#if you know me in real life I am literally begging you to scroll past this please and thank you

[euphoric-melancholyy]

this pain wouldn’t be for evermore (A Rowaelin [Throne of Glass] fanfic)

A/N: So last month I binge read the Throne of Glass book series for the first time. I am absolutely obsessed, and have thought about it every day since. I especially love Rowan and Aelin's relationship, hence this fic. Come talk to me in the comments about how amazing they are. And let me know if you like this or not - it's my first time writing for this fandom, and writing any sort of smut. (It's tame, I promise.) Title and lyrics at the end from "Evermore" by Taylor Swift. spoilers for all of the Throne of Glass series.

Summary: "And where there were once shackles of iron, there were now collars black as the coffin that had become her prison and temporary reprieve. 'No,' she whispered, eyes going wide as she tried to scoot away, to do anything to protect herself against the shadows creeping around her very being.

“Welcome to Morath’s army, Aelin Ashryver Galathynius,” Maeve gleamed, red lips curving into a viscous smile.

And Aelin knew she had lost."

OR

Aelin has a nightmare. Rowan comforts her.

Also on Ao3

Her very essence was fire, a sharp burning that reached through her skin, melting it to the bone. And she screamed. The fire inside her fought against it, its presence that was once warmth and power, killing her from the inside as it pushed, in vain, against the flames that ate away at flesh.. 

“Aelin of the Wildfire. How does it feel to know the strength of your power?” Carin laughed and lit the blowtorch once more. It glowed iridescent blue, and he ran it down her scars. It’s flame traced the intricate designs Rowan had inked there, melting them away in a blistered pool of blood. She screamed until darkness claimed her, consciousness gone with the pain. 

Hours or minutes or days later, she awoke upon the stone altar and the iron encasing her branded sharp waves of agony over her flesh. Fenrys laid beside her, whining and blinking.

Four times. I am here. I am with you. 

Aelin vomited until there was nothing left in her. She choked on bile that mixed with the dried blood pooled around the stone altar. As if alerted to her consciousness, Cairn and Maeve walked in. 

“I see you’ve prepared her for my arrival,” Maeve said to Cairn before directing her gaze to the chains that enslaved Aelin.

And where there were once shackles of iron, there were now collars black as the coffin that had become her prison and temporary reprieve. “No,” she whispered, eyes going wide as she tried to scoot away, to do anything to protect herself against the shadows creeping around her very being. 

“Welcome to Morath’s army, Aelin Ashryver Galathynius,” Maeve gleamed, red lips curving into a viscous smile. 

And Aelin knew she had lost. 

The scene shifts and she’s at the Keep, Aedion and Lysandra in the dungeon beside a livid Arobynn. He smiled at her, possessive and feral. “Celaena, darling. Come, let me show you how Sam died.” In horror, she watched as Lysandra’s flesh was slashed from her bone in ribbons. Aelin screamed every profanity she knew at her old master, but it fell on deaf ears as Lysandra crashed in a bloody heap to the floor. “I hear you gave our old friend Archer quite the gutting. Please, do show me how it was done,” he purred, knipping at her earlobe. 

No. No. No

But her silent pleas were worthless as she drove her blade into her cousin, his blood soaking into her skin with the Sword of Orynth’s violent wrath. 

Then she’s in the throne room of Adarlan’s glass castle. Her hand gripped Dorian’s severed head as the court applauded her. Erawan, in his true form, stood before her at the throne. “There is more to do before we burn what remains of Terrasen to the ground,” he bellowed. Maeve appeared beside him, dragging a chained Rowan in tow. 

“Aelin, I know you’re in there. We can fight this. We can -” Rowan’s pleas were cut off with a punch to the throat from Aelin herself, knocking the wind from him. She felt as if she was watching her body through the eyes of another, her actions hers and yet not of her own consciousness. Rowan didn’t fight as she pummeled him, bare fists, again and again and again. “It’s okay,” he whispered, trying to comfort her as she embedded Goldryn into his heart, spilling his life’s blood on the marble floor. 

-/-/-

Sweat boiling beneath her naked body, Aelin shot up with a choked sob, tearing the sheets off her bed with the motion. Rowan kneeled beside her. Worry creased his eyes as he scanned her for any signs of injury. 

“Aelin. Hey, I’m here, fireheart. I’m here, I’ve got you,” he whispered, his voice hoarse and solemn, and her name a prayer on his lips. He swept her up from the sweat soaked mattress, hands carding through her hair as he continued his mantra. I’m here. I’ve got you. It was only a dream. You’re here now. 

“Rowan,” she cried, burying her head in his chest as sobs racked her body. He had died, butchered by her hand only moments before. “Is this. . .” she swallowed another sob. If this was hell, then at least she had a moment with him, his body strong and solid against hers. She breathed him in, the scent of pine and snow, the vibration of his words against her cheek, the consistent pitter-patter of his heart beat settling her slightly. Alive. He was alive and she. . .she didn’t know if she could believe her senses anymore. “Is this real?”

His thumb caressed her chin, tilting her gaze upward to pine green eyes shining with unshed tears. “Yes,” he whispered, setting her in his lap as he sat against the wood of their bookshelf. “You are Aelin Ashryver Whitethorn Galathynius,” he kissed her cheek where a tear ran down, “and you are Queen of Terrasen, the Faerie Queen of the West.” His mouth moved to her temple, a gentle kiss against her hairline. “My mate.” He bowed his head, finding the scars of her claiming marks, lips lingering there. “My wife. My reason for living.” His hand grabbed hers, pressing it over his heart. “And this, right here in this room, is real.” 

“I. . .” Her words died in her throat, and she leaned into him, willing her heart to calm. Embers of firelight she had anxiously casted to the hearth highlighted the contours of his face, dancing between the thick lines of black ink that marks his story down his temple through the length of his torso and along his arm. It tells the story of a warrior, of her lover and her mate, and her -

Quivering lips claimed his, a well practiced dance of teeth and tongue and need that coiled in her gut. She needed this, this reminder of his flesh, warm and willing against her own, chasing her nightmares away. His touch was reverent. Each taste of her skin, of his writhing beneath her, a beacon back to reality. Away from the demons of “what if’s” and trauma she’ll never quite know how to unpack. 

“I love you,” he said as they came together. The feel of him inside her wiped all thought from her mind except the movement of his hips, demanding she listen in release. His breath coasted across her breast, up to her neck, and settled on the small scar between her neck and shoulder. His scar. 

His canines caressed it and he sucked hard enough to bruise. She felt the salt of his tears reach her bare skin, cooler than the sweat that stuck to their bodies. 

She thought she might still be crying too, in release and relief and oblivion and wonderment that washed over her. 

“This is real,” he murmured, and she smiled despite the fear and panic that still lingered. 

Their second joining was rougher, her coiled up rage at the remnants of her nightmares, both waking and fictional pushing her harder against him. He let her lead the pace. Her lips sucked bruises at each point of contact as he thrust inside her. His nails dug into her back, a small biting pain that left half crescent imprints in its wake as he moaned her name. It was a duel, a battle, and release, and he was her willing victim and she was his.

Later, when her brain felt like mush, she laid on his chest, her body sated and trembling and utterly spent. He peppered soft kisses against her hair, her cheek, her shoulder, whispering sweet nothings as his hands smoothed over the marks in her back. 

“Try as she might, Maeve could never capture that. I thought she could but. . .” Aelin let her voice trail off, and she turned to face him once more. Her thumb caressed the curvature of his jaw. “I love you,” she said softly, and cuddling into his warmth, she fell into a dreamless sleep.

-/-/-

It wasn’t even a fortnight later when he woke frantic and panting, haunted with fresh nightmares of what could have been. Aelin back in the salt mines, Aelin lost in the wrydgate as a pawn in centuries old feud between stupid, greedy gods. Aelin, dead in an iron coffin. Lost. Gone. Butchered. Dead.

He couldn’t breathe, his face soaked with tears he must have been crying in his god awful slumber. He bolted to the bathing chamber, falling to his knees as he retched his food again and again and again into the toilet. He barely registered Aelin kneeling beside him. She pressed a cold washcloth to the back of his neck, water cup and mouthwash in hand.

“Rowan. It’s okay. You’re okay. I’m-“ He yanked her toward him in a bone crushing embrace, inhaling her scent like a drug.

“Fireheart,” he breathed, his voice cracking. “I’m sorry. I’m-“

“No. Don’t you dare apologize for this. Or for whatever new fucked up hell you were just dreaming about,” She made to stand, a quick squeeze on his shoulder before going to turn the water to the tub on. 

“Lamb smells a lot better going in than coming out,” she remarked, giving Rowan a small smile. While they waited for the tub to fill, Aelin sat behind him, fingers pressing deep into his shoulder blades to massage the tension away. 

“I dreamt of the collars. The other night. I dreamt of Maeve using them on me to make me kill you,” Aelin began. “And Aedion, Lysandra, Dorian. . . And setting the remainder of my kingdom on fire, burning them to ashes. I dreamt of a world where she won, and I had to kill you. Butchered you as you just took it. I - It felt. . .God it felt so real.” She kissed the nape of his neck, untangled her body from his, and led him to the bath. 

Pouring a generous amount of lavender hair soap into her palms, Aelin sat on the edge of the tub, massaging it into his scalp. He leaned into her touch, closing his eyes in contentment. “Join me,” he rasped. 

“Oh I plan to,” she replied. “But let me do this first. You sometimes fly away before I can take care of you.”

Rowan hummed in response. It was true. The open skies helped to clear his head and workout his energy. It had long been his preferred escapism. But now he had his mate, and there was nothing as comforting as her touch, her scent, her being inexplicably, eternally linked to his soul. It was his undoing and reforging. 

She finished her ministrations on his hair, then washed the grime of sweat and bile from his body. Aelin stripped her nightgown and undergarments, lowering herself into the heat of the large tub across from him. She sighed at the warmth, wrapping her legs around his middle so she was sitting on his lap. She continued the massaging she had begun earlier, working her way up his arms. 

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“You’re here now. It doesn’t matter anymore. It wasn’t. . .It wasn’t real.”

“Felt real though,” she countered. He closed the distance between them then, kissing her slowly, his mouth tracing and memorizing the taste and feel of hers as if he didn’t know it better than he knew himself. They sat like that for minutes, hours, her remaining magic keeping the water warm long after their skin had pruned. 

There would be more nightmares to come. More nights where they woke horrified and heartbroken over the horrors that plagued their minds. The only balm to its curse is the feel of each other in their arms. But as the darkness of those days become further and further away, the sharpness of its pain dulls and lessens. 

And I couldn't be sure, I had a feeling so peculiar this pain wouldn’t be for evermore.

[foreverindreamlandd]

Bucky wanted to read her fanfictions and she always declined. So he begged and begged and begged... until she finally gives up and let him read one. 'Cause who could really say no to Bucky making puppy eyes?!

Let me know what you think about it

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Plus Size!Reader

WC: 1.5k (I am apparently incapable of writing a drabble)

A/N: Thank you again for another awesome request! I was basically cackling the whole time I wrote it. Want to read about how Bucky and this reader got together? Check out their origin story in my To Be Wanted series! Only warning in this one is the usual swearin’ like a sailor.

----

“See, this is why I always order Thai food. I can never do it justice.” You frown over your wok, mixing the noodles around with a wooden spoon hoping it will somehow make your creation taste better.

“I’m sure it tastes great, doll.” Bucky walks up next to you and grabs a noodle, tilting his head back as he drops it into his mouth.

His eye twitches almost imperceptibly and you groan.

“It’s good,” he coughs out, trying with all of his strength to regain his composure. “I think you just went a little too hard on the chili paste. I can feel my sinuses clearing up though, which is good, right?”

You roll your eyes. “Can you check the recipe on Pinterest again? I swear I put in the right amount.”

Bucky walks over and picks up your iPad. Right as he’s scrolling to find out if you should have used 2 tablespoons or 2 teaspoons of chili paste, a notification banner pops up and he accidently taps it, opening up your Tumblr app.

Omg! This fic is amazing! The way Bucky is there to support the reader. My heart completely melted! Your Bucky stories are amazing, Y/n! <3

Above the comment is a photo of him. It’s a shot from the news where he’s helping a civilian stand up after one of the attacks made by The Red Hand.

“Uh….love? What’s this?” He holds the iPad up to you and you shift your gaze over to him.

You drop the wooden spoon into the wok as all of the blood drains from your face. You’re frozen in place for a millisecond before you pounce on Bucky to grab the device from him. He’s never seen you move so quickly and it catches him off guard.

“Bucky give me the iPad right now,” you fling your arms toward it and he pulls it away, both amused and a bit concerned by your reaction.

“Wait, what is this? Is it something I should be worried about?”

You see a flicker of panic flash in his eyes and you stop flailing. You close your eyes and let out a deep sigh.

“No, I mean, I should be concerned because if you read that I’m probably going to combust and you’re going to dump me and run for the hills.” He furrows his brows in confusion and you slowly lift up your hand. “Can I please have that back before I have a mild panic attack?”

He stares at you, trying to gauge your emotions. All he can see is panic and sadness and it breaks his heart so he instantly gives in and hands you the iPad.

“Don’t worry about it, love. I trust you.” He leans forward to give you a chaste kiss.

You let out a pained groan against his lips and Bucky is once again confused.

“Ughhhh I hate hiding things from you.” You lock your iPad so the screen goes dark. “Okay, fine, I guess this conversation is happening. Remember when we first started dating and I, uh, mentioned I used to read and write stories about….us being a couple?”

Bucky nods, trying not to reveal any emotion to you that might make you spiral into a panic, and you continue.

“Well, that was one of those stories I wrote. I stopped looking on Tumblr basically as soon as I met you because it got all weird and meta and I got super uncomfy by the idea of reading fanfics - that’s what they’re called - about my new friend/now boyfriend Bucky Barnes. And then we started dating and I was all happy and shit and I totally forgot that those fics were still out there. Obviously I haven’t written any since then because that would be weird for...many, many reasons. Someone must have found an old one and commented on it. I’ll delete it. I’ll delete all of them. I swear. I’m so sorry, Bucky. I should have been more on top of this.”

Bucky stares at you, lips pursed and you grimace, afraid of the next words that are about to come out of his mouth.

This is so weird, Y/n. How could you do this?

No wonder you didn’t date anyone before me.

Obsessed much? (Okay, he probably wouldn’t say it like that but STILL).

No, what Bucky said next was much, much worse than what you could have imagined.

“Can I read one?”

Your mouth drops. Closes. Drops again. You blink rapidly.

“I’m sorry, I just hallucinated. What?”

Bucky points to your iPad, a sly grin forming on his face. “I want to read one of your stories.”

You take a step back from him, horror stricken as you pull the iPad closer to you as if you were protecting your collector’s edition of ‘Throne of Glass.’

“Absolutely not.”

Bucky steps forward and you step back. He chuckles. “Come onnn, doll. I want to know what your fantasies were about me before we got together.” He laughs harder as the look of horror on your face grows more manic.

“Bucky, I know you’re a super soldier and could probably punch me into the sun with your metal arm, but I promise I will fight to the death before I let you read one of these fics.”

You and Bucky continue this dance of him stepping forward and you stepping back until you feel your legs make contact with your couch and you fall back into a sitting position on its arm. Bucky uses this opportunity to tower over you, his arms resting on the couch so that you’re pinned between them.

Then, he pulls out the big guns.

His gaze softens, blue eyes shining into yours. His bottom lip puffs out and he gives you the most adorable, sexiest pout you’ve seen in your whole life.

“Please, love?” He says it with a slightly higher pitch, almost like a whine and it still sounds like honey to your ears. He even nudges your nose with his like a freaking sociopath.

Damn.

You close your eyes, let out a breath, then open them back up to him. “I hate you.”

His pout turns into a boyish grin and he gives you a quick kiss. “You love me.”

You groan. “Hopefully you still love me after this, Buck. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

You stand and open up your iPad, scrolling through your masterlist and finding what used to be one of your favorite fluff pieces. You begrudgingly hand it to Bucky and he sits on the couch.

Unable to sit still during this agonizing experience, you proceed to pace around your apartment like a crazy person and resort to cleaning the inside of your microwave which you haven’t done in a few months so it’s a good thing that Bucky is reading your fic so that you could get that out of the way. You probably won’t have a boyfriend in a few minutes but at least your microwave will be spotless.

You only steal a few glances at Bucky as he reads, mortified each time as you see his eyebrows move in every possible direction. Up, down, knit together, were they criss-crossed at one point?

Finally, after what feels like the longest ten minutes of your life, Bucky lets out a soft grunt, placing the iPad down on his lap. He looks up to you and you give him a weak smile.

“Alright, let me have it, Buck. Give me your worst. Be honest. Also, I love you.”

Bucky glances down at the iPad and then back at you.

“Well, I have a few questions.”

Your right eye twitches. “Hm?”

“Now that you’ve met me, do you still think my eyes are an all-consuming storm of blue?” You groan. He grins. “Or do you think my jawline was cut from marble created by the gods?”

This time, you breathe out a laugh and you walk over to sit on his lap. You take hold of his chin.

“Bucky, I don’t think I could ever come up with the right words to describe you. The real thing is quite literally a million times better than anything I’ve ever written.”

His eyebrows raise. “That is...probably the best compliment I’ve ever gotten in my whole damn life.” He leans forward and kisses you, and you sigh into the feeling of his mouth on yours, relief flooding through you.

You pull away, eyes skeptical. “So, you’re not thinking about how you can escape and never see my crazy ass again?”

“On the contrary, love, I’m thinking about how I can convince you to buy this gorgeous green dress you apparently wore as my wedding date. The one that showed off your cleavage in a way that made Bucky’s brain melt.”

The two of you burst out laughing and you lightly shove his chest. “Sure thing, Bucko. How about I work on the dress situation and you work on ordering us Thai food so that we don’t lose our taste buds from whatever the hell I just made.”

-----

Thank you for reading! Feel free to check out my other stuff here. :)

Taglist: @ceo-of-daichi @biiskuitx @forgetthisbull @eclipses-and-moondust @abcdefxkyou @jackiehollanderr @billionsofbeans @abitgryffindorky @lovelylostminds @mija-just-breathe @semlohkratz @bratty-longbottom-replies @carrotfantasimp @cremedelabrulee @ant1r3al1ty @th-e-mg@laura-moehrchen @emma-the-duck17 @sunnyjane4 @rosaline-black @parodsal000 @vicmc624 @abrunettefangirlnerd @officiallykuute @edityourwishingwell @mymindslabyrinth

***This was the original tag list for the To Be Wanted series. If you would like to be removed from the taglist for any other stories related to this series, feel free to DM me! And let me know if you would like to be *added* to the taglist for any other future stories featuring these two knuckleheads. :)

[redwinterroses]

RIIIIIIIIIGHT SO.

I just finished chapter 13 of Dog At The Door and holy hot cross buns batman if you're not reading this fic you NEED to. It's literally one of the best written fics I have ever read in my life and I've been reading fanfiction for over 15 years, lol.

I went back and reread the entire fic to lead up to chapter 13 and I decided to treat it like I used to treat things I had to read in college so I took notes as I went and please I am warning you this post is incredibly long. Almost 3k words. PLEASE do not hit that "read more" button unless you're good with having to scroll past it all and also spoilers ahead. Proceed with caution.

~*~

Rereading Dog at the Door reactions (spoilers, obviously):

· Doc finding Ren’s body to be cold and for a second thinking he’s actually dead—my heart

· “That’s Ren, alive and kicking.” Oh…no, Doc. No it’s not.

· The first “Where is my hand?” hits different the second time through

· Gah the ice and winter imagery ALL over the place—my English degree brain wants to watch and see if that shifts to warmth at any point as we go? Thoughts for future Red to think.

· It’s fascinating to me to see Doc constantly thrust into the prey role. This is a guy who is very much not that person normally, but something about the Red King is beyond anything he’s really encountered before—or at least not since Dinnerbone—and it pushes him into an entirely new role that he clearly chafes in

· “I should get back to work on your new arm soon,” he says, making a mental note to add claws to the fingertips. Honestly Doc why tho. XD

· “It feels like something Ren would want him to do.” </3

· Side note: I just watched Doc’s freaking hour long shulker farm vid, and that’s making it a lot easier to hear his voice in this fic

· I’m more curious about the hand.” New Ren laughs a bit at his own words, as though there’s something funny about that phrasing. I MISSED THIS LINE THE FIRST TIME THROUGH

· The bead curtain being cursed hippie treasure XD

· The fact that Doc just so quickly accepts that Ren is gone—maybe not permanently, but at least for now—is kind of heartbreaking. Because you know he hasn’t really accepted it, he’s just… deciding not to feel anything about it. Just nod and move on and pretend you don’t need to stop and cope with the possible/probable death of your best friend and the fact that Someone Else is wearing his skin. That’s so sad.

· “high-fiving the finished hand with his own metal hand.” Aww… Doccy.

· “He shoos away the images of New Ren holding him up by the throat supervillain-style and turns around.” Hmmmmmmm want that fanart. Scary New Ren/RK is good stuff. (post-chapter-13 Red popping in with a WHAT THE HECK)

· “that makes him seem like a ghost in Ren’s body.” YA KNOW. LIKE HE IS.

· Okay side note time: why is the Red King here? Ya know? Like – in 3rdLife the idea of a possessing spirit of bloodlust makes some sense. But why stick around? Was RK trying to escape the 3L server, or was this not deliberate? At what point did he take over from Ren—at Black Heart Altar? In which case, was the whole idea Ren’s to begin with, or was he influenced? Maybe it happened the first time Ren died? The Red King took over then—or at least started to? Thoughts, thoughts, thoughts, thoughts…

· Wait more theories—what if RK is connected to the ????? entity that spoke to Martyn when he died? In which case, cMartyn said he was considering making that canonically a Watcher (he ended up not doing it, but he also didn’t do anything that contradicted it either). I’m not saying RK is a Watcher… but boy he sure does stare a lot, don’t he.

· Holding the screwdriver like a dagger—mmmm

· Okay funny thought: all this frost, RK’s gonna need to be real careful about rust lol. And straining the metal, tbh, all that freezing and thawing is going to have an effect but the rust idea is making me laugh

· Until I realized it would look like blood and it’s not funny anymore

· “Renbob is in the beanbag stuffed next to the driver’s seat” right so is this where Renbob sleeps because I have been wondering—

· “something about having two people look like Ren when neither of them are makes Doc stop to take a shaky breath” *sob*

· “Renbob clears his throat, looking up at Doc with a smile that is so obviously fake that it hurts.” Ugh the LOT of you stop repressing everything you’ll give yourselves a collective hernia

· “he’ll probably have to break the news to the other hermits, too, Iskall and False and all the others.” All these painful lines I somehow missed the first time through

· Awww warm air comes in when Renbob opens the door—with the flowers and everything, Renbob is so easily associated with spring, I love this contrast.

· Aaand there it is, yup, RK is shocked to see his face on Renbob, and Renbob is shocked to see that this is so clearly Not Ren.

· They both recover pretty quickly, though. Survivors, both of them.

· RK calls Renbob their “ferryman” and I’m not sure if I was supposed to get “crossing the river Styx” vibes from that But I Did. (does RK think he’s dead? That they’re all dead?) (post-chapter-13 Red here with a little bit of wordless screaming.) (and also a bit of pride that I picked up on this.)

· “And what a help you’ve been! Fixing me up, replacing my hand.” Hi yes, 911? there’s a dagger stabbed into my feels.

· “he’d rather remember rage than see another person’s heart break.” Dang that’s such a raw line. Oof.

· ”the Red King says, his voice hoarse with tears.” Really interesting that this blood deity can feel such emotions—like, anger or even fear, I can get. But to see this entity upset to the point of tears is fascinating.

· “There is a crown on Doc’s workbench.” Right, yeah so like—is RK unwillingly manifesting these artifacts? Because that’s wild, man. …how long before he manifests an “enchanter”?

· “I’ve never seen it [the crown] clean before.” Okay that definitely implies that maybe RK didn’t come around until after Black Heart Altar?

· “The Red King has the crown in his lap when Doc turns back around, claws gently tracing over the engravings, leaving frost patterns behind.” I really wish I had art skills because there’s this image in my head of a drawing of the crown held in RK’s hands, with his face (one eye glowing, one in shadow) reflected in the surface, and frost patterns following behind a claw that’s daintily tracing the surface. But I can’t draw so—

· RK asks for a change of clothes. What was he wearing when they rescued him, I wonder? The Red King outfit with the fur capelet? Or Ren’s Stargazer outfit? Which begs the question: where does Stargazer fit into all this? Was Ren’s return to Hermitcraft RK free, but when he came so close to dying to Sith, RK found that as a gateway to take over? (Post-13 Red here, Looking Intently at this note.)

· Awww… the image of a one-legged RK clutching new clothes to his chest and hopping down to change in the bathroom… That’s weirdly endearing. He’s less menacing when he stands up somehow. Less lurking, maybe.

· Oooohhhhh he messed up his back sleeping on the floor. Gotcha.

· Doc keeps telling himself (and RK) that saving him and working on these parts is “the right thing to do” and while he’s not WRONG I just want to see him realize that it’s not only the right thing, it’s realistically the only thing, because if he didn’t, then he’d have to deal with the fact that he’s lost his best friend and we can’t have that.

· “I don’t need to eat” ummmmmm no hold on this definitely implies that RK is possessing a dead body and I’m not okay with that where is Ren

· LOLOL “I can’t stand to see [you do] this” is such a raw line to be about watching Doc eat cereal with his hands

· “The voice doesn’t belong to who he thinks it does.” Ugh, Doc. This isn’t the first time he’s lost a close friend to Something Else, something otherworldly.

· “All of them are waiting for him, waiting for him to do something more, something better—” aaand there it is. Doc’s characterization in this fic in a single sentence.

· Doc waking up and thinking he’s seeing Ren and RK’s hesitation and the gentle “I’m not Ren”—OH MY HEART

· RK’s coffee = Renbob’s friendship bracelets

· Randomly can I just say that I love how RK’s dialog is all in italics? It concerned me at first because I thought it was going to keep pulling me out of the narrative, but instead it really just feels right. Also I’m looking forward to the moment when he says something and it’s not in italics because it’s REN and oh my lands please give this to me I beg you (post-13 Red here with a bit more mindless screaming)

· “watch your tongue with me, Atlas, because I’m the one person you can pass the sky to.” Okay okay okay—English studies brain coming out. This suggests that there is a burden RK and Doc can share: something Doc is currently struggling against that only RK can help him with. In the moment, I don’t know if this is really fair of RK to say—after all, Doc does technically have Renbob too, if we’re just talking about Doc’s unhealthy coping mechanisms. In fact, if that’s the context, then Renbob is a much better fellow-Atlas because he and Doc have known each other much longer and they’re both dealing with the loss of Ren. BUT, knowing about the upcoming conversation where Doc and RK both realize that they’ve lost someone (Ren for Doc, Martyn for RK) this line suddenly has a lot more weight. Again, I don’t think that in that moment RK quite has the right to pull this zinger. But in later context, it turns out to be true after all. They are the only two with this particular shared pain.

· Doc upset with himself because he can’t get over his “stupid hang-ups” DOC MY LAD. “I’ve lost my best friend, you’re in his body, and I don’t know how to process any of these emotions” is not a “stupid hang-up” PLEASE stop blaming yourself for everything!?

· “I’m so tired” in the middle of his nightmare—oh my gosh. That hurts so much for some reason.

· I also very much wish I had the ability to draw the image of Doc with tears on his face, staring dead-eyed down at his workbench while RK looms over from behind, pinning his wrists to the table with one metal arm and one frost-bitten one, a look of exasperation and concern on his face. Why can’t I draw the things

· “How do you know Etho” “I watched him die.” OW ow ow ow ow

· Doc takes this as calmly as only someone used to living in a world where death has low consequences can. Oh. Oh—that means… huh. Doc isn’t used to losing people permanently on any basis, especially not death. So no wonder he doesn’t know how to process Ren being gone (I can’t bear to write “dead” there). He literally doesn’t have context for it… and what context he DOES have is like—I mean, Etho and Bdubs came back. Ouch.

· “Twenty-five.” The Red King makes the number sound like a threat. Yet another banger line I missed the first time through. Imagine waking up and thinking you’re in 3rd Life again but instead of 14 players there’s almost twice that many and you think you don’t know any of them.

· I still don’t quite understand the “when was etho added/should have known there was something different” bit or why RK is so emotional about it… but I have trust that it’ll make sense at some point. (post-13 Red: ...is this something about the fact that he thinks he's dead...so he thinks Etho has died before? Like, that 3rd Life wasn't Etho's first hardcore? ...I feel like I'm almost grasping this but I'm missing an element somewhere.)

· And now a sword. RK. My man. You need to stop manifesting things—especially when they scare the ever-living daylights out of you.

· I absolutely adore the in-universe lore that Fire Aspect is a PvP enchantment because it threatens dropped loot, and yeah I very well might steal that. (Along with something I read at one point who-even-knows-where that Knockback is a coward’s enchantment, because I love that too.)

· He really shouldn’t. / Doc picks up the sword by the scabbard and hands it to him, hilt extended. Doc you already trust this guy so much and you don’t even know it—but is it just because you still subconsciously trust the face he wears? Or is it something deeper?

· Ugh, the “I was supposed to kill someone for him” conversation/scene is SO FREAKING GOOD

· “I don’t want it. Not like the crown.” Why, though? Why doesn’t he want it? Because it’s more to do with death than kingship? OH. Oh, I hadn’t even considered that. I’ve been thinking of RK as this like, god of blood and vengeance but maybe he’s not. Maybe he hates the bloodshed (“the blood! It’s drippin’ in me eyes… I’ve been blinded by the violence…”) just as much—more?—than Ren did/would have. Huh. That’s a new facet.

· Oh my heart the “have you ever lost someone and it was your fault” line. Dagger to the feels. Dagger to the feels.

· This like… “I’m on a roll and even though I know I should stop I really don’t want to” mode? Man. That’s relatable. Especially when you’re working to avoid dealing with something else.

· “Not making it for you—it’s for Ren” oh ouch ouch ouch the denial suddenly breaks through it’s okay, Doc I’m with you on this

· The second time reading through it’s far clearer that Doc has a blind panic attack here—when he starts rambling that Ren’s coming back, he’ll be there for season eight and RK goes to…do whatever he was going to do and Doc just blanks out. The manic productivity should have been a warning sign, the poor guy is crumbling.

· “Doctor” and “he’s not sure he deserves that title right now” UGH Doc needs a hug someone please hug him and tell him it’s all going to be okay. Someone please hug me and tell me it’s all going to be okay.

· “his hand on his throat” over the scar from the Red Winter axe? </3

· “I did do that. I have done that.” RK admitting to it actually having been him in Doc’s nightmares?

· Okay sorry the conversation about beating Dinnerbone will never not be funny to me

· RK mentions that people used to call him m’lord or Ren, and then mere minutes later you have “Ren. You couldn’t save him because of me, could you?” He knows exactly what’s going on here. Not maliciously, but he’s no dense-head, he’s put the pieces together. (post-13 Red: MOST of the pieces. Most of them.)

· Watching Doc slowly stop fighting his nightmares—like, the first time, he fights. The second time, he accepts it but still struggles. And this time… this time he gives up before it even starts. That hurts, man.

· Good grief the whole “get my head chopped off” / “you really don’t want that” bit. O.O I’m not sure what emotion I’m feeling but I’m Feeling An Emotion.

· “Snow’s new. Dream’s not.” </3

· …Doc’s not gonna be a fan of snowier-snow after this trip…

· "Dr. M77" Actually he’s Doc Monster, RK, but we’ll let it go. XD

· OKAY BUT THIS EXCHANGE? The “how are you feeling” / “better” / “you’re a bad liar” / “I said better not great” that’s such a good exchange and I don’t know why every other time I’ve ever seen it used they stop at the lying accusation? Doc with the snappy comebacks, man.

· Aaah, Doc and RK, two establishment bros bonding over a shared disdain for hippies.

· The bit about the fella who wore an iron helmet and called it a powdered wig—fear is in my heart. *shoves Scar into an obsidian box and blocks it closed*

· “Who was Ren to you?” </3

· Doc is more than willing to spread the flames, to sear his loss into RK’s bones. / The king’s face stops him. Ren’s face stops him. Holy CRAP is that a good set of lines. So much going on there, and ALL of it good.

· Again. I wish I could draw. I would draw RK sitting on the edge of the bed, gently hugging a collapsed-in-on-himself Doc. </3

· “And I hate the devil that forced us apart, that mixed my blood with his.” *adds another layer to Scar’s obsidian fort*

· OKAY STARTING CHAPTER THIRTEEN I made the mistake of logging into Tumblr earlier and saw people screaming so I’m sure I’m not ready for this but here we go

· Oh no RK has been hippie-ified

· “You started a paramilitary organization because you have hay fever?” *dies laughing*

· Ugh I need to go back and watch s6 I’ve only seen the tail end of Mumbo’s side of things and there’s so much I don’t know.

· HAHAHAHAH I do know the trident bit though—

· Wait he said Scar

· PANIC

· “Kingslayer. bloodthirsty. Time King. The coward. And the mastermind behind it all, the loyal soldier to the very end, the whole damn reason either of us are in this mess.”

· HOLY CRAP HOLY CRAP HOLY—

· “Is this the afterlife I deserve? After everything, this is the hell I’m going to endure?” I AM SCREAMING

· Doc pinned to the wall with ice, struggling to breathe—I CAN’T WHAT IS HAPPENING

· ((You know I’d get through this a lot faster if I stopped pausing to write reactions—))

· “A break in the ice. A whisper of spring.” Symbolism. Symbolism.

· “Ren was dead when I found him again,” NO I REFUSE TO READ THIS

· “don’t use the hand I built you to hurt yourself” DOC. SIR. MY HEART.

· RK don't run, RK get back here—what are you—

·

·

· I

· JUST

· ACTUALLY

· SCREAMED

· AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

· *several long moments of just breathing*

·

·

·

· *rereads*

· Holy crap on a garbage cracker with an extra serving of what-the-heck sauce

· REN

· REN

· Okay lol okay hahaha calming down

· I literally threw myself back in my chair away from the computer reading that last paragraph. I don't usually... physically react to things I read. LOL. Heh. I’m. Ah. I’m not emotionally invested in this or anything.

· Holy crap.

· Okay. Okay. Okay.

· Um.

· Great chapter, guys. Awesome stuff. Really good. I’m absolutely okay right now and it’s all totally fine.

· …please enjoy your break and get lots of rest and I very much look forward to the return of this fic you have no idea.

· I need to go breathe for a little bit.

EDIT: no, you know what--I'm not going to be a nice polite fangirl over here and quietly hope y'all see this I'm straight up tagging you, @fluffy-papaya and @betweenlands. THANK YOU but also how dare.

[lilacwineandthesinkingsun]

Always feels like Summer

AN. - I really want to take this slow. When / If giving feedback please note that i wrote this to deal with my problems in my life. This writing doesn't made with the purpose of entertaining, i just simply post it on here. However i welcome any HUMANLY told feedback. If you do not like it, or you couldn't say what you want to say without being hurtful, then please just scroll past this. Nor me, nor you would benefit from attacking anyone. I do not consider myself as a snowflake, but words have weight, and i will not tolerate attacking my integrity or anything just for the sake of it. Just so you can hurt somebody.

Thank you for coming to my ted talk.

Pairing: none yet but we'll see

Warnings: cheating, family issues, drinking, language

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Summary: You are starting it over, from zero. New city, new apartment, new neighbours. You moved across the ocean just to get away, to be able to get a real clean start. Will your past let you leave though?

