out, but he thinks it might be too much for you with the way your body is moving against him, he did tease you quite a lot earlier. He keeps his movements simple, soft, licking and sucking against your swollen clit until you’re wet and bucking up into his face. He holds your hips down with his hands as he gets you to the edge with his skillful tongue, enjoying the sounds of your bonds straining, of your body struggling to move.

And holy shit it’s even better than you thought it would be, being restrained. It’s even better when he’s holding you down too and soon you’re right fucking there at the edge. There’s drool leaking from the sides of your gag as you struggle to cry out his name over and over again. He pulls away from you, laughing, grinning and fuck you want to hit him over the back of the head. He waits, drumming his fingers against his thigh while you squirm against the mattress and try to calm down; you had been right there.

Dante doesn’t make you wait long, grinning the whole time as he slips a thick finger inside of you. It goes in easily with an unmistakable wet sound. He groans at the feeling of your heat, of the tightness around him and you clench your muscles to tease him more.

His lips worship at your clit as he slowly opens you up. Slipping another finger inside, spreading you open while he grins. He moans your name between your legs, riling you up, egging you on.

You pull tightly against your restraints as he doesn’t stop, drool leaking from your lips as you cry out against the soaked gag in your mouth. Your thighs grip his face in a headlock as you spasm against him and come against his lips.

There’s a wide smile on his face as he pulls away, your eyes are bleary but you can just picture his smug expression as he exaggerates the motion of wiping your come from his lips, from his stubble. He bends you almost in half, hooking your legs up and over his shoulders, it’s a little bit scary not being able to use your hands to support yourself, but you trust him not to let you go.

“You doing okay Baby girl?” he asks and you make an attempt to answer, but it’s utterly unintelligible through your gag. He chuckles as you nod and then leans down to press a soft kiss to your forehead and then to your cheek. He stays in your vision, keeping eye contact with you, there’s so much care and love in his eyes, even as he reaches down to grip his cock. He bucks his hips against his fist, eyes fluttering shut for a moment before he moves. He enters you slowly, carefully, groaning the whole time as his fingers grip tightly to your thighs.

You moan when he bottoms out inside of you, watching as he screws his eyes shut to focus on the feeling. He lets out a deep breath, eyes slowly opening. He keeps them locked with yours as he slowly begins to thrust. It feels good, the sensations heightened from your previous orgasm, from your inability to move, from the loss of control.

His fingers move to your clit once more, and now you realise how worked up he really is. He teases you with his thumb, picking up the pace of his hips while he praises your tight, hot body. He begs for you to come around him, begs for you to tighten around his cock. You can’t resist the dirty talk, or the irresistible feel of his cock as he angles his hips and thrusts against your g-spot, thumb working skillfully against your clit.

The restraints around your wrists snap as you come once more. It’s more due to the way that Dante pulls your body against him as he thrusts roughly than your own movements. He groans your name as he comes, bending you until your legs almost touch your shoulders. His body shudders against yours as he leans down to kiss you. He’s heavy as he rests his weight against your shaking body.

He pulls out of you, removing the gag from between your lips and then flopping beside you on his back, breathing heavily.

He has a sloppy, dopey smile on his face as he turns to you, pulling you against his chest. He rubs at your slightly sore wrists to get the feeling back into them. “How was that?” he asks.

“Good,” you smile curling up against his chest.

“I think it went pretty well,” he grins, “make sure you let me know if there’s anything else like that you wanna try”

You're overcome with a doubt of shyness again, in even your post orgasmic haze. “What about doing the same to you?” you ask him, voice low.

“Jackpot!” he exclaims, leaning over the bed and you’re surprised, but also not surprised as he pulls out a very severe, heavy duty looking pair of handcuffs and grins like a mad man, “anytime you want Babe, I’m all yours.”

[infinite-nevers]

chapter one; wayward son

Enna Scanlan bounced in her computer chair. Only two hours to go before Owen’s return to their village in around six years. Her best friend, Grace, stared at her over her mug, an amused smile across her face and dark green eyes creased. Enna’s eyes had been flicking over to the clock on the other side of the room since she got in at nine this morning. Her personal phone was barely out of her sight and checked every five minutes. It was usually kept tucked away in her bag in case their boss caught sight of it. ‘No personal phones in the office’ until lunch time was a strict rule. Then, Enna had devoted the entirety of today’s lunch hour to chasing signal around the huge office and cursing their hotel’s terrible location.

“He’s not texted then?” Grace asked mildly, sipping her tea, and twirling a red curl. That glare was thrown at her again. She chuckled, “I don’t get it- you’re in contact everyday, why is today any different?”

Enna and Owen couldn’t go a single day without contacting each other. There was always some text or phone call to interrupt her day. Enna had once gone away with her boyfriend on a surprise trip and had neglected to tell Owen. Two days had passed without contact and Owen had gotten so worried he’d rung Enna’s mum. There had been a long talk about boundaries after that, but their daily contact had resumed.

“Today is the day I finally see him,” Enna said, looking so excited Grace might have been a little jealous had she not already understood that she always came second to Owen. If only Sean, Enna’s boyfriend, would remember that too. Nothing could break Enna and Owen’s bond from birth, including not seeing each other for a year or two.

Enna sighed and grabbed her mug. Just as she began to stand to go to the kettle, she saw that Grace had already poured them their 3pm brews. She raised her mug, a kitsch red and blue offering, in an apologetic salute.

Enna knew she could become a little occupied in her friendship with Owen, but she’d never been this bad before. They’d been best friends growing up and in university but had still managed lives outside of each other. The ever-lengthening time apart and Owen’s sudden urge to come home had made Enna realise just how long it had been. They’d always planned visits but with life happening all around them it had never quite panned out as often as it should.

“Sorry,” Enna grimaced when she realised that she’d gotten lost in her head again. Grace just laughed, used to the memory lane disappearances by now.

“No worries. Just remember you’ve got ‘the future Mrs O’Donaghue’ breathing down your neck.”

“Oh f-” Enna squealed. Dragon Bride, a young woman who only answered to ‘the future Mrs O’Donaghue’, was getting married in a week’s time and her wish list only kept growing. As events coordinator for the hotel Enna had dealt with many difficult clients over the years. Dragon Bride beat them all. Enna shuddered to think of the consequences of ignoring her.

Two hours later, Enna pretended to bash her forehead against her desk as a high-pitched voice screeched into her ear, “this of the utmostimportant! Do you understand?”

Enna breathed in deeply through her nose and bunched her hair into a fist, “ma’am. Your wedding is in two weeks, it might be difficult to find a petting zoo to rent out in that time.” Her exhale whistled through gritted teeth.

“I don’t want it for the wedding! I want it for the hen do. Is this making sense to you now?” Dragon Bride yelled again. Enna’s knuckles whitened in her hair.

“That is in a week so it’s the same-”

“Just get it done.” Dialling tone rung loud in her ear.

She raised her head from her desk and stared at the phone. She let out a loud, frustrated squawk and slammed the phone down, “This woman is a nightmare!”

“Who’s a nightmare?” A cheerful voice cut through Enna’s frustration. She jumped with a yelp. Swivelling around in her seat she saw her boss, Conor, beaming widely at her. A charismatic man, half the office was in love with him. Blonde hair flopped over his twinkling eyes, always looking suitably messy from his paddle-boarding habit. He looked so much like a stereotypical Australian surfer that it was sometimes a little difficult taking him seriously as her boss.

“The future Mrs O’Donaghue.” Grace supplied, voice light with barely contained amusement.

“Ah,” Conor nodded, “the Dragon?” Enna blinked at his flippant tone. He was a very relaxed boss, insisted everyone called him and his wife by their first names, invited all of his staff down to the pub every Friday and knew them all by name, right down to the ground staff he saw maybe once a year, but usually he was quite respectful towards clients. Enna nodded dumbly.

“What did she want this time?” There was an annoyance in his voice that Enna couldn’t quite parse. Conor never got involved in her clients until Enna came to him with a problem. Then he’d hear the problem from both sides and try to help her solve the issue. She’d only mentioned Dragon Bride once in passing and Conor had dismissed her worries, promising to take her side in whatever.

“A petting zoo!” Grace replied with malicious glee. Enna shot her a look over her shoulder and got a quiet ‘what’ shrug back.

“Who’s paying for the wedding?” Conor asked without preamble, “trust fund baby?” It clicked in Enna’s head. Despite his own wealth from being a hotelier Conor was a snob about rich people. He hated people who had been born into wealth rather than working for it. He thought it made them spoilt and irresponsible. In the case of Dragon Bride, he was right.

“Her father,” Enna muttered. She didn’t want to add fuel to a possible tirade about the plight of the common people. Grace was giggling behind her, turning it into a cough when Conor furrowed his brows at her.

“Ignore her! If she complains I won’t take any notice. Just do your best! And put your phone away,” He nodded towards to Enna’s beeping phone, “oh wait, look it’s five. Pack up lads and ladies! It’s home time! Who’s coming to the pub?” He grinned and swung his arms around to suggest everyone wrap up what they were doing. Everyone instantly stood, having waited for their boss’ weekly pub invitation. Enna picked up her phone with a wry grin towards her eccentric boss, huddling people out of the door. A text from Owen awaited her – he had arrived.

She bolted for the door.

She arrived at the small, red brick bus station twenty minutes late and swearing the entire time. The bendy country roads, thankfully leaf free this time of year, were difficult to navigate anyway. Having vengeful farmers move their herds during rush hour just made it an exercise in anger management. She parked the car across the road, kicked the door shut with another loud curse and looked up to laughter.

Across the road, crouched against the bus station’s toilets walls, was Owen and he was laughing at her. He ran a hand through his hair. Enna grinned back at him, anger instantly melting away. She surreptitiously studied him as she tried to get to him. It had only been around two years since she’d gone to see him in the UK, but he looked untouched by that time. His hair still swung messily around his ears and his eyes still creased when he smiled.

“Sorry!” She yelled over the traffic, “I meant to text but signal on this road y’know,” she carried on as she ran across a gap in the cars going home from the city. Owen waved a dismissive hand as he stood and held his arms out. She threw herself into them apologising profusely, “Alan-”

“-is still punishing us mere mortals for not choosing God’s own profession by letting his sheep loose during rush hour?”

“Exactly!” She beamed as she drew away. Her eyes darted down to what he had been crouched over, “is that all you have?” Disappointment washed over her as she eyed the small duffle bag.

Owen laughed loudly. He ruffled her hair before dropping an arm around her shoulder. Picking up his bag, he guided her towards the luggage hold office opposite the ticket booth. Two huge suitcases stood in wait, “fear not little one, I’m here a while.” Enna let out a breath she didn’t realise she’d been holding. It was time to bring Owen home.

Later that night, and one sheep free journey later, the two stood outside their old home away from home. Ramble Inn was an old pub in a beautiful Georgian building with red trims around the window. The door had also been red at one point, but the paint had now peeled and faded to a faint pink. As they were growing up it had been their second living room. It was where they came after Mass, where they came after a match, and where they came after school once you hit fifteen. Try as you might though, Tom would never serve you.

Owen laughed at memories of a bygone era. Him, Enna, Grace and Liam, Enna’s older brother, clustered around a table playing dominoes with the old men. They’d enjoyed playing at being adults and the real adults had enjoyed indulging them. He wondered if they were still there.

“Tom still won’t serve you underage.” Enna guessed at his previous thoughts. Owen rubbed at his beard. One night, drunk and seventeen, Owen had tried to get served. He’d gotten quite rowdy; Tom had thrown him out and he’d landed on his face. He’d never forgotten the pain of a dislocated jaw.

“Tom’s still psychic, knows everyone ages, even the passers through. Kids don’t get anything but juice,” Enna grinned at him lost in his misty-eyed memories.

“You two going to stand outside here all night?” A voice cut through their reverie. They turned their head in unison. Caoimhe Walsh stood there with a hand on her hip and bright eyes fixed on Owen. A more recent addition to the village, a blow-in from Dublin, Caoimhe had been an instant hit. Tall, blonde, and beautiful, she was everything Enna wasn’t but every bit as sweet as she looked.

“Keev!” Enna grinned, “thought you were out with the girls tonight?” Unlike Enna, who found socialising wearing, Caoimhe thrived on it, flitting happily between social groups, welcomed by most.

“Yeah, we decided on a quiet one instead.” She slung an arm around Enna’s shoulder and threw a hand up to the Ramble Inn’s curling gold letters. Enna snorted. Caoimhe shot a wolfish grin back. They both knew she’d have no such thing.

Caoimhe’s eyes finally strayed to where Owen was looking at them with a slightly dumb smile on his face. Noticing Caoimhe looking at him, Owen offered a slightly dumb wave.

“Owen?” Caoimhe’s eyes went wide and, after a beat, threw her arms around him in a massive hug, “oh my god, you’re that Owen?”

Enna blinked rapidly at them. Keev had moved the village long after Owen had left. Although she had featured heavily in the stories Enna told him, he never mentioned knowing her.

“You’re that Caoimhe?” His laugh was jubilant as he picked her up, “I never made the link! Enna talks about you all the time. Oh, Eni, do you remember that business trip I took like two months ago?” Owen turned back to her when he caught sight of her tilted head and querying expression.

Caoimhe came back to Enna’s side and slid her hand into the hook of Enna’s arm. She grinned at her expectantly, “and remember that holiday I took two months ago?” She prompted when Enna didn’t connect the dots straight away. It must have all been too exciting because she didn’t wait for a response, “well we met at this bar, got chatting and when I said I was living in Ballygra… how did we not make the connection?”

Enna pulled a face. It certainly seemed a little unbelievable. There were so few people in the village and none with her name. Before she could query it, Keev said,

“Can’t believe Ballygra produces such hot men.” She winked at him. He nodded and winked back with a flirtatious grin. Enna snorted.

Nothing had changed then. It had been like this since he was about twenty-one. That’s when the braces had finally come off, bed head stopped being his only hair style and he’d discovered the power of personal hygiene. Since then people had flocked around him. She saw it, of course, but actual attraction was hard to summon when you’d seen them hungover countless times since you were fourteen.

“Are you coming to Midnight’s, Owen?” Caoimhe beamed as the thought occurred to her.

Saturday lunch at Café Midnight was their tradition; Enna, Liam, Grace and Caoimhe. Sometimes Sean would pop in his head, but Friday night was Boys Night and lunches were usually slept through as a healing process. Caoimhe dragged the pair inside instead of waiting for an answer. She already knew that, when together, where Enna was Owen would also be.

The Ramble Inn was the same as Owen remembered it. The wooden bar stood proud in the middle; battered, worn, and smelling of spilled beer and disinfectant. Old, wobbly stools stood guard including the one Enna had completely unpicked when she was fifteen. Tom had made her re-sew another one and, despite it being the ugliest thing in the world, he had made her sit on it every time she came in for years.

It was filled with the usual Friday night suspects. On the right-hand side, the men still played their dominoes. Old Man Charlie still had his whiskey clutched in his hand and an unlit cigarette hanging from his lips, smoking ban be damned.

On the left-hand side sat the younger crowd, some with kids because who wanted to cook on a Friday night? Teenagers tucked in the corner with juice, a group playing darts. Tom stood through it all, keeping court with a raggedy dishcloth tossed over his shoulder. The only difference was Tom’s hair now silver all over and there were extra wrinkles around his eyes. A spotty teenager served as a glass collector.

Caoimhe left Owen’s side the moment they entered. A group of women sitting at the back waved her over. One of them nodded to Owen and Caoimhe flew over to them to spread the gossip of his return.

Owen turned for Enna, but she had already brushed past. She nodded to all the familiar faces as she moved towards the bar. She leant on it, sitting on her stool, and laughed at whatever Tom said to her. Then she turned to point at Owen still standing by the door. Tom’s bushy eyebrows shot up.