If someone would've said to me 3 months ago that i will move to America all alone, just leave everything behind and rent a small apartment all to my own, i would've died from laughing. I had the (for the outside looker) picture perfect life. Big villa, handsome fiancé, financially all sorted since i had my own business, while he was a hotel mogul. Perfect life, perfectly planted all over social media, until that one night. That one faithful night when i decided to surprise him on our 3rd anniversary. With a bottle of champagne i opened the door to his office, thinking his secretary is already on her way home, all finished for the day.. Well turns out she really likes to put in "the extra mile" when it comes to her work. The bottle fell from my hand, alerting them of my presence. I should've been screaming, tearing her and him apart, but somehow i didn't want to do any of that. I took off the massive diamond ring with a straight, emotionless face, walked to his desk where i placed it, turning our engagement photo face down, then left. I have memories of him talking to me, begging, then shouting, but it is all just white noise. I dodged a bullet there.

Truth be told i don't think anything ever hurt like that night before or did it actually hurt at all?.. I couldn't cry. After all i know that i will never be enough, i knew that i'll never be pretty or smart or succesful enough. I am not someone that is loveable. No matter the little acts of love, no matter the sacrifices, I will never be enough. Not just for him, i know my family would still take his side as well. Telling me things like let the man have his fun... he might not be faithful in bed, but you're the one he'll marry. Yeah right, i scoffed while driving to the airport.

I am a well-known webdesigner, i even published books on the subject, held classes in colleges, gave interviews encouraging women to build their own career.. I am sure i'll manage elsewhere. I bought a one way ticket to the first plane to Boston. I had 2 hours until my flight, so i spent that with getting a small apartment in a seemingly quiet area... I honestly never thought i'll ever move out of Sweden. I left everything behind, literally only having my purse and my laptop, and the neccessities.

Finally it was time to board the plane.. Great i will now be smashed to the window the whole flight since i happened to get the only ticket left...next to this huge hunk of a man. I have to admit at any other time i would've been glad to sit next to a handsome, bulky stranger but right now it was the least of what i wanted. I excused myself and put on the eyemask they provided.

The next thing i remember is a smooth but strong hand gently shaking me, a sweet voice telling me to wake up.

-C-Curt? - i mutter, still half asleep.

-I'll have to disappoint you ma'am but it's just me. - he said with a kind smile. - We have arrived in Boston.

I sat up straight looking out the window.

-Well i guess i was really tired. Thank you for waking me up. - I tried my best to offer him a smile, but of course i couldn't not fake it. He scratched the back of his head then got up, letting me out.

-Ma'am! Do you not have luggage? - he asked not understanding why did i start to leave the plane without any kind of suitcase.

-No, i don't - I say, then leave.

I was one of the few people who couldn't get a taxi, or at least for the next hour, so i got a coffee and sat down at a bench just outside the airport. It was rather windy, but sunny day regardless. The rays of the morning sun caressed my face in the light wind. This was the first when i really believed i could do it. I could start it all over. On my own.

Just moments later a car stopped right before me. That man again, from the plane. I looked at him questioningly and tilted my head to the side. He rolled down his window and smiled at me.

-There's a storm coming, there won't be any more taxis here for the next few hours. Where are you headed ma'am? I'm sure i'm able to take you some of the way, if not all.

I stood up, walked over to his car, bending down to the window to be able to talk to him.

-Let's just quit the ma'am thing, i'm not anywhere near that old, and i don't think a day this sunny will end in a storm, but i'll take you up on the offer.

He gave me that damn 2000 watt smile, while opening the door for me to get in.

I fasten my seatbelt, then nod at him.

-So where are you headed? - he asks.

-Hmm, let me look it up. - you said as you opened the email to search for your new address. You put it in the gps and show him. -There.. I'm heading there. It is okay if you cannot take me all the way, i don't wanna mess up your schedule. I'm sure you have places to be.- i said with a small and somehow sad smile.

He nods then gives me my phone back.

-Do you not need the navigation? - i giggle.

-No, i know the area pretty well.

-Oh, i see, is it... like... safe?

-Yes it's a nice neighbourhood. More like a little town of it's own, except it's kind of in the middle of Boston. Everybody knows everybody there. Are you visiting?

-No.. i.. i'm moving there actually.

-Oh so you're the one Sarah talked about.

-I'm guessing you live there too?! - i asked while looking out the window, taking in my new surroundings.

-Yes, i do, matter of fact that - he says as he points at my phone - that makes you my brand new neighbour.

-Such a small world... - i mutter under my nose, hope he doesn't hear it.

He somehow knows he shouldn't pry into the why's of the lack of luggage, and the reason of my move. He let's me adjust to the car, to his presence, and to the new surroundings. An hour later he stops before a nice looking apartment complex.

-This is our stop. - He says with a smile.

With a sigh i get out of the car, and look back at him, before shutting the car door.

-Thank you for taking me home, and sorry for the inconvenience. Have a nice day. - I didn't wait for his response, just shut the door, and headed for the main etrance.

It was a nice apartment. It had a little balcony and big windows. Perfect for sunny, warmer mornings, to work, or just to have coffee. It barely had furniture, i'll have to fix that rather sooner than later. But for now I'll settle for a long bath and some take away.

One hour in, and i hear the doorbell ring. Did the press already find me? Is it Sarah? I wonder while quickly putting my robe on, and twist my hair with a towel. As i open the door, i see a suddenly flustered man. The very same one who brought me here from the airport, and i realize i still don't know his name. He coughs, then hands out a bag to me, and he's holding a box of pizza in his other hand.

He has this boyish smile while trying hard to look me just in the eye.

-I...i - he stammers - I brought a few beers and a pizza over. You didn't have luggage, and this flat was empty for 4 years since Buck moved to NYC so i thought you'll need some food maybe some company...

-That is so kind of you! Please come in.. i'll be back in a second.. i'll just.. put on some... clothes first.

He sets the food on the coffeetable while looking at my hurriedly retreating back.

-Please make yourself at ho... yea no problem with that. - I tease him as he's currently getting all comfortable on the couch.

-Oh i'm.. um sorry. I used to spend an awful lot of time in this apartment, i guess it is kind of a second home at this point.

-Well, you're welcome anytime.

-Thank you... um.. Why do i not know your name yet? - He smiles at me confusedly, and i feel a giggle emerge from my throat.

-Because you never asked.. I'm (Y/n). - i say as i held out my hand.

-Steve.. - he says, and his hands linger just a second more than a simple handshake should last.

-So what brings you to this side of the city? I never heard an accent like yours before.

-Um.. i'm from Sweden. I'm kind of.. um.. starting over i guess.

-SHit.. sorry, i didn't want to make you uncomfortable.

-No it's okay.. I guess i'm just not really ready to face the reality of the past few days.

He doesn't ask about it any further. If i'm ready, i'll probably tell him about it all, but for now i'm just happy i'm not spending my first night here alone.

-So tell me about this apartment.. what should i know?

-Well it's in great condition, if you ever see flooding then thats probably the Barton kids upstairs. They like to fill not just the tub, but the whole bathroom as well.. Next to them is Sarah and Sam, siblings. Your neighbours are Nat and Wanda, then on the other side it is me. The wall are rather thin so.. um.. yea there's that... and what else... - he starts to think - oh yea, the door to he balcony is stuck, but i'll come and fix that one for ya.

I look at him with a smile, while open another beer. We spend the next few hours talking, but mainly it's him doing the talking, telling everything i need to know about my neighbours, and the community here. Soon enough it is time for him to leave cause he has work tomorrow.

The next day, i feel rather depressed, so i decide i'll go on a walk. Kind of like a tour of the surrounding area. I found a small coffee around the corner, which i really appreciate right now, since i still don't have a coffee maker at my new home.

When i open the door the scent of freshly brewed coffee hits my nostrils, and i honestly feel a bit happier from it. The chiming of the door alerts the barista who is a red haired girl with a kind face.

-Hi, how can i help you?

-Hello, i would like a cappuchino please.

-Coming right up! Please take a seat, and i'll bring it over right away.

I couldn't help but smile at how kind she is to me. Feel like starting over in a place with kind people like this barista and Steve will be easier than i thought.

-Thank you very much. -I say as she put the coffee down before me.

-You're new here. - She says with a smile, sitting down at the table.

-Is it that obvious?

She giggles - Well i know a swedish accent when i hear one..

-I should practice my english, shouldn't i? - i say laughing.

-No, i really like it. If my old neighbour would still live here he'd be head over heels for you just cause of that accent..

-Thats exactly what my new neighbour said about his friend.. Are you like... a cult?

-That depends on who is your new neighbour really.. -she says smiling at me playfully.-Are you by any chance the new tenant 2 streets down from here?

My eyes are open wide, i don't even need to answer that question, her smile grows 10 times bigger.

-I'm Wanda! Glad to meet you sweet sweet neighbour!

-(Y/n), guess it is a cult then huh? - I ask as we burst out laughing.

She has this aura around her. I know from the start that she's kind, but over my cappuchino we became somehow friends even, and she made me promise that i'll go to the bar with them on Friday. As it is their weekly "cult-meeting".

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

Between getting furniture, trying to get clothes and stuff i need, and managing work alone, i find myself being kind of late from the friday cult meeting with my neighbours. Don't get me wrong, i really appreciate that they invited me out, and that they want me to be a part of the gang, but i am just so swamped. I honestly havent left the apartment in 4 days, and i only opened the door to get food, or packages and furniture delivered. Then around 8 a knock on my door startles me.

Greasy, messy bun, and sweatpants, all my glory, i open the door, only to find Wanda and another red-head on the other side.

-Why are you not ready yet? - asks Wanda cheerfully.

-Oh yea, i guess time flies, i'm rather swamped with work and stuff. Still need to get my visa sorted out too.

-I can help with that - said the red-head.

-Shit, sorry, i'm Y/N. - i said as i shook her hand

-Nat. Nice to meet you.

-So you said you can help with the visa thing? I have a fcking degree in design and i can't seem to get a simple working visa right...

Nat and Wanda looks at eachother before laughing.

-What? - I look at them confused.

-Go and take a shower, i'll rummage through your closet and we'll be good to go in no time.

-Yea, that's the other thing i forgot to mention... My closet is pretty much empty still. I moved here with just that. - I said, pointing at my laptop and handbag. I'm telling you... the pure horror on their face was the best thing i've seen all week.

-This is an emergency.

-No it's not.. i can always wear what i came in.

-No you cannot! Jesus, we're going to a bar, and we're gonna dance. - said Wanda.

-I also heard that the boys will be late cause they need to collect mister NYC from the airport.

-Wait.. Mister NYC? Do i already need to look for a new apartment?

-No, (Y/n).. He'll be living with Steve just as before...

-Before what?

-Before Dot?

-Before Who?

-Dot.. his um.. well i honestly don't know what they are at this point, but seeing as he moves back here, and with Steve i guess i'd call them exes.

-Oh nice. We'll have two sulking singles, two bisexuals, and me. - said Nat with a hint of sarcasm.

I rolled my eyes as i headed for the bathroom. I heard the door click shut, assuming they have left to find me some probably too revealing dress or something.

When i came back out i found Nat looking around the flat.

-So why on earth did you leave Sweden? That country is awesome.

-Oh yea well.. It is awesome, i just needed a change of scenery.

-Man problems?

-Bingo. - You said with a sad smile. She walked up to you to hug you.

-Men huh?! - was all she said. Just then Wanda marched trough the apartment with a pair of burgundy heels, and a little black dress. Not too revealing, except for the legs part, but it will be okay, with my leather jacket of course.

Soon enough i was entering the bar behind the girls. I felt great. The dress fit perfectly, and somehow Wanda even got my shoe size right, hair over my shoulders, in nice, loose curls. I felt like when i was in college, when I met that asshole for the first time. Confident, pretty, dressed to kill. Although I felt none of that right now, I still felt better than in the last few days.

Nat put a hand on my waist ushering me further to a box, that had 4 men in it already, one being Steve. All 4 of them were looking at me like they either saw a ghost, or the prettiest woman alive, and i honestly doubted it was the latter.

-And that's your Visa sorted honey. - Nat winked at me, earning a giggle.

Everybody introduced himself, and i decided to sit between Steve and Wanda. I felt most comfortable with them anyways. The conversations we had, all the laughs, teases, drinks felt good. I felt free, and for once in my life i felt i belong. If this is a cult, i'm sure as hell would like to be a part of it.

The girls wanted to dance, but i was just ready to go home and sleep, tomorrow i have a big day, meaning i will be building my bed, and then work all day again. Wanda pouted at me, but no can do. I am drunk enough to know i need to go home before they bring me another shot, cause then i'll lose it and either bring some random guy home, or cry all night in the toilets. And i didn't really wanted either of those.

Steve and as i know now Bucky were heading home as well, so it was convenient we walked there together, and honestly i was thankful for that, cause three shots two beer Y/N was not known for her good navigating skills.

By the time we reached my front door, i got to the state of the - i am horny - but i will cry shamelessly over my ex - stage. And i know i need to get inside the apartment fast, or this would be a short friendship with them.

We said our goodnights, and i tried to open my door. They were nearly inside their apartment when they heard me curse while sobbing a bit.

-Shit... FUCK THIS.. - i cried as i threw the keys on the floor, and sank down the door.

Bucky turned around, leaving Steve at their door.

-Hey... shh doll. Whats wrong?

-I can't get this stupid door open..

-Yea, sometimes it's stuck a bit, here let me help you.

-WHY ARE YOU ALL SO DAMN KIND TO ME?... - i cried even harder.

He bent down to gather little old drunk me in his arms when his scent hit me, and somehow calmed me instantly. I mean i am drunk, i am in this small black dress... Maybe i'll just... yea, i'll just cuddle him a little now that he decided to take me into my apartment. i thought as i laid my head on his chest, with a hand in his neck as he carried me in princess style, and i kind of pretended to be asleep. Getting the cuddles without the cringy talking. BEST NIGHT OF MY LIFE.

When he notices that i am "asleep" he smiles, and goes for the bedroom, only to realize i have nothing but boxes, and a matress on the floor. He puts me on it carefully, pulling my blanket on me, then he caresses my face as he says - i know you are not sleeping doll, and I don't know who or why hurt you, but i can promise you you are safe with us.

-Please stay, - i murmured, reaching out a hand to him... gosh i am drunk.. - only until i fall asleep.

He looked to be hesitating.

-I don't ask you to fuck me Bucky, i just don't want to be alone.

That makes him chuckle. I feel i can be truly myself with them, and that means running my mouth as well.

-Yea sure doll. - he gets on the mattress nex to me, but far enough for us not to touch.

-So why did you leave this awesome apartment? - Look i was drunk okay? And i ran my mouth.. he didn't seem offended though.

-Well i.. I thought i found somebody that's worth leaving everything behind. Do you know what is the most absurd about it? I only realized i wasn't in love to begin with, when finding her with her boss in our bed ...didn't even really hurt me that much.

I shot up from the bed, looking at him laying one hand behind his head on the other side of the matress.

-Jesus i am so so sorry. I shouldn't have asked. Jesus, and i'm a fucking stranger.

-Chill Y/N it's all good, as i said it didn't hurt, i wasn't in love anymore. I guess never being enough just ruined it all huh. - he reminisinced.

-That i can agree with. - i said and now he was the one looking at me with wide eyes.

-You?

-Me.. - i showed him the subtle tan line where my ring supposed to be. - In the office.. with his secretary.

-Was he stupid or just retarded or some shit?

-No why ? - i asked him giggling.

-What the fuck is more attractive than someone with humor, someone who's intelligent and has her own fcking business that she built out of nowhere without the help of daddy or her boyfriend and has awesome personality and is even so fucking beautiful i thought i'd cry????

-Highheels, skimpy lingerie, and red lips i guess..

-Or the fact that you were just too good for him?

I shoved his shoulder lightly before laying down again.

-Dont put me on a pedestal Bucky. - was the last thing i said before falling asleep on his shoulder, holding his arm as if it was a plushie or something.

The next morning I wake up with a headache, and noise and giggles coming from the kitchen. There is something heavy on me that is surely not my blanket. I turn to look slowly as i see a sleeping man. It takes me a moment to realize that it's Bucky, whom i asked to stay. I quickly take a glance under the blanket, only to see all my clothing still on me. Good. Horny- drunk me didn't get the best of me.

I snuck out to find where the noise is coming from. Only to hear whistles and the giggles of the girls.

-Can you keep it down? My head is gonna explode.

-Suuuure, so i assume you have your visa sorted out?

-What are you even talking about Nat? - asked Wanda

- Well my dear.. Buck sure as hell didn't sleep at Steve's last night.

I mentally curse her for suggesting something that did not happen, while Wanda is looking at all of us wide eyed.

-Chill, nothing happened. Drunk old me just needed a good vent session and he happened to be at the wrong place and time.

-Good i still got a chance then. - said Sam with a toothy grin.

-Hey, i brought her home from the airport, i had dibs first. - pouted Steve

-Jesus, no dibs guys. - You laughed as Bucky emerged from your room, then it was his turn to get the whistles.

-So when will you tell us how you got in this town? - Wanda looked at me with big doe eyes.

-I'm not gonna get away with just sulking i gather.. Okay okay... fuck.. i need coffee first.

Then i proceeded to tell them how we got together, and how it ended, about how my family reacted. All of it.

-How are you not crying now? This broke my heart and i known you for a week. - Asked Wanda whispering to me next to the coffeemachine Steve lent me, while looking over the rest of the team on the couch.

-Yea, well.. Someone told me their own story, and i realized it didn't hurt nearly as much as it should cause i was never happy there to begin with. And how could i cry when i suddenly have a cult of friends that break into my apartment while i'm in my room sleeping with a stranger..

[wu-sisyphus-gang]

Motion Sickness 27.1

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I wasn't the sort to dwell on what Weiss had wanted from me. Well I totally was. I dwelt on everything. I was a dweller. But I was also the sort to get my workout in anyways.

Really, my thoughts were on Eminence and her partner. The people I had killed. They hadn't acted like gang members or at least not like the picture I had in my head of gang members. What with the pleas for me to spare their lives and all.

Well maybe the picture I had of gang members was of non-people. Then when I encountered some people and killed them I was surprised to find out that they were the same as anybody else. They had died the same as everybody else would, or at least most people would; together, if they were lucky, and begging for their lives, besides.

Qrow wheeled out on me while I was practicing my Limit Breaks and just watched me move around for a long time.

"Enjoying the view?" I asked.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"How are you feeling, kid."

"Like a murderer and a liar."

"We both know why we had to keep it from Ruby. Now we just have one more favor from Ms. Malachite."

"Assuming she keeps her word. I don't trust these criminals as much as you do."

"She will. She has to uphold deals she makes in front of her men in good faith. Or else they'll start to wonder about their own paychecks. It's a little bit of honor amongst thieves. It's more to prevent backstabbing than out of any real sense of honor, though. Trust that."

"Gee, if you say it like that I really have no choice."

"Tell me how you really feel."

"I feel… all kinds of fucked up. I want to talk to Ruby about it but I can't and it's leaving me more fucked up."

"You know why we can't talk to Ruby about it. As far as she is concerned it's just one favor. Scroll keys out of Don Corneo."

"I'm supposed to just live with this. Live with myself."

"Yeah kid. Just like the rest of us."

"The thing is I think I can do it. I think I can do it easily , too. That scares me."

"Sounds too complicated for me. It sounds like you're struggling; just the same as I do."

I grunted and swung my sword at nothing. "It's not quite the same. And all I have to talk to about it is you."

"Easy kid. Have a drink. Relax. There's nothing you can change about it now and nothing you would want to anyways."

I inhaled a shaking breath. He was right. Qrow needed legs. I had to be the one to kill them. It had to be done. No one of my friends would have done it. Didn't that make it wrong? None of them would have approved. I already had the answers I needed. I just didn't like them.

"Who were they? What did they do to deserve having me come after them?"

"Does it really matter? Come on have a drink."

"I don't want to drink anymore."

"You need to relax somehow."

"I am. This is what I do to relax now."

This was how I'd relax for the rest of my life. I swung the sword fast enough that it made several satisfying thwump sounds in the air.

"Well, we wanted to discuss the matter of infiltrating Don Corneo's workplace with you." It was Ozpin. Someone I wanted to talk to even less.

"What about it? We don't need to risk Ruby or Nora now. And I don't need to wear a dress. We have Yang."

"I'm not super comfortable with my niece going in there."

"But you're comfortable with me killing people." I wiped my brow and glared at Qrow. "Your priorities are fucked."

"Easy on the language, now." Ozpin said with Oscar's mouth. "It's good that we have only one favor between us and getting Qrow back on his feet. Then, thanks to Ms. Xiao Long and Ms. Schnee being with us again, things are better now than they were yesterday."

"What does better for you even mean?" I wondered. "How do you handle the lying and the murder?"

"So long as they don't ask us about it, it's hardly lying. And from what you told Qrow you did kill somebody in a near bar fight. The story you told your friends merely bordered on the truth." Ozpin lectured. "As for killing it never gets any easier. And that's a good thing. Though we take life we don't make any light of it." I exhaled hard. It was no new advice. "And we don't make sport of it. I heard you encountered one of the people drafted to Salem's side."

"The Scorpion."

"Yes. Tyrian. There are others too. Others like Hazel Rainart. They would not be so disturbed by violence as you are. Let them serve as a counterpoint. Would the man who attacked Ruby and yourself be upset if they had killed someone? Perhaps. But not like you are now."

"I get it. I get it." I sighed. "You wanted to talk about the infiltration mission. I vote Yang."

"We should discuss it." Qrow interceded.

"We are." Ozpin and I said at the same time. That pissed me off.

"I don't like the idea of her in there."

"You think I have a chance in a dress? I can rock a dress but I'm missing a certain je ne sais quoi that Yang has."

"You didn't want Ms. Rose or Ms. Valkyrie to do it. Why Ms. Xaio Long?"

"Je ne sais quoi."

"Yes. I suppose so." Ozpin relented. "Over Ms. Schnee too, I suppose. Our Target has a predilection for the type who frequent such places. Ms. Xaio Long is a match for, at least in looks."

"She looks like a party girl who knows how to earn a little extra cash is what you're saying." Qrow wasn't happy about it. "I get it though. Maybe she is our best bet."

"She bragged about going clubbing at Beacon. She has experience I don't. Plus she has infinitely more time spent in a female body than me. She knows how to use it better than I can fathom."

"We should have a backup plan," Ozpin insisted.

"She can wear a wire and everyone else can be waiting outside. There's five of us in huntsman-shape. Speaking of shouldn't they be here for this conversation. Part of being open with everyone."

"I wanted to have a quick think-tank and see what you thought." Ozpin dismissed my jab at him. "Qrow trusts your instincts."

"I don't like any of it. I think somebody is going to get hurt. I think Don Corneo from what we know is a scumbag."

"And what do you think of Leonardo?"

I faltered for a moment. "I don't trust him. I don't like how Cinder and her allies snuck past him." If Ozpin thought hard about it he would see how I don't trust him either. I snuck past him. I could have gotten myself or somebody else killed.

And he picked me over some more qualified student who had a better, more authentic resume. He chose me anyways. Why? Was he incompetent? I sure used to be. Or could he actually see my potential and what I would become and thought it was worth the risk.

If so, then it was a hell of a risk. I could have been one of Salem's agents if only I wasn't such a failure. He trusted too easily in any case that was kind to him.

"If you don't mind me asking, uh- Mr. Arc, how did you get as strong as you are?"

It was Oscar this time and I was stumped for the question. I found my gaze flicking over his head to Qrow for a second who only offered me a shrug.

"What do you mean?" I wondered. "And it's just Jaune."

"Jaune, then. It's your mentality. You have this mindset that sets you apart from everyone else."

"I wasn't always this jaded. If you want strength look at Ruby." Emotional or physical.

"It's not that or at least not just that. I've already asked her too. She's something special. You are too, though. Even with the fate of the world as it is, you still train day in and day out and do everything you have to, even if it hurts you. You've even killed people. I guess what I'm trying to say is that you're not afraid of the dirty work."

"It's not something to be proud of but Qrow's done it too."

"But he's not our age. Or your age, at least."

"I have to. I suppose. Or my friends, those that are still here, will bite it too. That keeps me going. What's left of my team and Ruby's team too."

"Can you teach me?"

"How to have friends? Haven't got a clue. Sorry."

"Not that. I need somebody to teach me swordsmanship. How to use my weapon. Or start to until Qrow is back up."

Qrow gave an enormous sigh from the chair. For my part I hesitated again. I wasn't the sort, didn't have the training myself. But this was one of those things I wasn't sure I could say no to.

The right thing to do would be to teach him. Pyrrha would want me to. Ruby might even ask me to. That pretty much sealed it.

"I won't take it easy on you." I drew the long sword and posited the cross shaped shield on my back. "Can't afford to."

"Really? That's fantastic! I was worried you didn't like me. Wait is this one of those things where you mean right now?"

"Why? Are you too busy?" I mocked him. He took it as friendly teasing. And it was, at least to some degree. The kid was not Ozpin. Not yet.

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There was something in the basement. In the tall white house in the middle of the woods where my sisters and I lived with our mother something definitely lurked away in the dark dusty corners of the underside of our house.

I had to be the brave one. I was the oldest. I was a guy. It was time to be a man. It was time to stop being afraid of the shadows which hung on the walls under soft grey lights.

I’d been in the basement a thousand times and I’d been fine literally every time. But still I was afraid of our basement. I was scared of shutting the lights off and walking up the stairs and turning my back on that total darkness. It was just so empty and complete.

No lights penetrated within and the lights which did shine in the basement were dull and weak. It was always dark down there. It was always dusty and had the faint smell of iron or copper.

I went down to get a gallon of milk for my mother. A little errand for a big boy. It should have been no problem for me.

I walked down the stairs. This was the easy part. I turned on the lights and everything was fine. Dark still. But it was fine. There were no Grimm or other goulish monsters down here. It was fine, I reminded myself that frequently and with force.

You’ve been down here so many times and nothing bad has happened a single time.

That didn’t stave off my irrational fears. Just because I knew a fear was irritation didn’t mean I could suddenly control it. We don’t choose our fears any more than we choose what food to like. It was automatic. It was outside of our control. And the dusty smell of iron pressed in on me as I opened the fridge. The light inside the fridge was brighter than the grey lights of the round bulbs in the ceiling. This was the easiest part. It was the part when the room was most lit up.

I grabbed the jug of milk from the shelf easily enough. There was no problem to that at all either. I was strong enough for this. I turned around. I saw little Lily standing in the stairs by the door. Her eyes bulged in their sockets and grew strangely to cover most of her face in a distorted wave like fashion. Her nose and lips and ears shrank and all her hair fell out. She started screaming.

It was a high pitched wail that made my bones and ears ache. Then she shut the door on me slowly and turned off the lights. I was locked in the basement. Alone in the dark with the cold milk jug in my hand.

I raced to the door and fumbled blindly for the handle. When I finally grasped it it was only to discover the door was locked from the other side. I retreated back into the room and dropped the jug. The plastic shattered and milk went everywhere. It coated my legs nice and cold. I crawled on all fours. I searched for the fridge with reaching hands. A square corner. It wasn’t here. It must be to the left. In the total darkness I found the fridge and opened it to get some light. To get some respite.

Inside the fridge was a skinless, hairless, eyeless thing. It twitched it’s head on it’s neck and turned towards me without eyes. With long limbs it crawled out of the cold fridge and towards me.

It grabbed me by the ankle when I fell back and away. It stood there eclipsing the light in its naked glory. Its limbs were much too long and thin and its body was small and round. It picked me up with it’s one hand and sank its long teeth into my ankle.

I woke up with my ankle humming with a vibrating pleasure. It hurt, yes, but it also felt strangely pleasant. I… I rubbed my ankle in the real world. I stroked softly so the skin slipped swiftly there. It felt good. But I was on edge with fear and adrenaline. The sensations combined into a luring grotesqueness that was a pleasant sensation.

“Jaune…” My mom’s voice whispered to me. I heard it clearly in the soft night. There was no buffer or noise machine. It was silent in the room Ren and I shared.  “I will always be your mother.”

Sometimes, in the throes of a nightmare, when unseen powers whirl one over the roofs of strange dead cities, it is a relief and even a delight to shriek wildly and throw oneself voluntarily along into the where the ginning mist yawns.

I checked a clock. It was four-forty five. I could probably get back to sleep if I really tried or wanted to. I didn’t really want to try. I laid back in the bed. I deserved worse than nightmares for the shit I had done. I was becoming something of a monster myself. Five. I’d killed five people. I’d elegantly unmade and twisted five coils until they certainly weren’t.

I sighed heavily and loudly as I laid back in the bed.

I needed to get out of the rental and clear my head. I need to clear it in a way which didn’t involve shooting myself which was a touch more tempting than I was really letting on.

I got out of bed and got dressed quietly. I made my way out of the rental and onto grey Mistrali gravel. The upper floors really were beautiful. But boy oh boy were the lower floors ugly. In a lot of ways it was two different cities entirely.

The sun was yellow and barely peaking out over the horizon. Beams of course light stretched through the air and I breathed deeply. It was refreshing and crisp this early in the morning. I muddled my way along through a market square clearing. It wasn’t busy but there were people out. I walked past the closed bazaars.

A brown haired girl spun in front of me and I stopped. She had deep green eyes and a red ribbon in her hair. She had to look way up at me to meet my eyes and I stared at her for a moment.

She reached into the basket by her side and pulled out a little white rose. “Here,” she said softly. “For you.”

“A flower?” I asked.

“That’s right.”

I looked away from her. “How much?” I wondered.

“That depends on the customer… for you, no charge. Sound fair?”

“Why?”

“You look like someone who could use a flower,” she returned easily and breezily enough that I thought she might float away.

I reached out a gloved and gauntleted hand. I took the delicate stem gently from her. I wasn’t sure what to do with it. I tucked the stem under a strap of my armor.

“Thanks,” I managed.

“Don’t mention it. Have a good day, now,” she bid me and just as swiftly as she appeared she was gone. She weaved her way through the openings in the early crowd. I blinked after her. I was unsure if I really saw her at all but I had the evidence of the encounter pinned to my chest.

I made my way down into a busier street.

I took in the sights of the shops on either side of me. One place was selling those little miniature trees that you trimmed. I wasn’t sure what they were called. There was a jewelry shop next to it and it was still closed. There was a dress shop with something elegant and purple hanging in the window. I stopped and stared at the dress. It would match Yang’s eyes well enough. I glanced a little along in the other window and spotted a flowing red gown which I bet Ruby could rock like no other. It was crimson like the tips of her hair and seemed to have petals flowing around the waist of soft silk. Her eyes could make anything glow and I was sure she would look like a distant dream in this dress.

I shuffled along.

I was suddenly shoved aside as I passed a bakery. The window display confections shattered and a man stumbled out with a cash register under his arm. He bumped into me as he dashed away from the broken window. Inside the bakery some fresh smell was emanating and a fat man in an apron shouted out. There were other customers inside. It smelled of coffee and baking pastries inside. They were open early it would seem. They were robbed early.

“Stop that man!” The man in the apron shouted.

The man with the register under his arm took off down the street.

I activated my semblance with a flex of will and took off after him. My feet… Ren was right. I didn’t touch the ground as I pursued my quarry on a pocket of air. I reached behind me and drew the longsword from the shield. The long triangle shaped blade ran down to the far too long red handle. I gripped it comfortably.

I front flipped in a thirty foot arc that ended with me landing easily in front of the burglar. People gasped and parted around me like I’d made a crater and they seperated around the running man as well. He stopped running with a slide and stared at me with an open mouth.

“Drop it,” I leveled my sword at him. “You can walk away if you drop it.” I watched his whole body tense up. “Don’t,” I suggested harshly.

He went for a gun. I crossed the distance between us in a sapphire blur. I swung my sword up into his hand where he held the gun and collided with green aura. I knocked the gun out of his hands and into the air. I stepped in and shoulder checked him off his feet. Before he landed I swung diagonally down from the right, then diagonally down from the left, then across the bottom in horizontal cut, then one last arching upwards swing that flung him back into a wooden box. He crushed it and his aura dissipated around him.

He dropped the register when I hit him.

He made to crawl towards the gun but, still Limit Broken, I glided forward and took actual walking steps where I kicked the gun off to the side of the street and far away from us. I continued my march and connected my boot with the side of his head in a swift sideways kick with the toe. He fell back and slumped over into unconsciousness.

I stepped away from him and felt my glow dissipate. The power was gone.

I didn’t feel particularly good as I reclaimed the register. I sheathed my sword and walked back down the street and through the gathering crowd. I walked into the bakery over shattered glass which crunched under my feet. I set the register on the counter.

“Thank you, young huntsman,” the baker said.

“It was nothing,” I returned. And it wasn’t. This meant nothing to me.

“Let me offer you a croissant and coffee. Please. Allow me to thank you earnestly and generously from my heart to yours.”

I looked away from him over his head at the fairly crowded establishment. Some people had left but many remained. Some were still partaking in their coffee and pastries even through the chaos. Sure, most had stood up to get a look and were now staring at me and there was a line near the counter of people still mostly organized.

“Fine,” I agreed with a glance back down at the baker. “I’m in no hurry.”

“Thank you. Please, won’t you have a seat. What’s your name?”

“Jaune Arc.”

“Just a moment,” I watched him go behind the counter and pour a coffee and grab a roll. He came back over to me and put them both in my hands.

“Thank you,” I murmured.

“No. Thank you.”

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I walked back into our rental. The police had gotten involved and had had a few questions for me but after that I was free to go.

I ran into Weiss in the kitchen. She turned around and stared at me from where she was washing some mugs in the sink.

“Jaune…”

“Weiss,” I greeted.

“I had the chance to talk to Ruby,” she informed me.

“And?”

“Well, I still think you’re being self destructive. But I see why you wanted me to talk to her. She told me about you two.”

“I figured but couldn’t assume.”

“Where’d you get that?” Weiss asked. She pointed at the little white rose pinned to my chest.

I took it off my person with my gloved hand. I stared down at it for a moment. Then I held it out to her.

“It was a gift, I think,” I said. “Here.”

“Shouldn’t you give it to Ruby?” She wondered. She reached out and took it anyway. She held it up to her nose and smelled it. “It smells like Ruby,” she breathed. “Thoughtful of you.”

“It’s really not. It’s nothing. Besides, I don’t think Ruby is much in the way of gifts. She prefers spending time with me. She doesn’t want presents.”

‘Not even a single little rose as a sign you’re thinking about her?”

“If she doesn’t know I’m always thinking about her by this point I have no clue how to make it stick,” I sighed. “I mean who does she think she is with those tights and that corset?”

“She’s very good looking,” Weiss agreed.

“She’s drop dead gorgeous,” I confessed. I blinked at Weiss. “Of course you are too.”

“Oh?”

“Oh come on. Your entire team is? Ruby doesn’t have any idea but you know. You know that you’re good looking.”

“What makes you say that?”

“You knew that you were out of my league,” I said. She blinked at me. “We can talk about it. It happened. I had a crush on you.”

“I didn’t reject you because I was better looking than you,” she scoffed. “Though you’re right to say I am.” She gave me a small smile.

“Total ice queen,” I laughed. “I don’t know what Ruby sees in me. So shoot. Tell me why.”

“Tell you why she’s into you or tell you why I rejected you?”

“Both.”

“I’ve met a hundred guys who could actually pull off what you were going for at Beacon. You couldn’t even play the part well. You couldn’t even pretend like you were all that. It was dishonest. And you weren’t even good at lying. So you didn’t even have that going for you.”

“You would have liked me if I was good at lying?”

“It would have been something at least. You came at me with a big ball of nothing. You know it and I know it.”

“So what does Ruby see in me? What did Pyrrha see in me?” I asked openly. “I’m mean, come on. I’m not much. And they are both out of my league by miles.”

“Well. You probably weren’t coming at them with a fake personality. I can only assume that they saw the real you and they liked it.”

“Stupefying,” I confided.

“Is it?” She pressed.

“Little bit.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m not much. We went over this. I’m a ‘big ball of nothing.’”

“Are you nothing? It sounds like you put your life on the line for Ruby.”

“Well yeah. I’m nothing and she’s a good person. What decision was there to be made in that? It’s no contest.”