“You’ve grown boy!” Tom yelled over the pub noise. It fell quiet. Everyone looked over at him. He shifted on his feet and offered an awkward wave. It took a few seconds, but the pub noise swelled once they recognised Ballygra’s wayward son. Old Man Charlie and his group raised their glasses. Tom beckoned him over. He shuffled over and Tom busied himself by the bar,

“You still Jameson’s?” He grinned his familiar, crooked smile and pushed a glass towards him. His returning smile was awkward, wondering how his jaw might last this encounter. A beer was in Enna’s hand and he raised an eyebrow. All through university Enna had been a cocktail girl, proudly declaring beer to be nothing but ‘wheat water’. She noticed his pointed look.

“Well, you’ve got to lower your standards for this place,” the wink she sent Tom was waved good-naturedly away.

Suddenly a large set of arms wrapped themselves around Enna’s waist. Lips pressed against her cheek and told her, “You’re late. Took your time getting here, didn’t you?” The tone aimed for teasing but missed.

“Sean! I had to pick Owen up and say hi to his mam of course,” Enna laughed. She turned around and reached up to peck him on the lips.

“How could I forget?” There was a slight edge to Sean’s voice that made Owen prickle slightly. Sean reached over with his hand extended. Owen shook it, proud that he only winced a little at the firm grip. The two men then regarded each other coolly over Enna’s head. She pretended not to notice, preferring to ignore a problem until it went away. Instead, she busied herself with looking around the pub for someone. The two men regarded each other. Sean was dark haired, blue-eyed, and muscular, the exact type Enna had lusted after all these years. Owen was brown haired, brown-eyed and, in Enna’s eyes, still wearing his teenage skin. Sean offered him a smile that never reached his eyes and turned away.

“She’s over there with Conor.” Sean said. Conor and Grace sat in a booth with their heads bent over a piece of paper. His beautiful wife, Sarah, sat on the other side of the pub, playing on her phone. Waving to Sarah, Enna grabbed Owen’s hand and pulled Owen towards her friend. Sean was shrugged off and sulked over to his darts group. His friend heard his complaining and clapped him on the shoulder. Sean hadn’t been in the village long enough to understand the friendship but everyone else had.

As the pair approached Grace and Conor, Enna narrowed her eyes on the piece of paper they were looking at. It was on the hotel stationery. Rarely was work brought to the pub, only during a big event at the hotel, and if it was, Enna’s presence was required. She strained her head forward to try and get a better look. Instead, it alerted the pair to their arrival. Grace glanced up. Her eyes widened and she kicked Conor under the table. He jerked up. It took a second but then he shot them his signature twinkle. The paper got surreptitiously tucked away into his inside jacket pocket.

“Owen!” Grace cried as she launched herself up and threw her arms around him. Enna was almost jealous of the amount of people hurling themselves at him.

Owen punched out a laugh as he braced for impact. His eyebrows shot up at her reaction. Sure, they’d grown up together, but it had been Enna and Owen, Liam and Grace. It had changed with Owen moving away and Liam getting a job as a GP in the next town over. It had become Enna and Grace with Grace falling out of contact Owen and taking less to Liam.

“How are you doing Grey?” Owen’s voice went soft, once more lost in memory. Grace shot him a wide smile. She placed her hands on his cheeks and gave them a pat, like she used to do.

She turned back to the table, “this is Conor, I mean Mr Murray!” Grace presented him with an arm flourish, “our boss,” she tacked on when the confused silence lengthened. Owen, not one to be rude, offered up a hand and a friendly greeting. Conor stood to clap him on the back before making his excuses to return to Sarah. Enna watched for a moment before she turned around to eye Grace.

“Number puzzles,” she said, “he finds one, sometimes in work, I help him if he’s stuck. You know Sarah has no head for numbers. Anyway, you back then?” The pair slipped into Conor’s vacated space. Grace dragged her eyes around the wayward son, “my, my you havegrown up.”

God, why did everyone keep saying that? Enna turned to assess him again. All she could see was the friend she’d helped get over ex’s, whose hair she’d held back during the morning afters.

“I don’t know.” He huffed to Grace’s question, “I told myself a month and then back to work.” A wistful look stole over his face as he turned it about the room. Some of Caoimhe’s friends were looking back over their drinks. The Old Boys kept flicking their eyes over, clearly wondering at how to treat him. Was he still considered one of their own after so long away? Was he a blow-in, like Conor and Caoimhe? Tom still wore holes in the floor behind the bar. The darts game ended with groans and Sean fist-pumping the air, “but who knows? This place – it’s home.”

Sean sidled over now that he’d won his game. He came to stand by Owen, looking down his nose pointedly at him. Owen avoided his gaze; seemingly engrossed by the bottom of his glass. Sean hovered a second more before sliding in beside Grace with a pout. Enna swallowed. Well, this might be awkward.

[canyouhearthelight]

The Miys, Ch. 74

Time for the enormous family dinner that Maverick asked for! This chapter beta'd by @satan-parisienne and @baelpenrose. I may end up writing the other half, showing interactions with everyone who didn't show up in this chapter, and to allow a smoother transition to the treat I have in store after.

Only content warnings are for food.

P.S. This is posted on mobile, so I wasn't able to enter the Read More, and for that I apologise. When I get to my desktop this evening, I'll add it in.

P.S.S. Fixed it!

“I’m convinced you two are actually telepathic,” Maverick mused as he reached stealthily for a carrot stick.

Without even looking up from where she was piping devilled eggs, Tyche swatted his hand. “Those are the spicy ones, you don’t want them.  And that is not an invitation to steal the other ones!” Her voice escalated as he tried to sneak toward the ‘safe’ carrots.

“That’s exactly what I’m talking about,” he pouted. “You can’t even see me!”

I laughed from where I was folding what felt like a million dumplings. “She doesn’t have to.  She could hear you the first time, and logic took care of the second.” Running out of pierogi filling, I reached for the bowl of potsticker filling. “And we aren’t telepathic, we’ve just been cooking together a long time.  She always helped me in the kitchen when we were kids, and it kind of turned into this well-choreographed dance as we got older.”

Tyche and I were currently in the kitchen of the Undine, working to put together a smorgasbord of finger foods for our entire family.  After some stern negotiations with Sebastian, he ended up being willing to trade a seat at the table and any 5 recipes he chose in exchange for renting the place out for the night.  As a result, she and I were doing our best to show off: fajita chicken rolls, cottage pie tarts, miniature wellingtons in both beef and vegetarian options, spicy roasted carrots, crudites, miniature kebabs in various combinations…

And dumplings. Every ethnic dumpling we knew how to make. So far we had a meat and a vegetarian option – each – for empanadas, pierogis, and I was just starting on the potstickers. Bao were last on the list, since they needed to be served hot. Tyche was even planning on apple dumplings with the desserts.  We even tried banh bot loc, but ours were so ugly and lopsided – far from the round, translucent, authentic ones we both had the pleasure of trying at one point - that we decided not to serve them.

Tyche waved a hand, shooing Maverick toward another workstation. “Ingredients and recipes are over there for sauces.  Are you okay to put them together?” As she spoke, she sprinkled a red seasoning over a platter of eggs.

“I don’t have to taste test all of these do I?” he asked skeptically as he walked over.  Narrowing his eyes, he gave me a critical look. “You two taste test everything, and I’m pretty sure a lot of these are spicy.”

Tyche neatly stuck a sign labelled “Spicy!” in the platter of eggs she just finished, not even aware of the irony. “We did a run-through for the sauces and actually measured everything to ensure consistency.  You don’t have to taste any of them if you don’t want.”

“Then I’m on it.” He gave a sloppy salute before grabbing the first recipe.  Knowing his need for precision and consistency, I was confident those sauces would turn out perfect.

We worked in silence for several minutes before the door to the kitchen opened again.  “Hello, goddesses of delicious foods, your humble worshipper is here to offer his fealty,” Conor joked as he made a sweeping bow, hair still damp from his shower.

I shoved a tray full of vol au vents into his arms as soon as he stood. “Hey, love. Can you please take these out and set them on one of the serving tables? It’s the little ones, about waist high on me, that look like they might hold a lamp.”

He nodded before standing patiently with an expectant look. I chuckled when I realized what he wanted and tipped my face up for a kiss.  He gave me a brief, smiling kiss, before stepping over to do the same for Maverick. For good measure, he dropped a kiss on top of Tyche’s head, eliciting a squawk. Dodging her hand as she playfully lashed out, he backed through the door and disappeared. 

The four of us worked like that as we finished up preparations for dinner. The moment Maverick and Conor carried out the last tray of morsels, Tyche and I pulled off our aprons.  I indulgently allowed her to smooth my outfit and touch up my hair before we went to greet our extended ‘family’. We were greeted by deafening applause, cheers, and whistles as we walked out. I felt my face ignite and glanced to see that Tyche was equally flushed.  It had been one thing, on Earth, to have polite applause offered when either of us had been recognized for achievements or led a seminar, but to have less than twenty people give us such raucous enthusiasm just for feeding them…. There was little in my life that made me feel as appreciated as I did in that moment.  Even my newly re-found friend, Arthur, was smiling and giving a barely-awkward thumbs up.

With an embarrassed smile, I waved back and made my way to a table that was, largely, in the middle of the room. Tyche followed my lead and sat beside me.  Conor and Maverick sat to the other side, leaving a seat for Antoine. I waited patiently for my sister’s partner to be seated before realizing, belatedly, that he must be held up with work.

Sure enough, the four of us had just poured our drinks when Antoine threw himself into his seat. Breathless, he explained, “I beg your pardon, I lost track of what time it was.”

Tyche and I glanced at each other, matched confused expressions on our faces; Antoine’s punctuality rivalled my own in its degree of overcompensation. Still, she turned and rubbed his shoulder. “That must have been a stressful case.”

He only nodded in response before changing the topic. “Congratulations, both of you. I am sure everyone is excited to try everything, especially since you put so much effort into it.”  His smile didn’t quite reach his eyes, but I chalked that up to whatever case held him over at work. With an expression that I hoped was reassuring, I gestured toward the tables.

The five of us made our way through the crowd, surrounded on all sides by excited chatter. Not a single person even attempted to be subtle as they met new people and discussed the topic they clearly had in common.

“Oh! They made the spicy eggs! You have to try those – they are amazing!”

“Just look at the shells on these tarts.  So thin and crisp.”

“Are those the spicy dumplings?” “No, these are the pierogi.  Try them!”

“See how these are fried and then steamed? That’s how they should be made.”

“They always make a vegetarian option.  It just makes me smile…. Everything on the Ark is vegetarian, but they like making sure it’s familiar. It's such a thoughtful gesture.”

“Oh my god, this one is curry… you have to try it!”

By the time we got to the tables, my face hurt from blushing and smiling.  We weren't, by any stretch of the imagination, the best cook and baker on the Ark, but we tried our best.  Everything was made by hand, even if the ingredients were from the consoles. Hearing the appreciation of that – even when it was for Tyche’s paper-thin pastry crust that I could never hope to make – made my eyes water with tears I refused to shed.

Eventually, we were back at our table, plates loaded down with a little of everything for us to share. Tyche and I nibbled, too engrossed in the reactions of others to properly enjoy the fruits of our labors. Conor and Maverick, however, had no such qualms – they dug in like it was a competition, each trying to beat the other with the effusiveness of their praises. The comedy of it led to an elbowing match between me and my sister, only interrupted by people stopping to thank and/or congratulate us.

Just as I was about to make a joke to Tyche, a conversation from the next table over broke through our little bubble of bashful pride. “Oh, for fucks sake, she’s my sister! That’s just – Xiomara, that’s disgusting!”

Wide eyed, I whipped my head to follow the voice, only to see Arthur Farro looking at Xio with an expression that matched the disgust in his voice. “What in the – “ At no point since our reunion had he mentioned that his sister was on the Ark.

While Xio and Arthur were engaged in a glowering-match, Grey calmly turned toward me. “Xiomara may have heavily implied that Educator Farro has…less than honorable intentions towards you, and that he would be sorely remiss in any inclination to intervene in your current domestic situation.”

As I parsed that statement, Tyche just snorted. “That has, at no point in reality, been on the table from either of their perspective. Even I knew that, Xio. Chill out.”

“Don’t get me wrong,” Arthur chimed in. “Your taste in men is… Impeccable, I’ll be honest.” He shrugged at Conor and Maverick, feigning apology. “But Sophia is just… not my type.  She’s more like what I would have been in a kinder reality. She adopts strays, for the love of fuck…”

Oh. He meant me….I gave a watery smile and gestured around the room before pointing at him directly. This was a conversation we had hashed out, several times, over a decade prior.  Friends, yes. Siblings, yes. Lovers? Disaster. I was a pushover, he was a bulldozer.

Finally, Xiomara’s glare gave way to unbridled laughter. “Farro, ridiculing her tendency to adopt people – of which you are one – is an incredibly ironic thing to say about a woman you just shouted is your sister.  Didn’t you mention, before you realized you knew each other Before, that adopting people is an ‘annoying tendency’ your mysterious ‘she’ had?”

“I never said I didn’t, just that she was annoyingly, profoundly consistent about it.” His face serene, he took a sip of his drink. “Hmmm… Not a fan of the sangria, Sophie.  I know you like it, but… Not my thing.”

Xiomara sputtered with incredulity. “Wait – is that how it started?”

“How what started?” I asked, suspicious.

“Xiomara, don’t,” was Arthur’s stern reply.

Xio leaned back and gave Arthur a calculating look in response. “No, seriously, Farro. Is that how it started.”

Sighing, Arthur nodded. “Partially.  That, and I didn’t know where my students could go if their families died in the blasts.”

I surged forward in my seat, shoving plates away from me. “Wait, what are you talking about? What blasts?”

“Sophie, you have to realize – anyone further south than… oh, the Mason-Dixon line, I think? – didn’t just have blackouts. We had explosions from the fallout of the EMP blasts at the End.  People died, and violently. We had to make our way in a future that was only predicted in fiction.  I did what had to be done.”

“He was a warlord,” Xiomara clarified, entirely unnecessarily.

“Oh.” I had known him in the Before… he was very pragmatic, to say the least.  To find out he was a warlord was less than surprising. At least, until I looked around: Tyche was studying the ceiling, Conor and Maverick were suddenly fascinated by the appearance of their food, and Antoine was looking over his shoulder. “Wait. Did everyone know this already?”

A pregnant pause hung in the air for a beat, then two, before Grey finally broke the silence. “That does appear to be the case, Sophia.”

“Et tu, Hodenson?”

“Conor consulted me,” they admitted. “He was concerned, because he knows he is prone to overreact in situations where you may be in danger.  I was consulted as a logical third party in the situation.”

“I wouldn’t’ve known if Maverick hadn’t said anything,” Conor immediately ratted out our third.

“Hey, if I knew, it was only fair that Conor knew as well,” Maverick held up his hands in surrender.

Xiomara raised her hand, tentatively. “I told Maverick.  I already knew, as Councillor for Security, and thought he should be aware.  Military bond, and all that.”

Expectantly, I stared at the side of Tyche’s head until she caved. “Fiiiine. I didn’t trust the situation… your dead online friend from Before is suddenly alive and on the Ark?  Sus as hell. So, I asked Derek to get his files… all of it.  He checked out as being who he said he was, so I didn’t think it was a good idea to tell you what he did in the After.  We all did shit we regret, I didn’t think the speck in his eye was any more relevant than the planks in our own, so… And before you ask, yes, I told Antoine.  Just because I decided not to tell you, it didn’t mean I didn’t need to tell someone.” Antoine only nodded, electing not to add anything.

Taking a deep breath, I decided to make sure I understood everything. “So, you became a warlord to make sure that your students would be safe in the new reality of Earth?”