“You’re not ‘nothing.’ You came at me with nothing. They aren’t quite the same thing.”

“Don’t bullshit me. You saw straight fuckin’ through me at Beacon. Don’t hesitate now.”

“I don’t know. I suppose we’ll just have to see what’s there and what’s not.”

“I’m telling you that it’s not a lot.”

“But it isn’t ‘nothing.’ Is it?” She leveraged down on me. She pointed her chin upwards at me as she said it.

“And that’s enough?”

“Enough for what?” She challenged.

“Well, ideally making Ruby happy.”

“It might be. Is what it is worth something? Are you valuable down there at the bottom of yourself?”

“Probably not,” I admitted.

“Well I don’t know,” she confessed right back. “I never got to see the real you.”

“You never wanted to try,” I fired.

“You never gave me the opportunity to try,” she breezed. “If we’re honest you would have tried that fake personality on any date I gave you. So why would I bother?”

“Honestly?” I asked.

“Honestly,” she agreed with an elegantly quirked eyebrow.

“I’d like to believe I would have surprised you,” I said.

“Is that right? So you want to impress me?”

“Always have,” I returned immediately.

“I suppose we’ll just have to see about that,” she folded her arms and leaned back on the counter. She had her lips turned up in a little smirk.

I looked away first and pushed my hand through my hair. I clicked my jaw closed.

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[zielleromanova]

02| Life Happens

-2 Years Later-

Cora E. | Everhart Mansion, New York City | 1:00 p.m.

I felt numb to my core. I could hear and see perfectly, but nothing was truly registering in my mind. It seemed like it was just yesterday, but in reality, it's been eight days since my mother passed away. I remember that day crystal clear.

I heard a certain knock on my bedroom door, and I immediately rushed over to yank it open while holding my phone. I was busy scrolling through social media. On the other side stood Charles, the old family butler. He had a deep frown on his face, a distressed gaze in his eyes, which was abnormal considering the fact that he was one of the most positive and kind men I have met. He was usually bearing a smiling face whenever I saw him.

"What's the matter, Charles?" I asked him, worried that something bad happened.

He opened his mouth to speak up, but then closed it again. He looked at me, and I could practically see the gears turning in his head.

"Something terrible happened, Miss Cora. It's about Miss Katherine." He started. My attention was caught the moment he said something terrible happened, but now I was on high alert, knowing that it was related to my mom.

"What happened?" I inquired, a bit uneasy.

Again, Charles looked hesitant and looked down at the floor for a good 60 seconds.

"Charles?" I called out to him. "Is everything alright?"

"Your mother is gone, Miss Cora. She's died in her sleep last night. "

I froze, his words slowly sinking into my brain and heart like extremely sharp blades. The phone I was holding crashed to the ground, turning into shards of plastic and glass, as my eyes went wide as saucers. My mouth felt dry, and my throat felt scorched. Charles stood in front of me with an apologetic look on his face.

"P-please tell me this is all just a cruel joke," I begged under my breath.

"I am sorry, Miss Cora, but your mother has been declared dead. " he responded.

Death. The one thing I never feared. Thinking about it now, I realized I wasn't afraid to die, but I feared for the ones that I loved.

I tried to utter a word. I tried to say anything that I could say. But I couldn't. Instead, I let out a choked sob and collapsed to my knees. Charles was by my side, rocking me back and forth as I continued to sob.

My mother was gone. I wasn't even able to spend much time with her yet because I spent most of my childhood in Russia. I wanted to turn back time and be able to hear my mother sing me to sleep once again. But I couldn't do that. She was gone.

I snapped out of the flashback, wiping my eyes with the hem of my shirt. I reached out to grab a glass of water right beside me when I heard a resounding knock from the heavy oak doors of my bedroom. Taking my last sip of water, I set the glass down.

"Come in," I called out in a hoarse voice, a reminder that I hadn't spoken to anyone that much in the past days, and instead had been crying my eyes out. Poor things must be as red as blood by now.

The door creaked open, and a face looked in. A face that I did not want to see right now. Or any other day for that matter.

"Oh, it's you," I whispered to myself. My father strode the room with long, graceful steps, and stopped just in front of my bed.

"I heard you haven't been eating much the past days. " he stated with the famous strictness in his voice.

"As if  you care," I say coldly. "Where were you when my bones were being broken back in Russia? As you can see, I'm am perfectly fine."

"You know perfectly well that you are not fine... and do not talk to me like that. I am your father." he scolds me, and it causes me to scoff aloud.

"Oh? What are you gonna do, father? Build a dungeon in the basement And lock me in there?" venom was laced in my voice as I said that.

"Despite what you might believe, I'm your father, not your jailor, Coralynn. " He responds angrily.

"Why the sudden change of heart?" I ask him in a snarky tone. I don't remember you caring for me before, I add in my head, but I don't let it reach my lips. I'm not in the mood for a fight.

My father glares at me with his stunning amber eyes. The eyes that I inherited.

He kept silent, but to me, it seemed like he was biting his tongue from saying something to me. I scoffed once more and looked away from him, rolling my eyes. I knew I was being mean and disrespectful, but I couldn't help it.

"Whatever," I sneered, proceeding to walk away from him.

My father continues to look at me in silence for a while, before continuing. "You are going to study in Gotham for this year. It might be better for you if you stay away from New York for the time being. "

"Hah!" I scoffed, "you truly do have a knack for deciding where I will stay without even asking me, huh? Nevermind, you've never cared anyway. "

"I am doing what's best for you. " he stated, keeping a cool demeanor. But let's be real. I know deep down inside his chest, it's a burning lava pit.

"Oh really? Is that what you thought when sent me to Russia for, I don't know, almost my whole life?! Because of you, I never got to spend real quality time with my mother! And now she's dead and gone!" I started out calmly, but nearing the end, the tone of my voice began to rise steadily.

My father's gaze softened. "Cora," he began softly, as if he wanted to say something to comfort me. But I didn't care whatever he has to say. I cut him off by holding up my right hand to his face. It did the trick.

"You know what? Screw this crap. I'm gonna follow through and go study in Gotham. I'll do literally anything just to get away from you. " I sneer, immediately rising to my feet and going over to one of the cupboards in my room. I drag my suitcase from the inside of the cupboard and carry it over to my bed, opening it up and setting it on the soft foam.

I went to my walk-in wardrobe and retrieved some shirts before going back to the empty suitcase lying on my bed.

My father stood in the doorway, watching me silently as I moved around the room to pack my stuff. I didn't mind. The faster I could finish packing, the sooner I could leave Manhattan, and the sooner I could get away from him.

I was about to go to my bathroom to gather my body wash, loofah,  shampoo, and conditioner when my dad spoke up.

"Your mother loved you." He murmured softly, but loud enough for me to unmistakably hear it. I stopped in my tracks and turned my head slightly in his direction. A million thoughts were racing through my head, wondering how I should respond.

"I know she did," I whisper quietly, but I know he had heard me. 'But what about you?'  My mind automatically inquired. I desperately wanted to ask him that. It was at the tip of my tongue. Instead, I bit my lower lip and continued with what I was supposed to do.

I passed by the large wall mirror in my room, and I saw my dad's reflection in it. He looked like he really wanted to say something, and I was silently begging him to speak up. Say whatever he wants. Anything. But he left without another word, shutting the door softly as he walked away. I sighed softly.

I'll see you around father.

[aprils-arcadia]

Denial

Members: Kihyun, Changkyun, Wonho Genre: Fluff with a good deal of angst Word Count: 4,9k Summary: After your last relationship with Changkyun ended badly you are reluctant to give in to your feelings for your fellow freshman  at college Kihyun. 

“You know denial isn't going to help you.” Hoseok said, stuffing a handful of fries into his mouth. Like every Thursday before you found yourself at the usual cafeteria table with Hoseok.

“But denial and ignorance have been working so well.” You sighed, mindlessly poking your food with a fork. 

Hoseok scoffed. “Ah, is that so?” He pointed at the fries in the middle of the round, run-down table. “That’s why you've been just staring at your food for the last ten minutes. You haven’t even noticed that I've been constantly stealing your fries.” He shook his head in disapproval. “Huh. Seems to work wonders.”

“Don't you sass me now. You know what’s awaiting me once I eat and get up from here.” You slumped back into your chair letting the fork clink against the plastic cafeteria tray. The food wasn't that bad. That much was clear by Hoseok wolfing it down without hesitation but right now you didn't feel like eating.

“Of course I do. That’s why I am trying my best to relentlessly bring up the topic so that you can finally suck it up and stop moping around.” 

“But I don't know how. It's not as easy a decision to make. This isn't pizza vs. burger or gym vs. jogging.” You lifted your hands unethusicastically gesturing to your left and to your right, your eyes still transfixed on a rather nasty greyish spot on the ceiling. “It's… it's so much more difficult.” 

“You'll have to face this sooner or later and by now you should know that sooner is the right way to go. You can't just hide out like this forever. And you can't try to deny that this is eating away at you, just like I am currently eating away all your fries, which for the record you still haven't stopped me from doing. If you aren't even possessive of your food anymore, who are you even?”

“Haha. Very funny." You leaned forward again, picking up a solitary fry that Hoseok had dropped onto the tray. "But seriously what should I do? Do you have any ideas?” 

“Do you really want my advice? Like straight up blunt me telling you what I'm thinking?” 

“Yeah, sure. Always.”

“You’ve told me quite a lot about that Changkyun guy by now and I can’t say I like him.” Hoseok’s tone of voice had turned serious and you could see that the casual mischievous air around him had vanished. “But apart from all that, if you would really still love him I don’t think you would have fallen for Kihyun.” 

Silence.

He might be right. But on the other hand it's not like you could erase all the history you had with Changkyun either. 

He had been your first real relationship, your first love. You had been so convinced that you two would live the happily-ever-after, the cliche “they meet in school and look at them still going strong”-movie stereotype, overcoming hardships together only to grow stronger as a couple. 

But reality wasn't like this. Instead your Romeo and Juliet story turned into the annoying “on/off”, “are they/aren't they” cliche. You hadn’t heard from him or seen him and after the last fight you had, it's not like you could blame him but all that logic and rationality didn’t stop you from still loving that asshole no matter how many times your heart had been broken courtesy of him. And you still couldn't fight the feeling that even remotely thinking about Kihyun was cheating. That you were betraying the trust and the man you loved. 

“When was the last time you spoke to that guy anyway?”

“6 months ago,” you admitted under your breath.

“6 months ago? I mean come on. You need to move on from this. That's just not healthy.” 

You knew that Hoseok was right. It wasn't like you expected that Changkyun would come back to you, to show up at your dorm and begged you to take him back. That wasn't his style. Him calling you up at night and you hopelessly agreeing to meet with him was a thousand times more likely. Pathetic, you knew. But still. 

"So why not see how things could go with Kihyun? He seems like a nice guy even though he might be a bit of a smartass at least from what I can tell.” Hoseok shrugged his shoulders. 

"Oh I don't know it's not like I haven't thought about trying my luck with him and seeing where things would go. But I'm just feeling so guilty,” you said, reluctantly dipping your fry into the nearly empty ketchup.

“Yeah otherwise we wouldn't have to have this conversation almost every two days right before your two most beloved courses.” 

This was both unbelievably true and painfully sarcastic. The two intro classes Hoseok talked about were indeed your favorite classes and finally gave you the feeling of having made the right choice in coming here. On the other hand they were also the ones where a certain someone was sitting next to you since the first week.

*

You had met Kihyun right after college started. You had just moved here a few days ago and the break up with Changkyun was still fresh, having happened only two weeks ago. But once you entered the college grounds you swore to leave that behind you. To leave it in the past and in the city you had left to come here. Which right at this moment did not seem to work out so well, you had to admit.

You were convinced, even if it was a bit naive, that this whole experience would change your life and that this is the perfect new start to get away from it all. Unfortunately this included your meticulous sleep schedule. Ever since the fallout with Changkyun you weren't able to really sleep. You spend the night scrolling through social media or God forbid your phone's gallery. 

This wasn't helpful and you knew it. 

The night before your first college day you had felt so utterly lonely that you couldn't help yourself. You deeply regretted having left and how things turned out with Changkyun. This wasn't how you wanted it to go but you also didn't know what would have been your ideal outcome. It was obvious that you and Changkyun had an expiration date. Hell, you have had so many of them in the past it was a wonder that you even made it this far. But somehow you always ended up with each other.

The topic of college had been looming over the two of you ever since your senior year of high school. He didn’t like the idea of you going to a different city and the thought of staying in the town you grew up in nauseated you. Your local community college had nothing to offer with all possible studies boring the hell out of you. You wanted change and a challenge and something that interested you. Changkyun never seemed to understand that. For him, you applying for other colleges felt like betrayal, that you were planning on leaving him, going somewhere where he didn’t know what you were up to, where he couldn't control who you hung out with. 

So once the acceptance letters started to roll in the two of you fought on an almost daily basis. Somehow you had found the courage to tell him that you wanted to go to your current college and that you applied for a dorm room. He had just scoffed at that and told you that you wouldn't have the balls to leave anyway. That your little pampered, desperate self would not turn on him and leave. Two weeks ago you had finally gotten the approval for the dorm room. When you talked to Changkyun about trying to make this work long distance he completely flipped. You’ve had fights in the past, countless ones and he had broken up with you multiple times as well, but this was different. 

This time it felt final. Irreversible.

He had left you a sobbing mess on the steps of your home, driving away way too fast in his car and skidding around the corner. You knew that he wouldn't come back. You knew that you wouldn't get the call. The call that he was sorry, the call that would make everything right again. You knew this wasn’t coming. But still you couldn’t comprehend that this was supposed to be the end. The real end.

You had sat on those steps for hours until your mother had finally come home and tried her best to get you inside. The rest of the day you spend asleep. Completely weak and dehydrated you fell into an uncomfortable sleep, only to wake up with tears still streaming down your face. You spend the week before leaving for college in a haze. 

This wasn’t your usual coping mechanism.

You had stopped listening to music. This time around you didn’t drown your tears in Death Cab songs and ice cream wanting to be comforted by your friend and family. Instead you completely isolated yourself. You only ate when you were forced to and sleep didn’t come easy. Most nights you’d stared up at your bedroom’s ceiling, your mind completely empty but your body not letting you rest. It had felt like a part of you was missing that he literally had ripped out your beating heart where he stood. After a week you were only a shadow of yourself. You had packed for college with the help of your friend and moved into your dorm room. Sleep was still a rare commodity but you tried your best to start being hopeful about the future. You couldn't mope around forever and you shouldn’t let him ruin your first week of college. 

But here you laid, not being able to sleep. The dorm room was dark and empty, the shadows from the trees outside dancing on the walls. Instead of trying to close your eyes you had grabbed your phone, the bright light of the screen hurting your eyes in the beginning. Looking at the pictures on your phone didn't make your feeling of crushing loneliness any better. On the contrary. It hurt. It hurt like hell. Knowing that the man you loved so much was done with you. Over you. Living life without you, like you never happend. 

Luckily your roommate hadn’t moved in yet so no one was able to hear you sniffle and ultimately cry yourself to sleep at 4 a.m. 

The next day you woke up to the loud noise from the hallway having ignored your alarm clock twice. Now you only had 15 minutes left to get dressed and rush to the lecture hall. One quick look in the mirror confirmed what you had dreaded all along. You looked like sh*t. You had wanted to start college bright-eyed and optimistic but those were not the kind of bright eyes you were looking for. You had no chance of wearing your contacts like this. Awesome. The cute first day of college outfit you had laid out the night before stared at you almost in disappointment and you grumpily grabbed your black-rimmed glasses out of the drawer and quickly put your hair up in a messy bun, brushing this bird’s nest of hair would have been a waste of time. 

You rushed out of your dorm and onto the quad. Fortunately you already checked the way yesterday so instead of being completely lost you were able to just sprint across campus at full speed. Even though you earned a few “heys” and even one “Run, Forrest, run” you were able to make it in time. You hurried inside and tried to catch your breath as good as possible. Most of the seats were taken, everyone shows up for the first one, you thought.

You had found an empty seat in the back of the lecture hall and sat down as unnoticeable as you could. The young man next to you gave you a quick smile and a nod and then focussed back onto his notebook again. You pulled out your own notebook and the lecture began with your professor introducing himself and outlining the following semester before diving straight into the basic concepts that will be needed for the rest of the course.

You tried your hardest to focus but your mind tended to wander back to what you gave up to be here, if giving up was even the right word, and how your finger had hovered over Changkyun’s number time and time again the night before. You choked back the uncomfortable feeling that was forming in the back of your throat. You needed to concentrate. You brushed your thoughts aside as best as you could and focused on the blackboard. 

Nothing. You couldn't make out a single word. Great. If you couldn’t even copy the blackboard you may as well just leave. You squinted at the blackboard in an attempt to decipher the words as your professor was writing them. What he's talking about should give you some clues but still the smudges remained. If you could have just worn your contacts then this wouldn't have happened but no, you petty excuse for a human being had to cry yourself to sleep and were now forced to run around like a mole with those humongous glasses of yours that let's be fair here, didn't do sh*t. 

You sighed heavily and rubbed the bridge of your nose. All the squinting has achieved was give you a mild headache and your notepad was still as blank as it could be apart from you writing the course name at the top. Just as you were starting to lean back in your chair and resigned to just listening, an unfamiliar notebook appeared at your side, nudging your arm. 

"You can copy mine, if you'd like. That prof’s handwriting is like trying to read hieroglyphs."

You looked to your left and saw the guy next to you slide his notebook across.

"Oh and I took the liberty of correcting all his typos. You can be lucky that you don't have to deal with those cringe-worthy mistakes." 

You chuckled slightly. It’s been days since you even smiled about anything, having forced all of them since the break-up. “Thank you. I really appreciate it.” 

"No worries," the young man whispered. “I’m Kihyun by the way”

“Y/N.”

“Nice to meet you Y/N,” he said and smiled brightly. 

His profile and jawline were sharp and he dressed unbelievably well. The sleeves of his button-down were rolled up to his elbows and his dark brown hair had a slight undercut. He was attractive to say the least. How could you not have noticed this when you first sat down. Ah yeah, you probably were feeling way too sorry for yourself at that time. 

You quickly copied the notes and gave it back to him. 

“Thanks again, I owe you one.”

"Nah. You're very welcome. But if you insist a coffee would be more than sufficient." 

The next week you had finally been able to wear your contacts again. Thursday evening you had met the lovable idiot that was Hoseok. He’d spend the majority of the weekend listening to you cry your eyes out in the dorm common room. It was so easy to open up to him and maybe just maybe this was exactly what you needed. Someone who didn’t know the whole story who was completely impartial to hear your side of things. Talking to him made your shoulders a little lighter and he had made it his mission to make you feel better, to make you feel welcome and comfortable. He tried his best to get some nutritious food in you and forced you to join his Sunday morning jog. 

The next day with your legs almost numb and a chipper, way too awake Hoseok by your side you arrived at the nearby coffee shop. It was a tiny cafe that was frequented mostly by the students and therefore it was usually packed at this time of day. Hoseok looked around the shop anxiously until his eyes met the ones of the guy sitting at the corner table. 

“I gotta go. I don’t wanna keep Hyungwon waiting.” 

“Hot date?” you said, eyeing the tall young man that was smiling sleepily at Hoseok and waved.  

“Hell yes,” he replied and hurried off towards the other corner of the cafe. You took your two coffees from the counter and headed towards the lecture hall. Once you arrived you let your gaze wander through the rows until you spotted the only familiar face in the room. 

“Good morning,” you said as you sat down and placed the cup of iced americano in front of Kihyun. “As promised.” 

“Oh hey, thank you. I was wondering if you might have forgotten about me since you ignored me on Thursday.”

“Thursday? Where?” You fidgeted in your brain to try and remember where you could have seen him, but last week you were running on autopilot most of the time, without ever really registering your surroundings. 

“Oh so you really didn’t even notice me. I was sitting like three people over in intro to media theory.”

“Oh no. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. I was spacing out a lot last week. I’m really sorry.” 

“Well at least I know you didn’t forget me,” he said, taking the cup and nudged it against your own. ”Thanks again. That should help us not fall asleep.” 

“I do hope so,” you said smiling as you started to sip your coffee. 

“It doesn’t seem like you’ll need my perfectly-taken notes this time around,” Kihyun added, gesturing towards your non-existent glasses. “I gotta admit though I kinda miss the glasses.” You laughed shyly. “They looked cute on you.” Kihyun turned towards the blackboard as your professor started to speak up. “But I’m glad you look a little healthier this week,” he said mostly to himself but you were just able to catch it. 

*

After unenthusiastically eating the remaining fries on your plate you got up, to make your way to your next course. 

“So have you made up your mind?” Hoseok said leaning against a nearby wall, waiting for you.

“Of course I haven’t,” you said as you let the wrappers slide off your tray and into the trash can. “And he probably isn’t that interested in me anyway.”

“Excuse me? Do you remember that one time he asked you out and you straight up invited me along?” Hoseok rolled his eyes at you. “Yeah sure, he isn’t interested in you. And also to get back to our earlier discussion if that wasn't denial I don't know what was.”

“That wasn't denial. I literally didn't get it." You tried to look and sound as convincing as you could but Hoseok probably already saw through that. "And seriously ‘hang out’ is just not the language I associate with asking out," you added defensively.

“Oh come on. You were just scared out of your wits and panicked. Don't you try and wiggle your way out of this now,” he said, putting a hand on your shoulder guiding your way out of the cafeteria and into the hallway. 

“Not fair and do you have any idea how long ago I went on a date last. Like a real asking out, whole shabang, first date?” You brushed off his hand from your shoulder and looked at him in all seriousness. 

"No idea, but I’m gonna presume it was AGES ago" Hoseok answered dramatically.

"Correct. I had like one first date in my life and that was Changkyun." You didn't like to admit this but it was the truth. He was your first, your first for basically everything.

“Are you sure you just didn't realize the other ones were dates"

“Stop it for God's sake. Shouldn't I know that?”

“Not if you were as dense then as you are now.” Hoseok winked at you and slid into the classroom to your right. “See you later.”

“Smartass,” you added quickly and stuck out your tongue. Unfazed by your childish action Hoseok blew you a kiss through the closing door. 

“He’s such an idiot.” He was a pain in the ass but you were thankful for Hoseok. He always found a way to cheer you up but was also by your side with advice and an open ear, everytime you needed him. You walked to your own lecture hall with timid steps, lost in thought. 

It’s been six months since you’ve last heard from Changkyun. 

No texts, no calls, no updates on social media. 

In fact you couldn’t even see his posts anymore, maybe he straight up blocked you. He probably was happy without you and better off. And you really had to face the fact that you yourself were happy here as well. That your life might not have turned out the picture perfect way you wanted it to be but you had found friends that supported and loved you and you were enjoying your studies tremendously. The only thing that was in the way was that damned guilty consciousness of yours and the nostalgia of a past albeit failed relationship.

 Changkyun wasn’t coming back and even if he was you shouldn’t fall for it because time and time again you should have been taught that this relationship was going nowhere. You were like oil and water, you could force them to be together for a while but slowly they would drift apart again. You guys weren’t made for each other and every other fight had proven that. He was overly jealous and you were too timid to really speak your mind. He was your first relationship, the one you wanted to treasure for the rest of your life but as Hoseok said it just wasn’t healthy. Not in the slightest. 

Going to college might have been the fallout you two needed to start living a life not dependent on each other, to be able to move on and to find your own happiness and a relationship where you were an equal and where you wouldn’t have to fear for your relationship every time you went out with friends. Changkyun was probably over you already anyway, it never took him long to prove to you that he didn't need you. 

So why, why on earth were you still limiting yourself. 

Why were you still in any way being considerate to this ass. The ass that made out with your friend in front of you just to prove a point. The ass that left you standing in the rain after a fight having to walk home for an hour. The ass that never treated you right. You lifted your head and straightened your back. He wasn’t worth it and more importantly you were worth so much more.  

Once you stepped out onto the quad and towards the lecture hall you felt a gentle touch on your back. 

“Hey, Y/N.” The soft voice unmistakably belonged to Kihyun. “Glad I caught up with you before the lecture began.” 

He couldn't have picked a better time. Right when all your thoughts were jumbled and you were trying to untie it even slightly, he shows up. Right on time to throw all your progress overboard. Right on time to make you question everything you thought you had figured out. 

“Hey Kihyun, ready for the lecture?” you replied as unfazed as you could muster.

“Please, when am I not.” 

You laughed. Hoseok was right, he could be quite the smartass. 

“But that’s not why I tried to catch up with you.” 

“Okay…” 

“Can we talk for a second?” He stopped walking and now stood before you. 

“Yeah sure, what’s up?” Now you were straight up scared. ‘Can we talk’ never was a good thing. Your stomach twisted and you felt the nervousness slowly rise inside of you.  

“I talked to Hoseok the other day and I think this might be the best idea.” So many questions rushed through your head. Kihyun talked to Hoseok? They were close? You had only seen them together like once apart from the times you forced those two together. Hoseok couldn’t have possibly snitched on you, right?  

“I just thought that he might help me out or give me some advice since you two seemed to be very close.”

“Okay…” This could only go wrong. Definitely only go wrong. “What did he tell you?” 

“To be honest he just told me to man up and suck it up.” Kihyun laughed nervously and scratched the back of his head. His light brown hair refracted the light and some strands glowed golden in the early spring sun. 

“That does sound like him.” You smiled and noticed that Kihyun had started to avoid eye contact which was something he never seemed to have a problem with. Instead his eyes were all over the place, continuously wandering from your eyes downwards to then dart into a completely different direction. 

You had probably never seen him so flustered and it made you uneasy. Over time you had gotten so used to Kihyun’s normal overconfidence but now he seemed self-conscious and even a bit vulnerable.  

“It seems like nothing has really worked so far. So I feel like if I’m not gonna make it very simple you would brush over it again and just bring me coffee to class instead of going with me to the cafe I had in mind. Or bring Hoseok along with you to the mall.” He chuckled a bit and you were terrified of what he would say next. 

He took a deep breath. 

“I like you Y/N.”

There it was. Out in the open. Something you had tried to deny for longer than you should be comfortable with. There you had your answer. And now there was no way you could ignore it. He was able to muster the courage to tell you and you were always trying your best not wanting to face this possibility. 

Kihyun finally found your eyes again and you tried your best to not have your face be an open book, telling him every little detail that was going through your mind. The war inside your head, the shouting, the panic and the overall chaos of you trying to decide what to do. 

Again he averted his look but this time you finally realized where his eyes were trailing off to as yours started to do the same. His lips were parted slightly and ever so slowly you felt the distance between the two of you closing, right now you weren’t in control anymore as your body felt to be moving on it’s own until his face was only inches away from your own. 

Right before you closed yours you took one look into his stunning dark brown eyes, and the different shades of brown that were mixed in there, invisible unless you stared directly into them. 

He kissed you softly and finally, finally in forever your mind was quiet. 

No guilt, no anxiety, just the warm feeling of joy spreading through your body. 

He placed his hand tentatively on your cheek and your heart skipped more than just one beat. The soft touch of his lips and the warmth of his hand left you completely helpless. You wanted this moment to last forever, to not let go, but instead Kihyun pulled away from you. His face was slightly blushed and you could still feel his lips faintly on yours. His hand lingered on your cheek and his thumb continued to caress your cheek bone gently. He looked at you for a while, taking in what had just happened, before he spoke up again.

“Would you like to go on a date with me?”

“I think you already have your answer,” you said and grabbed his collar drawing him in into another kiss, this time less timid than the one before. 

Who you loved, you weren’t sure. But you didn’t have to be. Whatever part of your brain told you that you would have to decide right then and there if you loved Kihyun and if you really didn’t have any feelings left for Changkyun could just shut the hell up. You were so focussed on this question that you completely forgot how life really works. He didn’t say “I love you” simply because he couldn’t even know that yet. So why did you expect from yourself to be able to answer it already. Yes, part of you still loved Changkyun and would probably do so till the day that you die but that couldn’t stop you from liking Kihyun, from wanting to know more about him, from waiting to spend more time with him, from wanting to find out where this could lead you. 

So no, you didn’t know who you loved but you’d find out, in your own time, at your own pace.

[yellowocaballero]

Continuation of Human Relations (Oh My God, They Were Roommates)

This is a 16k story that’s a bit too short for AO3 but a bit too long for Tumblr that acts as a continuation of my Archivist!Sasha and Immortal!Jon fic Human Relations. I recommend that you read that before this. This story takes place between S2 and S3, and is about Sasha and Georgie’s roommate adventures. I’m uncertain if I’ll continue this and post it on AO3, post it on AO3 as it is, or what, but for the time being I’ll at least post it here. 

Serious content warnings for discussion of abusive friendships, gaslighting, discussion of 19th century racism, implied transphobia, and discussion of police brutality. Nothing more serious than what we saw in Human Relations, but it does have a much more explicit investigation of Jon and Elias’ relationship. Rest under the cut. Happy Birthday, @magickko. 

EDIT: HAHA READMORE DIDN’T WORK, YIKES. 

Sasha dreams, every night.

Nightmares, mostly. Statements given and Statements stolen run endlessly through her head in a scrolling loop, crying out for mercy, as its figures cry and scream. Sasha looks at them through a camera, pushing the button and clicking the shutter again and again and again, searching for that perfect shot frozen in time. 

A woman, trapped under a thousand pounds of dirt and crumpling metal. Snap. A woman, chewing keycaps, eyes riveted on a flickering screen. Snap. A woman, lost in her fiance’s grave, pleading for someone to find her. Snap. 

A man, eating canned peaches, alone. Snap. A man, swinging an axe with a frantic strength born of terror. Snap. A man, and the look in his eyes, betrayed. Snap. A man, gunshot wound leaking blood out of his chest, eyes rolling in the fluorescent lights. Snap.

When Sasha wakes up she is always surprised to find herself in a guest room, always out of place and out of time as she stares up at an unfamiliar ceiling. Maybe the worst part is those two seconds after waking, where she doesn’t know where she is, adrift in time and space. Then she remembers, and she’s faced with the situation all over again. 

Namely, the fact that she was couch surfing in the Grim Reaper’s guest bedroom. 

Sasha dreams, every night.

Nightmares, mostly. Statements given and Statements stolen run endlessly through her head in a scrolling loop, crying out for mercy, as its figures cry and scream. Sasha looks at them through a camera, pushing the button and clicking the shutter again and again and again, searching for that perfect shot frozen in time. 

A woman, trapped under a thousand pounds of dirt and crumpling metal. Snap. A woman, chewing keycaps, eyes riveted on a flickering screen. Snap. A woman, lost in her fiance’s grave, pleading for someone to find her. Snap. 

A man, eating canned peaches, alone. Snap. A man, swinging an axe with a frantic strength born of terror. Snap. A man, and the look in his eyes, betrayed. Snap. A man, gunshot wound leaking blood out of his chest, eyes rolling in the fluorescent lights. Snap.

When Sasha wakes up she is always surprised to find herself in a guest room, always out of place and out of time as she stares up at an unfamiliar ceiling. Maybe the worst part is those two seconds after waking, where she doesn’t know where she is, adrift in time and space. Then she remembers, and she’s faced with the situation all over again. 

Namely, the fact that she was couch surfing in the Grim Reaper’s guest bedroom. 

Georgie Barker wasn’t a mystery, and she’d be the first to tell you.

Of course you’re welcome to stay as long as you need, honey! I always love having Jonah owe me a favor. Don’t worry about the cops and the law, nobody will ever find you here. Seriously, the entire department’s in my pocket. It’s no hassle having you here, it’s a big flat! It’s been years since I’ve had a roommate, this’ll be fun!

The one thing she hadn’t understood was Sasha begging her not to let Jon in to see her. He knows exactly where you are, Georgie pointed out. He knows you’re not actually a murderer, Georgie said. He might be able to help explain some of what’s going on, Georgie hinted. Jon would respect my wishes, but if Jonah really wants him to talk to you, he’ll definitely do it...

“Please,” Sasha had croaked, the uncomfortable morning after she had stumbled into Georgie’s flat. The Admiral wove around her legs, purring up a storm, and Georgie was munching on avocado toast and sipping pomegranate juice. “I just - I just need some space.”

“Why?” Georgie asked obliviously. That was something that Sasha was rapidly learning about Georgie - she didn’t hold back with impolite questions, or her opinion. She seemed to be regarding Sasha’s life as her own personal Youtuber Drama, which Sasha really didn’t know how she felt about. Her life wasn’t a spectacle, but she guessed even the warfare and tragedy of ants were of obscure and strange interest to humanity. “He’s feeling, like, totally bad about framing you for murder. I can tell he super wants to apologize to you about everything.”

Martin’s words echoed through her mind, from what felt like a decade ago: Jon had ruined Martin’s life, but to him it was as simple as a momentary inconvenience. “I don’t want his apology,” Sasha croaked. “I want not to be on the run from the police. I want to go back to my flat. Unless he’s going to make me human again I don’t want any stupid apologies. They’re useless.”

“Hm. Well, you’re free to stay here as long as you need to, of course.” Georgie sipped at her tea. They were sitting around the breakfast table, Sasha desolately shoving eggs into her mouth as Georgie drank her tea that Sasha was reasonably sure was spiked with brandy. Rich people were literally never sober. “It’ll be so much fun, like a sleepover. We can do each other’s nails and talk about boys!”

“My boyfriend thought I was a monster for the past month and now thinks I’m a murderer,” Sasha said flatly. 

“Oh, I see.” Georgie tapped her lips thoughtfully. “We have to get you laid, huh?”

“I am literally on the run from the cops.”

“That’s very sexy to some people,” Georgie assured her. 

After that, Georgie waved goodbye and swanned out of the house, either going to her studio to work on her podcast or doing some work for her real estate empire or writing a best-selling book or schmoozing with celebrities or attending parties at exclusive nightclubs or working part-time as a bartender just for gossip or devouring souls. Just from Sasha’s one day at Georgie’s flat, she knew that she did all of these things and then some. It was a stunning contrast to Jon’s laziness, or Elias (Jonah’s) single-mindedness. 

Maybe you lost the energy to be so productive after your two hundredth year. Sasha didn’t fucking know. Hopefully she would never know. Or maybe Jon just appeared to be lazy, and every moment that he was complaining about being bored he was secretly manipulating world leaders. Maybe Jonah’s dedication to spreadsheets and dress code was a front, and he was secretly pulling the puppet strings of her entire life…

In the empty spaces of Georgie’s spacious flat, it was easy to be paranoid. Sasha lay on her luxurious couch, hands folded across her chest like a corpse, trying not to think of anything, thinking of everything. Thinking of Tim: of his smile, of his scowl, of his cold looks given to someone he had thought was a stranger. Thinking of Martin: his warm smile, his sharp looks. 

She struggled to think of other friends, other family members who gave her comfort, but drew up a blank. Her parent’s faces were blurred after ten years of no contact, not so much forgotten as repressed, and her baby siblings were likely unrecognizable to her now. Almost as unrecognizable as she was to them, probably. Tim, her boyfriend who hated her, and Martin, her subordinate who she had almost never had a conversation with that wasn’t about work or Jon...that was it. All the friends she had in the world. She was sleeping in the guest room of a podcast host/Grim Reaper whom she had met once, and that was all she had.

Loneliness was Sasha’s constant companion. In a crowd, in her family, in the world - no matter how many people she had been surrounded by, she had always been alone. She had never had anybody in the world to rely on besides herself, and for the first time in a long time she was achingly aware of it. Nobody who loved her was going to help her. She was alone now.

After an hour of lying on the couch and crying, Sasha desolately watched Netflix cooking shows on Georgie’s gigantic flat-screen TV, trying very hard to think of absolutely nothing at all. She only moved to pet Georgie’s silky long-haired cat whose name she had already forgotten, and even he left quickly once she lost the energy to give him attention.

That was how Georgie found Sasha when she came home: lying on the couch, still dressed in borrowed silk pyjamas, watching idiots on television fuck up cakes. Georgie’s arms were laden with shopping bags, with names of exclusive London boutiques sprawled along the side, her deep black pits of eyes hidden by designer sunglasses. She burst through the door happily, her cat running up to her and winding through her laps as he purred, and easily kicked off her red pumps. She stopped in the doorway of the living room, looking strangely excited. 

“Sorry I’m back to late! Utterly bogged up at work, there was a plane crash and I was processing corpses for hours. I had to do some serious retail therapy just to deal with the tedium - darling, have you moved?”

Sasha grunted. 

“You look like Mikey Crew threw you off the Shard,” Georgie said sympathetically. “Utterly disastrous. Don’t worry, Aunt Georgie’s here to make you feel better.” She lifted her bag triumphantly. “I bought you new outfits!”

Sasha eyed her warily. 

“You get no say in this,” Georgie said kindly. “Chop chop, we’re doing face masks too.”

That’s how, somehow, Sasha found herself playing an unwilling dress-up doll for the Grim Reaper. Georgie had taken Sasha’s casual mention that she had no clothing besides her work pantsuit to heart, and had hit up her favorite boutiques for ‘cute outfits that accentuated her figure and made her eyes pop!’. Or something. Sasha wasn’t much one for fashion. 

As it turned out, Georgie Barker had a walk-in closet. Because of course she did. 

The looks ranged from Sasha’s usual, as Georgie put it, ‘sexy librarian’ look, to ballgowns, to tennis outfits, to moddish, to vintage, to wintery. It was February, the seasons lingering in British chill, and according to Georgie the perfect solution to this was a mink coat that was probably worth a month’s rent on her flat. 

Strangely, all of the outfits fit perfectly - and Sasha knew that her measurements were difficult to find. Georgie took it in stride, clapping enthusiastically each time and suggesting accessories and how to mix and match the outfits. 

She would have thought that she was too dead inside to actually enjoy it, but so far as distractions went it actually worked pretty well. Georgie chatted about everything but their actual problems, and Sasha had absolutely no input or choice in what Georgie decided to dress her in, and by the time they had transitioned from nail painting to watching Legally Blonde and eating ice cream from the carton Sasha was actually feeling a little relaxed. 

“The musical’s better,” Georgie informed Sasha imperiously as Sasha dug around in her carton for chunks of cookie dough. Georgie was clutching a glass of wine in one hand, while Sasha was contenting herself with ice cream. Best not to drink when she was this sad. “Reese is such a doll, though. Allergic to shellfish, poor dear, but I told her not to let Leo pick the restaurant.”

“What I’m wondering,” Sasha said carefully, teeth cracking into the frozen chunk of cookie dough, “is that half the time when I see you, you’re dressed like a 2008 goth in jeans and t-shirts.”

“Oh, honey,” Georgie said pityingly, patting her hand. “I used to spend two hours getting dressed each morning. I’m never doing that to myself again. You, however, clearly have never had nice clothing in your life. It’s written all over your face. People’ll walk all over you if you always look like you’re straight from a charity shop. We gotta buy you some self-confidence.”

“Thanks. I think.” On screen, Elle flourished and achieved her dreams. Sasha tried not to feel jealous. “It’s not really as if I had a lot of girly sleepovers as a kid…”

“Word,” Georgie said sympathetically. She patted Sasha’s hand again. “Jon was the same way, you know. I can’t count the number of times I’ve had to renovate that boy’s wardrobe. He has no idea how to dress to impress.”

“Do we have to talk about Jon right now,” Sasha groused. “He’s the last person I want to think about.”

“He means well,” Georgie soothed, as Elle Woods proudly proclaimed on television how she, yes, she, was a strong independent woman - who didn’t need a man! “It’s not his fault he’s stupid. He’s just so helpless on his own, you know, he needs girls like you and me to make sure he’s not wasting a decade fixating on obscure Bolivian religious practices or whatever.”

“Helpless? He’s a two hundred year old man.” Sasha spitefully grabbed the bottle of wine from the coffee table, pouring it into a spare glass and drinking it quickly. It probably cost thousands of pounds, but it just tasted like wine to her. “It’s not my job to make sure his little feelings aren’t hurt.”

“Of course not,” Georgie said, but Sasha had the sense she was being calmed instead of listened to. “But Jon’s...you know.”

“I don’t, actually.”

Georgie made an interpretive hand gesture. Sasha stared at her blankly. 

“...I still don’t.”

Georgie sighed. “He’s delicate. Jonah babies him, honestly.” She patted Sasha’s hand for the third time, making her skin crawl. “Don’t worry, I won’t let him see you until you’re ready to forgive him. Every woman has the right to some time to herself after a guy fucks her over. You two’ll patch things up, right as rain.”

There was nothing Sasha wanted to say to that, nothing she wanted to think about, and she kept drinking her wine and watching the movie, out of lack of any other options.

That night, she drunkenly tipped into bed, so blasted that she slid immediately into sleep and did not dream. It was the first relief she’d had in what felt like a very long time. 

It wasn’t Sasha’s job to fix Jonathan Sims. 

It really, really wasn’t. It wasn’t her job to make him feel better, or forgive him, or save him from himself. If Martin wanted to waste his time and energy doing that, then god fucking speed, but Sasha had other priorities. She had been profoundly fucked over and had her trust abused by three different men lately, and she wasn’t going to be the one to patch things up.

Two of them she had no desire to patch things up with at all. Two of them she’d be perfectly happy if she never saw again. The last one...Sasha didn’t know what she felt. But that was nothing new. 

That being said, as Sasha chewed her way through hangover medication and an acai bowl the next morning, Georgie’s inane chattering about tricking some celebrity or another into taking her to Hungary for authentic Hungarian food didn’t register nearly as loudly in Sasha’s mind as her words about Jonah and Jon. 

Jonah babies Jon. That was what she had said. It...it was accurate, right? It had to be. Georgie had known Jonah and Jon for a hundred years, and Sasha had barely heard one authentic conversation between them. She’d known them for a year, and known Jonah’s true nature for maybe a few days. There was no way Sasha understood their relationship better than Georgie did. It just didn’t make sense. 

Finally, she put her spoon down, cutting Georgie off in the middle of her ramble about the majesty of Hungarian food made by genuine Hungarian grandma hands. “What did you mean, ‘Jonah babies Jon’?”

Georgie blinked at her, clearly barely remembering the conversation, before recognition dawned. Then she shrugged, sipping her protein smoothie. Which may or may not be spiked. It seemed as if her solution to hangovers was to just not stop being drunk. “Oh, you know how those two are. Jon swans around the world doing whatever he wants, Jonah holds the fort down at home. That’s why Jon’s fun, you know.” She sighed nostalgically. “Romantic cruises to the Bahamas for two months, we tear up the Bahaman government and start a minor military coup, then we take a tour of the beaches. You haven’t lived until you’ve dug your toes into Bahaman sand.” 

That was something Georgie said frequently: you haven’t lived until you’ve done X, Y, or Z. It seemed as if Georgie was very intent on living, and very intent on defining it in discretionary ways. To Sasha, living was simply the act of not being dead, but Georgie was almost fanatical about experiencing life. 

“If he’s so much fun, then why did you break up?” Sasha asked, before she realized what she said. “I mean, it’s really none of my business, feel free not to answer that -”

But Georgie just laughed lightly. “That’s just how Jon and I work. We spend a few weeks together in bliss, and then we go our separate ways for six months or a year or whatever. Work’s always taking us different places, and seeing each other all day would make us hate each other. Some people work best when they’re not in each other’s pocket.” She took a long drag of the smoothie before speaking again. “Besides, he’ll always be second in my life to having fun. And I’ll always be second in his life to Jonah. It’s just how we work. It works for us!”

It seemed to. Last Sasha checked, Georgie and Jon seemed to be very amicable despite being exes. Lackadaisical, on-and-off, passionate yet going years without seeing each other - it was a relationship uniquely in the providence of workaholic immortals. 

It wasn’t until Georgie had already waved goodbye, making Sasha promise not to spend all day on the couch again, that she realized that Georgie hadn’t quite answered her question. 

An image flashed through Sasha’s mind - Jon’s face, as he dared to disagree with Jonah, and was utterly ground into the dust for it. 

There was something more to this. Something that wasn’t obvious on the surface, something that was so well hidden maybe nobody even knew it was going on. Or maybe it was deeper than that, more insidious: maybe whatever was going on was so well-known and pervasive that it simply wasn’t spoken about. Not polite, not the kind of thing you say about your friends, not normal. Not in polite company. Not vocalized. Utterly taken for granted. 

Sasha walked into the guest room, pulling out her phone from her bag and staring at its blank screen. Holding her breath, she hesitantly turned it on, staring at it blankly as it slowly booted up. 

She shouldn’t be turning it on. She was perfectly aware of how, given a warrant, the police could track cell phone location, texts sent and received, everything. She could do it herself. The crushing weight of surveillance, the fear of being found and seen and rooted out, settled over her shoulders like an old, familiar friend. A comforting blanket to wrap herself up in at night: where, even if the fear was terrible and awful, at least it was familiar. 

You could get used to anything, Sasha thought. Any behavior, any fears, any horrors or tragedies - anything could become normal, given enough time. A year. A hundred years. After two hundred years, maybe you wouldn’t even recognize it as happening at all.

Like a flood, the text messages poured in. Notifications chimed in a cacophony, as text after text after text popped up on her phone. Missed calls. Emails popped up, notifications from the doorbell camera, reminders from her fucking Duolingo...

Dizzily, Sasha scrolled through the texts. Lots from Tim, as expected, and a few from Martin, as expected. Some texts from her mother, which - which wasn’t expected. At all. Sasha hadn’t even known that she knew her number. 

Sasha’s brain stuttered over the Spanish, having been years since she spoke it. Her brain also stuttered over the gratuitous misgendering, which was also blissfully novel yet just as uncomfortable and upsetting as ever. Translated, it was a slightly accusatory question about why the police had been calling them about her whereabouts. What had she done? Had she gotten in trouble?

No matter what you did, the text read, God will forgive you. Just call them back. 

Sasha stared at the texts, brain buzzing. She felt sick. Forgive her? They’d forgive her? They thought she’d done it? They thought she was capable of -

Horribly, awfully, tears pricked at her eyes. Maybe she was wrong. Maybe you never really grew accustomed to pain, even if it was felt a thousand times. Maybe some pain you never acclimated to, never scarred over or calloused. Maybe sometimes the more you were hurt, the worse it hurt. The pain her parents gave her - how they cut off contact, the misgendering, the coldness - hurt just as badly at thirty six as it had at twenty six, at twenty, at fifteen, at nine. It had always hurt. 

So stupid. Sasha deleted the text messages. She didn’t have time for this. She wasn’t a child. She was thirty six goddamn years old, that was way too old to still care about your parents. To still need them.

She clicked on Martin’s texts next. The first one had a timestamp before the murder, the rest afterwards.

Martin: where are you?? I found Tim (he tried to kill me w/an axe but we’re ok now) and were trying to get out of here. I explained everything to him. We’ll meet you in the archives. 

Martin: Police are looking for you. I know you didn’t do it so call me back. Tim’s worried. Jon doesn’t seem that worried...

Martin: Shouldn’t text you anymore. Please be safe & careful. 

Jesus. Jesus, she had been terrible to Martin. She was a rotten friend. Sasha hiccuped, rubbing at her eyes. She needed to get him a gift basket. Five. He was a freak, but he was her freak. Maybe. 

Finally, almost holding her breath, she pressed on Tim’s messages. There were a lot of them - more than was safe, Sasha distantly registered. The first five were from the same time Martin had sent the second text. She guessed it was right after the police finished talking to them. He had called her slightly before - likely when they found the body - but there were also two texts from two am last night. 

Tim: pick up your phone

Tim: pick up your phone are you okay im so sorry

Tim: baby please please pick up

Tim: we need to talk & im sorry & i hope ur safe

Tim: dont text me back 

Then two texts from two am:

Tim: to warn you im drunk but im sorry (AND DRUNK) but in my defense im a shitty boyfriend. If you want to break up its fine but id like to make it work but i get if you cant because cops i guess. Bitch tonner wont stop bothering me make her stoppp

Tim: I love you and I wish that was enough. 

Sasha rubbed at her eyes, exhausted. She wished it was enough too. She knew it wasn’t. Strongly, like burning, Sasha wished so desperately that she had never met Jonathan Sims. Maybe, in that world, things were okay. She and Tim were happy. 

She scrolled through the rest of the notifications. Strangely, she even had two texts from Melanie. 

Melanie: Hey, I heard what’s going on. I know you couldn’t have done it. A LOT of cops are bothering me - Hussein and Tonner have called like five times. I think you know them? For legal purposes I’ll say that you should turn yourself in or whatever. 

Melanie: oh and Martin said to tell you that Mr. Bouchard’s been asking me a lot of questions about what im doing and my job situation - dunno y tho

That….probably wasn’t good. 

No texts from Jon. She wouldn’t know what to do if he had. She doubted he knew her number, or how to work a phone. The last thing she could deal with emotionally right now was an apology. She didn’t know what to do about Tonner or Hussein or Melanie. Those were all problems she couldn’t fix right now. 

Really, there was only one problem she could fix right now. She walked over to the door to the balcony, carefully stepping out onto the 20th story balcony. She carefully ejected her SIM card, snapped it in half, looked underneath her to make sure there were no passerby in the exclusive London neighborhood, and forced her fingers to release from the phone so she could watch it fall twenty stories onto the concrete. 

She imagined a smash, a crack, but it didn’t make any sound at all. Sasha forced herself to step back inside, leaving the past behind her. 

There was a lot Sasha had to force herself to do that day. Georgie owned a few laptops, but she hadn’t given Sasha permission to use any of them yet, and she didn’t want to intrude. Despite Sasha’s own...reservations about her personality, she really was being incredibly kind by letting her stay and trying to cheer her up. She did, however, have a great deal of antique books, and Sasha eagerly cracked open the first edition copies of fiction novels from the 19th century. Was that a first edition Pride & Prejudice? Oh, score!

She wasn’t hungry, but she forced herself to eat. Food tasted like ash in her mouth, but that always happened whenever she was upset. She forced herself to take a shower, impossibly intimidated by Georgie’s small army of hair care and hygiene products, and even cautiously let herself take a bubble bath with a bath bomb. It was...weirdly luxurious, but maybe not surprisingly. Georgie’s bathroom was like the Queen’s, and you could practically swim in the bathtub. It was intimidating and weird and uncomfortable, but Sasha forced herself to appreciate it. How many people got to take a shower in a stall with five different showerheads?

Halfway through the day the housekeeper came in, terrifying Sasha deeply, and she retreated to her guest bedroom to let the woman work. She inspected her newly painted toenails glumly, halfway through Pride & Prejudice, forcing herself not to think about how Jon could have been a background character in the novel. Wasn’t he in his twenties in this time period? Wasn’t that when he and Jonah Magnus had -

Sasha drank more wine, and put on another cooking program. She hadn’t watched telly all day, so technically she could tell Georgie that. Besides, it wasn’t as if there was anything productive to do. No work, which sucked when she was a workaholic. No computer to waste time on. No friends she could talk to without the police investigating her. She couldn’t go outside, again due to the aforementioned cop situation. Her life was her work, and her bosses had just framed her for murder. 

Somewhat buzzed, Sasha stole several pieces of intricate stationary and wrote down everything Leitner had told her before he was murdered. It wasn’t nearly as much as she wanted, yet far more than she knew what to do with. Halfway through her notes deteriorated into a bizarre sort of mind map, lists of cases connected together and obscure monsters and figures pointing to each other. Salasea and his endless array of dangerous trinkets, mysterious yet lonely ship captains, Michael and his gently twisting deceit, Gerry Keay and his bizarre heroism, Leitner and his ruinous imprints, Agnes and her desolate fate, and the oft-mentioned yet barely understood man, whose name was whispered by shadowy figures entrenched in  the supernatural world, Jonathan Sims…

Did he know? How often his shadow stained her statements? Did he care? Did he know how thoroughly he had ruined her life? 

She scoured her memory for hints, writing down everything she could remember of his cameos in random statements. Of Leitner’s testimony, the immortal figure who so easily attained what Leitner and Mary Keay had spent their entire lives grasping for. Was there a hint to his true nature, his true allegiance? 

In the corners of the cute stationary, Sasha doodled a small eye. She stared at it, and couldn’t help but fight the notion that it was staring back. 

She scratched it out, feeling paranoid, not feeling paranoid enough. 

A few hours later, Georgie came home, and Sasha fought the pathetically hopeful trepidation. When she heard the front door rattle she left her room, intending on welcoming Georgie back and proving that she hadn’t been watching telly all day, but she stopped short in the hallway when she heard the loud sound of voices. Specifically, the loud sound of Georgie’s still slightly unfamiliar voice, and the quieter tones of a voice that was far too familiar to her.  

“ - if you’ll just let me talk to her, she’ll understand.”

“And she said that she’s not seeing you,” Georgie said firmly. Sasha held her breath, pressing herself up against the hallway wall. Next to her was a doorway that led to the living room, that led to a foyer. If she craned her head she could just barely see Georgie standing in the foyer, arguing with a figure holding a leather briefcase that made Sasha’s heart leap into her throat. “You really did screw her over, you know.”

“I know,” Jonathan Sims whined. “I want to apologize. It’s not my fault. Jonah got pushy again, you know how he is.”

“Ugh, tell me about it.” Georgie scoffed. “Did something happen between you two? Sasha was asking all sorts of weird questions.”

“Just Jonah being his usual insufferable self,” Jon said, so carelessly and casually that if Sasha hadn’t known better she would have believed him. “It probably alarmed her, seeing how that man really is. I’m sure she’s feeling very overwhelmed right now.”

“She really is, the poor dear,” Georgie said sympathetically. Sasha’s hands clenched into fists. “But you aren’t getting past this foyer, honey. I’m sure she’ll want to be friends again once Jonah gets the cops off her case.”

“Martin’s giving me a hard time,” Jon sulked. “Says this is all my fault that the dreadful little wolf girl is sniffing around. It’s not my fault. If my Archivist just let me explain, she’d see that it’s not my fault.”

“That Blackwood boy’s always giving you a hard time,” Georgie sniffed. “I don’t know why you’re so obsessed with him. He’s overly moralistic and doesn’t know how to have fun. You spend too much time with him.”

“Don’t tell me you’re jealous, Georgina Barker,” Jon teased. He stepped forward a little closer, and although Sasah couldn’t see his face she had the feeling he was smiling. “It’s a bad look on you.”

“Idiot,” Georgie said fondly, “everything’s a good look on me.” She stretched up on her tip-toes to kiss him on the cheek. “Ditch him and come party with me, darling, I’ll show you a wonderful time. Maybe after all of this nonsense blows over.”

“Judging from what I can make out of Jonah’s monologuing, we ought to get our parties in while we still can,” Jon said glumly. He opened his briefcase, passing a manila folder to Georgie. “Give her these. She’ll be getting hungry. Tell her that the top one is from work, and the second is from me.” He hesitated for a second. “You really think she’ll forgive me?”

“If it’s not your fault, then why do you need to be forgiven?”

Jon was silent for a long minute. Finally, he said, “I’ll talk to you later, Georgie. Love you.”

“Love you too,” Georgie said easily, casually, as if she had said it a thousand times, a million times. “Take care of yourself.”

She stood in the foyer after he left, arms folded, one delicately manicured finger tapping against her arm. She eventually turned around, poking her head into the living room. 

“You can come out, darling, I don’t bite.”

Sasha guiltily stepped into the living room, crossing her arms defensively. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to eavesdrop.”

But Georgie just rolled her eyes. “Please. My best friends are Jonathan Sims and Jonah Magnus.” She looked thoughtful for a second. “Well. My oldest friends. Anyway, if you’re in the same house as one of those Beholding types you aren’t getting a private conversation. I’m super used to it.” She held out the manila folder, and Sasha cautiously stepped forward and took it from her. 

“Beholding types?” 

“Oh, you know, you and your lot,” Georgie said dismissively. “Can’t do anything about that annoying little megalomania the Eye gives you. Have fun with lunch, I have to freshen up. It takes ages to get the scent of Jon’s musty old books off me.”

But Sasha was already tuning her out, because in the manilla envelope there were two Statements. They thrummed under her fingers, charged with energy and power and fear, and Sasha could feel herself gripping them. The first one was a classic Magnus Institute Statement, just like she would have read at work, but the second was what looked like a photocopy of a piece of paper. Judging from the ornate script, it was old, and when Sasha’s eyes wandered to the date her eyes widened. July 21st, 1823. 

She looked up, already frantically searching for a tape recorder, and immediately saw one sitting on the coffee table. She didn’t think twice about it, already sitting on the plush white couch and setting the papers out. Which one first - oh man, they were both so exciting - her fingers drifted to the one Jon gave her, and she picked it up. That one, then. 

Sasha James pressed play on the tape deck, feeling a familiar thrill go through her at the gentle whirring. She cleared her throat. 

“Statement of Sasha James, Head Archivist of the Magnus Institute, regarding a letter sent by Barnabas Bennet to Jonah Magnus. Statement begins.”

And, as Sasha’s blood ran cold, she began to read. 

My dearest Jonah,

I hope you are well. It was an absolute pleasure to vacation at your estate this summer. I’ve never had such interesting conversations with a like-minded individual, and since returning to my own estate I have been sorely missing your company. You have introduced a great deal of brightness and acute interest to my life, and without you the luminescence of Heaven does not thrill me. How I wish you were around to thrill me again!

Do not concern yourself - I have maintained my studies. The library you loaned me is of great interest, and I have been spending many a quiet night bent over one of your occult tomes. I have never felt so enlightened. A world is opening up before us, Jonah, one of richness and wonder, and for the first time in many years I find myself excited to rise each morning. I thank our Heavenly Father each day that I was so fortunate as to cross your path. You must remind me to discuss with you the report by Smirke in detail - fascinating! Theoretical, of course, all theoretical - but the concept of classifying the devils that so bewitch man into fourteen unique taxonomies fascinates me. We must discuss it. 

Jonah, I trust that this letter reaches you in private, and that you shall not betray my confidence by discussing it with anyone. I have a private grievance I wish to address with you. It is regarding your boy, the one kept so close in your confidence and trust. 

I would never hasten to question any of your decisions, for I trust they are made with great deliberation and forethought. But I must question why you keep that boy so close to you. His air is strange and fey. While summering at your estate, I would frequently see him awake at late hours, pouring over some tome or report or another (I would swear that he reads better than I!). I know he’s somewhat of a project of yours, bringing him into Christianity and your charity, which will surely be rewarded etc etc, but I cannot shake my strange trepidation. 

If I were to be quite honest, my fear of him. 

He always asks questions. Disturbing and distressing questions. And when I deign to answer them, he acts as if he truly understands. Moreover, that he understands more than me - that he possesses some secret knowledge that only he has obtained. I catch him listening at doorways and around corners frequently, and no matter how many times I box him about the ears for it he will not cease. You encourage it, allowing this behavior. Even after I reported to you the pagan rituals which I am confident he is performing, you brush me off. You two are strangely close. I’m simply concerned for you, Jonah. Please heed my advice: that boy is trouble. I fear that he will bring you into trouble also. Do not allow this paganism to steer you away from the light of our heavenly Father. I understand that the occult is of great interest to all of us, discovering the secrets of the world and its many mysteries, but it is only an academic interest. I would never go so far as to partake of these devilish rituals myself, and you ought to dissuade yourself of such a notion also. Do not allow that John to lead you astray. 

I wish you most well. I am encountering some trouble of my own - debts and such - but do not concern yourself with them. The situation is well-handled. I hope to write to you again soon.

Yours, faithfully,

Barnabas

...supplemental.

Jon. Why did you show me this?

Is this your definition of vulnerability? Of honesty? What, are you trying to justify your decisions to me? I get it, it’s disgusting. These people were disgusting to you. I can’t know how you feel, but I think I - my parents -

What I mean is, I can’t understand. I can’t imagine how hard this must have been. I understand how Jonah was the only one to… ‘get’ you or whatever. How he was the only person to see how brilliant you are, how much you have to give. 

But, Jon - I don’t think Jonah thought any better of you than Barnabas did. He was just better at hiding it. I don’t know, I didn’t know him and I still don’t know him - but you get that the way he talked to you back then wasn’t right, right? You get that it was fucked up, right?

I don’t know. I don’t think you get that. I don’t think anybody does. Georgie’s too close to it, too used to you and Jonah’s ‘quirks’ or whatever. I...don’t know anything Martin thinks, but I feel as if you’d be pretty invested in keeping this from him. But I’m close enough to you to see it, and I’m far enough away from this that I understand. Something’s really fucked up about this situation. I’m worried I’m the only person who sees it. I hate being that person, the person who Sees it all, who knows it all, but is powerless to do anything about it. You understand, right? You understand how much this is hurting me?

I’m not sure you do. If you’re showing me this, trying to show me how hard you had it, how misunderstood you were, just so I forgive you...I don’t. And it’s manipulative, so cut it out. I’m not sure if you’re consciously doing that, I really don’t think you’re emotionally intelligent enough.

But you aren’t dumb, Jon. I know it’s a defence mechanism or whatever to pretend that you are, to act childish, but you aren’t. 

Ugh, listen to me. I sound like Martin. Disgusting. I don’t give a shit about this, I’m not your therapist. But you keep on making your problems my problems, and I’m not tolerating that. We’ll talk when I’m not fucking wanted for murder for something you were complicit in. 

Get your act together. I don’t forgive you. Statement fucking ends. 

As if Sasha’s life wasn’t hard enough, Georgie wanted to go dancing. 

“I am literally wanted by the police.”

“The nightclub’s so dark, nobody’ll even see your face,” Georgie promised. 

“Shouldn’t I be spending my time working on my conspiracy theory board?”

“Honey, no offence, that thing is so tacky.”

“I hate clubbing.”

“You’ll like the way I do it!”

“I really don’t want to -”

“Tough nuts.”

So, of course, that’s how Sasha ended up shoved into a tight dress, heels, and makeup, pushed into a taxi, and quickly deposited in front of a warehouse looking building. There was a long line out the door, of women with straightened hair dressed somehow identically, yet way worse, than Sasha, all looking very cold. Georgie looped her arm through Sasha’s, white teeth flashing as she grinned widely, and escorted them both straight through the doors and past security. 

She, it seemed, was a known quantity. Sasha, who had spent the last year working in a mill to feed evil psychic vampires and the ten years before that locked in academia, which was basically the same thing, was not a known quantity to any nightclub. She had not been clubbing since uni, which was approximately five lifetimes ago.

“I’m still not sure this is a good idea,” Sasha said into Georgie’s ear as they transitioned from the furiously cold February air into the swelteringly hot club. It was dim and smoky, the noise overwhelmingly grating at her ears. After so long in a quiet office, in a silent flat, she could barely handle it. 

Georgie said something to her. 

“What?” Sasha yelled. “Georgie, I don’t want to be here!”

Georgie frowned at her, and unlinked their arms so she could reach up on her tiptoes and clasp Sasha on the shoulders. “You have been accused of murder! You just split with your boyfriend because of clown trauma! You haven’t had fun in years! You deserve this, queen!”

You know...maybe she did. 

Georgie pressed a drink into her hands, mysteriously procured from somewhere, and without thinking too hard about it Sasha downed it in one gulp. Georgie whooped, clapping her on the back, and directed her towards the bar. She flashed her platinum credit card at the bartender, and suddenly Sasha was MVP of the night. 

You know, Sasha thought dizzily as she was given a toxic blue drink and pushed onto the dance floor, maybe she did deserve this. Didn’t she deserve to have fun? After the way things ended with Tim, couldn’t she just act like a normal girl and go clubbing with her friends to dance away the pain? She was almost forty, way too old for this, but maybe she could forget for a little bit. She had never had the opportunity as a teenager, not even as a young adult. Couldn’t she do this, before she died?

Maybe women closer to forty than thirty dealt with this with - with book clubs, with sisterhood, whatever. Maybe women closer to forty than thirty were married, had kids of their own. But Sasha was just Sasha, stuck in a literal dead-end job, going nowhere good, and this was all she would ever have. 

Maybe Georgie was right. Why not live, before she died? Everybody on earth died - everybody, that is, except for a small group of people who were willing to sell their soul for the privilege.  At least maybe this way she could have whatever joy she could fit into her life before all opportunity was lost, and she was lost. 

A man sidled up to her, asking for a dance, and she evaded him. But then there was another one, and another one, and Sasha found herself fleeing back to the bar and ordering another drink. Too soon. Way too soon. She found herself digging in her borrowed purse, searching for her phone, wanting to call Tim or talk to him or ask him if they really were broken up so she could have rebound sex with random dudes in bars, but the purse was empty of both a phone and a wallet. That’s right - she had destroyed it. Because the cops were after her. 

Next to her, out of the corner of her eye, a man sat down at a barstool. He said something to the bartender and leaned towards her, mouth spilling something obscured by the crush and heat and sound of the club. He seemed to be asking if he could buy her a drink. Sasha shook her head dizzily, confused and lost. Then he leaned in closer, and Sasha could smell the alcohol on his breath. 

“Are you sure? I’d like to dance with you!”

Sasha shook her head no again, frantically. 

“Aw, come on -”

Then, as if by magic, Georgie was at her elbow. Unintimidating, not more than one hundred and seventy centimeters, with teased hair and sharp black lipstick and eyeliner, she raised an eyebrow at the guy. But there must have been something in her eyes, or a lack of something, because the guy rapidly slipped off the barstool and melted into the crowd, leaving the drink the bartender slid onto the counter behind. 

As if she had planned it, Georgie easily stole the drink and knocked it back. She tugged Sasha down, yelling into her ear. “Come with me, darling, let’s check out where the real party is.”

Without taking no for an answer, Georgie grabbed Sasha’s hand and tugged her through the outskirts of the crowd, ducking and weaving between small clusters of people and women dancing the night away. Sasha’s vision swam, details and faces lost in the endless ripple of flashing lights and sound, until all she felt was Georgie’s cool hand in hers, and it wasn’t until they emerged from the choppy sea of people into a small hallway off the main room that she felt like she could breathe. Sasha’s head swam with movement and smoke, and she was barely cognizant that they were in a hallway for a bathroom or something. 

But Georgie walked confidently past the bathrooms, into what appeared to be a storage closet. She confidently opened it, halting at the door frame to glance backwards at Sasha. A smile quirked at her bow lips. 

“You coming?”

Sasha, slightly intoxicated though she was, couldn’t fight the skepticism. “This is where the real party is? A supply closet?”

“Oh, my dear Archivist,” Georgie said, smirking slightly. “The world is full of far more delights than you could understand. Follow me, and stay close.”

Then Georgie stepped forward, disappearing into the closet, and as little as Sasha wanted to step inside more dubiously supernatural hallways she wanted to be left alone in this club even less, and she ducked after Georgie into the unknown. 

The unknown, as it turned out, was another club. 

Or, more accurately, a pub. It was a nice pub too, all smoky yellow lights and burnished wood booths. The booths were upholstered in soft and cushy looking brown leather, and the sound where nowhere above a quiet murmur. It didn’t seem to be abandoned, the shadows at some booths deeper than others, but for the life of her Sasha couldn’t puzzle out the faces or figures of anybody at these shadowy corners. There was a single bartender, wiping a grimy glass over and over. He nodded at Georgie when he walked in, and Sasha was forced to wonder how many dubiously physical supernatural bars and hang-outs existed in random back rooms of mundane stores. Were these things just everywhere? Or were there only a few, and so long as you had the right key any door could be an entrance? It was just Sasha’s intuition, but she felt as if it was the latter. 

What would, could Georgie open up for her? What power, what majesty? What world of power and control could Jon give her, that Jon was trying to hard to give her that she kept refusing? Nobody was telling her the cost. Nobody was letting her make a decision. She was being swept up in the wake of giants, and Sasha was just trying to keep her head above water. 

Georgie was still walking confidently down the aisles, and Sasha stumbled trying to keep up. Finally, she came to a stop in a back corner, utterly secluded with a booth that stretched the entire corner, large enough for seven or more people. Georgie turned to Sasha, smiling broadly, and Sasha tried not to feel intimidated. 

“Honey, these are my friends. Girls, this is my new roommate, Sasha James!”

With a flourish, she made a little tah-dah motion, and the smoky yellow lamp above the table flickered on. 

The table was crowded with women, or women appearing people. Absolutely none of them were familiar. No - in the corner, there was one person who was familiar. Michael, blonde hair hurting her eyes in curly ringlets, hands in his coat pockets. He smiled crookedly at her, jarring her adrift. 

“Uh,” Sasha said, confused. Who were these people? “Hello?”

A short East Asian woman in a white tank top and black jeans scowled from where she was slouching in her seat. “One of those Beholding patsies? Please, Georgie, they’re so insufferable.”

“I like this one,” Georgie said cheerfully. She slid into an empty seat, and Sasha cautiously sat next to her. “Play nice, everyone.”

“You’re such a grouch, Jude,” a woman said, leaning forward and looking interestedly at Sasha. Her eyes were dark and big, her head cocked, giving her an almost insectoid air. “It’s a pleasure to meet you in person finally, Archivist. I’ve heard so much about you. You’re really making waves in our little community.”

“Patsy Archivist,” a tall and burly white woman with cascading brown hair said shortly, taking long gulps of a pint. “What’s impressive about that?”

“I’m impressed with anyone who puts up with Sims and Magnus long enough,” the insectish woman said. “No offence, Georgie.”

“Oh, they’re insufferable,” Georgie said cheerfully. “Have you heard how those two like to socialize? They go to galas. With those awful little Fairchilds and Lukases and whatever. It’s just tragic.”

“Word,” the insect woman said, raising her glass. The rim seemed to be coated in cobwebs, making Sasha feel vaguely ill. “Much rather have a pint at a nice little pub with friends. But we haven’t introduced ourselves, have we? My name’s Annabelle Cane. I’m sure you’ve heard of me in all those little stories you like.”

Anabelle Cane. Sasha swallowed. “Yeah, I’ve heard.”

“A proxy Archivist she may be,” Michael said serenely, “but perhaps our most successful yet. She’s already coming along so much further than Gertrude ever did.” He winked bizarrely at Sasha. “Michael, but you already know that. They and them, if you please.”

Oh. Sasha blinked at them. “Thanks for...saving my life back there. And Tim’s and Martin’s.”

“My pleasure,” Michael said affably. “You’re the most fun I’ve had in awhile. Always nice to have the Eye owe me a favor.”

“They’re just mad they didn’t get to kill Gertrude,” the brunette said evenly. “Julia Montauk. You should know me too, I think. Is it true you killed someone?”

“I definitely didn’t,” Sasha said heatedly. “It was a set-up.”

“Relax, we’re all killers here,” the woman in a tank top said. She scowled at Sasha. “Jude Perry. What the fuck do those old money ponces think they’re doing, installing another patsy Archivist this late in the game? I would have thought that they learned their lesson after that bitch Gertrude.”

“Archivists are quite slow learners,” a woman piped up. She sat in the corner, strangely oddly. Her skin was shiny and strange in the dim light, almost plasticish, and her dark eyes hadn’t moved from Sasha’s face since she walked in. “Nikola. A pleasure, Archivist.”

“Are you guys all…” Sasha trailed off uncomfortably. “You know?”

“Serial killers?” Julia Mauntauk asked flatly. 

“Inhuman monstrosities of plastic and flesh?” Nikola inquired. 

“Daughters of fear entities that control our every action?” Annabelle said. 

“Embodiments of unknown concepts made sentient, forced into a shape that cannot suit them, locked in flesh and fractal prisons, always screaming in endless turmoil, unable to understand the horrors of the concepts of ourselves, always searching for the sweet release of death that can never quite be obtained, because that which does not live can never die?” Michael said serenely. 

“Assholes?” Jude Perry said flatly. 

“The sexiest Avatars around?” Georgie asked. 