“Pretty much,” Arthur shrugged.  I could have sworn he looked amused by all the finger pointing that had just taken place.  “I do want to meet this Derek, though. That’s the second time he’s been mentioned, and both times in relation to hacking things.  Unless I’m mistaken.”

Shaking my head, I laughed. “He’s at the table with Alistair, my assistant.  You’ll probably like him… Don’t let his demeanor fool you, he has the morals of a hurricane sometimes.”

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[firebirdsdaughter]

Okay…

… I feel very bitter right now.

But I am going to be eternally frustrated by the fact that as far as I could tell, Aruto’s (and therefore Izu’s) definition of ‘heart’ was ‘happy making humans happy.’

Or… ‘Seeing that humans are ultimately good’?

Really, just… I define a heart as ‘feeling emotions.’ Feeling emotions is useless unless you know how to handle them, which Horobi didn’t, and no one seemed at all invested in teaching him how. Just made him feel worse and worse, pressured him about something that terrified him and pushed him over the edge, and then a human who really should have known better went and grabbed the fucking Ark Key??? Like. Horobi’s somehow completely at fault for Izu pestering him until he lashed out like any emotionally immature child or even animal would and then she doesn’t move out of the way even though she easily could have, but Aruto grabbing the psycho Key and going nutty is ‘totally understandable bc grief.’

For one thing, wtf would Horobi believe Izu’s nonsense, she’s programmed to love and obey Aruto, and she never develops anywhere past that. He knows she’d say anything to save her beloved master. She has no identity out of ‘exists to serve Aruto and occasionally be cutesy.’ Listen, Takahashi, you need to work on your female characters when you resurrect one w/ no memory and she’s exactly the same.

My lack of sympathy for Izu’s ‘death’ is bc it could easily have been prevented by multiple other people even if Horobi did literally nothing different, and bc literally nothing was lost. If any of the humans had actually used that compassion they sing to the skies about, you know, like, the fact that they have years of practice knowing how to feel and control emotions. I’m sorry but, ‘did you feel Izu’s pain?’ Well, first off, no, bc she didn’t seem pained at all, she just kinda stood there parroting Aruto’s bs, but… What about feeling Horobi’s pain? Or… Was Izu being ‘sad’ Horobi didn’t magically forgive humanity for everything they put him through and took from him more important than him having being mind raped, controlled, conditioned, and abused for twelve years? ‘I believe in your heart’ you mean you ‘believe’ he’s going to magically switch around and conform to your views that humans are ultimately good and anything bad they do can be excused bc they teach you about ‘hearts’? Meanwhile, none of her memories changed her at all. She gazes lovingly at Aruto, she participates in his jokes… There was pretty much nothing to her other than ‘loves Aruto.’ Her character fell into the trap of KR’s general attitude toward female characters that they exist to be pure angels who unfailingly believe in the hero and the series’ attitude toward AI, that the definition of ‘goodness’ for them is completely devotion to humans and unrealistic purity and benevolence.

The question should never have been ‘will AI have benevolence towards humans’ but ‘do humans deserve it?’ ‘what can we do to justify that?’ Why do HumaGear have to ‘prove their worth’ and ‘teach humans to be nice to them’ but humans don’t have to… Like… Know how to be decent? Aruto’s sympathies and dreams for HumaGear were exclusively rooted in how they benefitted humans. He expects the ‘hearts’ they develop to be completely ‘pure’ and ‘benevolent’ even if humanity has given them no reason to be so.

Horobi was the most aware of how horrible the Ark was. Everything he did, he did bc he was conditioned to believe it was right for HumaGear. Bc he saw the cruelty of humanity, and wanted to protect his people from it. He was conditioned/programmed to react w/ absolutes and extremes. He didn’t turn on the Ark bc he realised humans were actually ‘good’ he did it bc she turned on HumaGear, and he fought bc he loved HumaGear. His love for HumaGear, for Jin, was stronger than her control. That was it.

But he also knew that she was created by humans. Deliberately. It doesn’t matter that Gai had a personality one eighty bc the satellite printed him a dog and Aruto’s only for humans AI therapist talked to him for a hot minute. This shit doesn’t work like that, Gai should be at least facing jail time for his part in things. Yotacrappy’s response was to manipulated Jin into trying to kill him as a sacrifice, even after the Ark was out of the picture. Not a single person reacted w/ ‘maybe we should give this poor AI who has literally had his entire mind and life fucked over by humans and has no reason to like us a bit of kindness and support to help deal w/ the emotions he’s suddenly feeling.’ Izu’s speech was kinda close, but the tone was ultimately ‘she’s right and he’s wrong.’ The attitude shouldn’t be that ‘humans can sometimes be beneficial, so that makes the wrong they do okay.’ The fact that they tried to pretend that even the most twisted humans were ‘actually just misguided’ was ridiculous.

Horobi’s suffering was real and valid, and deserved recognition beyond ‘lol, but humans are actually nice, tho.’ He was scared and confused, but no one was trying to help him through that, they were just belittling the very valid reasons he had to be angry at humans. Rather than being like ‘I understand you’re angry and in pain and those are valid feelings, but there’s a better way to do this’ the response was either aggression or ‘no, you’re wrong, they teach us to want them to be happy and to dream or serving them well!’ (pretty much what Aruto’s definition of ‘good HumaGear’ seemed to be). And then even the people who should understand the most how her feels act like he’s spreading a ‘shocking’ and ‘bad’ thought by offering HumaGear a chance to stand up for themselves. I really hate how the protests were treated as Horobi spreading ‘malice’ to the HuamGear and all conveniently disappeared when Aruto ‘won.’

Again. The Frozen quote is eternally accurate for Aruto’s ‘dream.’ ‘It’ll be just like it was except for we’ll be best friends.’

Aruto’s dream was never equality or freedom for HumaGear. What he wanted was for them to go back to work for humans w/ smiles painted on their faces to make humans happy. HumaGear’s meaning in life shouldn’t be to ‘be useful to humans.’ I wasn’t expecting the ending to be ‘everything is okay now,’ but I was under the impression that there would be some kind of motion toward HumaGear getting some rights and protections or respect by virtue of being, like, living beings rather than needing to work and be ‘useful’ to justify their existence. Aruto is very face value, he thinks that the programmed personalities humans give HumaGear are their ‘true natures’ when they’re not, they’re just a starting point. They need to branch out. The fact that Izu’s entire life just revolved around benefiting Aruto made it hard to sympathise w/ her in place of the more interesting and dynamic characters. The fact that Aruto tries to claim HumaGear are his ‘employees’ when the definition of that word literally is ‘someone who works for a wage’ and people pay his company to get HumaGear to work for them and he delivers them to people in boxes… It’s just ridiculous. They shouldn’t have to just be ‘perfect pure forgiving little angels’ just bc humans made them and occasionally are nice to them? Izu’s data was just as biased as Horobi’s, they should have met in the middle rather than her being painted as ‘right’ and ‘good’ for only thinking of humans as good.

Yes, Horobi should have responded w/ violence, but literally no one even tried to put real effort into showing him other ways to react, or to help him through what happened to him. They either shouted at him, put him down, invalidated his suffering (admittedly bc she was just as out of balance maturity-wise as he was), or outright tried to kill him. Any child or animal will lash out when stressed or panicked. It is the responsibility of the people w/ more awareness to know what they’re dealing w/ and act accordingly. Izu knew he was armed, she saw the weapon pointed at her, she had plenty of time to move, and choose not to. That was not Horobi’s fault. It also wasn’t Horobi’s fault that humans decided to not give her a back up to benefit themselves. How was he even supposed to know that? Where was Aruto? Why was he running around outside trying to make the other HumaGear go back to his definition of ‘normal,’ while telling them there’s ‘no reason to fight anymore,’ which really should be their decision??? If he really cared and wanted to help Horobi and saw HumaGear as people, wouldn’t he have run in and tried to properly talk Horobi down? Then we have Yua’s hypocrisy of reacting aggressively to Horobi and them giving a speech to Yotacrappy for reacting the exact same way to the protests. And then Fuwa literally shooting down the one time Horobi genuinely tried to reach out… While kinda in character… Definitely did not help. Horobi was never in a place to parse out implications.

Basically, they pushed Horobi over the edge, then blamed him for being broken. Meanwhile, they have all sorts of ‘compassion’ and ‘understanding’ for Aruto and it’s ‘not his fault’ bc ‘grief.’ The attitude that Horobi’s suffering at the hands of the Ark was less important than Aruto’s trained AI letting herself get shot? The fact that Horobi, however horribly they influenced him to think he was completely at fault, was willing to ‘forgive’ humans for everything he suffered through bc of them… Is much more compassion than Aruto ever showed him.

Horobi had every right to be angry w/ humans and blame them for their part in what he went through. And humans never admitted responsibility for that, and never apologised to him.

But he’s supposed to need forgiveness from them?

[randaccidents]

Kintsugi

OK, before the fic I need to make one thing very clear.

This fic was written initially as a vent fic in response to my own unclear thoughts and emotions about recent goings-on in the Shadow People discord. Certain events are referenced. However, this is not me projecting. The character already held these opinions, and they aligned with the situation at hand. I was confused on how to think and writing this character’s own response helped me reason my thoughts. That said, I do not want to call out anyone or attack them. I will take down this fic if it makes the people involved feel uncomfortable, especially J (you can dm me to take this down, no judgement at all). Please do not ask me what happened, due to timezones I was sleeping when this occurred resulting in some of the messy feelings I had.

However, this is still about the character’s own opinions, just with a dash of my own thoughts in it, so I decided to post this here. Again, if the people involved are uncomfortable, I will take this fic down.

I apologise if I'm vagueing, I don’t really know how to address this politely.

Shadow People AU comes from SaraSP (no, I don't think I should @ her for a vent fic)

TW: discussion of morality and the black and white outlook on characters, panic attacks, unintentional self harm, recent discord events

A discussion with Chamomile.

Standing outside the door, hand raised to knock, Cavalier hesitated.

Logically, he knew he was welcome here. It was right at the center of the Daycare, and the shadow inhabiting the room was one of the nicest he knew. He wouldn't see Cavalier's presence as a bother. Still, he hesitated.

His dilemma was resolved when the door opened, revealing a head covered in small flower blooms. Chamomile smiled warmly at him. "Cavalier! Welcome, would you like to come in?"

Mutely, he nodded. Slipping past Chamomile, he made a beeline for the nearest chair, reforming on the chair and slumping backwards into the soft pillows, eyes closed. There was the sound of cups clinking together, liquid being poured, and then a cup was being gently pushed into his hands. Gratefully accepting the cup, he held its warmth up to his lips like how Chamomile had taught him, breathing in the scent of the tea.

Today's drink smelled like lavender.

He heard Chamomile sit down across from him, feel his intense gaze upon him. "Cav, what's wrong? You haven't sat in that seat in a long time."

He didn't respond, absorbing the warmth and scent of lavender and letting it permeate his body, attempting to calm his thoughts. Finally bringing the cup down from his lips, he stared down at the swirling contents of the cup. "Chamomile, are you neutral on the whole Puzzler talk?"

He could hear Chamomile shift, and he gripped the cup tighter. A light hum. "I told you, you can call me Cammy. And I hold no strong opinions on this matter. Is it bothering you?"

"I-" He couldn't get the words out of his mouth, couldn't get his thoughts to translate into words that sounded any more coherent then fractured sentences. There was liquid on his hands, lavender overpowering the air.

Abruptly, he stood. He needed to run, needed to let the wind sweep away his thoughts and emotions urges and desires and leave him empty to be filled and commanded. But he also knew this wasn't something he could run from, this was something that would follow along as whispers in the wind, and he had to tell someone how he felt. He- he-

A hand gently grabbed his, removing the teacup from his hands and replacing it with a piece of cloth. Snapping out of his mind, he stared into Chamomile's concerned eyes. Looking away, he could see the cup he was holding, cracks spread through and dripping purple. He shivered. "Sorry..."

Chamomile tsked lightly, still absorbed in his task of wiping Cavalier's hands dry. "There's no need to be apologetic about your triggers, Cav. Are you ready to talk about it, or do you want to do this another day?"

He found himself shaking his head before Chamomile had even finished his question. "Today. I don't want to run away anymore."

Chamomile smiled. He focused on that, the warmth and acceptance and patience that went into that smile, as Chamomile directed him sit together on the couch.

And yet again, he found himself at a loss for words, unable to explain his thoughts and emotions. It was frustrating, his mouth opening and closing like a fish in his inability to form words.

Chamomile seemed to notice the problem. "Want me to start with my view on the situation?"

Cavalier nodded, relaxing tense body parts he had unknowingly strained in his struggle against himself. "Personally," Chamomile started, eyes staring intently at Cavalier, "I think everyone's blowing this out of proportion. Puzzler isn't here anymore, 3D is a different person entirely, so why is everyone up in arms about things he supposedly did? I never saw the point in it, although that could also be because I never lived through the War period. What's your take on this issue Cav? Is Puzzler good or bad, and should we really blame 3D?"

That question was like flipping a switch in his mind, suddenly aligning all his jumbled thoughts into a line of easy to parse sentences. Taking a deep faux-breath like how Paladin would, he began to speak. "That's why I wanted to talk to someone neutral. I don't know."

Cavalier could hear make a questioning sound, what sounded like words being spoken, but he didn't, no he couldn't stop talking. It was like what was holding him back all this time had finally opened, and all his thoughts came spilling out one over the other.

"Everyone always says that Puzzler was bad, he did bad things, manipulated and hurt people, even Joy. And their right. Puzzler was mean and hurt people and convinced me and Joy to do things that hurt others. Puzzler did punish us harshly when we messed up, isolated us from outside help. Puzzler did do all those things and more. But Puzzler was also kind, in his own way. He gave me a purpose and a reason to be. He looked at me and found potential for something, raised me to be the person I am. I had no use for the Empire, yet he took me in. He praised me on a job well-done, gave me the gift that lets me be who I am today even though I never asked for anything." He gripped his wrist, letting the metal of the clasp dig into his palm and ground him against the tidal wave of his thoughts. "Puzzler gave me a home, a family of people who I still trust more than most. But Puzzler also manipulated me, used me for his own purposes and gains. I can still hear his words, echoing praises and threats at me. And I can't agree with anyone that Puzzler is just, evil, you know. To me, Puzzler was good, he was kind, and he was the teacher who taught me how the world turned. He genuinely cared for us in some way, even as he genuinely used us as tools in some game. And now he's different, now he's 3D, and people only see him for the bad that Puzzler did. I haven't spoken to 3D. I want to be his friend. But- but-" The words stuttered off, choked, unable to be truly expressed in a moment of sudden insecurity. He gripped tighter around the clasp of security.

Hands gripped his, gently pulling them down and out of his tight grip. "Breathe, Cav. Breathe."

The absurdity of the statement made Cavalier want to laugh. "Shadows can't breathe." he choked out, blinking the face before him into focus.

Chamomile only gripped his hands tighter, grounding without hurting, so unlike how he's always grounded himself. "I know that. I'm asking you to imitate that motion now." He pulled Cavalier's hands up to rest against his chest, which rose and fell in a rhythm. "Feel that? Mimic it, in and out, follow me, in and out."

Cavalier felt the movements under his hands and tried to imitate it. He took a deep breath in, then let it out. Everything smelled like lavender. He followed the rhythm, in and out, methodical and purposeful, and began to feel himself calm. Chamomile squeezed his hand lightly, prompting him to look up at his face. "Feeling better? Anything else you want to get off your chest?"

... there was one other thing that's been bothering him.

"Everyone's blaming 3D for Puzzler's badness, and it makes me wonder if I'm bad too, for still loving someone who has done bad things, for offering forgiveness and friendship when no one thinks he deserves it. No one is purely evil or purely good, he taught me that much. Is it really so hard to accept that there was good in him?" Cavalier looked pleadingly into Chamomile's eyes. "Am I bad for wanting to believe that Puzzler wasn't evil?"

“Oh Cav…” Arms wrapped around him, pulling him into Chamomile’s chest. Hands patted the top of his helmet. “You’re not bad. You’re so kind, to want to forgive people for all the bad they’ve done.”

His hands pressed forward into the solid chest of Chamomile, feeling for the movement of his chest to follow. In, out, in, out. Chamomile smelled like lavender. “I’ve done bad things too.” he mumbled, muffled by the figure holding him. “Shouldn’t everyone hate me too?”

And there was no answer Chamomile could give, other than to tighten his hold on Cavalier.

[thisdiscontentedwinter]

Bad Blood - Chapter 14

You can read it on AO3 or find the Tumblr Chapter Index here.��

_____________________________

They have a case of mutual dissatisfaction, Peter thinks, watching as John Stilinski leaves the clinic to head into the Preserve to where a couple of his deputies are waiting with Scott McCall’s body. John isn’t happy with the way things panned out at the clinic, and neither is Peter. John would prefer to have his son safe and sound. Peter would prefer to have John’s son safely locked in a cage. They are mutually dissatisfied, but they are both men used to dissatisfaction. They’ve lived a long time in the world.

Derek and Laura haven’t.

“What the hell was I supposed to do?” Derek asks with an unhappy growl as Peter wanders back inside the clinic. “Let him kill the sheriff?”

“We were supposed to not let him go back to the Argents!” Laura exclaims.

Derek glowers. “That’s not fair!”

Laura glares back at him. “Derek, you told him how to walk out of here!”

“Now, now,” Peter says. “The boy has legs and a brain, Laura. He would have got there himself in a minute. What Derek did was de-escalate some of his anger. Was it an ideal outcome? Of course not, but it’d be a lot less ideal if we had a dead sheriff to explain.”

Derek throws him a grateful look.

Laura’s only frustrated, Peter knows, but Derek is overly sensitive to criticism. One growl from his alpha and the boy is consumed with guilt for both having let her down and for being the reason it’s her job to snap at him in the first place.

“Our position is exactly what it was earlier tonight,” Peter says. “And so is our strategy. We target the Argents before they target us again.”

He thinks of poor Scott, sixteen years old and dying in the woods.

“Except that’s not true, Peter,” Laura says. “Is it? Because we know why the sheriff won’t move against the Argents, don’t we?”

“We target all the Argents,” Peter says, “except Stiles. And this is exactly where we were before tonight. We can just see it clearly for the first time.”

Laura raises her eyebrows. “So we can’t target Stiles, but meanwhile he’s targeting us.”

“I didn’t say it wasn’t a shitty position,” Peter tells her. “Shitty is kind of our default after all.”

“Yeah,” Laura says, and exhales slowly. “It really is.”

Peter knocks Derek’s shoulder with his own. “Okay, kids, let’s go home and regroup.”

He nods to Deaton as they leave.

***

Peter doesn’t sleep. He sits downstairs in the loft, eating leftover cheesecake and watching reruns of The Golden Girls, because why not? Meanwhile, his brain ticks over in the back of his skull. Ideally he wants to get all the Argents in one place at one time—no muss, no fuss—but the Argents aren’t docile cows to be herded wherever the butcher wants. Kill one, and the rest will come gunning. And, Peter knows, they never work alone. There will be other hunters working with them. Paid no-name auxiliaries. They don’t have the Argents’ fanaticism, but they do have the weapons and the training. Peter wonders if there’s any way to find out just how many hunters the Argents can call on, who’ll come running to join the fight. What a nice thing it must be to have soldiers. Peter could use a battalion or two himself, honestly.

He reaches for the remote control when he hears Derek treading down the steps, and mutes The Golden Girls.

Derek sits down on the couch next to him.

“Okay, pup?” Peter asks him.

Derek makes a sound that’s impossible to parse. Then he draws a breath. “I don’t know why I stopped you from killing him.”

“I’m glad you did,” Peter says. “John Stilinski might make a valuable ally.”

“Might?”

“Well, given Stiles is back with the Argents, he’s unlikely to want to go in with guns blazing, but I’m still counting it as an advantage,” Peter says. He shoves the cheesecake in Derek’s direction. “Did you stop me because he smelled of fear?”

“No. It wasn’t that.” Derek’s brows tug together. “I think I stopped you because on the night of the party he smelled like happiness. Not in the same way that Kate did. Not like he was smug or satisfied. It was different than that. It was brighter, somehow. I don’t think he knew who I was.”

Peter remembers what Stiles said in the warehouse when he thought he was bleeding out: “I wish I didn’t have to hate you.”

“No,” he agrees softly. “I don’t think he knew either.”

“I should have followed him,” Derek says. “After he let the sheriff go, I should have followed him and grabbed him back.”

Peter allowed himself a slight smile at that. “He’s a zealot, Derek. Do you think he would have come without a fight?”

“I could have beaten him in a fight.”

“And do you think he’d stop fighting at any point?” Peter asks frankly. “The Romans had a saying, you know. Auribus teneo lupum. It means ‘I hold a wolf by the ears’. And in this metaphor, Stiles is the wolf, not you. Holding him might have proven even more dangerous than letting him run.”

Derek’s brow creases. “Do you really believe that?”

Peter doesn’t answer.

At this point he has no idea what he believes anymore.

***

It’s dawn by the time John Stilinski gets back from his crime scene in the woods. He looks surprised to find Peter in his kitchen fiddling with his coffee machine, but he does him the courtesy of not shooting him on the spot. Peter appreciates that.

“Thanks,” John says in a rough voice when Peter hands him a coffee. He takes a sip. “So this is us now, huh? Last night you try to slit my son’s throat, and now we’re coffee buddies?”

Peter leans back against the sink. “Last night your son helped kill Scott McCall. You can’t tell me you expect me to apologise for intending to kill him.”

John grunts, but his eyes are narrowed.

“I can’t treat every hunter like he’s a brainwashed victim,” Peter continues. “Stiles is the outlier here, and you know it. You know it better than most, actually. You were never brainwashed, were you?”

“He’s a kid,” John says, avoiding the question. “He’s sixteen years old.”

Peter raises his brows. “So was Scott McCall.”

John flinches a little at that. “You saw Stiles kill him?”

“No,” Peter admits. “And the gun I took off him still had all its bullets, apart from the one Laura needed to burn out the wolfsbane in her wound. But he was there, John, and he was on a hunt. What does it matter who fired the shots?”

“Don’t…” John draws a hand over his eyes. “Don’t hurt him again, please.”

“I don’t intend to,” Peter says. “Not anymore.”

John holds his gaze.

Peter lifts his chin. “Do you think you can get him back? Not just from the Argents, I mean. Do you think you can undo what they’ve done?”

“I don’t know,” John says. He looks tired. Not defeated, not yet, but tired as hell.

“You got yourself out,” Peter says, throwing him a lifeline.

John snorts, and his mouth quirks in a quick, bitter smile. “No,” he says. “Claudia got me out.”

Peter tilts his head. “Your wife?”

“Before she was my wife, she was Claudia Gajos.”

Peter’s jaw drops.

“They’re a relatively small pack,” John says, his voice softening. “They’re from just outside Kielce, in Poland, but they’ve been there since at least the thirteenth century. There was a report of some deaths, that turned out to be unrelated to the Gajos pack. Chris Argent and I were sent in to investigate. That’s when I met Claudia. She was human, but her parents were werewolves.” He swallows. “Bad enough I fell in love with someone like Claudia, but to have a child with her? Can you imagine how the council would have reacted if Janusz Stilinski’s son had been born a werewolf?”

“Jesus,” Peter murmurs.

“So we left,” John says. “Before Stiles was born. We both cut all ties with our families, and we left.” He sets his cup down on the table. “I did things as a hunter that I regret. I can only tell you that I thought, at the time, they were right. I did what I was ordered to do.”

“Huh,” Peter says, narrowing his eyes. “Where have I heard that before?”

“It’s an explanation,” John says. “Not an excuse. I didn’t question a damned thing until I met Claudia.”

“You and Chris Argent killed innocent werewolves,” Peter says flatly.

“Yes.” A shadow passes over John’s face. “But we didn’t know it at the time. Hell, Chris probably doesn’t know it now. Twenty years ago if you’d told me there was such a thing as an innocent werewolf, I would have laughed in your face. We went where the council told us, and did what they said needed to be done.” He holds Peter’s gaze. “I’ve made a lot of mistakes in my life, Peter, but I’m trying to make up for them.”

His heartbeat is steady.

Peter thinks of the fire. Thinks of the look on John Stilinski’s face as he broke the line of mountain ash and allowed Peter and Matty to escape. Thinks of what it cost John Stilinski to save them.

“I’m the left hand of the Hale pack,” he says at last. “I know what it means to not be the good guy.”

A moment of understanding passes between them. They are more alike than they are different, Peter thinks. In a war, nobody is clean.

“We’re going to take down the Argents,” Peter says.

“If you do that, others will come.”

“Deaton thinks Araya Calavera will stop that from happening.”

John’s mouth turns down at the corners. “That’s a hell of a gamble.”

“If we do nothing, we’re dead anyway.”

John is still for a moment, and then he nods. “Point taken. And where does my son fit in with your plans to kill the Argents?”

“Your son,” Peter says pointedly, “is not an Argent.”

John’s mouth quirks, and Peter sees a gleam in his eye that feels new. John Stilinski might be the sheriff now, but he’s still a hunter at heart. A decade and a half of community policing, budget meetings, and Say No To Drugs, Kids haven’t entirely killed that spark. And now it flares into life again.

“You won’t get to Gerard and Kate,” John says. “Not without help.”

“And here you are, offering it.” Peter folds his arms over his chest.

“No.” John shakes his head. “You need more than me for this, Peter.”

“Who do I need?” Peter asks warily.

John shrugs. “You need an inside man.”

Peter blinks. “Are you suggesting what I think you’re suggesting?”

John raises his eyebrows. “We were the best.”

“You’re fucking crazy if you think he’ll help us.”

“You said it yourself,” John says. “You’re dead anyway. What have you got to lose?”

“Hmm.” Peter snorts. “My last remaining thread of sanity?”

“Oh, you don’t need sanity where we’re going.” The gleam in his eye is back.

And Peter, more in surprise than anything else, laughs.

John Stilinski is a crazy person.

At least he’s on Peter’s side.

[boglog]

HILL HOUSE NOTES !!

Objectively speaking, I like the show as a weird crossover between Transparent and American Horror Story but there are always some cons :/ One thing I will say is that I find it hard to review horror bc I'm too busy swimming in cortisol to notice plot holes but I watched the scary scenes w subtitles and no audio and that will have to do!!!

Cons:

The diologue is occasionally awful.

Scratch that it's terrible and the more the show goes on the more it nears Grey's Anatomy levels of nauseating

Firstly, there are way too many name drops esp when there are only two characters in the room, sometimes even one sentence after another, it's exhausting.

i.e. 'Stay right here, honey. I'm going to talk to the police now sweetie, I'll be right back.' // 'You eat people, Steve. You are a parasite, Steve.'

Second of all, 'Don't do that ever again. Don't do that. Where were you? I thought the house thingy got you.' kids don't talk like this. I know irl children tend to imitate the adults around them but the sheer amount of stock cliches these child actors are required to say is incredible

And honestly overall there's too much talking period. There are dozens of scenes where a character monologues for almost five minutes!!!!

I loved mind doppelgänger Leigh's speech but really let's tally it up: we've got Mrs Dudley's monologue, Olivia monologues a few times, Theo's monologue, Luke 2 or three monologues, one from Shirley, Hugh is not much of a talker so thank god they were consistent. And of course a lot of these are important to the story and even close to entertaining (see also: Nell yelling at Steve) but it's way too much and anything actually significant is diluted in this deluge of info-dump-y speeches

Why god??? Why?

Like this is television not radio but I guess it's another case of Forced Diegesis when summarising w flashbacks would actually be way easier on my psyche but Tacky for these Kinematic Auteurs

I would've liked a more in depth exploration of Olivia and her childhood experiences of paranormal tragedy to give us a better context for her morally grey slip into an evil mother

Still somewhat peeved at how, bc of supernatural instinct, we can justify Theo and CPS taking a child away from her home. Obviously the show can't waste so much time on what's only supposed to be a quick detour into Theo's character and it works within the world of the show given that the guy did confess but portrayals of police, first responders, social workers, ad nauseum making snap descisions like that is Not Good for people's real world perception of their rights. Just sayin.

Maybe a scene where Steve and Hugh apologise for being garbage humans or something idk that would've been nice

This show has many layers and interpretations which could either skew towards clever ambiguity or clumsy indescision and while I'm leaning toward the former, I will say it does go a little all over the place for me.

Are the Crains' superpowers genetic, from their mother? Did it come from the house? Why is the house was so vindictive? What does it want? Or is it more symbolic of the emptiness inside the characters? Why is Olivia decidedly an over controlling mother but Nell is an innocent? Is really the only thing Steve had to do to save his marriage was reverse the vasectomy? Nell died of her own paradoxical haunting that began when she was six so was the cause ultimately a sadness within herself before the house of strictly the house's pull?

Like it's v unclear (probably deliberately) wether or not the story was Psychosis All Along or it was the house's vendetta or bc the Crains specifically are a supernatural mutant family

We never find out what Nell does for a living and I'm curious

Finally: it's really white sometimes. Like. Painfully white. Granted, the Crains come close to my favourite kind of white person, the quirky dysfunctional family of adult children scattered all over the country who only reunite at their dead sister's funeral. Still, the POC tally up to two love interests (one of which DIES), one cop, one naïve widow, and one poor daughter-less foster parent. One could argue only a middle class white family would stay in a haunted house for so long ://

Pros

The show juggles seven characters and two plots flawlessly. Each character is recognisable w a distinct personality after about only two episodes, the nonlinear structure as we alternate between the present day frame story and the main plot in flashbacks before ultimately converging when the family reunites at the house for the last time is not only clear but parses its information in way that's not only not confusing but strengthens the tension and dread. Even while they show the flashbacks' ending (w Olivia and later Nell's death) as well as the epilogue, the build up still feels entirely justified. This is peak plotting right there.

Furthermore, Nell's ghost still manages to be in the spotlight with some jumpscares even after we know who she is

My soul pretty much left my body when Nell's ghost attempts to bond w her sisters via screaming as they argue in the car

A quintessential microcosm of the show's representation of time and memory is Nell's final speech: whimsically disjointed at first, poignant and clear by the end

It's a horror show that is completely dedicated to its characters (and I'm sure some of you already know my love of dysfunctional families) and centres around human themes of connection, mourning, and trauma and the necessity of vulnerability and letting go in order to live a full life. That's very rare in horror where we usually get gratuitous gore with a small spattering of sentimental scenes to further the gore.

Olivia's Forever House served as an excellent symbol for her need to control, the house's monicker implying her fear of change.

An incomplete but not bad portrayal of trauma, a decent addition to the topical and ever-expanding mental illness discourse

Also ft. meta commentary on writers

In the beginning, Olivia really was portrayed as a concerned mother who was always trying to be considerate of her children's emotional well-being despite her occasional snaps. One has to wonder wether her slip into an irrational need to control might reflect society's paradoxically oppressive expectations of motherhood: to have absolute control of your children while also being a benevolent saviour to them 24/7. I mean in all fairness to Olivia, she was working and raising 5 kids. I'd lose my marbles too.

Or maybe I'm giving the creators too much credit and they were only angling for an Other Mother thing. I like this Foucaultian nihilism though so we're gonna go w that.