How did Sasha’s life devolve to this point. 

“...yeah,” Sasha said. “Hey, where can I get more drinks?”

Unsurprisingly enough, the drinks came very fast. Service was excellent when you hung out with eldritch women, Sasha supposed. 

The conversion flew thick and fast after that. In Sasha’s experience, joining a new group of established friends meant being ignored for favor of pre-existing dynamics. It was always uncomfortable, and no small part of why she just didn’t join new groups. Tim had never had that problem - he had a loud and persistent personality, the kind that made you pay attention to him. He dominated any room he entered, by force if necessary. It always seemed exhausting to Sasha, but Tim didn’t really seem to have anymore real friends than she did lately. His personality was like an ocean, overwhelming and everywhere, but when his mood turned sour it was just as intense. Gulfs of pleasure, intense pain - it seemed exhausting, to feel so deeply. God knows Sasha didn’t. 

But today, in this group, she seemed to be novel. Maybe new fear avatars were a rare enough thing, or at least ones with Georgie’s seal of approval. They aimed a barrage of questions at her, and Sasha did her best to keep up with each one.

How did Sasha know Georgie? Mostly through a mutual enemy. Oh, fuckin’ Sims, right - you guys friends? No, I hate him. You guys fucking? Ew. Right, right, Sims is a giant prude - actually I heard that he doesn’t really - no, Jon decided a while back he doesn’t do that, and we all respect his decision - ew, though, nobody wants to imagine that. So why are you two friends? We’re roommates, mostly, I’m kinda on the run from the cops. Who’d you kill? Nobody. Who’d that old fucker Bouchard kill? Jurgen Leitner, mostly. 

“Cheers to that!” Julia said abruptly, raising her glass. “Hate that fucker.”

“Good riddance to bad rubbish,” Annabelle said, downing her own drink and what seemed like an improbable quantity of spiders. She leaned over the table to where Sasha had hastily been stuffed in, beetle-black eyes gleaming. “But really. What are you doing here?”

“As I said,” Sasha said uncomfortably, “I got framed for murder -”

But Annabelle just waved her hand. “No, no, we know that. I’m asking what are you doing here? With people like us, in a place like us? You’re just a sexy librarian. Your highest goal in life was owning your own cottage house one day. How’d you get wrapped up in the tangled web of our world?”

Sasha’s mouth ran dry, her head spinning in a way that didn’t really seem to have anything to do with the alcohol. How had she ended up like this? Who was to blame?”

“Jonathan Sims,” Sasha said dizzily. “He -”

“Didn’t know you Beholding types were in the process of lying to yourselves,” Annabelle said, casually yet brutally. “No, really.”

Sasha opened her mouth, then closed it. Finally, she said, “I guess I just asked all the wrong questions.”

It was a pretty way of dressing up the real answer: that Sasha didn’t know. 

Maybe her thoughts were obvious, because Georgie cooed sympathetically and slung an arm around her shoulders. “Cheer up, honey, it’s not so bad. Not everything happens for a reason. Sometimes it’s just your own rotten luck.”

“Speak for yourself,” Jude called, lifting her glass. “I love my fucking life. It’s hookers, coke, and blow from here to Scotland. The life of a woman with power’s a thousand times better than the life of a woman without, James.”

“What is with you people and hedonism,” Sasha muttered. 

“Why not?” Nikola asked, tilting her head strangely. “Life’s so short when it’s this long. It’s just bread and circuses, Archivist. We all need...entertainment.”

“Humans are always trying to make sense of it all,” Michael said arily. They were digging their fingers into the table, scoring long grooves in it. “When you know there’s no meaning, no purpose, then everything else just...falls away.”

Sasha didn’t know if she believed that, but she bit her tongue. Instead, she said, “What about those Avatars like Magnus or Raynor? They seem really...driven.”

Georgie giggled, light and airy, and leaned in. “That’s because they don’t know.”

She shouldn’t even ask. She shouldn’t - “Know what?”

Georgie smiled, sharp and wicked. “That there’s no point.”

And that was all she would say on that for the night: conversation after that devolved into parties, restaurants, drugs, and conquests. Maybe the women were right, in their own clearly demented way: that without death there was no meaning, when when there was no meaning only pleasure held any significance. If there was no afterlife, no reward or punishment - which Sasha didn’t believe, but they seemed to - then there was no reason not to do what you wanted. To have fun. To take revenge. 

If all Georgie wanted was to have fun, and if all Jon wanted was revenge, then what did Jonah Magnus want? Sasha didn’t know. She had the feeling that if she didn’t figure it out, she wasn’t going to live much longer. 

Why had Jonah Magnus done this to her? What was the point of framing her for murder? She couldn’t do her job like this. What’s the point? 

Half-drunk, head spinning, she found herself vocalizing this. Somehow, Annabelle Cane had ended up sitting next to her, letting spiders run along her slightly too long and too jointed fingers. Annabelle Cane just smiled at her, jaw slightly slacking open to expose teeth. 

“Maybe it’s just to fuck with you,” Annabelle posited. “Why not? Do you think he has another reason?”

“I don’t know,” Sasha groaned. “I don’t know anything. Everything’s confusing and terrible. I could never understand those psychopaths.”

“You won’t make it very far in this line of work if you never ask why,” Annabelle scolded. She paused a second, spider running thoughtfully across her eyeball. “But too many questions damns you just as effectively, I suppose. Hm. Jonah’s quite good, isn’t he.”

“Why me,” Sasha groaned. “Everyone’s trying to keep shit from me, it fuckin’ - it fuckin’ sucks, man. It sucks. Nobody would tell me what’s going on, but I don’t think anybody knows what’s going on. Not even Jonah, or Jon, or - or anyone. Nobody but me.”

Annabelle blinked at her, somewhat curiously, before leaning in. Her perfume lingered in the air, a heavy rosy scent. “Do you know something that Jonah doesn’t?”

“Yeah,” Sasha slurred, world fading in and out. “Jonah doesn’t know that Jon -”

Then the world faded into black, and Sasha fell asleep. 

If she had felt too old for this at the nightclub, she definitely felt too old for this hangover. Sasha spent twenty minutes crouched over a toilet bowl, reluctantly shoved the Eggs Benedict in her mouth that Georgie insisted was a hangover cure, somehow, and refused the Bloody Mary that Georgie also insisted was a hangover cure that her Mum used to feed her. The thought of Georgie’s Mum filled Sasha with a deep fear, incapable of imagining somebody who was both likely born in the 1800s and who had raised a hellion like Georgie. 

When Sasha mumbled this to Georgie, she didn’t look offended. She just smiled, strangely fond. “Oh, none of this is my Mum’s fault. She was a darling, her and my Da. My childhood was positively idyllic. All things considered, you know.”

Yes, Sasha thought, struggling to imagine 1910s London in her mind, idyllic. She took another look at Georgie, squinting slightly as her head throbbed. She definitely seemed younger physically than Jon, but Jon had a particular way of carrying age about him that had nothing to do with his appearance. “When did you stop aging?”

“I forget, honestly,” Georgie said airly, sipping her own bloody mary. For some reason, Sasha didn’t believe her. “It always takes a while to notice, you know. I suppose, logically, it would be about when I died the first time.”

That, more than anything, alarmed Sasha. “I thought you couldn’t die.”

“Not permanently,” Georgie said, as if this was somehow obvious. “Eat your eggs, they’ll get cold.” Sasha frantically shoved eggs in her mouth, desperate for the story. But Georgie just sighed and propped her chin on her hand, eyes distant. “You know how it is. Small town girl, grew up in North Birmingham, Alabama - back when it was just a tiny little thing, you know. I wanted to be a star. I always did. Scared of dyin’ in the dirt. If I was gonna die young, I wanted to do it where everybody knew my name. So long as they remember you, it’s no kind of death at all, really.” She sighed, lost in memory. “I could sing so good...so I went to Harlem, ‘cause all my friends and I always had dreams of going to Harlem and making it big singing in the jazz clubs. They didn’t get so far, staying at home with their babies, but I did. Wasn’t really made for babies and such, I think.” Something strange emerged in her words, the last vestiges of a Southern accent. “I was pretty, and I could sing, and I took to the spotlight like a duck to water. It was tough, but man - if it ain’t tough, it ain’t worth it. I worked so hard. Like I was working myself to death, almost.”

She trailed off, birds softly trilling outside, and Sasha was silent. 

Quietly, Georgie began speaking again. “Got into some trouble. You know how it is. I spent dozens of years wondering if it was my fault, if there was something I coulda done differently, zig instead of zag...but now, I don’t think so. Just my own rotten luck, you know. Put my trust in the wrong people. Had the wrong sentence whispered into my ear.” She shrugged listlessly. “Couldn’t handle the truth. Just another girl who couldn’t handle the limelight, that was what they said. But I was set up to fail. All those jazz clubs were ganger run, you couldn’t avoid it. Every girl in that golden age fell prey to those men, same as I did. I just wanted to feel again. Tried everything once, just to feel something.” She sighed, taking another drink. “Got shot. Got back up. I remember it, clear as day. Must have been 1923. I scrubbed the blood out of my show dress and went back on stage that night, cuz you can’t get a rep as a flake. They said, that day...that day was my best performance.”

She trailed off, Sasha finally alert. She wanted more details, almost desperately, but she kept her mouth shut. She didn’t want to risk putting the whammy on her host, even if she wasn’t sure that she could. If Georgie was being purposefully vague...well, Sasha wasn’t entitled to her pain. 

Instead, she said, “I bet you were good.”

Georgie smiled at her wanly, eyes far away. “I was the best.”

They sat in silence for a little while, eating their food, Sasha’s head ringing and mind buzzing. What about this picture was she not understanding? What was so important that she was missing?

Finally, Sasha carefully floated, “I bet you must have met Jon soon after.”

Georgie looked up from her bloody mary, surprised. “Oh, yes. Just a few months after. He must have caught the word on the wind, you know, of that singing girl who got back up after getting shot in the lungs.” She sighed, propping her chin on her hand again. “Saw him in the front row of my club. He was so handsome, and so finely dressed. But there had been something strange in his eyes, you know? Like little marbles, reflecting the lamps. He caught up to me afterwards, and I figured he was just another fan to squeeze dry, but he told me in his funny little accent I’d never heard before that he could help me.” She swallowed, looking away. “That he could help me understand what was happening to me. Why I was having those strange dreams, seeing those strange tendrils. I guess he was right. After I met him, I understood it all. Things moved fast after that.” She smiled weakly at Sasha. “I suppose you know the rest.”

She really didn’t, but Sasha understood the dismissal for what it was. “Yeah. Thanks for telling me all of that.”

“It’s no secret,” Georgie said dismissively. She smiled cunningly. “A hundred years later almost exactly, and what I did to those gangsters was still my finest work. They say that if you pass by an old building on St. Nicholas Avenue, you can still hear the screams. Anyway, I have a meeting with my land development company in an hour, must run, ta!”

On that distressing note Georgie swanned out the door, and Sasha was left alone with nothing but a stack of conspiracy theories, an opulent flat, and bad memories. 

Time seemed to move quickly, yet sluggishly, after that. After another day of writing down literally every Statement she could remember off the top of her head and trying to fit them into the weird and seemingly kind of arbitrary categories that Leitner had given her, she had hit a roadblock. She couldn’t remember any more Statements, she didn’t have access to them, and the ones she did remember she either already sorted or couldn’t dredge up enough memory of them to sort them in a satisfactory way. Either that, or the Statement itself was just incomprehensible - Sasha still didn’t know what the fuck was going on with Tessa’s problem. She tended to have a better memory of the ones that seemingly mentioned the Avatars in the background, just because it had been so startling to actually meet them - and a few even mentioned Jon, usually in context of Salasea or any Eye Statement. 

When Georgie came home that night, they watched another movie and they both studiously avoided mentioning anything supernatural. Best not to take work home with you, even if Sasha had never quite been good at that. 

The next day Sasha did what she should have done in the first place, and hacked into the Magnus Institute server. 

It was seriously, comically easy. Sasha had installed a backdoor connection to the desktop of her work computer from her laptop ages ago, and all she had to do was borrow one of Georgie’s laptops and redownload the program. With an easy virtual desktop she was already in. It was somehow satisfying to see all of her work programs pop up on the borrowed laptop, and it was almost a relief to access the Archive drive that connected all of their computers. More importantly, where they all put their research follow-ups and the spreadsheet that documented the debunked, uncertain, and verified statements. It had gotten to the point where if the statement refused to record on the computer they automatically put it on verified, but what Sasha really wanted from that spreadsheet was the one sentence description they had all put for each Statement. 

From there, it was much easier. Sasha, sick of the disorganized conspiracy theorist aesthetic, made her own spreadsheet and began categorizing the verified Statements that way. Much more reliable than working from memory. 

If only she could actually access the Statements...Sasha’s life would be so much easier if everything could be digitized. The debunked ones were typed up, filed, and recorded, but the verified ones only existed on paper. Couldn’t be typed up, couldn’t be recorded. It was so stupid. 

Sasha checked the clock. Eleven am on a Wednesday. They were definitely all still working. Maybe…

It was an invasion of privacy. Did she actually care about that? No. Was she worried about apparently being locked into an employment contract with an...entity of some sort that preyed on invasions of privacy? No, although she felt like she should. Was she concerned that Jon and Jonah were trying to turn into her a conduit of this entity’s power into the world, probably gradually turning her, if not evil, at least into a giant dick? Somewhat. 

Words echoed through her mind, and Sasha’s fingers halted over the keyboard. Her powers manifesting differently than Jon’s...her unique skill with hacking…

Well, that was just kind of offensive. Sasha had worked hard for her skills. They weren’t given to her by Jon’s weird god. Also - seriously, a god? It was just a malevolent eldritch entity living in a separate dimension that encroached tendrils into Sasha’s life. There was nothing divine about it. That was just offensive. Sasha was a good feminist, transgender Catholic on the run from the law and didn’t worship false idols. 

It was only then that Sasha noticed a folder on the drive that she hadn’t created. It was labelled ‘For the Archivist’. Despite herself, she clicked on it. 

It held a few pdfs. Sasha clicked on one curiously, and saw that they were photocopies of statements. No - of Statements. She was already recognizing this one as one of those spider ones. She quickly printed them all out, conscientious of how easily supernatural files corrupted, and quickly exited the drive and the virtual desktop.

It wasn’t until Sasha was already in the kitchen and pulling down a bottle of Jack that she realized what she was doing. She sighed, replaced it, and fetched herself some sparkling water instead. She drank it slowly as she returned to her laptop and logged remotely into the police database, which she already had a backdoor into. 

It occurred to Sasha, perhaps belatedly, that if the police found her laptop and the incredible variety of highly illegal programs meant explicitly for accessing secure servers she was probably triple going to jail. This time, for something she had actually did. 

All of the hacking had never felt illegal. It had just felt...well, fun and necessary. It had never been about whether or not she should, it had been about if she could. 

Was that how it had started for Jon? Collecting household secrets because he had to, so secure the money and influence he desperately needed, because he could, because it was fun? 

Whatever. Sasha shook herself. She could have her moral crisis after she was no longer on the run from the cops for murder. This wasn’t the time to be squeamish about something that wasn’t hurting anybody. She knew, as Jon probably did, that just because something was illegal didn’t make it wrong. 

It was easy to log onto the police database and check out her own open case. She frequently checked out open homicide cases for fun, but it somehow hit a little different when it was her they were talking about. Incident, Senior Citizen, Offence: First Degree Murder, Location of Arrest: N/A, yeah, yeah, yeah…

One victim, a John Doe. Foul play was suspected...yes that’d be the gunshot wound. No witnesses. Reporting officer’s narrative...Elias Bouchard and Jonathan Sims the Fifth had walked into Head Archivist Sasha James’ office to discuss work with her when they found the body. Both were shocked and called the police...gun found at the scene had her fingerprints and the ballistics matched...suspect still at large. Friends and family had been contacted, everyone denied knowledge of where she was. Suspect had a noted history of mental illness...great…

The officers dispatched had been Alice Tonner and Basira Hussein. Sasha found that strange: Basira had history with one of the witnesses and the suspect, wouldn’t it be unprofessional to send her out? 

There couldn’t be that many sectioned officers, Sasha reasoned. Even if the incident hadn’t officially been sectioned, because the police report still existed, as a general rule if something happened at the Magnus Institute it was sectioned until proven otherwise. Even if the murder itself was seemingly mundane. 

Out of curiosity, she searched up Detective Tonner’s records. Been on the force for a long time, worked her way up the ranks. Very, very few cases and incident reports for a detective who had been on the force as long as she had. Sectioned, obviously, but even Basira had more official cases than she did. When Sasha clicked on the incident reports, they were extremely spotty and strange. Obvious details were omitted or censored. 

Something cold began to creep down Sasha’s spine. She found the arrest records of the latest four people with official records of Detective Tonner arresting them. 

Almost all of them had entered custody with bruises, cuts, and in one case a broken limb. They all had records down as ‘resisting arrest’. Sasha felt sick. 

There was one case that stopped strangely short. A clear perp, a rapist but one with little evidence, who Tonner had quickly caught. That was where the case ended: the report that Tonner had found his hiding spot, but no arrest, no trial, no prison sentence. When Sasha investigated the perp, she found that he had unceremoniously vanished shortly after Tonner had reported that she had found his hiding spot. A month later, a death certificate had been filed. 

Sasha stared at the death certificate, nauseated. This was who she was dealing with. A vigilante, some batshit pig who had obviously decided that the law was best taken into her own hands. Couldn’t have happened to a nicer guy, but...if anybody looked at Sasha’s case on paper, they’d say the same thing. 

And that was just the cases on record. It was the only obvious instance Sasha could see of Tonner having offed someone just because she felt like it, but cops were good at covering shit like that up. How many other arrest records had fallen in the cracks? How many other dead perps that nobody gave a shit about? How many sectioned cases? 

God, Sasha was fucked. 

She begged off hanging out with Georgie that night, instead staying in bed with the covers pulled tight over her head as if that could ever protect her. Why was Jonah doing this to her? What did he have to gain? If he wanted her to die a mysterious death in the bottom of a ditch, why wasn’t he man enough to do it himself?

Tonner was going to murder her, Sasha thought hysterically, and she was going to pat herself on the back for keeping another monster off the streets. 

And Jon knew. The fucking hypocrite. He wasn’t going to help her. Nobody was. But, god, she was so alone…

The next morning, as if she knew, Georgie slipped Sasha a burner phone over the breakfast table as they both robotically ate quiches. 

“It should be untraceable, but just know that anybody you call you’re putting at serious risk,” Georgie warned, before her expression softened. “This’ll all be over soon, honey. I promise.”

“Did Jonah tell you that?” Sasha asked bitterly. 

“Nah. I just know those two.” Georgie delicately ate a forkful of quiche. “They get bored of terrorizing humans pretty quickly. Now, Michael’s a different story. They’ll terrorize someone for decades. I’ve seen them do it!”

“Great,” Sasha said. 

It seemed to be at this point that Georgie realized she was actually making Sasha feel much worse, because a slightly panicked expression crossed her face and she quickly reached out to pat Sasha on the hand. “But I’m sure they won’t do that to you,” Georgie said quickly. “They love you! Jon especially. Jonah’s just on another of his little power trips right now, he’ll get over it. And Jon, like, feels really bad about this whole thing. He’s been super annoying about it, actually -”

“See,” Sasha said, standing up to clear away her dishes, “I would rather handle an enemy who obviously wants to kill me than a friend whose good side I always have to be careful to stay on, who I can’t afford to ever make mad. I guess that’s the only difference left between me and you people.”

She angrily put her dishes in the sink, where the housekeeper would do them, and stalked to what was rapidly becoming her room, slamming the door. 

Flopping down on the bed, she stared at the burner phone. Tim wouldn’t be at work yet. They could talk. They could - 

Do what? Get back together? Split up? Could he explain, beg for her forgiveness? Did she have to apologize too? Sasha didn’t understand. 

That was rare for her. She understood a lot of things, or at least she thought she did. Maybe she had been lying to herself, about everything: that her and Tim were a good idea, that Martin was sketchy,  that Jon was evil, that Jon was kind, that Georgie just wanted to help her, that there was nothing that Jonah Magnus would do to her, that she was safe and human and a good person. 

God, her capacity for self-delusion was ridiculous. But maybe people needed a little bit of self-delusion to survive. Nobody could live in complete honesty, in full sight of their flaws and shortcomings. You could burn away, living like that. 

No. No time or space for fear. Sasha wasn’t afraid of anything. If she kept telling herself that, maybe it would be true. She desperately punched in a number that she didn’t remember memorizing, holding the phone desperately to her ear, her one connection to humanity. 

It rung, and rung, and one, and Sasha’s heart thumped in her chest. 

Finally, the ringing stopped, and a slightly sleepy voice punctuated the dead air. “Hello?”

“Tim, it’s me,” Sasha burst out, everything she wanted to say to him rushing through her throat and choking her, and she burst into tears. 

Distantly, through the sound of her crying, she could hear Tim on the other side losing his shit, and eventually wrangling himself to calmness. 

It was almost funny, how they could work each other up like that. Eventually, by the time Sasha had managed to wrangle her own crying, Tim had calmed himself down enough that he was able to clumsily try to cheer her up. 

“We’re all fine. Everyone’s perfectly safe. Martin’s gotten, uh, even more annoying since you left, and we’ve technically hired Melanie, which is - not good but it’s funny? Are you still crying? Please don’t still be crying.”

“I’m fine,” Sasha hiccuped. She rubbed at her red eyes. God, she’d missed him. “Tim, what happened?”

The line was silent for a while. Finally, he said, “Is this line secure?”

“Uh - probably? I mean -” Sasha quickly checked herself. She didn’t want to mention Georgie. The less he knew the better. “ - it’s a burner, if that’s what you’re asking, and I’m not the one who bought it.”

“Where are you living?” Tim asked harshly. “Are you homeless? You have to come stay with me, I can -”

“You mean the first place Tonner will look?” Sasha shot back. “No. I’m safe, I’m dry, things are fine. That’s all you need to know.” She softened her voice. “I promise, if it was safe I’d tell you more. I want to see you again. Tim, I - I’m really sorry.”

Tim laughed hoarsely, without humor. “Shouldn’t it be me saying that? I’m the one who thought you were a monster.”

“...yeah, that one’s on you.” Sasha sighed miserably, lying down on her bed, wishing Tim was next to her. “I am, though. A monster, I mean. Tim, I - I’m definitely not entirely human anymore.”

“God, Sash, that’s the least of our problems right now,” Tim said, laughing slightly again. “Can you just tell me what happened? I know you didn’t fucking do it. That dick Bouchard keeps playing dumb and his shitlead lackey keeps on avoiding the Archives. I bet Sims killed that old man, right? He totally did. Martin keeps on saying that his precious Jon wouldn’t let you take the fall for something he did, but I’m not so sure.”

“I...it’s more complicated than that.”

Sasha explained in short order. For once, Tim was totally silent the entire time, letting Sasha dispassionately recite the entire sad story. She finished it at Michael helping her escape, not detailing where she had been dropped off. 

Finally, after a long silence, Tim said, “So this is my fault.”

“No, it’s not,” Sasha said harshly. “You were manipulated, same as I was.”

“I’m the idiot who -”

“Yes, you were being an idiot. You should have talked to me, talked to anyone. You should have done anything other than your homicidal partner in crime. You definitely shouldn’t have been buying a fucking black market gun when I know for a fact you have no idea how to shoot. But you tried playing hero and you played straight into Magnus’ hands. You fucked up. Okay? Now let’s try to do better.”

More silence, until Tim sighed. “Can’t believe the Douche’s Jonah Magnus. Explains why Sims is always playing lackey for him. Can’t wait to spill to Martin how his boyfriend framed his boss for murder.”

Sasha chewed her lip, uncertain. She hadn’t shared the details of Jonah and Jon’s conversation too closely - it had seemed private. “See, I’m not sure this is...entirely Jon’s fault.”

Tim groaned. “Not you too! Why is everyone but me and Melanie a fucking Sims apologist?”

“Jon and Jonah are...they’re weird, okay?” Sasha moved to chewing her hair, uncertain of how to describe it. If it should even be described. It seemed so private, so unsuitable to name...but maybe everybody thinking that was how these things stayed perpetuated for so long. “I think Jonah’s kind of, you know, abusive?”

The line went silent again. 

“Wow,” Tim said finally, “Martin’s going to be so disappointed his boyfriend’s taken.”

“They’re just friends! I think. I’m like, ninety percent sure. But you didn’t hear them, Tim. They’re really...it’s messed up. Trust me.”

“Jesus, Sash, why are you defending someone who fucked all of us over like this? Sims is a big boy, he’s responsible for his own shitty decisions and the shitty company he keeps.” Tim snorted. “I’ve heard them talk, anyway. If anything, Magnus is the one always giving into Sims and his little tantrums. Jesus, I just want to throttle the both of them.”

“Maybe you need to get over your anger issues and focus on actually solving the problem for once,” Sasha snapped. “Nobody has time for your revenge fantasy, Tim! We need to fix all of this.”

“Which one is it, Sash?” Tim asked coldly. “Was I manipulated, or was it my anger issues and hero complex? Are you going to decide if this is my fault or not?”

Sasha’s heart stuttered in her chest. She didn’t know how to explain to him what she knew - that it was everything, that it was all of the above, that he was manipulated through his anger issues and hero complex, that Tim had been pushed in a direction but he had taken the steps all by himself. But she couldn’t blame him entirely, because Sasha had been manipulated the same way, and so had Jon and Martin and Georgie, and if she started thinking like that then she would have to start hating the whole damn world. 

“Tim, are we going to stay together?” Sasha whispered, broken-hearted. “Can we even still be together? I love you. I want you here with me. But there’s so much ugliness that’s growing between us. I don’t know if this can be fixed.”

A long silence again. Sasha wanted to be there with him, to read his face, to see what he was thinking. She had always understood him so well, or at least she thought that he did. 

“I love you too,” Tim said finally. “I want to fix this too. I - I don’t know, Sasha. I love you. The thought of you alone, in danger, and not even knowing where you are, is fucking me up. It’s like Danny all over again, Sasha, I can’t handle this. Can we have this conversation again when I know you’re safe?”

“Okay,” Sasha said, and she knew that this was probably the best both of them could do right now. “Are we staying together?”

“...I don’t know.”

“...are we breaking up?”

“...still don’t know.”

“Okay,” Sasha repeated again, and sighed. “I won’t call you from this phone twice. I’m doing the best I can here. I’m safe, I think. Things will be okay, Tim.”

“Sash,” Tim said, “I don’t remember the last time things were okay.”

And neither did she, and they both knew it, and she hung up on him without saying anything further. She lay on the bed, listening faintly to the sound of the housekeeper vacuuming, staring up at the fan as it beat in a steady rhythm on the ceiling. 

Was Tim right? Was she reading too much into Jon and Jonah? It wasn’t her job to fix Jon, to puzzle out his weird psychology. Maybe he was just an asshole without a spine,and there wasn’t anything more to that.

No. Sasha didn’t believe that. This was a puzzle that she hadn’t solved yet, and she had the feeling that at the heart of this puzzle was the key to finally keeping herself and Tim safe. She couldn’t abide a mystery, couldn’t trick herself into thinking that the truth wasn’t important. The truth was all Sasha had. She couldn’t close her eyes to it, that awful and ugly reality. 

Tim...he had been such a bad idea. But he had always been her favorite one: the way he could always cheer her up, his bright and bold smile, his courage and heart and sensitivity and vulnerability. He had loved her, truly and wholly, for who she was. He knew the ugly corners of her and loved them as much as he loved her best attributes. 

Was that still true? Was Sasha turning into a person that Tim just couldn’t love? Was Tim turning into someone that Sasha couldn’t love? 

People changed. Sometimes they changed apart. And for some strange reason, Sasha just couldn’t bear the thought of that. 

Lying on the bed of a grim reaper, crying like a broken-hearted teenager, Sasha didn’t notice that the housekeeper’s vacuum had stopped running. She didn’t notice the knock on the door, or the creak of the door opening, or the gentle rise and fall of voices. She only heard it when there was a soft knock at her own door, and she was forced to roll off the bed to open her bedroom door. 

Standing in front of her, looking nervous, was the housekeeper. Standing behind her was Jonathan Sims. 

He looked pretty bad, Sasha noted clinically. Eye bags, even more pronounced than usual, stood starkly under his eyes, and his hair wasn’t as cropped short and styled as it usually was. It had grown out a little, making Jon look more like a tired modern guy walking the streets of London than a centuries old immortal psychic vampire. He was still dressed in a suit, as he always was, but the suit jacket was off and his dress shirt was rolled up to the elbow.

He stared at Sasha, probably registering every minute change in her appearance as she did his, before glancing down at the housekeeper. “You’re excused for the day. Thank you for your time.”

He passed her something - probably neatly folded bills - and nodded at her as she shakily nodded back and escaped the flat as quickly as possible. Jon stepped backwards in the hallway, gesturing for her to come out, and walked back into the living room. Because Sasha was just slightly too prideful to barricade herself in the bedroom, and partly because she wasn’t sure that Jon wouldn’t break into a woman’s bedroom, she stepped out into the grandiose yet cluttered living room with him. He stood in the center, hands in his pockets, looking over the flat with a clinical eye. 

“Georgie’s sense of interior decoration is as immaculate as ever,” Jon noted clinically. “She used to spend months getting every house we ever lived in just right. Said it was her job as lady of the household. She had never been a lady of any household, of course, not in the way that Jonah and I had once known - but her fun’s important to her, and it doesn’t hurt anybody important.” He sniffed slightly. “You coming to stay here was for the best after all. She’s been lonely, I think.” 

“I’m staying here because I’m homeless,” Sasha said flatly. For the first time, she noticed a small manila envelope under his arm, tucked slightly into his back pocket. “Because of you.”

“I’ve kept your flat for you,” Jon said eagerly, stepping forward, and letting his cold mask fall. In him now was something eager, something almost pleading. Sasha forced herself not to step away. “All of your possessions are intact, and I can get your bank accounts unfrozen easily enough. Once all of this blows over, your life can be right back to normal.”

“Wow,” Sasha drawled, crossing her arms, “how kind. Were you so busy being this nice to me that you forgot that Georgie barred you from this flat because I don’t want to fucking look at you?”

“She’ll get over it,” Jon said dismissively. “She’s been wanting us to make up, anyhow.” He stepped closer again, fluorescent green eyes fixed on her large and warm brown ones, and Sasha fought the tingle crawling up her spine. “Sasha, I really am sorry. Jonah was out of line in what he did. But - but you know, he really does know best. Even if it doesn’t seem so. What we’re doing now, it’s for the best for your development. I promise this will all blow over soon, and things will be better. For all of us.”

“For a subject of a truth god,” Sasha said, voice dripping sarcasm, “you have a unique ability to lie to yourself.”

Jon puffed up, scowling down at her. “That’s ridiculous. I -”

“Does Jonah Magnus respect you?” Sasha pressed. 

Jon...hesitated, and they both saw it. Jon frantically tried to cover, quickly saying, “Of course he does. I’m his partner, and we’ve been partners for two hundred years. There’s nobody on earth he respects more than me. There’s nobody he respects but me.”

“Then why does he talk to you like you’re an idiot?”

“He talks to everyone like that.”

“Because he doesn’t respect anyone but you. You just said that. But if he respects you, then wouldn’t he talk to you differently?”

There it is - Jon’s shoulders hunched slightly, unconsciously on the defensive. “Does he give you equal input on decisions?”

“I always give my -”

“Does he listen to them?”

Jon was silent. Finally, slowly, he said, “Jonah was right. He said you’d get like this.”

Fuck. Sasha’s heart sank, even as her jaw dropped in incredulity. She had lost him. “You must be kidding.”

“He said you’d get jealous.” Jon crossed his arms, turning slightly away from her, but what he clearly meant to be a closed-off stance just seemed defensive. “He said that you’d get upset that I’m more loyal to him than to you. What we’re doing now is for your own good, Miss James. You’ll see one day that this - this unpleasantness is helping you grow.”

Unpleasantness? Unpleasantness?! Putting her life at risk was an inconvenience? “I’ll see, huh?” Sasha said bitterly. “Just like you saw? Just like how you changed your mind from this being cruel and traumatic to it being a momentary unpleasantness?” She barked a short laugh, not very humorous at all. “I was there. He called you stupid, he said that you couldn’t trust anybody but him, and he called you an idiot. Are those the words of someone who respects you? Of someone who even likes you?”

Jon stiffened, mouth tightening, and he broke eye contact and looked away. “Don’t concern yourself with the private business between Jonah and I.”

“When you’re having the conversation over a cooling corpse that you framed me for then you’re making it my business, you absolute shitheel!” Sasha yelled, finally losing her temper. “Your bullshit is ruining my life! Your complete inability to stand up to that sack of shit is ruining my life!”

“Shut up!” Jon yelled, seemingly having taken her losing her temper as permission to lose his. Distantly, Sasha was aware of his stupid this must have looked: two fully grown adults, yelling in a living room like children. “You’re a spoiled child who doesn’t know anything! All I’ve ever done is try to help you, and you spit in my face! You’re no better than Martin!”

Abruptly, strangely, Jon stopped short. He seemed almost embarrassed, almost in pain. 

And just like that, Sasha knew. “He’s not letting you see Martin, is he.”

For just a split second, Jon’s expression crumpled, but he forced it back into his haughty mask. “I decided that it was best I didn’t waste my time with manipulative traitors.”

“Was that your idea?” Sasha asked flatly, abruptly extremely tired. “Or was it Jonah’s?”

Jon was silent. They both knew the answer. 

“If you walked up to Jonah now and told him that you wanted to start dating Martin, do you think that you’d leave that conversation still wanting to do it? Or would you somehow decide, all by yourself, that you’ll end up doing what Jonah wants anyway?”

Jon didn’t say anything.

A strange mix of emotions swirled in Sasha’s stomach. Anger and disgust mixed with pity and sadness. What had Jon been like, before he met Jonah Magnus? Had he been a good person?

But maybe that wasn’t so important. Maybe the question that had to be asked was - what kind of person would Jonathan Sims be without Jonah Magnus in his life?

All at once, the fight seemed to go out of Jon. His shoulders sagged, and he abruptly deflated. He looked down at the ground, ashamed and aware of it. He had always been aware of it. He had just been lying to himself. Maybe it was impossible to live without it. 

“I don’t know what to do without him,” Jon said quietly. “I’ve never - I need him.”

“You don’t,” Sasha said, abruptly exhausted. “You want to help me, Jon? You want to protect me and Martin? You can’t do that while staying friends with Jonah Magnus. You have to choose. So long as you stay close to him, you are going to stay within his complete control. That’s what he does. He controls everybody and everything. And you’re letting him. You’re justifying it. You’re doing his work for him. Everybody around him is - even Georgie. There are two people in your life who are trying to get you away from him, and he’s trying to convince you to cut them out of your life. You think that’s a coincidence?”

Jon opened his mouth, then closed it. Weakly, he said, “You’re wrong.”

“I need your help, Jon,” Sasha whispered, and to her shame found her voice cracking. “I need someone on my side. I can do it alone, but - but I’m scared. And I don’t want to. I need help. I’m scared.”

But she knew, even as she said it, that Jon was scared too. He couldn’t reach out a hand to her - not now, not here. Jon had carried around his fear for hundreds of years, pushing it down and pretending it wasn’t there, and it informed everything he’d ever done. Scrambling for power, exerting that power, desperately dominating even as he was dominated - it stemmed from that fear, all of it. And Jonah Magnus kept those flames fanned, because a Jon who was afraid was a Jon who could be controlled. 

A Sasha who was afraid, who was isolated, who was trapped, was one who could be controlled. 

The realization was dizzying. Somehow, the thought that kept running through her mind was - who’d do that? Who was such a terrible person that they’d go through all that trouble, all of that plotting, just to make someone suffer? Not because they disliked them, not in revenge, not because of any human emotion - but just because it was convenient? Useful?