The show's acknowledgment of Useless Dad and Entitled Eldest Son syndrome.

Spat my tea when doppelgänger Leigh ripped Steve a new one, and since she's a representation of his psyche maybe that means that Steve himself has gained some self awareness. (He should still... apologise to his family....)

I mean they were really spot-on with how birth order family drama goes.

Human portrayal of a lesbian as an adult and a child! As tumblr user Lesbeet said, this is very rare and deftly done!

Theo doing literally anything

Shirl is p adorable

Theo and Shirl: the comedy duo we absolutely need in our lives

Arthur and Nell's romance is joining Up's prologue in the golden vault of world's greatest ten minute love montages. (Both of which ended in tragédie. ☹️)

Shirl's AU dream sequence, which unlike the others, presents us with an extramarital faux pas that we were not previously aware of, manages to seem totally appropriate for her character

The set and costume design are perfect for the primordial fear of the unknown aesthetic the show was going for. Fairy flappers! Gothic stairwells! Punk rock leather gloves! A McMansion that doubles as a funeral home! Motels! A curvilinear LA mansion! The absolutely insane brutalist million dollar rehab centre! Oh boy!!!

Accurate mortician portrayal: they really do gotta wire the corpses' mouths shut. Those damn chatty dead people.

Tldr:

Diologue is lengthy and cheesy while the characters are Too White. The rare portrayals of POC and how social services work were lacklustre. 👎

The show's incredible ambition and dedication to its characters and themes of trauma, dysfunctional family relationships, and the consequences of coping via trying to control your life is amazing. Theo, especially, is amazing. It's a very goth show with clinically depressed ghosts.👍

[nelkitty]

I just want to apologise to all my followers for reblogging so many chronic illness posts

I’m going to be a little obsessed with EDS and body stuff for a while because I’m still wrapping my head around this diagnosis and what it means to me

I don’t have my rheumatologist appointment until July so for the moment I know I have A Thing but not how bad or what there is to do about it. Most of this stuff I had no idea was as abnormal as it is and it’s thrilling, validating, fascinating, and terrifying to be aware of it, to explore my body in this new realm of “actually most people can’t do that and you really shouldn’t.”

Parts of me hurt that never used to, and the parts that did hurt then hurt more now and I’m not entirely sure why. I’m still figuring out what pain is to me, I can’t figure out if I’m experiencing it most of the time, and I certainly can’t tell what’s physical and what’s imagined. I do tend to manifest my own symptoms if I think about them too much and I have been thinking about this a lot.

I also don’t know how I feel about the idea of being disabled. I don’t know if I am. I think I’m heading there, if I’m not already, and the idea that this pain in my hips will get worse over time is... odd, it doesn’t parse. My close friends are horrified that I’m just like “no it’s not that bad I’m fine don’t be silly” and keep reminding me that bodies aren’t supposed to be like this. One of them (hi darling I love you) insists I should have been on the disability support pension years ago and is mortified that I’m still unsure about whether I ‘deserve’ it. I feel like I’m misleading them, and misleading my doctors, like the only way they could think my issues are Serious Issues is if I exaggerated or deceived them somehow.

Funny that I’m constantly pushing for people to take me seriously and when they do I’m completely confused by it

I don’t know what’s going on with me at the moment which means, unfortunately, I’ll be talking a lot about it and flooding my blogs and social media with introspection, observations, and chronic illness memes.

And for those of you who do have very clear-cut disabilities and well-established chronic illness, I’m sorry if I’m being melodramatic and making mountains out of molehills. I don’t want to minimise or invalidate your experiences.

I hope it doesn’t bother you too much.

Also hey, if you have some supportive words or advice for me, I would really fucking love to hear it. 💕

All my love~

[erraticuspodcast]

As always I'm glad you only release when you're up for it (you never have to apologise), but. I'm glad it was today. I've been having, to put it mildly, just the worst fucking week, and getting to hear these three again let me forget about it for a while. Missed them.

It was really well put together, and the the dynamics remain such a treat. The faces Guy makes in the pauses after Fern says something are very vivid. She makes some comments that are intensely ADHD relatable. And it's cool to have a character who feels as unimpressed at the concept of having a name. Names are exausting.

I hope you don't mind that I'm replying to this. If you want me to delete this reply, please tell me and I'll take it down as soon as I can.

BUT I did want to thank you so much for these kind words. And I also wanted to express my condolences about your week. I'm happy that this story could offer you bright spot in a terrible week. I plan on releasing Episode 9 next week, and I hope THAT week treats you better.

One of the funnest parts writing and recording this episode was letting Guy's exhaustion lead to an evaporation of his ability to parse Fern's idiosyncratic way of speaking, and I love thatvthe audio-only medium allows pointed silence do all the heavy lifting. The fact that you could PICTURE Guy's face was EXACTLY what I was going for.

And I love that Fern comes across as someone with ADHD. I don't plan on ever revealing my intention behind her characterization--or any characters' characterization--or to ever deny or confirm anything about her that's not explicitly stated in the story, but that's because I strongly believe in Death of the Author and I want each listener to have completely free reign to interpret the characters and the story as they wish.

I'm not going to say anything about your point about the names other than this: 🙃

[littlespoonevan]

14 for the cuddle prompt! 🌸❤

anon said:14!!!!!💕💜💕💜💕 ily Ciara!!!!

anon said:13 plz plz plz u rock I love u

this is inspired by someone who fell asleep next to me on the bus. unfortunately it was a middle-aged woman and not a cute boy who i could’ve had the potential to cuddle with but, y’know, i gave that glory to evak instead lmao 

i hope you like it!!!!

14. In public + 13. Falling asleep

*

Isak slips onto the tram seconds before the doorsclose, huffing out a breath and gripping the pole to keep his balance as thetram takes off. Shifting his bag on his back, Isak glances around the car in avain attempt to find a vacant seat.

He silently curses the people who hoard seats whenthe tram is busy by purposefully sitting on the outside or using their bags totake up the extra space. He gets it, okay? If given the option, he doesn’t likesitting next to people on the tram either but he’s been up since 7:00 and he barelyslept last night and he just really wants to sit down.

Just as he’s about to accept his fate and sag againstthe pole in defeat, he notices someone moving their bag out of the corner ofhis eye. Looking up, he locks eyes with a boy who offers him a shrug andhalf-hearted smile that has Isak’s heart tripping over in his chest.

Because holy shit that boy is cute.

Squeezing the straps of his backpack between hisfingers he shuffles forward, taking a seat beside the boy with a quiet, “Takk.”

“There’s nothing worse than standing on the tram atthe end of a long day,” the boy says easily. “Especially when it’s busy.”

Isak smiles nervously, wracking his brain for somethingmildly charming to say but he takes too long and has to settle for awkwardsilence instead. He’s both relieved and annoyed at himself when the boy puts inhis earphones a moment later, effectively ending any attempts at conversation.

While the boy busies himself with staring out thewindow Isak gets comfortable in his chair, letting his bag drop to the floor tosit between his legs.

The thing about seats on trams is that, very often,you and the other person end up sitting with some part of your body touching.There’s simply not enough room for you to be concerned about your personalspace bubble. So Isak’s not all that surprised that he and the boy have to sitwith their arms and thighs pressed right up against each other. He expects that.

What he doesn’t expect is how nice it feels.

It’s just- he feels warm like this and the boy’s coatis big and feels a little bit like a pillow with the way it sinks under theweight of Isak’s shoulder. And Isak feels kind of hazy, mind going fuzzy fromthe heat of the tram and how little sleep he’s running on. He can’t help restinghis head against the backrest and it doesn’t take long for his eyes to start todroop. After an internal battle with himself he decides it can’t hurt to closehis eyes until his stop is announced.

Just for a few minutes.

*

Isak slowly drifts back into consciousness to thefeel of a hand jostling his arm. Blinking his eyes open, he shifts and takes asecond to bury his face deeper in his pillow before he can convince himself toget up except- that’s not his pillow.

Eyes widening in horror, Isak suddenly remembers he’son the tram and promptly launcheshimself upright. Still sitting beside him is the boy. The really pretty boywith the quiff and the comfy jacket and the little bemused smile.

The boy who Isak just fell asleep on.

Isak wants to die.

Before he can even find his voice to stammer out onapology the boy starts speaking. “Sorry, I didn’t want to wake you but I thinkyour stop is coming up.”

And that’s. What.

Isak gapes a little, grasping for a response that’sjust out of his reach. “I- what?”

The boy actually looks sheepish at that, glancingtowards the door before looking back to Isak. “I just- we usually get the sametram home and I noticed you always tend to get off the stop just before me.”

This…this boy has been on the tram with him before?

…Is Isak blind?

How the hell did he never notice him?

Isak is about to reply but then the tram crawls to a haltand, sure enough, announces his stop. “I’m- you’re right, this is my stop.” Hegathers up a bag and pushes himself to stand, hovering for a second and tryingto fight down the desire to just stay on the tram with the boy. “Thanks, um…”

“Even,” the boy supplies with a soft smile.

Isak returns it with his heart skipping a beat,hiking his bag up on his shoulder. “Thanks, Even.”

With that, he hurries off the tram just as the doorsare about to close.

*

The next day when Isak steps onto the tram he feels alittle thrill run through him at the sight of Even with an empty seat next tohim. Clinging to his courage with everything he has, Isak makes his way over.

“If I apologise for falling asleep on you yesterdaycan I sit down?”

Even’s face lights up right as he lets out a laughthat makes Isak’s insides melt. “Of course you can sit down.

“And I really don’t mind that you fell asleep,” hecontinues once Isak’s settled beside him. “You looked tired.”

Isak flushes at that, clearing his throatself-consciously. “Uh, yeah. I hadn’t gotten much sleep the night before so…”

Even nods in understanding before he nudges Isak’sside. “You know you still haven’t told me your name? I usually have a rule thatI know someone’s name before I let them fall asleep on me.”

Isak groans, burying his face in his hands. Hisinsomnia has made him do some dumb shit but falling asleep on a hot strangerhas to be the dumbest. “Please stop talking,” he begs, slowly lowering hishands when he hears Even laugh. His embarrassment is almost worth it to see theway Even’s eyes crinkle at the corners when he laughs. “And it’s Isak,” headds. “My name.”

“Isak,” Even repeats with a certain something in hisvoice that Isak can’t quite parse. “Well, Isak, do you feel like listening tosome music?” he asks, offering Isak one of his earbuds.

Isak takes it with a tentative smile, not quite surewhat’s happening right now but also not wanting to stop it. It’s only when he’sactually got the bud in his ear that Even stage-whispers, “I’ll even let youuse me as a pillow.”

Isak huffs and rolls his eyes to hide the fact hischeeks are still stained red but he might slouch down a little more in his seatat Even’s words. (He didn’t sleep last night either, okay?)

And it’s really nice. Whatever playlist Even has onis quiet – mostly acoustic songs that go easy on Isak’s ears after a long day –and the tram is warm but not the stuffy, sickly kind. Even doesn’t speak but he’sa comfortable weight beside Isak and he- he just-

Basically, it happens again.

One minute Isak is subtly leaning against Even’sside, the next he’s slowly being woken up to the sound of Even murmuring hisname and Even’s hand squeezing his arm.

Isak scrubs at his eyes with his left hand and raiseshis head off Even’s shoulder, meeting his gaze with an embarrassed smile andflushed cheeks. “Sorry.”

“Do you do this with every random stranger you meeton the tram or is it just me?” Even asks, voice soft and laced with quietamusement.

“Just you,” Isak admits and it feels like a muchgreater confession than it is.

Even eyes him for a moment, expression inscrutable,but then he smiles. “In that case I should probably start bringing a pillowwith me.”

“Your shoulder’s comfortable enough,” Isak’s stupid,sleep-muddled brain blurts out before he can stop himself. “I mean-“

“I’m flattered,” Even chuckles. “But I think we’re atyour stop now.”

With a jolt, Isak realises they are. He hadn’t evennoticed the tram slowing down.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Isak,” Even says, squeezinghis arm once more before letting go.

Isak has never hoped for a sleepless night more thanhe does right now.

*

It happens again the next day. And the day afterthat. And the day after that.

Isak spends the first half of his journey talking toEven and laughing at his jokes and trying to psych himself up to actuallyfucking ask him out before spending the rest of his journey asleep on Even’sshoulder until they get to his stop.

Honestly it’s a pretty good arrangement.

It’s been over a week of Isak’s poor attempts atflirting and needy cuddling when he finds himself on the tram once again withEven but there’s just one problem.

He’s not tired.

He had a good night’s sleep last night and he’s nottired and he only gets to cuddle Even when he’s asleep.

He’s having a crisis.

Their conversation has petered off by now and insteadthey’re sharing Even’s earphones while Even rhythmically bumps his knee againstIsak’s and this would be right around the time Isak normally drifts off. But he’swide awake today and hyperaware of crossing some weird boundary if he were tolean into Even right now without the excuse of sleep.

But he wantsto.

He wants to reach out and bridge the barely-there gapbetween them so bad.

Maybe…maybe he could just pretend to sleep? Just thisonce and then tomorrow he’ll actually get his act together and ask Even out.But right now he just slouches in his seat, letting his head drop onto Even’sshoulder and releasing a slow breath.

The thing about not actually being asleep for once isthat Isak gets to see what Even normally does while he is. That, apparently,involves Even resting his own head against the top of Isak’s and tracingpatterns over Isak’s arm – the sweetest, softest gestures that have Isak feelingclose to hyperventilating.

He holds his breath and holds himself still, afraidthat if he makes even the slightest movement that Even might stop touching him.

What he doesn’t anticipate is Even mumbling, “Isak,are you awake?”

Isak freezes, closing his eyes and swallowing hardbefore he makes a decision and catches Even’s hand, lacing their fingerstogether. “How’d you know?”

“You’re usually a dead weight when you sleep,” Eventells him. “And your breathing’s deeper.”

“I’m not tired today,” Isak murmurs, breath hitchingat Even’s thumb sweeping over the back of his hand.

“That’s okay,” Even replies quietly. “I guess myshoulder’s still irresistible?”

Isak huffs a laugh, turning his face into saidshoulder to hide his bashful smile. Even squeezes his hand and Isak’s heart isin his throat.

“Hey,” Even says, touching the fingers of his freehand to Isak’s jaw to make him look up. Their faces are only an inch apart andIsak can’t help the way his gaze drags down to Even’s lips.

“I know we’re kind of doing things backwards with thewhole comfortable intimacy thing but do you maybe want to get something to eat?”

Isak grins, butterflies erupting in his stomach as henods. “I’d like that.”

“Good,” Even says, mouth turning up at the corners ashe gently bumps his forehead against Isak’s. “We can stay like this until mystop then.”

They stay like that long beyond the journey to Even’sstop.

*

[theclaravoyant]

Oh! Oh a prompt! Fitzskimmons fic featuring FitzSimmons patching up an upset daisy after pulling her out of the gladiator arena and telling her that even though they want to get married it doesn’t take her out of the equation!

AN ~ Thanks for the prompt! If you haven’t read my other 5x06 FitzSkimmons UA coda I suggest you read that too, but I also decided to run with this prompt a little bit; it turned into FitzSkimmons + a discussion about marriage (the first bit is set at an undisclosed time, but there’s some 5x06 thrown in too). Fluffy :D though some super mild references to injury. Hope you like it!

Read on AO3 (~1300wd)

-

“Okay, you guys, no offense but if either one of you gets any ideas to propose without at least a full minute of choreography, the answer’s no.” Beaming, Daisy held her phone up above all their heads and they watched the end of another Big Ask video. “Although – writing your own lyrics is optional.”

“Good, because I don’t – I don’t think I’d be very good at that,” Fitz remarked. Daisy and Jemma snorted in unison and Daisy dropped her phone back to her chest to turn her head, facing him as best she could as the three of them lay together.

“Pfft,” she scoffed. “Please, you can’t help it. You could write a whole song from scratch with your eyes closed. If you actually knew anything about music. Unless, I mean – do you?”

“No?? I was a bit busy getting my PhD by the age of fifteen thank you very much,” Fitz retorted defensively. “But I also don’t think I’d like one of those big, flashy, public proposals. It’s too much pressure. I’d go for something classic; a nice dinner, a walk somewhere private, that sort of thing.”

“Ring in the champagne?”

“Oh, Lord no.” Jemma screwed up her nose. “Rings are nasty with germs and dead skin cells and things. I certainly wouldn’t be drinking that glass.”

“No, well, but hopefully you wouldn’t be drinking it because you’re so totally flawed by my amazing idea,” Fitz objected. “Stop making me think of dead skin while I’m trying to propose.”

“I quite like the flashy proposal, myself,” Jemma continued without heed to his squeamishness. “I mean, I don’t believe it should be the first conversation about marriage a relationship should have, but if you’re on the same page with things then you should essentially have the yes before you do the dance anyway. Then the dance itself, you make it special, individual, you put a lot of effort in. And you announce to the world that this is your person, your people. And after all, isn’t that what marriage is all about?”

“Mmm.” Daisy hummed, and it sounded hesitant. Fitz and Jemma frowned.

“You don’t like marriage?” Fitz guessed.

“It’s not that I don’t like it,” Daisy replied. “I mean… I like the idea of it. I like what Jem just said about commitment and all that. I just – I don’t know, marriage. It’s a lot, you know? A wedding sounds like fun. Marriage sounds like…”

“A bargain struck between men to move their women around like chattel?” Jemma put in.

“Sort of, I guess, yeah.” Daisy squirmed. “I mean that’s where it comes from but that’s not really it. I guess I’d feel trapped? Not trapped. Uh. I don’t know how to big-words-ify it.”

“Intellectualise,” Jemma corrected.

“Yeah. That.”

“I’ll take a stab,” Fitz offered. “You grew up surrounded by dysfunctional families in a messed up system based on formalized definitions and their failures. Basing ideas like love and connection on the same kind of system feels disconnected, if not downright scary. Plus, marriage is a heteropatriarchal amatonormative monogamous institution and you’re a bi poly anarchist down to your bones.”

“Yeah, that sounds about right.” Daisy snorted. “Plus, I mean, isn’t that what lots of people say? ‘I don’t need a piece of paper to tell me I’m in love with you’?”

“I’d quite like one,” Jemma disagreed. “I’d hang it in my office so that everyone would know.”

“Although, Jemma Fitz-Simmons-Johnson is going to need a pretty big nameplate,” Fitz pointed out.

“Who says that’d be my name?”

“Well you’re hardly going to take mine, are you? But you wouldn’t make me or Daisy take yours without it being equal, so…”

“Hang on a sec guys,” Daisy interrupted, “I just wanna be clear, just... just in case. I don’t want to get married. You can, if you want, I’m not sure how that works, but – for serious, I don’t want it for myself, okay?”

“Okay,” Fitz and Jemma both agreed, and shuffled closer to Daisy in case she was feeling uncomfortable. She was, to be honest, but she quickly shook it off.

"Now, back to planning FitzSimmons’ Big Day.” She held up her phone again and started googling. “Now, would the happy couple prefer a horse and carriage, or a hot air balloon ride?”

-

Despite their brush with sincerity, the conversation about proposals and marriage was, in all honesty, one born of abstraction and jokes. It wasn’t for some time afterward that any of them put any wheels into motion, and as it turned out, none of those wheels ended up worth a damn anyway. In the end, every carefully parsed decision flew out the window of a diner 74 years in the past. In the end, the words just slipped out.

“Marry me, Fitz.”

Jemma's heart was beating hard, her head spinning. Fitz’s arms held her up, flush against him on the tiny little box, and even though they were in the middle of running for their lives, Jemma couldn’t help but feel safe. She lavished the feeling of him warm and solid and heroic and here. And him. It felt like months since she’d seen his face, his real face, and since he’d held her in his arms. He’d been so shaken, last she’d seen him, it was nice to see the colour in his cheeks again, and his chin held high. Yet, she knew how quickly it could all be ripped away and maybe that’s why they slipped out.

Marry me.

And all he said was, Absolutely. With such conviction it was as if his life’s singular purpose had led him to this moment. As if he was completely prepared to stare into his lover’s eyes in an alien gladiator ring in the ruins of Earth, decades beyond their deaths and the end of the world, and promise her his everything. Of course, he shortly began insisting that he had been preparing for exactly that and had in fact beaten her to the proposal in the first place. Even as they carried Daisy out of the arena as best they could, they were already bickering – like, one might say, an old married couple.

Jemma led them to a vacant room and began rummaging about for medical supplies, and Fitz help a slightly delirious Daisy down onto the bed. He sat beside her and stroked her hair out of her face, and out of a bloody cut on her forehead.

“Don’t mind me,” Daisy grumbled, albeit with a fond smile. “Casually dying over here, but it’s fine.”

“Sorry,” Fitz apologised earnestly. “You know Jemma. Emotional, that one. Well known for grand gestures and getting caught up in the moment.”

Daisy snorted. Fitz’s eyes glistened with tears of joy as he snuck another glance over to where Jemma was working, sterilizing something. He’d never imagined she’d be the one to pull him in by the lapels for a kiss, in the middle of a gunfight. It made his cheeks feel hot just thinking about it.

“You’re really gonna do it, huh?” Daisy wondered, prodding him with a poorly aimed finger. His eyes dropped back down to her. “Marry Jemma.”

“Absolutely,” he said again. “And you know, I would you as well, if it’s something you wanted. I mean – unless you’ve changed your mind?”

“Yes, of course we wouldn’t want to leave you out, Daisy,” Jemma assured her, bringing the tray of supplies over. “Sit up? Fitz, fix her pillows, thank you. But if we were operating on old assumptions, then, I apologise. I haven’t a song and dance prepared.”

Daisy chuckled. “’S’ okay. Talking like an old-timey princess is enough for me. You’re cute when you’re being funny.”

“Well, that’s good to know,” Jemma agreed with a smile, and shone a light into Daisy’s eyes. She pressed her lips together. “And you’re a surprisingly good patient when you’re concussed.”

Daisy made an expression that suggested – in her head at least – she was giving a nonchalant shrug. “Consider it a wedding present.”

“So you won’t be joining us, then?” Jemma checked, running her hands over Daisy’s limbs with practiced ease.

“Oh, yes I will.”

Jemma frowned, and looked at Fitz. He frowned back. Perhaps they should wait for Daisy to sober up before they made sense of this conversation. Then again, Daisy laughed, apparently entertained by their confusion.

“Come on!” she cried. “Dope dresses and cake tastings?! I’m an anarchist, ‘n my head hurts, but I’m not a rock. Do I not bleed?”

Jemma grimaced. “Yes, you certainly do. And you break bones, so you’re lucky you didn’t shatter both your tibias just now.”“You don’t have to tell me.” Daisy grimaced, and sighed heavily, leaning back into the pillows. Fitz squeezed her hand and she lamented - “But damn, it looked wicked for a second there, didn’t it?”

[firebirdsdaughter]

Ryusoulger Subs Post #1…

… There never was a #2! What a shock. Not really.

God, now I have to get through the week again.

In no order:

Yes, I remember what happened last time.

Remembered to check the chibi Ryusoulger this time. It’s Red. So I guess this is a Kou ep? Or they’re just going in order, and the chibis are in no way related to the focus.

I’m now wondering if Banba folding his arms is his anxious tell? Like, it’s a defensive body posture. I’m too tired to make much sense of my own explanation rn, but it fits his issues, I think.

Also his hand is so tense, oh, honey… DX

I’m also trying to figure out exactly what he was doing w/ his hand… Like, maybe it was just a nervous fidget, but also kinda like he was picking at his nails somehow? For lack of a better description?

Why is Melto the only one who knows how to check a pulse?

I want to hug Banba so badly right now… This boys’ facial expressions are amazing. Like, you can tell he’s in agony over the fact that, as far as he knows, he, personally, destroyed the only way to save his brother.

Poor Kou having to chase Banba again. XD

Crayon trying to start his own YouTube channel… I like this guy. He’s both creepy and entertaining.

Also I would die for any of the mook suit actors in an instant.

Big Brother Mode is still ACTIVATED. ^^

Crayon uses Microphone! It’s not super effective!

I still love how Kou was like ‘It’s probably best if I transform even before I find him just in case.’ Esp since, in the end, that actually wasn’t necessary.

I would kind of love to have had more to this scene. Like, how long do you think Banba spent trying to go after Crayon/walk on his own before Kou was able to get him back? I’d write it, but I just can’t seem to find the inspiration rn… DX

How often are they changing these cloths? Kou and Banba don’t seem to have been gone, like, ten minutes.

So… What, does it reproduce through spores?

Accidentally paused on very distressed Kou right before he called for the others. Poor baby.

I know it’s in character for him to refuse to sit, but I still think they could’ve offered Banba a chair.

I still want to pinch surprised Kou’s cheeks. DX

No, really. Why are there two? Did it divide or something? Or was she just really mad about people abandoning animals?

HOW IS HE ABLE TO STILL LOOK SO AMAZING IN THAT AWFUL MAKEUP???

Melto gets upgraded to being directly addressed. ^^

Banba really didn’t need to come off the wall for this, really. I love him, but the way he kinda lurches toward Melto there seems a little bit out of a horror film…

Honestly, I’m gonna miss Crayon and Tankjoh’s relationship. ‘You don’t get to laugh.’ (and just the deadpan way he says it) ‘Why be strict about that?’ XD I’m rather fond of their dynamic.

Crayon being unable to completely control the Minusaurs is so bloody hilarious to me. ^^

I guess Kou and Melto just have stronger immune systems?

Banba and Kou and their ‘don’t underestimate Kata Soul.’

…

… Okay, it’s probably not connected at all, and/or it’s just a recurring joke w/ this Minusaur, but… We know that the most recent (at least) traumatic event that happened to Kou involved Kata Soul… What if that Soul was also involved in some traumatic event that happened to Banba? Hell, maybe that’d be why he favours it. I dunno, I’m probably just spinning. But it came into my head when Kou essentially did the same thing Banba did against the other Cerberus Minusaur.

Well, DON’T TURN YOUR BACK ON IT, EITHER!

Oh, sweetie, no. I know you’re a mess right now, but no.

I feel so bad for him, though. Like, he blames himself for letting this happen in the first place (for failing to protect his brother/destroy Crayon before, etc.), and he’s probably blaming himself for delaying their chance at getting an antidote by destroying the first Minusaur. Now he’s dying, other people are dying, and most importantly to him, Touwa is dying. This has gotta be some of the most scared and desperate he’s ever been.

Like, the way he hobbles over to look at Touwa before he does it… TT_TT

WHERE WAS HE KEEPING THE SWORD??? HIS SLEEVE??

Does he have Zuuban in there, too?

Sorry. DX I have an incurable condition called thinking I’m hilarious.

But looks aren’t everything.

… Okay, who let my grandfather in here.

No, honey. No. This is not your fault. I promise you, no one here blames you but you. I don’t know if someone once told you you were at fault for something(s), or if you’ve just been internalising blame your whole life or something. But. I promise. No one blames you. </3

I mean, it both is and isn’t selfish. He’s got a point that if they die there will be no one to fight the Druidon. But I think the main driving force behind his desperation right now is to save his brother, and the former reason is more secondary.

He really has no right to look so good in this awful makeup, and yet… I saw a man so beautiful I started crying.

I am rather disappointed that Banba and Asuna didn’t go out there, but I guess their conditions had deteriorated more than the other two’s had, bc they got infected first.

Okay. This looks like a renaissance painting.

Oh, gods… Banba’s reaction to the whole ‘trust’ thing… TT^TT Who did this to you? Please tell me so I can find and assassinate them? DX

Hm… Maybe Touwa does know something, bc he got really soft over the ‘let’s trust them’ line.

Also just the word ‘trust’ seems to be borderline trigger for Banba… I really wish we had some flashbacks for the brothers, too… Though there is still plenty of time.

I still want child¡Banba holding baby¡Touwa.

But, to do some random spitball theorising… Could there have been a situation where Banba felt like he screwed up, and then when he trusted someone to help they betrayed him in some way? No grounding for this, just musing.

But god, his reaction there makes me want to know more so badly…

I always wonder how much they tell the actors? Like, is it like Game of Thrones where they only tell them things that the characters would know? By that logic, Tatsuya may know what Banba’s side of the story is… Though I seem to remember that Keisuke said something that implied he didn’t know all of Kuro Woz’s backstory… Though maybe he was deflecting a question. I dunno.

Okay, it’s not actually that similar, but that cut from the dramatic scene of the others declaring they trust Melto and Kou/resigning to giving them a chance while also having some sort of secret trauma flashback or something over the concept of ‘trust’ (in Banba’s case) to Kou being yeeted into a pile of barrels made me think of that scene in Kyuranger where Lucky gives a speech about how much faith they have in Shou and what a great leader he is––and then it cuts to Shou screaming hysterically about how they’re all going to crash into the sun and die.

Kou is a very reckless oaf, and I love him to bits.

How did he even… I guess sheer force of will.

Honestly, Hayate is kind of rocking the awful ‘poisoned’ makeup, too.

Actually, to be honest, they all are.

Or maybe someone made the smart decision to tone down the makeup.

I’d call Master Red ‘Master Dad,’ but then what would I call Master Blue? Master Other Dad? Master Melto’s Dad? *insert shrug emoji here*

When you pass out from poison, and have a dream about that time your parental substitute father figure gave you a piggyback ride––only it was actually your sentient dinosaur mecha carrying you and your friend on its back.

So. Who summoned Tyramigo? XD

…

… You know what. That’s it. I have nothing to say about the kebabs anymore.

Wait. So apparently the village was destroyed? So… What happened to all the other people we saw? Did they die? Evacuate to somewhere? But the Elder says he has nowhere else to go… O_o

In case you were wondering, the sixth is going to be Gold. Here presented as… Saffron yellow? Bc gold was probably too over the top for a kebab menu.

I love how Melto went from so frightened of the Elder that he hid a banana behind his back to interrupting the guy when he’s talking. XD

Wait, so… Like. Was he the one they were originally meant to bring it to? Are he and Naohisa in cahoots? Did I accidentally skip a line? That’s actually very possible.

… Why. Why was I expecting science. Why did I actually think… Oh, forget it.

Okay, but did they have to make it yellow? There are plenty of juices. You could have made it any other colour.

Kinda wish we got to see them bring it back to the house. But I can understand the ‘dramatic reveal’ of them showing up to fight Tankjoh.

But you know Banba made sure Touwa was cured even before he was. XD

*UGLY SOBBING COMMENCES*

I’M SO PROUD.

I still love MirNeedle and his honking sound.

The RyuSouls still want hugs.

The fact that Tankjoh has legit hands is hilarious to me.

Banba saying the dramatic lines, for some reason. XD

God, even w/ that wording… Banba’s still blaming himself. A) In apologising, and B) w/ the ‘I made you etc.’ It’s basically ‘I failed so you had to do it.’

Touwa calling him on makes me wonder if he does that a lot… Oh my gosh, is Banba also a compulsive apologiser? MY BABY! DX

Aaaaaaw. He gets so awkward and embarrassed. He’s so cute. XD <3

I’m still trying to parse out the look he gives Kou. It’s, like… Bemused? I guess? Like ‘you’re still saying that?’ Maybe? Though given the quick deep breath and how fast he rejects, maybe he was starting to have a ‘maybe we can trust him/them’ thought and felt like he needed to quickly shut it down.