Because you could?

So this was what power did to a person, Sasha realized. So this was what power and immortality and money and supernatural gifts did to you. It made you someone who Sasha could never hope to understand, whose depths of depravity she could never truly rationalize. To Sasha, who prided herself on knowing people and being able to understand them and their motives - it was almost a relief, almost a blessing, that she couldn’t possibly understand the motives of Jonah Magnus at all. 

Jon stared at her, fluorescent green eyes wide, and for just a minute she could see the fear that she knew was there written all over his face. For just a minute, Sasha and Jon were scared together, both trapped in tumultuous waters that they couldn’t control. For the first time Sasha empathized with Jon. 

Jonah Magnus was somebody that Sasha could never understand. But Jon was, and for the first time Sasha knew what Martin meant when he said that he felt as if Jon had been a good person, a long time ago. 

You can’t understand someone and hate them. Not really. You could be angry, upset, betrayed...but if you really understood someone, backwards and forwards, true hate was difficult to find. 

“I have to go,” Jon said, almost dizzily. He shoved the manila folder at her, both of them having forgotten that it was even there in the first place. He glanced at it, frightened and guilty. “Be - be careful when meeting Jude Perry. Don’t take her at her word. I have to go.”

He fled, as if the hounds of hell themselves were snapping at his heels, and Sasha was left standing in an opulent hallway, clutching a manila folder as if it was a time bomb, completely certain that it was meant to hurt her and cause her pain and damage her, completely certain that she was going to read it anyway. 

Like Jon - what choice did she have? 

But as she stumbled back to her room, as she sat down on the comfortable chair and thumbed on the tape recorder that sat at the desk, the words of Jonathan Sims ran through her mind. His warning. A clumsy attempt at protection. At the very least, a signifier of desire. 

Sasha knew, as she sometimes knew things, that Jon had started out somebody who deeply desired to protect others like him. To take revenge, to grab power, yes, but also to spread that precious knowledge and resources around. He had never stopped thinking of himself as one of those vulnerable people, people who society had stepped on and ground into the dirt. Deep down he had just wanted things to be fair, wanted some justice in the world. Jon, at one point, had only wanted to help. 

Maybe she wasn’t so alone after all. 

“Statement of Sasha James, Head Archivist…”

[seulgiology]

it’s just a gameㅣlee donghyuck

pairings: best friend!haechan x best friend!reader

words: 1.6k

genre: very lowkey fluffy shit, basically low quality crack, just best friends being best friends

warnings: cursing, slight mention of sexual content, mentions of sex toys (nothing crazy ;), mentions of fighting

a/n: ALL CREDITS TO THE GIF GOES TO THEM!! yer yerrrr, it’s admin 1 back with haechan crack cause i need this in my life. ummmmm nothing much more to say here lol. irene fluff coming up next from me! so look forward to that ;)

disclaimer: This is a work of fiction from our imagination. It is not intended that the plot, theme, original characters, etc. portray any real-life events/people. Plagiarism is NOT tolerated on this blog. If you believe we have copied an existing authors’ work, please message us privately. thank you and enjoy :)

--

“Do you want to fucking die or something?”

“Yeah… But only ‘cause you’re here.”

“That’s your response? Weak.”

You and Haechan happen to be playing a survival game together in his and Johnny’s shared dorm room. Call of Duty? Overwatch? Destiny? To be honest, you really never knew, nor paid attention. You just knew he really, really loved playing these games. So why not try and take a dive into your best friend’s favorite alternate reality. However, you knew long before playing with him that he was kind of an aggressive player.

You sat on his bed with your laptop open while he sat in his gamer chair that he liked to call “Mark”(I like to believe I can always stay atop of my enemies. Mark just, unfortunately, has to be my greatest). 

“Why do you always choose the games you know I obviously suck at? And why does this one have...” You squint at one of the NPCs on your bright screen, “Nazis??? Hyuck, what the fuck do you have me playing.” 

Haechan quickly spins around in his chair just to look at you up and down in disgust before saying, “I don’t like Nazis either Y/N, but like, maybe you should look back at your screen before, I don’t know, one of them kill you. And for your information, the game is called Battlefield V.” He replies in that sarcastic way that he’s known for.

“Says the one who just died. Try again next time sunny.” You just saw his character die on his screen in his session of telling you off. His doe eyes go wide in disbelief and you can’t wipe the victorious smirk off your face as he curses and weeps at the loss of his life. “I can’t believe you just let that happen Y/N. What kind of best friend are you?” The theatrics come on as he pretends to wipe under his eyes and sniffle. If you didn’t know his antics by now you’d have gone over and seriously ask him if he was ok. 

But he’s Haechan. 

Lee Donghyuck. 

God of Entertainment. jungwoo is shaking

You scoff and reach over to the top of his bed, take one of the helpless pillows, and chuck it at his head for his extraness. You couldn’t help but laugh out loud lol at the surprising high-pitched yelp that came from him at your attack. He held the pillow in his lap and silently nodded to himself while closing his eyes, and the exasperated sigh that left his lips had you stifling your giggles. “I didn’t think it’d come to this, but you leave me no choice,” He looked at you with fiend sadness before getting up and taking slow, creepy steps towards you. 

Before he could speed up his steps, you tried to get up from his bed and make it towards the door, yet you failed miserably. “You think you can get away from me this easily Y/N? You’re literally as fast as the slowest turtle.” He said as he was gripping the back of your his t-shirt

"What- all turtles are slow, what are you even trying to say?" You said as you struggled against his strength. He pondered over what you said for a moment, and that moment was all you needed to rush out the room, shouts of triumph coming straight from your heart.

You run through the dorm jumping and stretching through odd places, Haechan hot on your heels. You're surprised you even made it this far without him catching you. "Don't think you're winning Y/N. I'm just having post-video game tiredness," he huffs out, obviously out of breath. You shoot a look back at him and knew you couldn't continue like this forever. 

You needed protection.

You ran into the nearest room, not caring who or what was in there. Turning the knob, you almost slam into, Taeil who turned out to be opening the door at the same time as you.  “Y/N? Hey-” He said a little listlessly while rubbing his eyes. You didn’t reply back and instead squeezed past him and hid behind his back, and used the oldest member as a shield. 

“Wow, you really must think I’m a fool to think that hiding behind the shortest person alive would protect you from my punishment.” He subtly and immediately apologized to his hyung for the insult, but continued on. Taeil gave a nod of acknowledgment but did a double-take for a moment. 

“Wait- ‘punishment’? What type of kinky shit are ya’ll doing? I didn’t know Y/N was giving you the strap,” You snap your head and look at him in horror, as Haechan damn near throws up in his mouth at the words spoken from the ambivert member.

“I support!” You hear a voice from deeper within the small room. (”Nobody asked Yuta!” Haechan exasperatedly shouted.)

“So this is how you guys think of me- a bottom.” Haechan excaims in disbelief. “But did they lie?” You think to yourself

You creep a bit further back into the room, hoping neither Taeil or Haechan have noticed, as they’ve started their own sibling-like argument with each other. You were successful taking small steps back, even hiding under the desk installed in the room. “Wait, where’s Y/N? It’s oddly quiet.” You can see him cock his hip to the side and pretend to think, you silently rolling your eyes at his statement. 

Your eyes snap to Yuta’s, trying to telepathically tell him to keep his mouth shut about your obvious hiding position. 

Yet, he had other plans for you. 

“They’re over there, under the desk, sitting on Taeil’s Switch.” He whisper-yells to Haechan and points to your location.

“Taeyong’s not in here though...?” i said what i said The oldest mutters off to himself.

You’re heart pounds in wait and you mentally face palm. Footsteps speedily walk over to you, and you didn’t get the chance to scramble back when he gripped your ankles and softly tugged you out. A pout took over your face as you looked up at your best friend from the ground, him standing tall and triumphant above you. 

“I hope you know we can fight.” You say as you continue to lay there, fierce as ever. An anxious look took over Taeil’s face as his eyes darted back and forth between you and Haechan. This wouldn’t be the first time you guy’s playfully fought each other. The whole 127 dorm knew how aggressive your mouth could be. He smirked down at you, getting ready to prepare a jab at you before Taeil began speaking.

“Hey- lets just all play a friendly game? Yeah?”

“I’ve been playing games since I’ve been here, just let me beat this gu-”

“I have Animal Crossing: New Horizons.”

“Say no more.”

You forget all about Haechan and run to his room and take out your Nintendo Switch with your game card already inside. You make it back in time to hear the current conversation. “Why are you guys stealing Y/N from me, I was just about to set up Just Dance 2020.” Haechan says while sitting behind a willing Yuta that lets him style with his current silver hair.

“I have a feeling you’re upset that you still have a 3DS instead of a Switch.” You say as you plop down next to Taeil who already had his game loaded. “Actually, I don’t need to hold a mini Taeyong in my hand when my 3DS is all I need,” He scoffs at you and folds his arms under him childishly. 

“Hyuck, it sounds like you’re talking about your favorite dildo.” You say to him, enjoying the snort that Yuta lets out. “Whatever, I just don’t know how you guys enjoy shaking trees and talking to animals with names like ‘Kid Cat.’ But go crazy.” He begins to stand up to leave, but he dramatically looked back at you absorbed in your game, conversing with his members. He let out a loud sigh, trying- and successfully- getting your attention.

You sigh out in defeat when you look at his pleading eyes that beg for you to hang out with him instead. You say your goodbyes to the other members who seem to understand how clingy your best friend can be.

“If we’re playing Just Dance, you have to let me win; and I won’t except no for an answer.” You say as you walk, a grin spread across your cheeks when he softly laughed at your statement. You both reach the living room and he gets straight into turning on the T.V. and turning the HDMI to the Play Station 4 the guys had set up already.

“Which song?” He asks as he scrolls through the song choices. “KILL THIS LOVE!” You’re bouncing on your feet at the thought of dancing to your favorite song. He presses play, but not before you catch the devious smirk on his face.

“What’d you do?” You both are standing next to each other, and he doesn’t say anything as you look to the screen, where your worst nightmare is staring back at you.

Sweat mode.

“You can’t do that! That’s cheating! I said let me win, but don’t let me die in the process.” You can feel yourself sweating already.  “Oh but it’s just a game, you’ll be fine hon. I am letting you win right?” His body is rushing with oncoming adrenaline from your whining, knowing that he’s won your competition.

You almost cry when the instrumental intro in the popular BLACKPINK begin. You put your all into the performance and Haechan barely moves his hands.

And there’s still a shit more songs after this.

[moonlightreal]

Fate episode 4

Welcome back to Fate Elemental Academy!  Or should I call it Fate: The Elemental Academy Saga? Fate: Tales From Elemental Academy?  I kinda wish I had an actual following now, we could push changing the name all over the fandom. Fate’s a bad Winx show but it’s not a bad show.

When we left our cast Beatrix just murderized a dude, Terra was suffering, Musa was finding love, Stella was mysterious, Bloom was destiny-ridden and Aisha was getting bored with it all!  What will happen now?

Also, is Rosalind evil?  I assumed she was the “she” who got rid of all the Burned Ones and thus was a hero, but she’s got some serious resting evil face.

Episode 4 opens with a gorgeous shadowy shot of Alfea in the twilight of day twelve-ish I assume.  In Dowling’s still badly lit office the adults are investigating Callan!  Whose real name was Callum, I think, but he’s dead and so won’t mind what I call him.  But Dowling says he hasn’t been seen “for days” so we’ll jump to it being day twentyish.  They’ve searched Callan’s room and found “metal-amalgam” which seems to be mercury, which someone would use to try to get past the trap on the door to the undercroft. Harvey charmingly starts a lecture on its properties before realizing Silva and Dowling want to get on with the infordumping.  Dowling says Callan wouldn’t have known about the mercury, it’s “archaic fairy knowledge” and he’s not a fairy.  

But couldn’t anyone study the lore even if they don’t have powers? Dane was doing potions/chemistry in the greenhouse with Terra and he’s not a fairy.  There’s usually some magic stuff that muggles can do just by having an enchanted thingamabob.  Fate, your worldbuilding leaves much to be desired.

Silva guesses Callan had help.  And Harvey’s made magical fingerprint mist!  He’s got a pitcher on a stick and smoke is coming out to track the magic used in the room!  Does that make Harvey a fairy?

The smoke outlines Callan’s vanished form, where he was sitting paralyzed before Beatrix zapped him.

Dowling: “At least we know where he went.”

Silva: “And that there’s a murderer in our school.”

The murderer herself is looking at her phone, scrolling through Bloom’s social media selfies.  Bloom’s online name is bloomerang04 which is a dumb online name.  Of course the fact that we pick our online name at age 15 or thereabouts means most of us have dumb ones.  Riven asks B what she’s obsessing over and Beatrix says, “Your fault for spreading it around that she’s a changeling. She’s now the most interesting person at school.”

WHAT is it about changelings?!

Riven says everyone will move on in a few days and asks Beatrix if this is “one of those movies where you dye your hair and take her life...” and Beatrix looks… hmm.  

Do I smell Plot or am I imagining it?  But then Riven decides to claim Beatrix’s attention in smoochy ways and I’m pretty sure they’re Doing The Sex.

Opening!

In the cafeteria, people stare at Bloom as she gets her breakfast!

Aisha has taken over Callan’s job to snoop on what he knew!  Bloom “suggested” she do it.  Or more like, begged.  And thought Aisha is such a suckup she’d do it just to get brownie points with the headmistress.

The vibe of this scene is like nails on a blackboard.  Bloom, you are awful people.  And Bloom wants to eat breakfast in here to avoid the stares because she’s a changeling.

Musa comes in cheerful, “Bloom still pretending she’s not upset by the gossip?”

Bloom: ‘still pretending you’re not dating your roommate’s brother?”

And Terra comes in right in time to almost hear that.  Bloom, you are awful people.  But Terra’s got her own gossip: Stella’s mom is coming!  Stella is “dreading being outshined by her mom” and Terra is kinda loving it.  For which I can’t entirely blame her since Stella is also awful people even if my suspicions are right and there are circumstances that made her that way.

Bloom tries to be non-awful and says the girls don’t have to come eat breakfast with her “like I’m some kind of loser-mess.  I’m fine.” Friendship music plays.  The girls smile. Then Bloom heads off to finish her “poison paper” before the assembly.  Musa says, “For the record, she’s not fine.”

In the arched walkway above the cafeteria Riven, Dane and Beatrix and talking about changelings!  B: ‘Changelings were a way for pissed-off fairies to get revenge on the first world.  Swap a fairy for a First world baby and wait for it to wreak havoc.  Changelings are bad news.  That’s why we stay on their good side.”

One of the boys had asked about “is that true about changelings?” presumable Dane, since Riven knew enough to spread the truth around. So not everybody knew all this.

FINALLY! Thank you, show.  And, this is neat!  Those would have to be some very pissed-off fairies to sacrifice their own baby, what’d the first worlders do to them I wonder!  Though it still doesn’t explain why Bloom should be “bad news” any more than any other fairy.  Does growing up in the human world make for more powerful fairies?  I mean, that IS the lore, human food, human milk, human soul… but did the writers of Fate know that?  I’m not trusting the writers of Fate to know much of anything at this point, even if they did get all those Yeats episode titles.

But we get interrupted by teen drama, Dane sees Terra down below and goes to see her.  Sigh.

But then to muddy the waters, riven says Dane “believed all that changeling bullshit you just fed him!”  but B says it “isn’t all bullshit, changelings can be dangerous.  You did everybody a favor.’ warning them about Bloom, I assume she means.

Show, I hate you now.  WHY are changelings dangerous?  What was true and what wasn’t?  Bloom’s changeling nature is the central bleeping worldbuilding of this story and we get dragged around?

Next I see black SUVs, tell me it’s Silva and his army people coming to do cool competent stuff so I can like this show again!

Nope, it’s Stella’s mom.  Stella and Sky are waiting to greet her, Sky says it’s only half a day and Stella says, “Half a day of everyone adoring her like she’s literally the sun.”  Sky says, ‘She is the queen of light.” which is an awesome title.  She’s here to do an assembly about Burned Ones… what, like those  PSA assemblies we had about the dangers of drugs?  Hahahaha!  That kind of PSA might be more apt, I’m pretty sure there’s more drugs at this school than there are Burned Ones.

But Stella is terrified, I think, behind her Stellaishness.  Says her mom is really here to “check on my progress.”  Sky suggests getting the rest of the girls to be a buffer but Stella says, ‘I don’t need them.  I have you.”  But Sky can’t stay physically, he leaves Stella to meet her mom alone

Stella is wearing a long coat of pale pink with gold and diamond star barrettes in her hair.  I would love it if at the end of Stella’s character arc when she grows past whatever it is that’s squeezing the life out of her, she’ll switch to bright bold colors and teenage rather than middle-age fashion to celebrate her freedom.  At the moment it makes sense that she dresses rather dumpy and too-mature, she’s dressing under pressure.

The black cars, they’re not all SUVs, pull up.  there’s a flag, faded blue above, red below split by a diagonal line with some kind of crest in the middle.  Solarian flag?  No yellow, no sun or moon.

Stella’s mom looks noting like Queen Luna, she looks like a middle aged lady with brown hair, her hairdo and clothing juuuuust like Stella’s! In season 8 the real Stella designed a dress after her mother’s gown out of love, but I think this Stella dresses like her mother because of pressure.  Also there’s nothing queenly about the queen. She’s wearing a business skirt and jacket, big chunky necklace, no crown.  Political royalty not magical royalty.  She gives Stella a kiss on the cheek and says, ‘You look stunning.” and Stella grins.

In the greenhouse Harvey, Terra and Sam hang out.  Where’s their mom? Harvey wears a wedding ring but no mom in sight.  Harvey is working on a special project, filling a vial with something.  Terra asks if she can help but Harvey says he’s got this.

Dane comes to see Terra.  Both her family members give Dane a serious Look.  Heh.

Terra: “Whilst I appreciate that it is the historical perspective of the patriarchy to save women from upsetting situations, I’ve got this.”

Props to Terra’s actress for delivering that in a not at all groan-y way. Every time this show tries to be woke it is groanworthy and awful and they should just not, but every time the actors pull it off.  

So Dane says “You didn’t answer my texts… you’ve been really great to me...” and Terra shuts him down!  “Yeah I have.  I’m a good person, Dane.  I think you are too, but I’m not really sure I care to find out.  Anymore.”  and leaves him with “A word of advice.  Be careful who you trust.”  

Sam: ‘Still kinda want to punch him.”  Heh.

Harvey gets a text and takes his project off to meet the queen.  When he’s gone Terra immediately goes to his workstation to check out what he’s up to.  

The queens party goes to Callan’s office, which is now Aisha’s office.  Aisha greets the queen, whose name is actually Luna!  And she knows Aisha’s name, but does not need any help.  The adults go into Dowling’s office to talk.  

Aisha accidentally knocks some papers off the desk then, grumpy at this spying job she’s taken on and isn’t having any luck with, slams a filing cabinet door.  And finds something.  A mechanical ring the size of a jewelry ring, stuck in between two parts of the filing cabinet.  Aisha thinks it’s part of the cabinet, but then it begins to whir and she hears voices.  It’s the receiver for a bug!  Callan bugged Dowling’s office and now Aisha can listen in on the adults!

Only she… hides the receiver back under the cabinet?  

The only thing she overheard was the fact that Callan is dead.  Seems that Dowling’s telling everyone he left for a family emergency. Aisha tells Bloom this and Bloom is even more keen to get at those old records, from before Dowling became headmistress.  Maybe they’re in the east wing, and everyone’s going to be at this mandatory assembly so now would be the perfect time!

Aisha says it’s a bad idea.  Bloom says it’s a better idea than getting stared at by everybody and “I can’t just sit and listen to people make stuff up about me.”  

WHAT are they making up?!  I wanna hear these rumors!

Anyway Aisha is finally convinced to cover for Bloom, say she was too sick to come to the assembly.  But for reasons of Plot Beatrix was right above them on the upper walkway so she knows where Bloom’s off to.

Gorgeous outdoor shot of the castle.  Pardon me while I look it up… it’s a stately home!  You can go there, they have a farmers market and everything!  Ok, mark that down on my travel list between my Lost Crown tour of Polperro and my Higurashi tour of the real Hinamizawa…

Whilst I dream of seagulls and cicadas, Bloom is back in the dark east wing past a keep-out looking for clues.  Sky catches her!

Beatrix is outside looking for Bloom.  Riven catches her.  She says, ‘mandatory assembly’s a mandatory ditch.”  they pass a keep-out sign on some big doors as rain begins to fall.

Mysterious big doors in the school!  Another Winx Club sort of thing here at Elemental Academy.

In the cafeteria benches have been put in for the assembly,  Lots of students chat and the adults talk together.  Outside the arched windows we see bright blue sky.  Are the windows enchanted?  That’d explain why I never know if it’s day or night around here!

Queen Luna walks in her heels on a sort of stage in front of the windows. She holds up her hand and snaps her fingers and the light in the room goes purple and the sunlight streaming in from outside dims as if dusk has fallen outside.

Stella, wearing a brighter pink coat and double star pin, sits in the very front between two of her mother’s bodyguards.  The pin could be just because of Stella’s name, but in Winx Solaria does have two suns.  I like this pin, for Escape to Witch Mountain reasons, so I looked it up.  Stella’s pin is gold but the silver version is… oh dear… three dollars on amazon!  Methinks this show spent its whole budget on the Irish castle!

Terra and Aisha admire the queen.  “Massively powerful fairy, zero ego, boss goals.  Bet it drives Stella crazy?”  Stella glances back. She can hear them.  

Musa and Sam are knee-nudging each other, it’s pretty cute.  They text with phones on laps, sam asking if Musa’s into all the sneaking around hiding their relationship from Terra.  He asks, ‘is it a kink?’ and Musa texts back, ‘Meet me after the assembly, you’ll find out.”  Tell me you two aren’t dumb enough to start Doing The Sex in the same suite Terra lives in too!  Maybe they’re just gonna hang out and make out.

Hilariously Queen Luna is saying, ‘I’m here to treat you like the adults you are” as these two plot that most teenage of plots, meeting up to have a good time!  Luna says she’s here to talk about the Burned Ones, it’s been years since one was sighted…

Terra nudges Musa.  “What’s Stella going through right now?  She’s miserable, right?”  Terra has noticed what I’ve been suspecting! Poor Musa, distracted from flirting with the cute guy, sighs a little and says a polite, ‘Please wait.’  

She turns her powers to read Stella’s emotions… but there’s interference.  Dowling is walking by and she’s using her mind powers as well!  Musa says, ‘This assembly isn’t just about the Burned Ones.  Something else is up.”  Harvey is standing in the audience and Dowling takes a position among the students also

Queen Luna is talking about, “...for decades, families and villages suddenly torn apart by one of these monsters that left our world in chaos...”

The teachers are here to scan for Callan’s killer, I assume.  Since it’s a mandatory assembly every student will be present… except for Bloom and Beatrix, who ditched!  Gee, I hope Beatrix doesn’t try to pin it on Bloom!  But how could she when Dowling can read minds?

Back with Bloom and Sky, Bloom says she was born in 2004—the year Winx Club was first broadcast, seventeen years ago!  Our beloved show, may it survive to see eighteen.  Bloom’s idea is to look for pregnant teen fairies in the class photos, and she has oddly specific details to look for: baggy clothes, girls holding books in front of bellies.

There’s some conversation about how Bloom is tired of being whispered about and wants to yell at people they’re all assholes, and Sky agrees that most people are but you have to find the good ones.

Then he finds a picture of adults.  His dad is in it, along with Rosalind, Dowling, Silva and Harvey.  Bloom says, “you look like him” although we don’t really get a good look Andreas at the photo.  Sky mimicks Silva’s accent, “And act like him, and maybe one day if I work hard enough I can be half the warrior he was.”  Heh.  Bloom also giggles at the accent.

Sky also said, ‘his commander was a woman” presumably Rosalind.  So Rosalind was a leader of soldiers.  Was she a fairy or a specialist?

Bloom asks if it’s weird that everyone knows his dad better than he did, and Sky says ‘Alfea’s been my home my entire life” so I guess he grew up here with Silva being much more father than mentor. Wonder what happened to Sky’s mom.  They’re having a nice moment and here come Riven and Beatrix to join the party!

Back in the assembly, Musa scans the adults.  Dowling and Silva are on edge, and Harvey is really scared.  Terra says her dad was making something with the crystals from the vessel, so he was putting crystals in a little vial.  A magic tracking device.  Now Dowling’s got it.

Queen Luna is saying, ‘conflict is now on the horizon!  We are tracking at least five Burned Ones throughout Solaria.  The threat is serious. And growing.”

Back in the vaults B says, “people who think history is rubbish are rubbish.  Don’t be rubbish”  Ah Beatrix, there’s the like 10% of your personality that I like!  Then she reverts to the other 90% and suggests Bloom and Sky were down here to have The Sex.  Riven says nah, Sky’s not that interesting.  Bloom, who heard all that, says ‘But we were alone and that was pleasant.”  Heh.

They find a locked door.  Sky says he can ask Silva what’s behind it but bloom wants to get through now.

Riven: ‘The more you say no the more she wants it.  Give in.”

Beatrix: “Do we need to have a talk about consent?”

The more this show throws woke verbiage into random conversations the less woke it looks. 9_9

Bloom sensibly: “Why are you guys down here, again?”

Anyway Beatrix says she’s on Bloom’s side, which I do not believe for a minute.  Bloom says no thanks, don’t need help from someone who posted a nasty video about terra, Beatrix says she was an innocent bystander which I do not believe for a minute, and says Bloom should be mad at riven for starting the Changeling rumors.  Bloom and Sky look at Riven.

Riven: “Not exactly the way I thought you’d screw me today, B.”

Sky if it’s true, Riven flees to escape a lecture from “Saint Sky” and Sky goes after him to deliver the lecture.

And he does, out in the rain.  Riven says he really likes Beatrix, that B is the only one who likes him the way he is.  That Sky thinks he’s better than riven.  And that Sky should maybe not be talking about bad life choices while he’s chasing Bloom while still having Stella.  Sky says that’s not what’s really going on and Riven says that’s what everyone else sees, including Stella.  And Riven says, ‘that’s probably why she told me Bloom was a changeling in the first place.”  And he walks off, leaving Sky in the rain with the knowledge that Stella is mean-girling Bloom.  Unsurprisingly.

Sky of Elemental Academy is having just as much trouble here as his animated counterpart keeps having with Diaspro!

Back inside the girls haven’t figured out what the adults are after. Terra finds it hard to believe they have “some big ulterior motive.” and Musa says, “people have more stuff going on than you’d think, especially parents.”  Heh.  Then she takes off for a snog session with Sam! Sam says he’s like to make their relationship public, but Musa likes the secrecy.  If everyone found out, she’d have to feel everyone’s reaction, ‘good bad, positive or negative.”  Sam says she has to feel it bu does she have to care?  And says being an empath seems to suck, which it sure does seem to!

Would “everybody” even care that they were dating?  I mean Terra would but at a school full of teenagers dating how many people would care?

I read a book… Burning Glass, about an empath so powerful that when a starving mob approached she let them in the gates because she forgot she wasn’t one of them, caught up in the mob’s need to get in to where the food was.  She didn’t just feel people’s emotions, she acted on them because she couldn’t tell which of the things she was feeling were coming in from outside.  I keep thinking the writers are trying to imagine Musa like that and failing completely.

Over in the east wing Beatrix guessed that it was Rosalind who left bloom in the human world and Bloom realized that Beatrix lied the night of the party about not knowing who Rosalind was.  B says Rosalind was “a fierce bitch.”  I’m still feeling this great big hole where someone should say “Rosalind destroyed the Burned Ones in the war with her great magic.” or something and nobody says it.  Bloom knows Rosalind was headmistress before Dowling and is dead, we viewers know Rosalind is not dead, did something important with the Burned Ones, and has an evil face.  I dunno, like the changeling thing it feels like there are these weird blanks in what the show is giving us.

Beatrix suggests Bloom light the locked door on fire as a way to get it open. She knows Bloom’s powerful enough.  Bloom says power is not the problem, lighting the whole school on fire is the problem.  Then sky texts and Bloom lies and says she’s not down here anymore which will definitely be back to bite her later.  She suggests she could “fry” the hinges off the door, but Beatrix has already picked the lock.

With a machine custom made for picking locks, not with bobby pins.

On the other side of the door they find… a war room.  A round sand pit that, when B enchants it, the sand lifts up to create a miniature of the school.  Beatrix calls it, “A place where dangerous, shady-ass people decide who lives and who dies.”

Dowling is giving Stella a magic lesson.  She creates an arc of colored light between her hands, mimicking the chains on her brooch.

Queen Luna is not impressed.  A little mini rainbow is not much of a display of power.  Luna and Dowling proceed to ignore Stella and talk over her head.  Luna sent Stella back to be “fixed”--the same word Stella used about bloom after she taught Bloom the way of the Sith—after the “incident with Ricki.”  Dowling says rehabilitating magic is a process and it takes time.  Luna: “would you like me to recite the list of threats we’re facing while you take time?”

Me! I would!  1)Burned Ones 2)???  And how much can one fairy do about them?

Stella tries to interrupt and Luna says, “Do not speak when I’m speaking.  Solaria is the strongest realm in the Otherworld, she is its heir, an extension of that strength.”  Stella protests that it’s working, she is getting stronger, and her mother just snaps at her not to speak again.

Stella says she blinded a Burned One and Dowling has her back, praising her for how skillfully she did it.

Queen Luna makes a full illusion, disappearing the room and leaving Stella in a VR forest.  With wind-howling sound effects, not sure how light did that!    Stella is terrified.

Queen Luna: ‘when you control light you control what people see.  And despite what anyone says matters in this world, appearance is everything.  You know that better than anyone, Farah.  Especially given my efforts to help you maintain them.”

Dowling just says they’ve both done a great deal to preserve Solaria’s reputation.  Hmm!  That’s interesting!  And she lets Stella go.

Outside the office, Aisha is working at her desk.  She asks Stella if she’s ok and Stella says of course she is, but Aisha’s using the listening device again!  She overhears Queen Luna basically threatening to have Dowling removed as headmistress!

Outside in the still cloudy day, Sky is taking his mood out on a punching bag.  He gets a text from Stella saying, “She’s a monster.” before Sky can go give her some much deserved sympathy Silva walks past demanding an update.  On what?

In the greenhouse Harvey is worried.  His magic bottle, which is very pretty, didn’t work.  Terra comes to ask if everything’s ok and he yells at her, then apologizes.  Terra turns to go then turns back and asks, ‘if there was something going on you would tell us wouldn’t you?”  and Harvey lies and says of course he would.

Aaaaaaaand now I’m looking up potion bottles on amazon wondering if this prop is also something I can have.  Not obviously.

Terra, Musa and Aisha are talking about it in the suite.  Aisha is sure the grownups are doing what they think is best.  Terra would rather just be told there’s a secret rather than be lied to.  But they do work it out.  The crystals read magic, there’s a dead person, the adults were looking for someone who kills by magic but didn’t find them.

Then Sky bursts in looking for Bloom.  The girls ask if Silva told him what’s up, but Sky is out of the loop.

Terra: “Dowling’s assistant died, the faculty think a fairy did it. They held the assembly to find out which fairy, but they didn’t because he or she wasn’t there, so now we don’t believe or trust literally anyone.”

Sky: “Shit.”

Sky, smart cookie that he is, realizes immediately that it’s Beatrix.

The murderess and Bloom are reading scrolls in the war room—in the DARK, everything’s shadowy how are they even reading?

In 2004 Rosalind was “leading the crusade against the Burned Ones” Beatrix says so finally there’s that laid out.

Bloom was born December 12 2004, just like the real Bloom.  Beatrix seems oddly interested in that fact.  I’m beginning to have a suspicion.

Bloom’s phone is blowing up with messages but she’s busy reading.  Beatrix stealth zaps bloom’s phone to break it so she doesn’t get Sky’s warning call.  

Rosalind was in a place called Aster Dell.  This also seems to interest Beatrix, who suggests they just go there right now.  She knows where it is, it’s not far.  Bloom has a rush of common sense to the head and hesitates to leave school with someone she barely knows but Beatrix points out that they’ve already broken into a secret war room and maybe now is not the time to stop before they get somewhere. Not completely without a point there, so Bloom agrees.

Sky finds Riven and demands the whereabouts of “The unstable sex addict who’s been leading you around by your dick.”  Pfft!  Also, not very understanding after Riven admitted he really does like Beatrix and feels accepted by her.  But Riven doesn’t know, anyway.

Stella bursts in, “I sent you twenty texts and you’re here looking for Bloom?”  And Riven gets to say, ‘Have fun with that!” as he escapes.  Sky blames Stella for starting the changeling thing, Stella says, “I didn’t want to hurt her.” which is not true.

Sky: “You say you don’t want to be like your mother but all I see is someone who treats others exactly the same way that Luna treats you.” And he says he’s done with this.

Harsh but true.

Beatrix stole a car.  Bloom is very impressed!  Heh.

The other three girls have had a rush of common sense to the head and gone to Dowling to tell her about Beatrix.  Dowling’s first response is to ask why Bloom was down there but Terra pulls out their deductions and says “can we please drop the bullshit?” and when her father tries to stop her she calls him out for putting them in danger by not telling them!  Go Terra!  Silva comes in to tell them someone knocked out one of the queen’s guards and stole an SUV.

Beatrix must be extremely badass to take out a bodyguard!  we’re only in episode 4 but I don’t think she’s planning on coming back to school after this.

Black SUV drives on a dirt road between trees.  I do love how there seem to be no other buildings and no paved roads in the Otherworld.  I guess I’ll take what worldbuilding I can get.

Bloom and Beatrix have arrived at an absolutely stunning location, a cliff over the sea.  Bloom wonders if this is the right place.  Isn’t Aster Dell supposed to be a town?  Then she realizes there are skulls at her feet among the heather.

But no time to ponder it, Beatrix is getting lightningy!  She throws lightning—shorting out an invisible barrier concealing ruins. Aster dell was a peaceful town until it was attacked by Burned Ones and “a military unit from Alfea” decided to go all scorched earth on the place and killed everybody.  Queen Luna set up the illusion to hide the ruins.  “Leader of our realm tried to cover up a war crime.’

Beatrix says this is where she was from, and where her family died.  Two days before Bloom’s birthday.  This is where Bloom is from.  Rosalind rescued Beatrix too, and gave her a memory of the Alfea adults destroying the town.  Rosalind was the only one of the adults with a conscience about killing innocent people.

Bloom protests, the adults are lying but they aren’t monsters.  I’m skeptical too, because us viewers know that Beatrix is Beatrix and has said all sorts of things. 

On the drive back Bloom asks Beatrix if she’s a changeling too, but no.  Rosalind left B with “a close friend” and Bloom in another world.  Bloom asks why Dowling would recruit her as a student after killing her family and Beatrix says she doesn’t think Dowling realizes yet what Bloom is, and Bloom shouldn’t tell her.

Bloom: “Which is exactly what you’d say if you were making this up.  To keep us from comparing notes.”  go Bloom!   Beatrix asks what she has to gain from making up a story about murderous teachers, and the two of them can work together to find out more.  Rosalind is alive and imprisoned at Alfea, and Beatrix came to break her out.

...for “him”?  Mysterious “him” not mentioned yet.  And where does the return of the Burned Ones fit in?  Hmm.  I admit my main reason for not believing Beatrix’s story is that it’s Beatrix telling it.

Also in these sorts of stories the birth parents are never dead.

But no time to ponder it, the teachers are here!  They stop the car, Dowling slaps some magical cuffs on Beatrix and Silva and Harvey grab Bloom.  They deliver her back to Alfea into a group hug from her suitemates.

The girls were worried that Bloom was off with a murderer but they heard that from the adults who Bloom just heard are liars and murderers themselves.  We know the adults are telling the truth about Callan but Bloom doesn’t.  Sky is there, also worried that she’d been kidnapped by Beatrix—but Silva calls him away.  Paranoia intensifies.