All I could think of was the ‘I’m sorry, you must be a level 4 friend to unlock my tragic backstory’ tweet…

I love Kou’s expression and body language, bc it’s somewhere between becoming fondly amused and Banba’s grumpy tsundere nature, being like ‘Oooo! New friend project!’, and ‘Oh? That is that a challenge?’

To quite the King of Friendship himself: ‘I’m gonna become friends with you just to spite you.’ XD

Kou and Melto are less teasing Asuna, and more that they don’t want to look at the Elder in that outfit again. XD

I guess he wasn’t prophesying, and he has seen the trio more recently… But I’m still petty and will be sour if the brothers get excluded from whatever prophecies etc. there do end up being…

Like, they can do an ‘it’s all up to the original three’ in the end like Go-Onger, but only if they have the brothers pull a Hanto and Gunpei/Go-O Wings.

Preview: Don’t trust the sisters, and I suspect they have vocal powers, perhaps to control others. I do wonder if this is going t reveal more about the brother’s past at all as a parallel? Or we could be taking a break from that for now, which is also fine. I just request that they reveal it steadily as the team grows closer, and don’t just dump it all at the end or something.

That’s all, folks! Virtual jellybeans for anyone who read all that. XD

I am excited for the brother’s backstory, and what happened to Banba, but I’d also be fine w/ taking a break from that as we move on to introduce the next General, who will likely hang around a bit longer than Tankjoh to show off the upped ante. Music is apparently going to be important, since we’ve got several former idol group members here. Also it said so on the official website, so I’m not blowing steam. I’m sure if we’ve got a cast member who can sing, there will be an ep where they sing (Asuna’s most likely, since she’s apparently a former idol?). Anyway, excited for this to continue, and anxious for the week to be over.

[essagandana]

Loyalty And Pride

FP was never the type to leave things to chance. The footage was only ever Plan A. Joaquin DeSantos is given another task when FP makes his one phone call. Vivi was not expecting to be called back to her hometown.

Introducing a new Jones, extra snarkiness, mercurial moods and highly dubious tech skills.

Also on ao3 at: http://archiveofourown.org/works/12092775

Chapter 1 - Have You Met Miss Jones?

*click*

Hello, Vivi Jones speaking. Who is this?

Is this Genevieve?

…Speaking. Who are you?

My name is Joaquin DeSantos. I have a message for you from FP Jones.

Which is?

He's asking you to come back to Riverdale. He needs your help.

I… see. Why can't he ask me himself?

He's… been charged with murder.

Right then. Yes.

What?

Yes, I'll help him. I'll get to Riverdale as soon as I can.

Thanks.

I'm not doing for you sweetie. But it's not a problem. Anything else?

No.

Then I guess I'll see you soon. Ciao.

Uh, goodbye?

*click*

-----

Vivi sat back in her chair. Ignoring the computer screen on the table in front of her, she stared at the mobile in her hand, running a hand through her knotted hair. "That… was not how I was expecting things to go today."

Chucking the phone onto the bed a few feet away, she dropped her head into her hands. Groaning, she struggled to get her head into gear to sort out her next movements. Dragging her hands down her face as she straightened, she turned her full focus back to the glowing screen in front of her. Unpausing the music she'd had playing before the phone call, she considered her work. The message to Ferric Industries could wait a couple hours. Opening a new browser she started looking for a cheap flat back in Riverdale, preferably South Side. Who was she kidding. Even if she ended up in a rent-by-the-hour, she'd be staying South Side.

"Jesus, Fors. What the hell is going on? Nope. I got bigger problems right now. First things first: plan of action. Then I can go shake some answers out of him once I get there."

Taking a few minutes to parse the issues down to manageable actions, she wrote a list with her next steps. Looking over her - god, was it three in the morning? Fuck - three in the morning scrawl, she hummed in approval.

1. Sort out work enough that I can take a few days to travel and set up shop in Riverdale. 2. Pack my shit. 3. Sign out of the nice motel indefinitely. - Note: donate all my food? 4. Get a bus across what must be half of America (not really). 5. Set up shop in Riverdale, which I thought I'd left behind. 6. Find out what the ever-loving hell is going on with Fors. 7. Figure out what kind of help Fors wants from me, and how to do so. 8. Try to get Fors out(?) 9. ??? 10. Everyone is happy, Fors is chill and I go back to my life - hopefully with the occasional bit of face-to-face interaction this time.

With at least a rough plan of action, Vivi was a bit happier. Standing up from where she'd been seated at her desk, she went hunting for the one large bag she had. Finally unearthing the massive traveller's backpack from under the cheap bed she started sorting through her supplies.

-----

Scowling fiercely enough to prevent even the friendliest, chattiest bus-goer from attempting to talk to her, Vivi sank further into her coat, travel mug held in a death grip. Her eyes glared murder at anyone who got in her way. Finally just muscling her way past the old lady whose bag filled the aisle, she felt a mixture of shame and vindictive pleasure as she heard the woman complain about her 'rude behaviour'.

Taking a deep breath of cold, fresh air she sighed. After several hours of travel and little sleep in the past few days, not to mention her mixed feelings about her childhood home, she wasn't in the best of moods.

"Ha. Running on caffeine and stubborn pride. What an unsurprising turn of events. Well, here goes nothing."

Getting a look at the almost picturesque - it's all an illusion, smoke and mirrors, rotten to the core - view afforded of the town from the entrance to Riverdale in the 'proper' part of town reminds her why she left. Everything is pretty as a picture until she looks closer. She can see the signs of the poison that runs through the towns veins. It seems to have become more apparent since she was last here which she finds interesting.

"Perhaps the shiny, perfect veneer over the town has finally crumbled."

Catching a quizzical look from a passer-by close enough to hear her speak, she waves them off. It wasn't meant for anyone to hear, that comment. She'd always thought aloud, and it had always brought trouble around strangers. She took off her traveller's backpack to put the, sadly emptied, travel mug inside it. Pausing a beat longer, asking herself if she was really doing this, she adjusted her laptop case and swung the heavy backpack on again. Shoulders stiffening, she headed over to the tracks, more than ready to cross back into South Side. At least there, on 'the wrong side of the tracks' - You're nothing. Just a little girl from the wrong side of the tracks. You'll never amount to anything. You'll fall. Just like your family did. You're nothing. - she knew how to read the town. On the 'proper' side of Riverdale, amongst the non-disgraced founding families, she had no such knowledge.

-----

Climbing the outside stairs of the apartments, she was surprised to run into someone who immediately recognised her. She should've expected it, being back in the South Side, but a Serpent recognising her after all these years was still a surprise.

"Jones? Hey, Jones!"

Turning to face her caller, she smiled as recognition hit.

"Viper!"

She halted on the balcony-way, letting him catch up to her. He clasped a hand on her upper-arm. His face fell a little.

"Little Jones, you do know what happened to FP…?"

"I know he's in the Sheriff's custody, charged with murder. And, I'm hardly 'Little' Jones anymore, Viper. I'm all growed up and a lady now, ain'tcha heard?"

Grinning slightly, she watched his face soften and lose the sombreness at the gentle tease.

"Well then, Lady Jones, what're you doing back here?"

Huffing slightly, she slung her pack off her shoulders and placed it gently on the floor. Cocking a hip against the barrier and leaning, she explained about FP calling her back. Hearing about everything that had been happening whilst FP had been incommunicado was a shock. Clearly seeing that she needed to process all the new information, Viper awkwardly patted her on the shoulder, then left, saying he hoped she'd be coming down to the Whyte Wyrm.

Slinging her pack back onto her shoulders, she finally reached the door to her apartment. Opening it, she entered, pleased with what she saw. If she was going to set up shop, at least everything would fit. Granted it would be tight, but it would still work. The door opened into a kitchen/living area, with three doors leading off. Checking them revealed a tiny bathroom (with only a shower, not a bath), a small bedroom and a smaller empty room. The last was practically a large cupboard, but it would suffice for her purposes. Setting down her bag on the floor in the kitchen part of the kitchen/sitting area, she got to work setting up her things.

-----

Arriving at the Sherriff's building, Vivi prepared herself for what was waiting inside. As she stood at the reception and waited for the lady on duty to acknowledge her, she turned over what she'd found on the Riverdale Sherriff Department's internal database. FP wasn't just charged with murder - he'd confessed to it. But Vivi couldn't shake the feeling that there was something just a little off about the confession. It felt a little too pat, a little too neat, to be the actual reason FP would've committed murder. Also, he had been stubbornly silent until the security footage showed that he'd had a visitor. The footage sadly didn't capture what they'd talked about, but not even an hour later FP was confessing? It didn't add up. So she was here to see what was going on.

The receptionist finally looked up and engaged her. Explaining that she was here to visit FP Jones didn't go so well. The lady - Miranda - hem-ed and haw-ed, and Vivi eventually got fed up of her prevaricating and just told her to call in Sherriff Keller. As Miranda's dithering continued, Vivi made it quite clear that she wouldn't be budging until she was let in to see FP Jones. Finally the receptionist just called the man and directed her to the seating area; not without a haughty glare, radiating displeasure.

When the Sherriff finally turned up, she was in a foul mood. He tried to say only family members could visit, and he didn't think he'd seen her around town and it was enough to have her finally snapping at somebody.

"Now listen here, Sherriff Keller. I may have been gone from town for more than a few years, but I am still listed as a member of the Jones family. As your recall is clearly not what it used to be, perhaps I ought to refresh your memory?" Based on the sudden silence pervading the room, even Miranda the Receptionist had noticed the mocking lilt ringing through her words, as the clack-clack-clack of her typing came to an abrupt halt. "It's Genevieve Jones. Ah, I see you remember who I am now. Good. Now. Are you going to let me in to see FP Jones?"

Watching as he sputtered, red-faced, but led her towards the back, she felt a bit bad. It wasn't necessarily his fault that his receptionist was a tad useless. When they reached the door to the cells, she placed a hand on his arm before he could open it. Steeling herself to give an apology she didn't really mean, she started talking once she had his attention.

"Sherriff Keller, I apologise for my outburst. I've spent the day travelling across state by bus, after finding out at 3am local time that my brother had been charged with murder. It's been a bit of a trying day, and I'm afraid that I took out my foul mood on you, when you were just doing your job."

His face lost some of the harsher, angrier lines, but he still didn't seem particularly pleased. Nodding once at the apology, he opened the door and waved her in.

"You can only have a few minutes, alright?"

She nodded her assent, entering and closing the door behind her.

-----

"FORSYTHE PENDLETON JONES JUNIOR!"

She felt a vindictive pleasure as he jumped up from the cot in the cell, startled. It quickly turned back into displeasure at his response.

"Genevieve Phyllis Jones?"

"Oh no, Forsythe, don't you full name me. I am not the one who has been charged with murder!"

Stalking towards the cell bars, she watched him rock back as if he wanted to retreat, but he stayed in place. Grasping the cell bars between them she leant forward, pressing her face against them a little.

"What the hell? Seriously Fors, what the hell. You don't contact me for months, then I get a call from some kid, What-Keen-" "Joaquin" "-whatever, and I find out you've been charged with murder?! That is not a nice end to radio-silence, Forsythe! That's probably one of the worst ways it could've ended, not gonna lie. Seriously Fors."

Stepping a bit closer, he slipped a hand through the bars to rest on her shoulder.

"Jen, I…"

"Oh, c'mere."

Yanking him closer she gave him a hug around the bars. Slightly muffled into his shoulder, she said, "Fors, of course I was going to come when you needed me. Of course I'll help you. But you have to tell me what's going on. I can't help if I don't know what the issue is. Or why you're lying."

"Lying? Why'd you think I'm lying?" The words were rough, practically breathed into her ear. He still hadn't moved away from the hug, which was a bit odd as he wasn't normally one for large physical displays of affection. Snorting slightly into his shoulder, she answered.

"Of course you're lying, Fors. The 'confession' you gave felt a little scripted. And you were silent, until you received a mysterious visitor in the holding cell. Then you sang like a canary. So yeah, I know you're lying. I just don't know why."

They stood in silence for a bit, before he started shifting uncomfortably. Releasing the hug, she grabbed hold of his arm as they separated. Making sure he didn't look away, she continued.

"You know I'll help you Fors, you just need to tell me how. And I need to know what's going on here. Else I'll make a mess as I stumble across whatever it is unexpectedly and ruin your plan by accident. So c'mon. Spill."

She watched as he ran a hand through his hair, judging how much she thought he'd reveal. As he breathed our resignedly and turned back to face her, she knew he'd decided to tell her more than he'd planned to.

"I need you to keep Jughead safe. I, please Jen, he's-"

"Always. Done. Safe from what?"

He looked at her carefully, before yanking her close again. With an almost crushing grip around her, he whispered, "Ask Joaquin for the jacket. He'll know which one. There's a thumb drive in it. Watch the footage. The man in it, Clifford Blossom, visited me. He's threatening Jughead. Don't let anyone find it."

Pulling away slightly he locked eyes with her, trying to convey how deadly serious he was being. She nodded, rubbing his shoulder.

"You stubborn old fool. You're lucky I love you. I'll sort it out. I'll be careful. Nothing bad is going to happen, kay? Nothing."

-----

After Vivi made a call to Joaquin, he agreed to meet her outside the Whyte Wyrm at 11.30. Glancing at her phone, she saw it had barely gone 10.00. She wandered over to Pop Tate's Diner to grab a coffee and catch up on some of the gossip. Pop Tate's double-take at her entrance had been amusing, especially as he'd been making a milkshake at the time. The dark-haired girl - looked a bit like one of Fors' year mates, but around her nephew's age. One of their kids? - got an extra-large milkshake as a result. Chuckling over the error, she took a seat at the bar to chat with Pop whilst the diner wasn't busy. He had all sorts of gossip about what had been happening in Riverdale that FP hadn't seen fit to tell her. Learning that the dark-haired teen was Veronica Lodge - yes, she's Hermione Lodge's daughter. Her father? Yeah, It's Hiram Lodge - and apparently one of her nephew's friends was… interesting.

After learning some new information about her nephew and his friends from Pop, as well as what'd been happening during the couple of months her brother'd dropped out of contact, she sauntered down to FP's trailer to nab his phone. Once that was acquired, she wandered over to the Whyte Wyrm.

She arrived about 10 minutes early, so grabbed her lighter and rolled a cigarette so she could have a smoke whilst she waited. As she breathed in the cloud of nicotine, she felt herself relax. Blowing out the smoke she imagined her stress and foul mood leaving her with it. By the time Joaquin turned up on his bike for her, she was much calmer and cheerier.

He tossed a helmet to her. Catching it, she put it on and swung up behind him. Leaning into him, she asked where they were going. To get the jacket was his only response before starting the engine again and roaring off. When he stopped, they were out of the main part of town, by one of the billboards advertising Blossom Maple Syrup. Both of them dismounted, before he strode off round the back and passed her a plastic bag. Opening it revealed a blue and gold Letterman jacket. Thanking him, she folded the jacket and stuffed it into her shoulder bag. The plastic bag was scrunched into a pocket. He dropped her off at her apartment block, but she stopped him before he could leave.

"Joaquin."

He turned to her from where he'd been packing away the spare helmet, eyebrow raised.

"Don't tell anyone you gave me this."

He nodded, and got back on the bike. Smiling at him, she waved him off, before heading back up the stairs to her new apartment. On her way up, she chucked the plastic bag into one of the dumpsters at the foot of the stairs. Once behind her locked door, she booted up her laptop. Putting on some music to deal with the almost isolating silence of the new apartment block, she drew out and unfolded the jacket. Letterman Jacket, belonging to a member of the Riverdale High football team. Number 9 on the back, Jason embroidered on the front.

"Aight. So. 'Jason' is presumably Jason Blossom, which is the kid- hold on. Fors, what are you doing? What are you taking the fall for? Coz I could swear that you said the man in the footage, the man who's threatening your son is called Clifford Blossom. As in, daddy of the dead kid. Does that- Did this dude kill his own son?! Seriously? Riverdale has certainly got more messed up since last I was here."

As Vivi had been talking to herself, she'd also been feeling around the jacket. Finally finding the lump that signified a thumb drive, she pulled it out. Plopping down on the sofa she pulled her laptop towards her and plugged the thumb drive in. Once loaded, she opened and watched the footage contained within. At the end of it, her lips were pressed into a firm line. Her eyes hard, face thunderous, she edited the footage of the basement to cut out as if Clifford Blossom had shot out the camera from the doors on his way out. Removing the evidence of her brother's minimal involvement meant that if they ever dealt with Blossom, her brother wouldn't be implicated.

Making sure that the thumb drive only contained her version of the footage, with no evidence of the tampering that had gone on, she ejected it from her computer. Grabbing one of the longer-chained pendants from her neck, she slid off the dangling peace sign and ran the chain through the loop at the end of the thumb drive instead. Slipping the thumb drive necklace back on, she dropped it down her shirt where it couldn't be seen, or removed from her keeping. Wiping the evidence of the edited footage from her computer, she looked through FP's phone to find Jughead's number. Whilst messaging him, she ran a program to see if she could narrow down his (phone's) current location further than 'somewhere in Riverdale'.

Is this Forsythe Pendleton Jones the Third?

A few moments later she got her reply.

Who is this?

Call me Vivi.

Answer my question. Please.

Why do you want to know?

Because I have something to talk to him about.

What would you say to him?

Why do you want to know?

Call it curiosity.

Humour me.

Her computer beeped. Glancing up, she saw she now had a location. Pop Tate's Diner. Putting her laptop into its shoulder bag, she grabbed her purse and headed out the door. On her way down she noticed she'd gotten a reply.

Why?

You clearly know him.

How do you know that?

I didn't for sure until you confirmed it.

And no-one of Jones blood actually uses their name.

You know his name; you know him.

For sake of argument, let's say I do know him.

What's the message?

And how do you know the Jones family?

Actually, I think this is a conversation better had in person.

See you soon!

What?

-----

Entering Pop's Diner for the second time that day, Vivi headed over to the counter. Taking a seat at the bar, she waited to be served. Using the mirror along the back wall, she had a discrete look at the current patrons of the diner. Not a lot of them, understandably as it was early afternoon. Her gaze settled on the table of four behind her, a few booths to her left. Redhead woman with lots of papers in front of her, brunet man - was that Fred Andrews? Oh, so the redhead must be his wife Mary then - ginger boy, presumably Archie and beanie hat. Jughead Jones.

Pop came over to take her order and, after placing it, she span it her seat to make eye-contact with Fred Andrews. Seeing his look of shock, she winked, turned to collect her milkshake, and sauntered over to their table. Smirking she asked, "Mind if I take a seat?" Without waiting for an answer she grabbed a chair from one of the inner tables, spun it and sat down at the end of their table. Fred groaned and put his head in his hands, shaking his head and smiling. The two teens looked at her dubiously, and (presumably) Mary Andrews looked up from her papers, disgruntled. Before she could say anything, Fred raised his head and spoke.

"Genevieve Jones. It is you."

Raising an eyebrow as she pointedly slurped her milkshake, she responded.

"Frederick Andrews, for shame. No-one calls me Genevieve." Turning to the other occupants of the table, she continued, "Call me Vivi." Mary Andrews look of of-course-it's-her-who-else-would-it-be was amusing, and gratifying, but the look of slow realisation on her nephew's face was much better. His slow looks between her, Fred and his phone. Snorting slightly at the face he was pulling, she turned back to Fred, her face of good humour dropping away. He sat up straighter, remembering the kinds of things her roused temper could cause. He was correct to be wary.

"So tell me, Freddie-boy," her voice light, but cold enough to drop the temperature of the diner by a few degrees. He winced. "Why, oh why, did I find out from a stranger that FP is being charged with murder."

For all that her phrasing suggested she was asking a question, she and Fred both know that it was closer to an accusation. Before he could answer, to defend himself or apologise, Jughead finally spoke up.

"Genevieve Jones?"

Turning back to face her nephew, she smiled at him and patted the hand he had lying on the table.

"Vivi, darling. Not Genevieve. I don't think I know a single member of the Jones family to use their actual name in general life. It's generally saved for moments when a person needs to be full-named. It rather adds to the oh-shit feeling caused when your names are as pretentious as ours."

He seemed confused. She frowned, leant back, and crossed her arms over her chest. Without taking her eyes off her nephew she called "Fred, dear? Why does my nephew not seem aware of my existence? It's been years since I was last here, but surely- Oh. Of course. Fors. He's a stubborn old fool."

Whilst she was trying to figure out why her nephew would be shocked at there being another member of the Jones family, instead of the typical shock, at the atrociously pretentious names, she figured it out. Loyalty and Pride. Of course FP wasn't going to tell his children about the aunt they never saw. She frowned as she considered how much harder it was going to be to keep the teen safe when he had no idea who she was, and was both a teen and Jones enough to not listen to someone he didn't know and trust. Straightening up, she returned her attention to the teens sitting beside each other. She gestured for silence when the ginger looked like he was about to interject. Making eye contact with her teenaged nephew, she tried to explain.

"I - Darling, if ever there was going to be a Jones family motto, it'd be Loyalty and Pride. That… pretty much sums up our entire relationship. Bone-deep loyalty, and stubborn pride. From how it sounds when he talks about you, you're probably the same. Anyways. Loyalty - I'm his little sister, of course he's going to keep in contact with me. Pride - He's not going to be the one to ask me to return. And on my side… I wanted to prove that I could do it by myself. Stubborn pride. We both missed each other, but neither would admit it. He pro'lly didn't tell you because most kids want to meet their family and he didn't want to be the one to swallow his pride and actually ask me, though if he was going to it'd certainly be because of one of y'all."

She leant forward to ensure that he got the following point.

"My brother bends his neck rarely, darling. That he did so now… He'd only ever do it for one of his. And make no mistake, his asking me to come here, to help, to keep you safe, involved him swallowing his pride. He had to admit that he couldn't do it himself, that he needed help. And he never does that. Stubborn pride would carry that man to the gates of hell and back. The message that I got… One of the Serpents gave it to me. He had to admit, not only to me, but to another person as well, that he needed help. I've known him to insist that he's fine to ride home on his motorbike with a broken arm and a concussion. Asking for help, admitting he needs help, isn't something he's ever done lightly."

She halted the stream of words, looked down into her shake as though it held the secrets of the universe That had been… more than she really spoke about how the Jones family worked in a long time. She wasn't quite sure how else to phrase it if her nephew hadn't gotten it. Judging by the almost inaudible sounds he'd made, he might've. Desperately looking for another topic of conversation, she surreptitiously glanced around. Her eyes landed on the piles of papers in front of Mary Andrews. Latching onto that idea, she looked up, crooked smile firmly back in place.

"So, can anyone tell me what the piles of papers covered in legalese are about? Custody? Legal defence?"

"Custody? Why would they be about custody?"

She stared at the ginger teen who'd questioned it. Looking around at the two adults - surely they've considered this, they must have, surely - but receiving only blank looks, she felt herself frown.

-----

"Okay, so the way I see it, there are three options."

Vivi looked around at the other adults at the table. Mary Andrews looked interested in what solutions she might be able to offer when it came to Jughead's living situation. From the corner of her eye, she saw the teens look to her as well.

"Option 1: We let the regular process CPS follows when there is no clear legal guardian present continue, and allow Jughead to be moved out of town to a foster home. One may have started here since I was a teenager, but I doubt it. Far too shameful for the family pride to take it amongst the founders. CPS would probably put him into a foster home as most foster families aren't willing to take children post-puberty-and-up long term. This is far from ideal" she continued, when she sees the others ready to protest, "and so we move on to the other available options."

"Option 2: We find a foster family present in Riverdale or South Side that are a) willing to take in a nearly legal teenager and b) Jughead gets along with well enough to live with them for, theoretically, the next two years. I don't know the numbers of foster families here in Riverdale, but I don't get the impression that you have anyone in mind that would work."

She glanced about the table, to see if any of the others had a name to put forward. All was silent. She nodded, face blank.

"This brings us to Option 3. As a relative, I can apply for custody with the CPS. This should work as I am an adult, and self-sufficient with a large enough income that I can probably afford to support a teenager. If I remember correctly, I can apply to hold guardianship until FP gets released, so that would go on for as long as necessary, and be the easiest case to return the scenario to how it was before the arrest. The only problems with this are convincing CPS that I am suitable guardian, and if Jughead and I even get along well enough for that to work."

She sat back to await their responses. Fred looked considering; Mary was flipping through legal documents; Archie Andrews looked cautiously hopeful. Jughead hadn't looked up. Mary went to give an answer, but Vivi met her eyes and shook her head slightly. Turning her focus to her nephew, she asked "Jughead?" When he looked up, she continued.

"Do you have a preference? It's your life; you should get a say in it."

-----

Vivi stared up at the rolling clouds overhead, watching the cigarette smoke spiral up into the air and dissipate before it could reach them. Flicking her wrist to drop the ash collecting on the end, she turned towards the entrance of the Andrews' house as Fred called her name. Dropping the stub of her cigarette, she crushed it under her toe before walking over to join him. She pulled a pack of TicTacs from her coat pocket and popped one in her mouth.

"I've got my laptop, Mary can go over my financial situation and make sure that this'll work. Are you sure you want to have me over for dinner? I mean, I can come back after family time and-"

"Yes, Vivi," was Fred's gentle response. "I'm sure you can stay for dinner. You've got to actually interact with Jughead. He's a good kid."

[fightmeimsmall]

Happier

It was actually Tater who showed him the video, though not on purpose. Tater had seen the Aces had uploaded a new video to their youtube. It had caught his eye sing it mentioned the new Ed Sheeran album, clicking on it excitedly as some the falcs gathered around the small screen of Tater’s phone.

           Jack, who had been sitting next to Tater anyway, wasn’t paying much attention until he heard Kent’s name mentioned.

           “Kent’s singing in the stick room!” The hushed laughter of two of the Aces sounded off screen as they cracked the door open slightly to film Kent. “We’ve been trying to get a video of him singing for ages.”

           Jack was trapped by the players leaning on his chair and gathered around them, unable to escape he tried to ignore it. He couldn’t ignore it. Kent’s voice had a way to reaching him, crawling into back of his skull. Kent hadn’t sung much back before the draft, very few people had heard him sing. Even Jack had only heard him sing a few times.

        ��  The last time Jack had seen Kent was at a game. A game that Bitty had attended. Jack had brought Bitty with him when the team went out for drinks, where they had run into a few Aces, including Kent. Jack had Kent recognise Bitty, and Jack didn’t think it was much of a leap for Kent to figure it out.

           On the screen Kent’s voice went into the chorus of ‘Happier’ by Ed Sheeran, Jack only recognised the song because Bitty had been excited about the new album and it was one of the few albums that both of them enjoyed.

           “Yeah, you look happier, you do. Ain’t nobody hurt you like I hurt you, but ain’t nobody love you like I love you.” Kent sang. His expressions matched the lyrics as he sung.

           Jack stopped pretending to ignore it, the lyrics seemed so heartfelt, and Kent always managed to get a reaction out of Jack, whether he meant to or not. Jack knew rationally that Kent wasn’t doing thison purpose, he was just singing as he worked, but Jack still felt as though it were directed at him.

           The video stopped as one the Ace GM’s shooed them away. As soon as it ended the falcs started talking about it.

           “Parse got pipes.” Thirdy whistled.

           “Maybe he quit, become singer.” Laughed Tater.

           “Damn, hey Jack did you know Parse could sing?” Snowy nudged Jack’s shoulder, bringing him out of his thoughts.

           The look on Jack’s face must have been something because suddenly they were all looking at him, Marty and Thirdy frowing slightly. They had all met Bitty, they knew who he was to Jack, and suddenly the pieces fell into place for them.

           “Oh –”

Jack stumbled a bit as he stood up.

           “Uh yeah, little bit.” But his voice was weak, so he coughed and repeated what he said. Then he had left.

 It was well after practice when Kent called him. He was attempting to make a meal Bitty had left the recipe for and was about to give up when his phone started ringing. He paused when he saw the caller ID, then took a breath and answered it.

           “Kent.” He said. On the other end he could hear a deep breath.

           “Hey, Jack.” There was a beat as neither said anything. “It wasn’t about you. I mean, it wasn’t meant to be. I was just like that song, but I guess if the shoe fits.” He gave a humourless laugh.

           Jack tried to say something, but honestly couldn’t think of what to say. I know you didn’t mean it. I know it wasn’t for me. I know you don’t still love me because you never did.

           “You do look happier though, the Falcs are a good team and… and with Bittle too. I saw you guys when we first came into the bar, and you guys looked so happy. And Zimms, I’m happy that you’re happy now.”

           “I – thanks Kent.” After their first game against one another, he though that’s how it would always be. Similar to how their relationship had been, all physical and no communication.

           Kent gave a quiet laugh on the other end of the line. There was long moment of silence as Jack desperately thought of something to say. If this was when they finally talked to each other, then he wanted to get it all out. He didn’t want this to be a one off, he didn’t want them to go back to having that uncomfortable tension around them. Because after everything, Kent had been his friend. His best friend.

           “I want you to be happy too. I was perhaps a little jealous, when you won the Stanley cup, but I was also a little, proud? If that’s the right word. I don’t know. But I just thought, ‘that’s the Parse I know.’”

           “Thanks Jack, but you don’t need to do this.” Kent’s voice dropped to a saddened whisper. “I know I’ve not been great. Especially last that November I – I know I’m a dick alright? I just, ah fuck Jack, there’s so much to say.”

           “Yeah I know.” Beat. “I was a dick too.”

           “Who you? Never.” Kent cursed ast himself and sighed. “Fuck jack, sorry, I know, we’re actually trying for once and I’m already being, ha, well I’m being me. An asshole.”

           “Yeah well, we’re both assholes.” Jack took a moment to work up the courage to say his next words. “I shouldn’t have – I should’ve – ah, Kent –” Jack closed his eyes and tried to arrange his words in a cohesive manner.

           “How about the next time you’re in Vagas, or if I’m ever in Providence, we can get coffee, or dinner, or something. Hash it all out properly.” Kent’s voice sounded tired.

           Jack swallowed thickly, “Yeah Kent, that sounds great.”

           “And hey, maybe you can invite Bittle.”

           Jack smiled to himself, “Sure Kent.”

           “See ya around, Zimms.”

           “Yeah, I’ll see you Kenny.” There was a soft sound on the other end of the line as Jack used Kent’s old nickname, the one only Jack had used.

           As the call disconnected, Jack allowed himself a moment to absorb what had happened that day. After he had seen the video he had tried his hardest not to think about it. To not overanalyse it. And that call, Kent had tried to apologise, and he had attempted to do the same. They were possibly going to have a sit down and actually talk about it.

           Jack tried to gauge how he felt about that. There was a slight nervous feeling, the beginning of what would probably be him overthinking and getting a hell of a lot of anxiety over it. But at the same time, there was a calm wave slowly rolling in, he was going to get over this block that was in his past.

           His phone buzzed again on the countertop. Looking at the caller ID he smiled. Any tension he felt drained from him as he answered before the first ring had finished.

           “Jack! Honey, I just saw the video, are you -” 

           “Hey Bits, guess who just called?”