As they head for bed Terra rants about her dad lying to her and acting like it was for her own good.  Terra ends with, ‘you don’t lie to people.  Not if they matter.’

And Musa feels guilty and spills the beans about her and Sam!  It’s been weeks!  Terra bursts into giggles and hugs Musa and says Sam looks just like their dad and he went bald early.

Looking down from the walk they see the queen’s guards rolling Stella’s suitcases towards the door.  The one thing the two Stella’s have in common apparently is their love of lots of luggage!  Yep, Stella’s been moved out.

Stella is in the car.  Back home her mother will teach her.

Stella: “You could’ve let me say goodbye to my friends.”

Luna: ‘”They’re not your friends, Stella.”

Which, evil mum kinda right.  Apart from taking out a Burned One together, every interaction between Stella and the others has been nasty and catty and mostly Stella’s been avoiding them whenever possible. They aren’t friends.  They might be later, but they sure aren’t yet.

Beatrix has been thrown in a cell.

Silva locks the door—with Sky there watching, and I’m sure Silva’s trust in Sky will come back to bite him later.

Then interesting conversation.  Silva asked Sky to keep an eye on Bloom, and now he wants Sky to get all the details of what just happened out of bloom and report back.  Silva actually says the “a soldier’s job is to take orders” and “your loyalty is to me, no one else.” which, I like you Silva but that is the wrongest tack you could take right now!  Silva is very scared and it’s making him make bad choices.

Bloom has gone to Dowling’s office to ask what she did to Beatrix.  The cuffs were “runic limiters” which prevent a fairy from using magic.  Bloom says ‘They were barbaric” and “You tore her skin open.” which I guess the cuffs did kinda burrow into her skin.

Dowling is just worried if Bloom’s ok and then asks what they talked about. Bloom says it was just a joyride, she and Beatrix talked about clothes and boys.  Bloom leaves.

Dowling immediately phones up Bloom’s parents on Earth and says Bloom’s been having a bit of trouble and would they please report to her if Bloom says anything weird.

Sheesh. Could these otherwise smart, capable adults who have years of experience with teenagers be handling this any worse?

Well that was… something.  Terra is badass.  Stella’s mom is exactly like I expected her to be.  Beatrix spilled a lot of important Plot and I’m sure some of it was true and some of it wasn’t.

Next time on Elemental Academy!  Will the girls rescue Stella from evil mum?  Will Bloom bust Beatrix out of the dungeon?  Will Sky be forced to choose between his father figure and his crush?  Will Bloom’s parents accidentally betray her?  And what’s Riven gonna do now that his smoking and boinking buddy is under arrest?  Half the cast is being set up to make some really dumb life choices!  Tune in next time!

[allie1804-fan]

A Doorway is Opened (Chapter 2)

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 It was June 2020 and progress was being made with plans to re-open film production - Keanu would soon be heading back to Germany to continue shooting the Matrix 4.  With the lock-down restrictions on meeting friends lifting, Keanu invited Hannah to dinner at his house. He even cooked - a dish of spaghetti with prawns, fresh tomato and lemon that his sister had taught him.  This would be their first meeting in 2 months and their last in 2 months due to the shooting schedule.  

After dinner, they went through to his living room and sat on the sofa to talk through the latest draft of the script.

 “So, you’re glad I pushed you on this aren’t you? Gave you something to do in lock-down huh?”

 “Yeah OK you win”, she laughed. “I’m grateful to you for giving me the confidence to try”  

 She carried on:

 “You know these past couple of months I’ve felt like the clouds have lifted, the clouds of grief …. and I know that’s partly just time passing but it’s also thanks to you and your friendship” she spoke in an almost whisper.  When she met his gaze he was blushing again!

 “The screenplay gave me a real focus for the first time since Mark died you know other than helping the boys and just putting one foot in front of the other”

 He nodded his understanding

 “I kind of feel like a plant coming back to life after a long dark winter”

 He smiled to think he’d helped her to loosen grief’s grip on her soul.

 “I heard a theory about this before. They said that your grief is always the same, the same size and just as painful but your life grows around it and cushions the pain”

 Keanu nodded his agreement

 “For me” he said, “sometimes my grief bursts forth like an alien from my chest when I least expect it. I hope we find a way to express your concept in the movie when it’s made -  I love it so much. You have some beautiful ways of explaining grief”

 “Well like I said, that one’s not mine, it’s just one I found that really resonated with me”

 “You’re too modest”

 They looked at each other. Somehow, the atmosphere had changed with the sharing of such deep feelings. Keanu looked at her, soft brown eyes holding hers for a few moments longer than felt comfortable. Suddenly he shook his head as if a shiver went through him

 “Where are my manners, would you like some more wine”

 “I better not, I’m driving and I’ve already had one glass” she said.

 “You could always sleep over, in the spare room I mean, I mean I’m not hitting on you or anything, not that I wouldn’t want to, oh God! ……….”

 By this point, Hannah had started laughing at his befuddlement and he started to giggle as well.

 “Sorry for being such a dork – could you stay though?” he beseeched her with his eyes,  or do you need to be back for the kids?, I know I sound like I’m begging, I kind of am I guess ……….. it would just be nice to talk some more ………. I mean what with we me going away for 2 months, Facetime just isn’t the same!”

 Hannah took pity on him and placed her hand on top of his and stroked it softly

 “1 I don’t need to be back for the boys, they’re at their grandparents this week and so 2, yes I could sleep over and 3 yes please, more wine!”

 Keanu beamed and leapt up to fetch the bottle from the kitchen.

“What were we talking about before I started being a total dork?!

 Hannah chuckled “oh grief, death, our usual cheery stuff!”

 “Oh yes, of course we were, what else is there after all?!”

 A ghost of a smiled showed on Hannah’s face.

 “Do you mind telling me some more about Mark? How long were you together”

 “Wow, over 30 years   - we were just kids when we met, literally in elementary school. But we didn’t go out until I was 17, nearly 18. I guess I kind of stalked him until he caved in!  We knew we were in love about a month in I guess and we got engaged whilst at uni but married just after. I was 23 so we had been married 27 years when he died”

 “Wow you were so young to be getting married!”

 “I know right! - when I think Toby is already nearly that age, it freaks me out big time.  Anyway, I guess you almost know the rest, from the book. We were lucky in so many ways to find each other and stay in love throughout.

 A comfortable silence fell as she reflected and wondered about his romantic history. She hoped their current intimacy meant it would be OK to ask.

 “What about you? Who have been your big loves, if it’s OK to ask”

 “Sure – I mean I think I can be confident of not seeing any of this in next week’s National Enquirer! Let me see, errrrm  there was Penny. She drove with me from Toronto to LA when I left there to pursue my career.  It wasn’t exactly serious - she knew how focussed on my acting I was, but she was special, my first steady girlfriend I guess.”

Keanu then told her about a few other steady girlfriends in the 80’s and early 90s. None of them had lasted beyond a year. Film and promotional schedules often overtook his time and took him away from LA making it hard to sustain relationships.

 “And then there was Jennifer. We had a long distance thing largely as I was away filming the first Matrix not long after we hooked up. I think that added in my head to the romance of it all. Writing her letters on my little typewriter after long days on set, posting them from thousands of miles away. Once I got back to LA things felt less sure, she was never confident in us, always needing reassurance and I think she found the celebrity thing both exciting and overwhelming - like she was part way a fan, partly my lover, you know? Then she got pregnant and everything changed”

 “Oh so Jennifer was the mother of your baby, the one who died?”

 Hannah knew this one fact about him but had steered away from looking stuff up on-line about it. She counted him as a friend now so if anything was to be shared, it had to come from him.

 “Yeah, Ava’s mother. 19 years ago…….so much water under the bridge.”

 “Do you think about her often now?”

 “Who? Jen or Ava?”

 “Both I guess”

 “Yeah sometimes. You know in a sliding doors type way, especially at Christmas. That’s when we lost Ava. Christmas Eve 1999. What about you, do you think about your lost babies?”

 “Yes sometime of course …….  but I think it’s different for me. My lost babies paved the way for Josh. If they’d lived, he wouldn’t be here, so I don’t mourn them as maybe you mourn your daughter, do you see? Of course I do think of them and every Christmas we’d hang stars and angels on the tree for them. That’s how we remembered them and the pain of their loss.”

 Hannah was quiet for a few moments, remembering

 “Do you have a way, a ritual to remember Ava? Do you and your family do something to remember her?”

 “I guess they always just try to make sure I’m not alone at Christmas. That’s threatened to happen a couple of times and then Brenda or Janey or Alexandra have stepped in you know to rescue me! Stop me embodying my meme!”

 “Your meme?”

 You know, “Sad Keanu”?

 “That one must have passed me by! I’ll get the boys to explain to their boomer mom!”

 “I’m so glad you’re a boomer mum as you say and not all over it when it comes to press and internet stuff about me. It’s refreshing. Makes me feel I can be me without all that stuff informing who you think I am. Sometimes it gets in the way with new people, you know? I know I can be myself around my old old friends like Alex (he was in Bill and Ted) and Rob (he was in the band with me)

 “Wait you were in a band?”

 “Yes back in the 90s, Dogstar. Our folk thrash punk band”

 “Sounds interesting – I clearly wasn’t paying enough attention back in the 90s!”

 “Well we weren’t exactly topping the charts so that would probably explain it!”

 “Can I hear some of your stuff?”

 “Sure”

 Keanu fetched some cds and had a look through to pick a song, going for  “And I Pray”.

 “Gosh, a man of many talents” she praised “what did you play?”

 “the bass”

 “Cool”

 “wanna listen to some more music? I can hook up my phone to the speakers and we can play things on Spotify”.

 “Sure, so you’re au fait with all the new tech? I took me ages to get there and I still have loads of cds and vinyl”

 “me too   - believe me I’m generally way behind the curve with technology but my god-daughter and my kid sister both played a role in bringing me into the 21st century”

They spent the next couple of hours, huddled on the sofa, scrolling through music choices on his phone and sharing both his and her favourites as well as reminiscing about bands they’d grown up listening to and great concerts they’d been to.

 It was around 1am, with Pink Floyd’s “Wish You Were Here” softly playing that Hannah’s head lolled onto Keanu’s shoulder, the impact startling her back awake

 “sorry, sorry” she said embarrassed

 “hey no worries, you wanna go to bed now?” he asked

 “Yeah, as you saw, my eyes are closing” 

 “Come on, let’s get you set up in the guest room, I’ve got a spare t-shirt you can sleep in if you like and there’s a new toothbrush in the en-suite with your room.

 The room was a pretty one, perhaps decorated with his god-daughter in mind she thought. Once he’d shown her where things were and how to work the shower, Keanu bade her goodnight with a light kiss on her cheek. Despite being so tired, it took Hannah a good half hour to fall asleep. She touched the cheek where he’d kissed her and giggled inwardly at herself for feeling like a giddy teenager. In the past 2 months, she’d recognised her growing fondness for Keanu, putting it down to a mix of absence making the heart grow fonder and the Covid crisis making her susceptible. She’d found him very attractive way before she met him but she certainly hadn’t expected that he would reciprocate those nascent feelings. Tonight his lingering gaze as they talked about grief, his befuddlement trying to get her to stay and his soft goodnight kiss all made her wonder and maybe even hope. Tomorrow was another day.

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[advicewithkali]

Mistake, Maybe (Chapter One Draft)

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“What’s up guys, today we’re visiting Woodhils University to surprise a girl name Aubrey and her friend, who say they’re my biggest fans!” David sayid as he yelled into the camera.

He then turns his camera off and holds it in his left hand.

“David, how big of a fan are we exactly talking?” Jason inquires while chewing on green mint-flavored gum.

“I have to show you guys the video she sent me on twitter, I think she’s literarily my biggest fan. Check it out!” He said as he rummages through the slender small pocket of his black jean.

“You too, Jeff! You’re not going to believe this!” He yelled excitedly.

Jeff trudged over to the duo reluctantly, not really interested in the video David was about to show them or the visiting the university at all. David then pulled out his phone and opened the Twitter app, immediately going to his DMs. He scrolled through the messages for a second, before he landed on the video.

“Are you guys ready for this, it’s literally insane.” He said with pure excitement in his voice.

“David, come on just play it already,” Jason responded.

“Okay, okay, give me a sec.” He said as he turned his phone horizontally so that all three of them could see the video clearly. David then clicked on the video and let it play.

“My name is Aubrey and uh-sorry I’m a little nervous and excited uh.” She said as she began to fidget on her wooden chair. “Oh, my God David! Please, please, please come visit my school! I’m literally your biggest fan.” She abruptly blurted out quickly and loudly.

“She really is!” A female voice yelled in the background before quickly coming into the view of the camera.

“She’s literally obsessed with you, David. It’s bad. It’s so bad that we even have a “David Jar” in our dorm room. Anytime she mentions your name- mind you which is like every other sentence she has to put a dol- “She said before her explanation was interrupted by a slim hand muffling her speech.

“Sophie, shut up! Don’t say all of that shit. He’ll think I’m crazy! I’m trying to get him to visit us not run away, stupid!” Audrey yelled in slight frustration.

“Heh, sorry David uh, sometimes Sophie just says too much. Ha, you guys know how it is.” She said slightly nervous again as muffled noises began to come out from behind Audrey's hand.

“But anyway, David if you would come to visit me-us at Woodhill University dorm room 274 I would literally die, well no- but yes, okay gotta go bye!” She said yelled slightly frazzled and waved bye to the camera, along with a still muffled Sophie.

As the screen faded black, David turned around to face Jason and Jeff. “Can you guys believe that shit?” David asked still feeling ecstatic.

“David, I then she might be a little- off.” Jason trailed off and stopped chewing his gum.

“Ugh, Jason. Jeff please, please say you’re siding with me on this.” He said looking towards Jeff.

“Hell no, David. I’m siding with Jason on this one. You go there and you’re dead.” He said not sounding entertained with this idea.

“Well, if the two and the rest of the guys go, then I won’t be alone, no chance. Besides this will make some sick vlog footage! Jason told me it wouldn’t!” He said trying to convince them.

“It would but not if our lives at risk, David,” Jason said sounding slightly worried. “It’ll be fine. We’ll call up everyone and we’ll be all set. Nothing’s going to happen, Jason.”

Jason let out a deep sigh, “Alight, David. Let’s do this.

“Yes!” David said sounding thrilled. “What about you Jeff?” David said looking in his diffraction once again.

“I’m gonna pass. I don’t want to get murdered or risk going to prison again.” He said as he started to walk away.

“Wait, Jeff! If you don’t go how will you ever get that girlfriend, you said you wanted.” David said knowing that he had reeled Jeff back into his plan.

Jeff stopped abruptly in his steps, regretting a few months ago when he told the whole squad that he had been looking to find a serious relationship because now it was backfiring on him.

“Come on Jeff, at least one of those girls had to be your type!” Jason teased as he continued to chew the gum in his mouth.

Jeff smirks small as he turns around quickly, “Really, Jason? I pegged them more of your type don’t you like them young.” Jeff said as he was alluding to his tumultuous relationship with notorious Youtuber Trisha Paytas. They were twelve years apart.

“What?!” Jason yelled trying to act as if he didn’t know what Jeff was referring too. “That’s what you’re going to do old man? Act like you have no clue what or WHO I’m referring too.” He said as he chuckled.

“Of course, I do! I just don’t want to think about the past at all.” Jason said as he tried to make up an excuse.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Tell the truth Jase, is it because you don’t want Tris- “He said before he was cut off by a series of objections coming from Jason.

“No, no, no! Don’t say that name! I don’t want any more drama!” He pleaded. Jason, then took his eyes off of Jeff and glanced to his right and saw that David was filming their whole conversation.

“No, David! Do not put that in! Delete it!” He screamed as he waved his hands in front of the camera trying to block it from recording any further.

David just giggled as he blocked all of Jason’s attempts to shield his camera. “Are you kidding that clip was too good not to put in! Think of the views Jason, the views!” He said jokingly.

“David, no. I’m going through this all over again with her, I’m begging you not to put that clip in.” Jason said feeling exhausted.

David stopped moving and lowered his camera as he pondered for a bit. A few moments later, he began to speak, “How about this?” He said with a smirked.

Jason, looked into David’s brown eyes, “Really, you’re betting on my life right now.” He said knowing too well that, that statement followed by that smirk never meant a good thing. Jason knew from the past that meant that David was thinking, plotting really, and it sucked to be on the other end.

Jason let out a slow sigh, “What is it?” He spoke in a defeated manner.

“Nothing, much. It’s nothing much just two small things.” He said.

Jason gave him a look of disbelief knowing that when David meant small, he really meant large and at times very extreme.

Jeff moved closer to the duo as he began to take interest in something regarding the vlog for the first time today.

“The first part includes Zane- “

“Oh God, I’m screwed!” Jason shouted out.

Jeff’s left eyebrow raised as he took more interest in the situation unfolding before him.

David laughed as he continued to speak, “So Zane has to come out of this party without hurting himself, breaking anything, or hurting someone else.” He said.

“I’m doomed,” Jason said weakly.

Jeff chuckled as Jason began to panic waiting for David to announce the second part to his “wicked” plan.

“The second part involves Jeff,” David said laughing harder as he observed Jeff’s facial expression.

“Me? Why the hell am I involved in this!?” He questioned loudly.

“I’m glad you asked Jeff, because if you don’t find a genuine connection with a girl tonight then I guess Jason will be on Drama alert this week.

“Yeah, and how are you going to be able to tell if I made a genuine connection or not? You gonna stalk me like your little super fan?” He said in a brazen tone.

“Ha, no. I’ll ask you some questions, see if they add up and if they don’t well… It’s Killer Keemstar for Jason.” He said as he tried to imitate Keemstar.

“Wow, David. You’re crazier than I thought. You sure you aren’t part of the Slovakian mob or something?” Jeff asked.

“Nope, just doing it for some content.” He said casually.

“Jeff please tell me you got this. Please.” Jason begged again. “What am I saying, of course, you do. Look at you, the real problem is Zane. I’ve got to call him!”

“Don’t worry Jason, I’ve got your back.” He said but for the first time in years, he wasn’t confident about the words that came out of his mouth. After all, it had been so long since he’s made a genuine connection with anyone, let alone a girl. He’s a thirty-year-old man, with a lonely apartment, a dog, and a group of wilds friends, could he really get real and open with someone at this point in his life? Let alone in one night?

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“What’s up guys, so the squad and I are right outside of Aubrey’s door and we’re about to knock.” He whispered slightly as he filmed the members of the vlog quad, which insisted on Zane, Heath, Mariah, Jason, Erin, Carly, Toddy, Jason, Jonah, and Jeff. Then turned the camera back on the door room, 247.

David smiled brightly as he began to knock on the door. The door instantly and swung open, slamming into the bedroom wall. The squad was greeted with the sounds of loud squeals and jumping up and down coming to a brown skin girl with dark brown long hair and a slim thick body and a bright smile from an olive-colored girl with long black hair, dark brown eyes, and freckles.

“You must be Aubrey, right?’ David said with his well-known smile. “Yes. Yes! That’s me!” She said as she switched from jumping up and down to bouncing on the heels of her feet.

“Can I- Can I hug you, David?” She asked.

“Of course!” He yelled as he pulled her in for a hug. The pair hugged for a few moments before David pulled away.

“And you must me Sophie?” He asked.

“It’s Sophia actually everyone usually calls me Sophie or Soph. I really don’t care which one you call me by I’ll still respond.” She said chucking.

“I think you guys should come in before Audrey explodes. Plus, it’s Taco and Tequila Tuesdays and you don’t want to be outside for that.” She warned.

“Mhm, that sounds so good right now!” Zane yelled from the back of the group.

“Zane!” Jason grumbled under his voice as he elbowed Zane on the left side of his ribcage.

“Right, right. I forgot.” He responded back as he retreated slightly from the conversation.

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Jeff’s P.O.V

David was the first one to walk in the dorm room. Followed by everyone else. I was hesitant to walk in. I can’t really say I feel comfortable being on a college campus filled with people- kids about a decade my senior. And David really expects me to find a genuine connection with one of them. He’s clearly lost his mind.

As I walked into the cramped and small room, I noticed how differently each side was decorated. On the right was a very bright, pink, and girly side, it had to be Aubrey’s side of the room. It was pretty much like any other college dorm you’d see. While the other side was decorated in an alternative way. It was darker and had stacks of books, CDs and records, and band posters. I wonder who’s side it was. Not, Sophia’s. It doesn’t seem to match her personality.

I continued to analyze the room as everyone gathered around Aubrey’s bed. I then spotted a small shuffle out of the side of my left eye. I looked closer and saw that it was a girl. She was stunning. She had the most beautiful smooth brown skin and pillow-soft curls. I continued to stare in her direction as I observed her reading a book.

I guess I stared too long because she looked up in my direction before quickly turning away, huddling down in her book further. I was taken back slightly; I had never had that reaction before from someone. I guess she was just shy. I didn’t really know but I wanted too.

I kept looking in her direction a few moments longer, hoping she would look up at me again. Unfortunately, it didn’t happen as I was knocked out of my trance by Toddy when he elbowed me in my right ribcage.

“Dude, you alright? You zoned out for a while there.” He questioned. “Yeah…. I’m fine.” I said back, still not fully paying attention to him.

“Well then come on, Audrey’s about to answer some questions and prove that she’s David’s number one fan!” He yelled at the top of his lungs. Before he could move, he glances back at the girl in the corner and saw her twitch slightly and move closer into the corner as she turned her back towards him.

With that, I finally joined the rest of my friends. I didn’t sit.  I told everyone that I felt better standing but in reality, I was uncomfortable being in this room. Not only was it a room for college kids but something was very off about the vibes in this room.

I left my train of thought to try and pay attention to what was going on before me. I tried my hardest to be entertaining and put on the “Jeff character” but I was so distracted by the girl in the corner. Every second I spent in this room I just wanted to turn my head and peek over at her even if it was for just a second.

“Okay, okay! Next question, “What sport did members of the vlog squad play that eventually lead to a kiss between Heath and me? I heard David ask.

“No way she’s going to get this one!” I heard Heath scream.

“Baby, it’s a wrap you ain’t getting this one!” Zane yelled in agreement.

“If she gets this one, I’m done I’m just- I can’t!” Toddy yelled right beside me.

I then looked up at Aubrey and saw a look of determination on her face followed a smirk and small glimmer of some something I couldn’t put my finger on, in her eyes.

“Beer Bottle Frisbee.” She said with all the confidence in her voice. Her answer was met with extremely loud cheers. As everyone was distracted, I turned my head quickly in the direction the mysterious girl was sitting and saw her getting up. I immediately turned my head back around, this time looking down in hopes of seeing where she was off too.

To my surprise, she ended up leaving without anyone noticing. While everyone was still cheering, I took this as an opportunity to go speak to her. I waited a few seconds before I slipped out of the room quietly and followed the direction, I saw her go in.

As I walked down the hallway, I saw piles of garbage, toilet paper streamers, and drunk guys getting loud in the hallway. This gave me even more of an incentive to find this girl. She doesn’t seem like the type to be safe in this environment.

I followed her for what seemed like an hour. I made sure to keep my distance. I didn’t want her to know that I was following her. I guess I could throw that thought right out the window because this is when she completely stopped walking.

“P-please stop following me.” She said with her back still turned to me.

I just continued to stare at her for a second before I spoke, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I just wanted to talk to you.” I said, trying to find the right words to say to her. For some reason, my confidence with this girl was swaying.

“Why?” She mumbled lowly.

I walked closer to her until I was a few inches away from her.

“I can’t really come up with an excuse right now. There really shouldn’t be an excuse to talk to a pretty girl, so I won’t say one. I’ll tell the truth. There’s- there’s something about you something different that drew me into you and I just wanted to get to know you.” I said as I smiled.

“I’m Jeff,” I said as I held my hand out and continued to smile.

She turned around fully after I said my name. I could’ve sworn I stopped breathing for a second as I took in her full appearance. I felt wrong in away because I knew she was too young, but I pushed those thoughts aside because this opportunity was too perfect to miss.

I continued to hold out my hand and smile but her facial expression never changed, and she never made and moves to shake my hand. I looked at trying to predict what she would do. She then began to shuffle on her feet and moved her arms to wrap around her body.

“I know.” She whispered lowly. I wasn’t quite sure how to react to her reactions. She seemed so scared and guarded.

“Uh, so you watch the vlogs then?” I asked trying to then of something to get relive some of the awkwardness.

“Um, yeah sometimes. Mostly when I have free time form classes and studying.” She said with a little more pep as she looked up at me.

I smiled small. She finally said something more than one word.

“Not like your roommate, right?” I said as I chuckled lightly. Her face faltered at the mention of her roommate.

“No.” She said quietly again.

“So, I didn’t get your name,” I said.

“It’s ah Kamora. Kamora Maxwell.” She said facing me again with those big brown eyes. Even her name matched her.

“Everyone usually goes crazy for David and the vlog squad and you left? Not your type of YouTubers?” I asked trying to get her to speak more and refraining from personal or sensitive topics.

“Um, I’m just not much of a social person. And I do like you- um you guys but I like to see you guys as normal individuals. I don’t want to separate the human qualities from you guys just because you well know.” She said.

She’s attractive and smart, the full package.

“Believe it or not, I’m not social either,” I said being completely honest.

She looked at me intrigued.

“Yeah from the vlogs and my channel I look like this super social guy, but I hate it. I like to be independent and do my own thing. Don’t get me wrong I like my group of friends but sometimes I just need to retreat to my cave and recharge.” I said just blurting out how I felt. For some reason, I felt completely safe confiding in her.

She nodded her head in agreeance with me.

“So where are you from? You kind of have an accent but I can’t pinpoint it.” I said.

“I’m from New York City, actually.” She said.

“You’re lying!” I shouted getting a bit excited. She shook her no.

“What part?” I asked, knowing it wasn’t Staten Island.

“The Bronx.” She responded back.

“The Bronx, huh? I know a couple people up that way. They’re cool guys. I outta visit them when I head back home again.” I said reminiscing slightly.

“Since you watch the vlogs then you probably know that I’m from Staten Island- “

“The Forgotten Island,” We said in unison.

I chuckled at that and smiled at her.

We stood in silence for a few moments before I began to speak again. “It’s funny how we both ended up moving from one side of the country to the other. It’s crazy to think about how bad my life was going. The decisions and the people I were hanging out with put me right in prison. But, I’m so glad I was given another chance at life and I’m finally able to live a decent life.” I said as I opened up to her.

“For some reason, I feel like you weren’t like me. You needed up her for some reason and I-“I said before she interrupted me.

“I- I’m sorry. I-I can’t do this!” She yelled as she took a few tentative steps back before bolting past me.

I stood there in shock for a few moments. What did she mean that she “couldn’t do this”? Did she mean socializing in general or just talking to me? Was it something I said? I didn’t really know what to say or do at this moment all I knew was I had to find her and I had to make things okay.

[kusunogatari]

[ ObiRyū October | Day One | Shining Armor ] [ @abyssaldespair ] [ Uchiha Obito, Suigin Ryū ] [ Verse: Best Years of Your Life ]

[ Previous || Next ]

It all comes down to this.

Checking and double checking his gear, Obito can’t help a worried sigh. For weeks he’s been considering giving a new hobby a try, and even before then he’d started saving for something to do. He stumbled across a possible activity completely by accident when making a detour home one day from work. In a park he’d never visited was a group of twenty or so people - adults, mind you - doing what looked to be some kind of...really involved make-believe.

A little research revealed it to be called LARPing. Live-action roleplaying. Like taking one of his favorite fantasy videogames or a tabletop campaign, and making it as close to real as one can really get: literally acting it out, in real time, with real people. Dressed up as their characters and everything!

He was hooked.

Hours of research later, he’d gotten started: crafting his outfit, weapons, supplies, and a character to play. A barbarian warrior...something he thought suited his build, and his appearance.

No real need to explain his scars, that way.

It took a while to build up the nerve, but he finally approached one day and asked about how to join. Most events were just day-long ones as opposed to full weekends, he’d learned. And an entry fee helped cover a few costs like extra props, costumes, and even food for the players over the course of the day. Fifty bucks and he could hop in.

He hadn’t done so right away, still fiddling with all the details of his character. He wanted it to be perfect…! But eventually there was nothing left to procrastinate, so...he packed up his gear and headed out.

And now here he is, standing with a few other newcomers. Thankfully his underclothes were normal enough to walk here in, and he starts strapping on armor he’d made. It’s nothing too fancy, but he managed to get some metallic paint to make it look like real steel. Overall, for his first go of it? He’d say he’s done well. There will always be time to improve as he goes, right?

It’s a high fantasy setting, as he’s learned. Elves, magic, that sort of stuff. Pretty typical, as far as he’s read. And while he’s set to be a moldable, playable character, so too are there those who play more static roles for the players to interact with...as well as those helping to craft the stories. Each only takes six to eight hours, as not to drag on past each day gathering. But some end up interconnected. Today, it seems, given all the new faces, they’re starting a new event.

The main coordinator and storyteller gathers the characters together to give a brief overview, as well as introduce the NPCs before they start. But once it begins, there’s no breaking character. Hours of being someone else for a day - no longer is he Obito, but Garver the Crushing, complete with a mace and shield he found tutorials for online.

With the plot set, everyone disperses, taking their places and readying for the game to begin. Obito, along with a few others, start by browsing the “town” to gather supplies for an upcoming battle set to take place. His character doesn’t know any magic...but he can certainly use things like throwable weapons, and potions to ensure he doesn’t get taken down too easily.

But the NPC selling potions is swarmed first, so he idles around for a bit, browsing a selection of weapons available for gold...or in this case, real-world quarters used in place of anything too fancy. In the end he picks up a dagger, not wanting to eat into his character’s savings too much.

He then finds the potion “shop” empty of other patrons, and shyly makes his way forward.

Right away he can tell, this one’s a pro. Not only does she have a good array of props, but her outfit looks entirely legit. Within an actual period-appropriate tent are few shelves, complete with a banner: White Dragon Remedies, it proclaims. Bottles filled with shimmering liquid are made of a squishy, clear material to prevent any breaks. She also has some “enchanted” clothing: more glittering fabric to indicate their magical properties.

Turning to face him, she reveals more of her outfit. While her actual dress is a rather plain dark grey, it’s her cloak that makes his jaw drop comically. White with silver embroidery work, it’s a piece of art in and of itself. It sweeps the grass, a wide hood draped over her head, still revealing her fake (but very convincing) elven ears.

Her eyes are a light grey, almost white to match her colorless locks. Even her brows and lashes are white! He wonders if it’s makeup and a wig, or if this is how she actually looks.

“Greetings, traveler,” she offers with a smile that makes his chest clench. “Are you in need of my brews…? Or perhaps something laced with magic to protect you?”

Still a bit shell shocked, Obito flounders for a moment like a fish out of water. Clearly she’s a long-standing player to be this prepared and decked out. “Uh, I...y-yeah. Um…”

As he stutters, she can’t help a glint of amusement in her eyes he’s pretty sure isn’t in-character - she’s actually having to hold back a laugh, he can tell. “I have a wide variety of wares,” she offers, clearly trying to help him regain his head. “Potions of healing, articles of protection, and even scrolls of contained spells for those unable to cast enchantments themselves. All highly valuable on the battlefield for a warrior such as yourself. Is there anything specific you’re looking for…?”

Trying to delve back into his character, Obito looks around. What would Garver like to take with him…? “I’ll take healing potions, at any rate. What do they cost?”

“I’ve one that can heal a minor wound, and one for a more...serious injury. The former is ten gold, and the latter twenty.”

Ooh, he...won’t be able to get too many. His ears turn red in embarrassment at his both in- and out-of-character poverty. Weighing his coin pouch, teeth nibble the scar along his lip in thought.

“I also have garments that help reduce damage taken. More costly, but also more effective over time. You’ll need fewer potions for as long as you have it, my lord.”

“Oh, I’m no lord,” Obito quickly refutes. Garver is a simple mercenary, after all.

“Any patron of mine receives my respect,” is her polite rebuke. Reaching for a verdant scarf, she holds it aloft for him to look at. “This will halve any damage you take. A robust enchantment indeed.”

Something about it catches his eye. “...and the cost?”

“Fifty gold is all. And, since you’re a new face in town, I’ll throw in a lesser potion of health for good measure, no extra charge.”

“But -?”

“Dark times lie ahead, traveler. We must all be cautious. And you’ll need to survive them to visit me again when you’ve more coin to spend, hm?” She winks an eye, and his chest flutters again. “Consider it an investment in your well-being. And perhaps mine, if you ever return.”

Blinking at her, Obito then looks down at the scarf. It does sound like a pretty good deal… “...I’ll take it.”

“Excellent!” Folding the scarf as he counts out his quarters, she fetches one of the blue sparkling potions. “I wish you luck, traveler. May fortunate winds blow at your back.”

“A-and you,” he stutters in reply. “...thank you.”

“Save your thanks for when that scarf saves your life, stranger.”

“...Garver.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“I - my name, it...it’s Garver.”

Her expression brightens. “Ah! A pleasure, lord Garver. I am Wyria of the White Dragon. I hope our paths will cross again sometime.”

Not sure how to reply, Obito just gives a sheepish nod before retreating. Nearby, another male player seems to evaluate his gear.

“Well met,” he offers, nodding to Obito in greeting.

“Hello.”

“Been to stock up on potions, have you?”

“Er...yeah. Yes. I...can’t afford much.”

“A mercenary’s life is spent in constant search of coin, eh? You must spend it to make it.”

The corner of Obito’s mouth twitches. This interaction seems a lot...easier. “True enough. Though just once I’d like to get ahead.”

“All it takes is one lucky break! And just one unlucky one to have it all come to a screeching halt. We walk a blade’s edge, my friend.” Holding out a hand, he offers, “Irkvar.”

“Garver,” Obito replies, shaking it.

“So...what think you of the potion seller?”

“What do I...think?”

The other man grins. “A beauty, isn’t she? Not often you see elves this far north. They seem to prefer the warmer climates. But she keeps us all stocked and alive.”

Before he can stop it, Obito’s brow furrows. “...seems we’re lucky to have her, then.”

“Indeed.” Glancing around, the man then leans in and whispers, breaking character for a moment. “She’s a professional cosplayer. Goes to cons and makes big bucks with photos and shit. She’s huge on Instagram, too. All-natural hottie - no wig or anything, that’s just how she looks. Makes her super popular if the cosplay fits well. Wouldn’t mind getting to know her better but she tends to ghost once the events are done.”

At the rather...objectifying language, Obito scowls. “Can’t imagine why,” he mutters sarcastically.

But his tone seems lost on his companion, who then slides back into character. Yet even as the idle speech drags on, Obito can’t help but remain annoyed with the guy.

What an ass.

Once the prologue is completed and the characters found to be ready for the next phase, Obito manages to evade his new “friend” and immerse himself more into the story. The city has received word of an impending attack...and he has a choice to make. Stay and fight for the city, and receive less gold...or betray them and join the attacking force, which has more gold to spare.

Thinking of the goods he could acquire with some extra spending money, Obito nonetheless finds himself tugged toward the moral high ground. So after some debate, he decides to remain in the city. A few more darker-aligned characters actually swap, and he finds himself preparing to face them.

It’s them, or him.

Hours pass as skirmishes start and stop. Strategies are laid out, twists in the story guided by the NPCs. Obito, scarf around his neck, manages to keep his character alive, relying on his single potion as the battle seems to wane.

But then the boss appears...and he realizes he’s made a grave mistake. There’s no way he’s going to make it with no more potions! He could do the cowardly thing and run, but -?

“I cast Wall of Spectral Light!”

Jolting, he turns to see the potion seller. A hard glint is in her eyes, staring at the boss with a snarl.

Seems she’s decided to work to protect her home.

The narrator calls out the spell’s effects, proclaiming that her actions help protect a section of the defending army...including Obito. No damage is taken, but the barrier can only repel so much damage. From a belt at her waist, she begins tossing extra potions to the players.

“I’ve no gold,” Obito replies.

“We’ll settle any debts later, should we live through this,” she replies, looking to him gravely.

For a moment, Obito forgets this is all a game. He meets her desperate gaze with one of his own, and there’s a sort of...spark.

But they don’t have much time to chat.

The battle rages on, player characters calling out spells as Wyria and other NPCs lend scripted hands. And just as the sun starts setting, someone lands the final blow...and the boss collapses, dead.

A chorus of triumphant cries echo out over the park, and characters celebrate, embracing and beating chests. Obito sags in relief. In truth...he’s exhausted. More so than a day at work!

And as the cheering goes on, it’s joined by children who had stopped to watch, Obito sheepishly waving to them and earning more excitement. Seems they’re convinced this is all real: the joys of childish imagination.

Looking just as tired as the rest of them, the NPCs offer their congratulations to their heroes. And Wyria greets Obito, much to his surprise.

“So, seems that scarf served you well, Garver,” she offers with a wry grin. “I think you can properly thank me, now.”

“It did...as did your potions. I owe you more than just gold - I owe you my life.”

“You and a few others,” she replies cheekily. “But all debts will be settled in time. I’m sure  I have a job or two you can do for me sometime.”

Grinning tiredly, Obito watches her for a moment before everyone is gathered for a final celebration in the town. As it begins to wind down, the storyteller declares the event over, and everyone is allowed to break character at last.

Sighing in relief - yet wholly satisfied with his Saturday - Obito glances around. It’s then he realizes he didn’t see Wyria in the party, and indeed she’s instead been packing up.

Seems the man from before is right - she doesn’t waste any time. It wilts his expression, as he’s pretty sure he understands why. Keeping his helmet tucked under his arm, he sheepishly approaches. “...need any help?”

At his voice, she spins around, eyes wide, still dressed in her attire. But she softens as she recognizes him. “Ah, sorry...I thought you were, uh...nevermind.”

“I think I know who you mean,” Obito assures her. “So I thought I’d lend a hand, if...you want it.”

“That would be wonderful, thank you.”

They finish dismantling her setup, which Obito compliments. “This must’ve taken a lot of time.”

“And money,” she assures him dryly. “But...I love it. It’s been worth every dollar and hour. I love acting and dressing up, so...it only makes sense. I was one of the people who helped set up the LARP group here.”

“Really?”

“Mhm! Right out of high school. It was really small and...cheap at first. But we’ve grown a lot over the years. We even put on shows for schools sometimes. Which helps earn more money to keep the group going.”

“That’s awesome!”

“Maybe you’ll join us for one?”

“Eh…” At that, he hesitates. “...maybe. I’m still, uh...new. And…” He gestures to his face, wilting. “...not sure I’d be good around kids.”

“They seemed to love it before. And they’ll just believe it’s part of your character. Are…?” It’s her turn to pause. “So...those are real?”

“Yeah.”

“Me too. The hair and stuff, I mean.” Her eyes roll. “Used to get me bullied, but I do pretty well thanks to it now.”

“Someone mentioned you cosplay professionally…?”

“Mhm. It’s not a full gig, I still work. But it helps. And it’s a lot of fun, when...people aren’t being jerks.”

Obito sours. “Yeah...I caught a whiff of that earlier. I’m sorry.”

“It comes with the territory. Just...wish that it didn’t.” After a pause, a box of stuff in her arms, she offers, “I...just realized I never introduced myself! My...real self, that is. I’m Ryū.”

“Obito.”

“Nice to meet you. And thanks for the help.”

Helping her load the last boxes into her car, Obito can’t help but ask, “So...do you always play an NPC?”

“I do. As much as a character is fun, I enjoy being part of the structure. And since I’m one of the founders, I feel more...set in stone that way. I play Wyria every time. So I’m almost like a playable character, just...set to a script. I’m the same person for every story, but I enjoy it a lot. I feel like a piece of the foundation that way.”

“I think I understand.”

Closing the car door, she gives him another look. “Thanks for helping me pack up. And…” She glances past him for a moment, and his head tilts. “...for helping ward anyone else off.”

Obito nearly turns to look, but brightens in understanding. “...oh! Yeah, sure. Any time.”

“So, will you be back next weekend?”

“Er...maybe.” He itches his neck guiltily. “The, uh...ticket price is a little steep for me.”

“Yeah, it can be. Very few people come every week. Mostly it’s every other, or once a month. It keeps the group fluid, though. A different pool every time.” Ryū gives a smile. “But it’ll be cool to see you again. You did really well for a first timer!”

Obito feels himself get warm at the compliment. “Y-yeah?”

She nods. “Did you do any theater in high school?”

“A little, yeah.”

“That helps. And it only gets easier the more you do it. I’m sure Garver will be a staple pretty soon. And Wyria will always be happy to sell him some potions...for the right price.”

Smiling bashfully, Obito then stiffens. “Oh -!” He reaches up and takes off the scarf. “Here, I -”

“No, that’s yours.”

“...but -?”

“You bought it in-game, so it belongs to Garver.” She waves a hand. “I get material and stuff pretty cheap, don’t worry about it. And players trade things back in for upgraded stuff, so it usually cycles back. Just don’t lose it, okay?”

“Oh...well, thanks.”

She just smiles in reply. “Well, I guess I’ll see you whenever you can make it back in! Take care, Obito.”

“Yeah, you too.” He steps aside, letting her pull away from the park’s lot in the dusk of evening.

He needs to get home, too...it’ll be dark by the time he gets back. Stripping off his gear and putting it back into his duffle bag, Obito smiles to himself. It was a really good day…! Better than he’d feared. And maybe he’s even making a new friend, both in and out of character. Sadly his low wages mean it might be a while before he can come back, but...well, it’ll be worth the wait.

Replaying it all in his mind, he starts back toward home, unable to help but linger on the scenes with Garver and Wyria. Partly he feels bad - he doesn’t want to be like Irkvar. But, well...her character is interesting! And Garver just...enjoyed her. That’s all.

...that’s all.

     Aw yisss, we’re back with another ObiRyū October, y’all! And the first piece is set in a modern verse with some LARPing, cuz...Obito is a canon professional LARPer, after all xD And the prompt just fit too well, I couldn’t not do it lol      I have a few buffer days built up JUST in case I fall behind (as I...always do), but I’ll still be writing to try and keep up. Otherwise, as per usual, I’ll be doing my best to post once a day through the whole month in celebration of my OTP!       So on that note...I better start working on more xD Thanks for reading!

[ziracona]

How many people were tested just for others anyway? Gordon's wife and daughter, Daniel (the wiki says it was also for shoplifting but he was 16 so I call bs), literally everyone except Lynn and her husband in Saw III, and my memory past 3 is fuzzy but that one lying author's wife comes straight to mind. They weren't being tested for whatever John pretended his survival of the fittest policy was they were terrorized tortured and/or killed for basically nothing but the pain of the target.

Anon you’re so valid TuT 

ITS TRUE AND WE SHOULD ALL SAY IT!!! Also, I wrote this little part last, bc I just wanted to give fair warning that I went blind into a rage and wrote threethousand words about how much I hate John Kramer, full of very terrible language and spoilers for Saw 1-6, because I go that fucking feral at the sound of his name, and I can’t make everyone scroll past that so I’m putting most of it under the cut, but even if you decide you justifiably fear that rant and don’t read it, just know you are incredibly valid, and John can eat shit and die. Rant start:

John did that bullshit constantly! He would over and over put 1 (one) man he personally wanted to watch suffer on trial and sacrifice /scores/ of people for no reason. No trap, no way to escape, at someone else’s mercy completely or maybe with 0 chance even there bc JOHN KRAMER IS A SACK OF SHIT. 

He kills a house full of drug addicts in two, mostly just bc his wife worked w drug addicts and John hates drug addicts, and even though Amanda was in their literal exact same position she does jack shit to stop him and just watches people slowly have their organs deteriorate and start coughing up blood around her!! Including fucking Daniel! Who got an antidote but like, at the 11th hour. Do y’all even understand how biology works John and CO??? If you neutralize a poison after it has deteriorated parts of organs it might save your life but itS NOT A FUCKING HEALTH POTION. Poor Daniel Matthews probably will only live to be like forty tops if he’s super lucky because of that. And he did NOTHING!!! He had shoplifted bc he was going through a teen phase but he’s like sixteen! Everyone was dumb as shit as a teenager, and most people shoplift at some point in their life! It does not earn you slow deterioration of your organs! Poor kid not only watched a man burned to death in an oven, dude have his brains blown out, girl die of prolonged organ failure, and more shit, he himself /killed/ a man as a sixteen year old child to save Amanda Young because he’s got a good heart and is a good person, and that shit is awful! It’s traumatic to kill someone at any age, but as a teenager? And then he got knocked out by her and thrown in a tiny locked safe, tied up and gagged, and kept alive by an oxygen tank in an enclosed space after that massive trauma for or AT LEAST 24 HOURS ! He did NOTHING. It was all just a long-con sacrifice to get Eric Matthews to a specific location. Eric did some real shit, but god, even after everything Daniel did for Amanda and all John’s talk of innocents, neither of them ever even tell Eric he lived! Amanda just locks him up, fights, beats him to she thinks death, and then John keeps him locked up and isolated in a cell for months, only to make him choke himself slowly in a test he doesn’t actually get to participate in to keep a friend from being electrocuted. It’s all kinds of fucked.

Even Jeff did nothing worse than be depressed and obsessive and unavailable to his kid, all Lynn did was have a boyfriend after she and he separated (and tbh the only reason John took her was bc he wanted a doctor and hated her for being one of the docs who told him he had cancer bc John is a pettyass hypocritical stupid sack of shit!) I’m VIBRATING with hatred. Lynn was just a pawn in Amanda’s test! It never mattered if she kept John alive! It only mattered if Amanda decided to fucking shoot her!!! She did her task and died and JOHN KNEW THERE WAS A HIGH PROBABILITY AMANDA WOULD KILL HER AND DID NOTHING TO STOP IT BC JOHN CARES ABOUT NO ONE BUT HIMSELF THE FUCKING WORTHLESS LITTLE WORM. 

And the other victims in 3 are a poor college student who ran over someone on accident and feels massive guilt already and served jail time for it who gets his fucking limbs and then head all twisted off while begging for his life because JOHN KRAMER IS A PIECE OF SHIT AND SO IS JEFF TBH. BUT NOT AS BIG OF ONE. The poor girl who is stung up naked in a freezer and sprayed repeatedly with water till she is encased in ice and dead literally just saw the hit and run and ran away bc she was scared!!! Not to mention Jeff’s other kid who gets kidnapped and locked up as collateral! Even if she’s not hurt that’s FUCKING TRAUMATIZING FOR A YOUNG CHILD. And Allison Kerry did nothing wrong! Amanda kills her in the Angel trap literally just bc she’s investigating them! When he targets a detective John’s always like “Ho ho he, I am putting you on trial bc you are obsessed with your work”  LIKE, BITCH NO SHE FUCKIN AINT SHE DOIN HER GODDAMN JOB AND U DON”T WANT TO GET CAUGHT YOU STUPID FUCKING WHORE I FUCKING HATE YOU SO MUCH THAT JUST LOOKING AT YOUR FACE CAUSES ME TO PRODUCE SO MUCH EXCESS EPINEPHRINE I COULD BOTTLE IT AND SAVE IT FOR LATER. I swear to god, if I had a grenade and I was in the room trapped with a still breathing John Kramer, I would kill pull the pin and take us both! FUCK I would pull the pin and then french kiss the grenade as thanks for letting me see that sack of shit go right to hell!

I don’t remember all of four bc it was really terrible, so I don’t have a lot of thoughts there except woof, but there was a lot of bullshit. Like John’s lawyer who did nothing but try to talk to him about finances enough it pissed John off got kidnapped, won his first game, and then got kidnapped again BC THAT SHIT HEAD SURE NEVER KEEPS EVEN HIS OWN GODDAMNED WORD and was made pawn in the game and then shot bc he didn’t have a chance to save himsefl!!! 

In Saw one, also, again, Adam was never being tested. He was just a pawn too. It was Gordon who got to decide to kill him or not, and ADAM LIVED TO SIX OR WHENEVER THE FUCK THE TIME WAS AND JOHN STILL LEFT HIM TO DIE BECAUSE HE”S A HYPOCRITICAL PIECE OF SHIT!!!! And he’s not interesting enough for Johns MASSIVE brainshlong that obviously is so full of right ideas and enlightenment you MICROPENISEDtrulyIDIOTIC self-centered human garbage!  He only took Adam at all bc he was there! He said the reason was Adam was pathetic! ADAM WAS DOING HIS BEST YOU CRUSTY ASS RED ROBED TURTLE LOOKIN MOTHERFUCKER. He was a freelance photographer in New Jersey in his early 20s during an economic collapse, and still nice enough to be taking care of stray cats you FUCKING sack of dogshit! 

And Gordon? All he did was tell John he had cancer! He was cheating on his wife too, but like, the reason John picked him was that!!! HE THOUGHT!! GORDON SOUNDED TOO COLD WHEN HE TOLD HIM HE HAD CANCER I FUCKING HATE JOHN KRAMER SO MUCH. John Kramer really will see someone smile not as big a smile as he thought they should have given him and be like: “Yo, is anyone going to corkscrew their eyeballs off?” and not even wait for an answer. I fuuuuukning hate him. And that little shitface thought it was somehow chill to order someone else to kill Gordon’s wife and eight year old child who had done JACK SHIT wrong ever if Gordon wasn’t willing to brutally murder a kid in his early 20s who had done nothing wrong????! WHAT THE FUCK. Mr. KRamer.. QUICK QUESTION. WHAT. THE. FUCK. You self-righteous, self-centered, pretentious, pettyass, sadistic motherfucking goddamn worthless excuse for anything!

In five he’s finally dead so I can : ) once. BUT HE STILL FUCKS UP SHIT FROM BEYOND THE GRAVE. SO I’m STILL MAD. All the people Hoffman kills are ppl John told him to, so HE STILL MOTHERFUKIN RESPONSIBLE. In 5 it’s a bunch of people responsible kind of for deaths of people in a low-income neighborhood. One guy was paid to torch an abandoned building, and eight people died in the fire, but he didn’t know anyone was there and feels terrible. He thought it was vacant, it was just arson. Another is a journalist who found out about the arson, and didn’t break the story bc guy 1’s father bribed him. There’s a fire inspector who learned the truth and was bribed by the guy’s dad not to tell too. A city planner who was bribed into selling permits for the land. And Brit, who was the girl who paid for the arson, bc she wanted to make an apartment complex, and maybe actually knew about the 8 people and might have deserved some real payback–it’s unclear???? Regardless. I want to add that the cops had been investigating, had a strong case, and were about to arrest them and hold these people accountable in a legal manner, which John knew bc HOFFMAN WAS IN HIS POCKET, and John so hated the idea of them facing justice justice, he kidnapped them. The fire inspector got dragged into saw blades by her throat and torn apart, the journalist died to a nail bomb, and the city planner got electrocuted in a bathtub. The two who made it had their arms split down the middle up to the elbow to let enough blood out to save them.  I cannot. Just.

Anyway. In six, again at DEAD JOHN WHO WON”T QUIT FUCKING EVERYTHING UP’s request, a ‘game’ is played and William Easton (one of my fave protagonists bc he’s a piece of shit but damn if he didn’t have a real glow up in forty-five minutes) is thrown into a hell circuit. 

And so, undeservingly, is like, EVERYONE he fucking knows! His janitor Hank is first up. Target for…what was it? OHhhhhh right. He smokes. That was why. That makes so much sense john I’m sorry I doubted you PSYCH I CAN"T EVEN SAY IT AS A JOKE I JUST THREW UP A LITTLE IN MY MOUTH JOHN QUICK Q? WHAT THE FUCK? oh wait it’s because your an ABSOLUTE BASTARD. You would think I would get desensitized but no. It just. It’s fuel on the flame of my rage.

William Easton and the janitor, Hank, are hooked into something that slowly tightens and crushes their ribs any time they take a breath, and whoever doesn’t die first gets to live, and poor goddamn Hank smoked so ofc he can’t outlast a healthy dude in his 30s and John crushes his ribs just to make William watch someone die. Then he makes William pick which of two people to save in trial 2. MEANING HE GODDAMN STRAIGHT UP KIDNAPPED THESE TWO TOTALLY FINE WITH EITHER DYING, IN FACT WITH THE SOUL PURPOSE BEING TO DIE bc who cares about them right John? You fucking pretentious self-righteous creep! I have a year of the Pig teddy bear I named after Peter Strahm JUST for the FUCKING satisfaction of knowing John would hate that bc he was so into year of the motherfucking pig. ANyway. Plot again. Poor file clerk at Williams firm and the poor secretary are the two targets, and literally they did jack shit!!! They work for shitty lawyers but all they do is clock in to a 9-5 and file shit!! They are literally just there to rub it in William’s face that insurance policies aren’t fair bc according to them, one of the humans is worth more than the other bc health and age, but uuuuh oohhh William the older one with health issues is p hard to kill face to face bc you know her and she has kids and the young healthy man in his early 20s family is dead and he doesn’t have friends which means according to John he is worth less bc JOHN DOES THINK YOU CAN CHOOSE BETWEEN LIVES and all of this is here just bc John somehow thought it would be fun to fucking WIN A GODDAMN “I’M RIGHT” ARGUMENT WITH A LAWYER at the expense of brutally hanging a human being with barbed wire!!! 

Sidebar–if John Kramer was a real human being, I would go yearly on a fucking pilgrimage to his grave just to SPIT on his stupid corpse. I HATE HIM SO MUCH. 

K so young man dies. Then test 3 his attorney dies too, I don’t know much about her, except she is just there to make William feel like shit and they were into each other, and she tries to kill William after he gets hurt trying to save her bc he has the key to her trap in his stomach or chest idr, but she doesn’t get the key in time and dies, and then test 4 he finds his associates strapped to a carousel with a shotgun that picks one at random and blows off their head, and has to let all but two of them get gunned down and choose which two not to kill. And again, they’re kind of shittyass lawyers, but uh. Yeah. To save two, he has to let this huge piece of metal rip through his hand, but William does it and destroys his hand to save the two he can, and suffers picking while they all beg him to pick them bc John wanted to see him suffer picking between human lives again because he’s a goddam self-centered stuck up jerk who vales human life less then admiring his ugly ass dick in the mirror every day and pretending he’s a member of Mensa, the evil utterly irredeemable sack of shit. Anyway, at the end, William has never had a chance to live or die at all! And John was literally just torturing him for fun and killed /all/ those people not even for a test for William but /solely/ to make him suffer bc human lives DON"T MATTER ONE FUCKING IOTA to JOHN SHITASS KRAMER. WHO JUST WANTED TO WIN. AN INTELLECTUAL ARGUMENT. POST-MORTEM. BECAUSE he’s THAT kind of shittyass, pretentious, sanctimonious, better than thou, always right, incapable of wrong, smartest fucking asshole in the room man!!! I bet he doesn’t ever wash his hands when he takes a piss! I KNOW IT! FUCK John Kramer! 

ANd OH! William gets killed by a kid who hates him bc he turned down their father’s insurance policy fraudulently, knowing he would die of an illness without the money. BC William was terrible. Which is /so/ great for that fucking teenager! Killing someone horribly with acid while you watch them die and their body be melted! And they beg you not to do it and apologize on the other side of bars, already beat to shit, and plead for forgiveness, and your mom begs you not to, and the dude’s sister sobs and begs you not to!!! SO GOOD! Way to go john you FUCKING CUNT, they definitely value their lives now you goddamn motherfucking souless sack of shit!

I-I don’t even have the energy to do the other Saw movies or go back over the other victims in Saw one WHO DID NOTHING WRONG. John just hated them!!! BC HIS WIFE KNEW THEM! In most cases! John just fucking hates drug addicts! OK u know what here’s the short version even if I can’t do them justice rn bc I’m pissed!!! One guy got sliced to death on razor wire for cutting when he was depressed bc John is a piece of shit, one got burned to death after walking on glass for hours bc John doesn’t believe in invisible illnesses and if you’re walking you must be healthy, oh yeah! And the fucking dude Amanda killed in her first trial was just a drug addict! Going to a recovery clinic! He never had a chance to live on his own bc the only choice was if Amanda would cut open his intestines and sift through him for a key while he was awake but too drugged to move or not, and she did! Didn’t even get to plead for his life! ANyway!!!! Fucking as far as I can tell all Zep did was work at the goddamn hospital! He WENT OUT OF HIS WAY TO BE NICE TO JOHN and told other people he was a cool dude!!! He was just a janitor!!! WHAT THE FUCK???

I just. God. I hate everything about John Kramer. The way he talks makes me so LIVID I change color like a goddamned chameleon. He is so ready to argue his stupid shitty fucking ethics with anyone who breathes in a ten mile radius. Shithead John over here will strap you to a table and make you listen to him talk about how it’s not his fault he poisoned two people and gave them one antidote and a bunch of knives and one of them came out dead, and his hands are clean and people don’t value their lives so they should die while he watches eating fucking cereal I am just–I am so glad John has cancer? Like, the idea of Saw sans John having cancer is unbearable, because I am so afraid the writers would never let him die and we would never be free of the human cancer that is John. The only human being on the planet that has ever been able to make me root for the cancer. But boy in that one and only regard, John is special.

I hate him so much it is unbelievable. Like. I can’t even put it into words. THe pure, unbridled fury I feel when I hear John say, “D’oh ho ho, but I, with these two little handies of mine, hath never pulled the gun’s trigger! Got you there! Where is your science! Where is your god! I am no murderer! I heal people! By sawing off their faces! You just do not understand, oh poor unenlightened human that you are. May you be strapped to a machete car and blessed with my wisdom  😔” I absolutely lose control of 90% of normal human functionality, and all that I have left is righteous justice and bloodlust. It’s unbelievable.

Whichever one of you god-mode-brain peeps made that post saying Eric Matthews had the hardest test in the whole Saw franchise because he had to sit and listen to John Kramer talk for two hours was a GODDAMNED HERO and if you contact me and prove the tumblr account is yours I will paypal you ten dollars and a personalized note thanking you for the joy that gave me because I just really hate John Kramer that FUCKING MUCH. I would cut off my own toes to be able to have something to shove down John Kramer’s throat to make him stop. talking.

There are a lot of things in this world I hate bc I hate things that are unjust, but I hate absolutely nothing more in the universe than a villain who is a self-righteous, hypocritical asshole who won’t even admit that what they are doing is wrong and parades as the tragic genius hero despite knowing GODDAMN well that they are a petty, shitty, hypocritical, absolute fucking MONSTER with no redeemable qualities or capacity for love. And John Kramer is at least my second least favorite character in the history of ANYTHING. Maybe my first. I’m not even sure anymore! Nasty-ass, evil, pretentious, self-righteous, shortsighted, selfish, sadistic, voyeuristic, willfully ignorant, crusty ass useless soulless garbage little SHIT.

[its8simplejulesblog]

I’m Sitting Here on My Bed Crying

about George Floyd’s unjust murder. My heart keeps sinking further and further and suddenly every remedial thing that bothered me a week ago means absolutely nothing now. It’s hard not to feel hopeless and disgusted by the world we’ve created and fostered. It’s hard to sit around knowing that people are being gassed and attacked and buildings are being burned to the ground while most of my friends are worried about whether or not their crush will text them back and how their Animal Crossing Village looks (I’m sure it’s fine queen, relax). 

I understand wanting to maintain “normalcy”, but if you can’t recognize the privilege in that normalcy then I pity you. Never in my life would I complacently want to be as ignorant as that. It’s really hard for me to keep up with the news. At the peak of my anxiety I would yell and cry at my parents to turn it off because it often kept me up at night. However, now I realize that turning it off is only a temporary fix. And, while the news itself is so obviously biased, even keeping it on wouldn’t do much good. 

As I’m writing I’m crying more and more. It really is like I lost a friend. I know that sounds dramatic, but we really should be treating everyone as if they deserve protection, kindness, and care, and when that doesn’t happen, you really do lose something (like oh, I don’t know, humanity). In all honesty, I am terrified of the world. It really does seem like we are on the brink of collapse. Almost like the freaking second coming of Christ is about to happen. Judgment day better be coming soon though because it just keeps getting worse and worse. 

I know that the majority of the time I am as positive a person as I can be, but sometimes feeling hurt and shame and anger like this is the motivation one needs to make a change. Unfortunately, that doesn’t seem to be happening though. Even as I write this now I think, “so what,” one speck of dust white girl writing on her tumblr blog that no one reads will not bring someone back to life. However, if this can get even one person thinking about a new way to prioritize their life, then I have done something. 

Institutionalized racism never went away. I think that’s a fallacy that unaffected people believe because it’s easy. I loved Will Smith’s quote that “Racism isn’t getting worse, it’s getting filmed.” It’s like when you were little and you “cleaned” your room which really meant you just pushed everything in the closet or under the bed. Eventually, that stuff falls out and people find it. Why do we keep pretending? I can’t believe I just had to compare America to a literal child, that’t what it feels like.

All the while, social media is riddled with friends of mine out in groups. Let’s be real, I get it. If I’ve said it once, I’ve said it a million times: I want to be with my friends too. I want to hug and kiss and cuddle the people I care about too. I want to party and not feel disgustingly lonely everyday. But guess what, every time I think that I think about what’s really important...and sometimes, SHOCK my wants are not always the most important thing. I’d rather sit in my house alone for another two months than EVER have to experience the loss that some of these people have felt due to COVID-19, and as much as it has been overused as a joke, the phrase “check your privilege” is good advice.

I know in my last post I talked about how excited I was for the future. That is absolutely still true. There is so much beauty in the world that is so regularly overlooked. However (and I’m trying to write this without getting religious..I failed) my inner Hobbes comes out all the time in saying that humans are just innately selfish. We’re animals, literally, (thanks Darwin, wow I’m really name dropping a lot today..also, why do people think that if you’re religious you can’t also believe in some aspects of evolution..ignorance) ANYWAY, what I think it all comes down to is fear. 

I recently read a book by Max Lucado called “Fearless.” This particular book was rooted in Christianity which was interesting because for the past few years I had been a little doubtful of my faith (although that’s a different story). I never really expected it to have any relevance in my blog, but the more I think about it, the more it molds how I live my life. Naturally, I’m surround by people of various beliefs and I wouldn’t want it any other way. However, when the world seems to be as evil as it currently is, it makes most people feel like even God abandoned us. However He tells us to not be afraid. I know that you could easily scroll up to where I said, “I’m terrified of the world,” as an argument and that is still true because I’m human; but, when I look more deeply into that fear and anger I realize that chaos only brings chaos and unless you put that fear aside, nothing will come from it.

Let me clarify, I’m not saying that it would be easy for me to interfere if I saw a cop abusing his power. I’m not saying that you need to become an omnipotent superhero and if you don’t then you’re racist. Instead, do something peaceful that prevent that situation from ever happening in the first place. As much as white privilege is disgusting and the inequality is blatant, at the very least use that privilege to the advantage of everyone’s safety before the situation gets worse.

That is why white silence is deafening at this point. If you fear for the loss of your rights in protecting someone else’s then you’re clearly confused about the concept. How dare anyone tell me that “I’m uncomfortable talking about it.” If it were your reality, you wouldn’t have a choice, and you wouldn’t be uncomfortable then. Posting on Instagram is not enough. It’s not. Take time out of your day to think about someone other than yourself, I’m begging at this point. 

I had an internship last summer that dealt with institutionalized educational racism and it was the most telling experience of my life because even within the STAFF there were clear hierarchies. Even though it wasn’t race, it was either status or age or gender. It doesn’t matter. There will always be something. And even though we should just help people from the kindness of our hearts and shared knowledge that we’re all human, if that for some reason is not enough for you, know that you could be targeted next for a reason other than race. 

I pray in my heart that I continue to live my life in a way that other’s benefit from the work that I do. All I could ever want in my entire life is to make someone else’s world brighter and safer. It baffles and confuses me that someone wouldn’t want this. I truly feel like I am at a stalemate in my head sometimes because while I so fortuitously believe that the world is a beautiful place full of good, it’s getting harder and harder to weed through the ignorance and greed and separations between people that need nothing more than to be unified. 

It’s a confusing concept because while an animal’s instincts are to do anything it can to survive, it’s also known through evolutionary research that humans are social creatures (thanks Sapiens, great book..although a 4th grade student in a history class could have told you that). We quite literally need each other, and it’s unfortunate that this isn’t commonplace fact in society. 

It’s grim and rainy today. I thought, “how fitting.” It’s like the sky is crying over this absolute madness. If anything, I know what my values are now and that is something that I will continue to pride myself on for the rest of my life. 

George Floyd. 

Say his name and don’t forget it. 

In fact, say all of their names. 

I won’t turn a blind eye anymore. 

-Julia 

[echoapothecary]

Favorite echo scenes from every episode?

Hoooh boy! Favorite Echo scenes from every episode?! You’re coming for my soul aren’t you? Just so you’re aware, I had to go back and scroll through every episode and every echo scene (I’m not mad about it lol) to provide you with this very extensive research. 😉 Okay, I’m going to put this under the cut because this got really fucking long lmao and I don’t want to clog up anyone’s timelines.

Pilot:

All time favorite for me in the pilot is and always will be the final scene. Liz puts her hand over Max’s handprint mark on her heart and Max does the same over his own heart. The eye contact in that moment, Liz pulling him to the dance floor, smiling at each other while their dancing. GOD! This scene is the moment I completely and utterly fell in love with them and knew I would continue watching this show just to see these two on my screen every week. The chemistry between them is unreal. It’ll always hold a special place in my Echo heart.

1x02:

“It’s been ten years Liz, you don’t know me like you think you do” and then Liz proceeds to rattle off every known fact about him lmao, I love it so much. Max’s smile is so boyishly cute too, I can’t! It’s like he’s literally transported back ten years living his high school dream of Liz actually noticing him. It was such a little moment, but so cute.

1x03:

My favorite here is actually the angsty one at the end of the episode. I was going back and forth between that one and the eye sex at the beginning of the episode because well...👀😅 but ultimately, angsty “I love you” confession won out because It’s. Just. So. Good. “Liz, I have loved you my entire life. Including every single day that you were gone in the last decade” and then my all time favorite, “That’s what everything is about for me!” because ooooof! That got me in my feelings. The way he says it, the look on his face, the look on Liz’s face as she takes in the weight of what he’s saying. Everything in Max’s life is about loving Liz and has been for 20 years. From the moment he met her, she was it for him. Excuse me, I’ll be crying in the corner. 😭

1x04:

Truth time. I didn’t love this episode. Probably because Max and Liz only have one scene together but that’s besides the point lol (I’m nothing if not predictable right? 🤷‍♀️). I guess my favorite part of this scene is Max’s desperation when he’s asking Liz how she feels about him. “Real answer please!” He’s frustrated after just seeing Kyle leave her house, after he knows Kyle knows who he is, and that it’s Liz who told him. He’s just done. He’s been pouring his heart out to Liz and he needs to know how she feels. But Liz can’t, can’t let down her armor, not when she knows Max is keeping something from her. So, she gives him the best answer she can, she’s terrified of how she feels about him. Also, the moment Liz steps toward him like she’s reaching for him because she realizes he’s saying goodbye to her, and he steps back. He steps back because he knows if she touches him, it’s over. He has to say goodbye to her and he won’t be able to if he lets her get close. My heart fucking shattered in that moment.

1x05:

When Max finds her being almost burned alive by Wyatt Long and Liz just clings to him in a desperate hug. Give it to me!! This hug was everything, but I’m a sucker for a good hug so...yep, my favorite moment of an entire episode is a hug. I’m basic y’all 😂

1x06:

This one is easy. The whole cliff side dance and them talking about taking the road trip together in the flashback. One of the most beautifully shot Echo scenes they’ve ever done is that dance scene tbh. It pulls me into a moment that feels almost too intimate. Like I’m walking in on something meant only for them. The chemistry of this scene floors me every single time I watch it. And then we go to my favorite line, “all I’ve ever wanted was to change my plans for you”. I WILL NEVER BE OVER THAT LINE! He can’t bear the thought that he finally has his chance with the girl he’s been waiting for for the past ten years and she’s about to leave him, so he asks to join her. His plans be damned. Because all he cares about is her. Ohhh, the possibilities that road trip that could’ve been 😥

1x07:

This whole episode was an angsty one lol, but my favorite moment was at the end when Max tells Liz to keep working on the serum. He’s terrified of what’s happening to Isobel and he knows Liz is scared about Isobel’s powers and what she’ll do if she blacks out again, so how does he protect them both? He wants her to have a way to save herself, even if it means it’s at the expense of his own sister. It was heartbreaking.

1x08:

Liz’s “you should forgive her. Missing her will hurt less if you aren’t angry” to Max after they put Isobel in the pod. Liz was so angry at Rosa for the longest time for what she believed Rosa did to Jasmine and Kate that night and she doesn’t want Max to go through that kind of grief of missing someone you think you shouldn’t because of what they did. I’m ignoring the “besides, you and I weren’t meant to be together” part because that’s a load of horse poo and we all know she didn’t mean that lmao.

1x09:

I mean...do we even need to guess here? Lol. Max’s whole speech but especially “But you’re not perfect. I see your faults. And I love you. Easily” takes the cake for me. He knows her, he sees her for all that she is, imperfections and all, and it’s sexy as hell. Also, the way his voice drops down when he says “And I love you” GOD that was sexy too! I have a thing about Nathan’s voice anyway so that was just 🔥🔥. The kiss was epic, the cinematography surrounding the kiss was epic. It was all just EPIC.

1x10:

As we established from 1x05, I’m a hoe for hugs so yep, no surprise here lol! Liz finally seeing Max after worrying for his safety all day, she can finally put her arms around him, he’s safe! And then the “Are you okay? Are you? *nods*. Then I’m okay” It doesn’t matter what he just went through, if she’s okay, then he’s okay. Stab me with a fucking knife please!

1x11:

I can’t decide between the hot as hell moment or the romantic moment lmao. Again, are we surprised? It’s me. When Liz saves Max and Michael in her ball gown, face covered in grease, and Max looks her up and down, looking like he wants to drag her into that airstream right then and there and do you know what to her. HOT. But I’m also in love with her speech to him at the gala. “You make me feel like I am teetering on the edge of a cliff. And I am getting addicted to that feeling. It’s overwhelming.” The feels! I especially loved when she told him to follow her if she takes off again. “Don’t let me go that easily again, okay? I never would have in the first place, if I didn’t think it was what you wanted. I want you.” Liz, who runs from everything, is telling Max to not let her go. 😭

1x12:

“Liz, give me the antidote before you go. I’m serious. If I’m the one holding the cure, then I’m the one refusing to use it. I’m the killer, not you” It’s not romantic or even that special of a moment as far as Echo scenes go, but regardless of what Noah has done to her sister, Liz is terrified of becoming a killer and Max will do anything for her not to have to carry that burden. It was bittersweet.

1x13:

THE SCENE. I’ve talked about it before I’m sure, but it was so beautifully shot it deserves to be talked about all the time haha. Again, hugs (I love them what can I say 🤷‍♀️) and a running, jumping into the other’s arms hug at that. *sighs in Echo* the desperate kisses into the house, and removing clothes against Max’s bookshelf?? Grabby hands, give me more of against the bookshelf anything, please I beg you Carina! The whole love scene was just romantic as hell and I will never be over it. My absolute favorite moment of this whole scene though, is Max resting his head against Liz’s stomach. It kills me. Every. Single. Time.

Okay, if anyone made it this far then I applaud you lmao. I suck at meta and writing in general, or expressing my feelings about things in a coherent way so I’m always surprised when anyone wants to hear my thoughts on anything. Thanks for asking though, love! Sorry for the wait :)