#it was very nearly finished at the end of september and would have gone up if it werent for writing challenge stuff

[california-112]

Schrödinger's Question

Teen And Up Audiences | Graphic Descriptions Of Violence | Gen | English

Fandom: The X-Files

Characters: Dana Scully, Fox Mulder (Mentioned)

Additional Tags: Episode: s04e24 Gethsemane, Episode: s05e01-02 Redux (X-Files), Implied/Referenced Suicide, Cancer Arc (X-Files), Angst, Introspection, No Dialogue, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Suicidal Thoughts

Summary:

She preferred being able to think that he was just asleep, even though he never slept; that he was just out, although he had nowhere to go; that he just couldn't hear her knocking from the bedroom that he didn't use. She preferred to wait for a bit, rubbing her thumb along the jagged edge of his door key until it almost bit her, before turning and leaving the box unopened. Taking a pill and sleeping until morning, when she didn't remember the pain of the previous night until Mulder called her to say that he was downstairs with coffee, and would he have to drink it for her? And by then, all that didn't matter, because he was there, warm as the Styrofoam cup he handed her and suit just as crinkly when she suddenly gripped his sleeve, needing to be sure he was really inside it. -or- Scully has a lot to do in the day following Mulder's suicide. That night, she finally gets a chance to process everything. A slight AU of the Gethsemane/Redux transition. SPOILERS FOR S04E24 'GETHSEMANE' AND S05E01 'REDUX'

Link to AO3

[jennagrinsoverml]

Can you recommend some Stories featuring memory loss (not related to Oblivio)?

Absolutely! I have an Oblivio rec list here anyway 😊

For the Last Time by @thelibraryloser

No matter how you meet him, you will love him. You will fall for every version of him, in every world, in every timeline. I need you to know that.

One-shot. This fic is not nearly popular enough for how AMAZING it is!! After losing her memory, Marinette reads her pre-memory loss letter to herself. This is such a beautiful and hopeful take on the memory loss trope with gorgeous prose and such a loving look at the love square relationship. HIGHLY recommend!

you don't even know me at all (but i was made for loving you) by @ladyofthenoodle

They didn’t remember each other. The hospital told them there’d been an accident—brain damage—but Alya had told them the truth, later. Who’d they’d been to each other. What they’d given up, and why. But even with their memories of each other gone, Adrien and Marinette are still inextricably tied together—by law, by their social circles, and by their hearts. And in the apartment they share, there's only one bed.

One-shot. Years later, after Adrien and Marinette are MARRIED, they give up their memories and forget each other. And then there's the painful journey back to loving one another. This one hurtsssss, but it's so good, and the end is amazing!! I don't want to spoil it but the echoes of how they fell for each other the first time are just ahhhhhh!!! READ THIS!

Make This Go On Forever by @coffeebanana

A Finding Nemo Akuma shouldn't be that hard to deal with, right? Clownfish and blue tangs, but nothing life-changing? Adrien didn't expect the accompanying sentimonster to bring to life one of his worst fears: what would happen if Marinette lost her memory. Maybe it's temporary, but it feels very real. And suddenly the things he's been trying to keep hidden from her refuse to stay inside. Or: Angsty emotional hurt/comfort for day 10 of Kiss Prompt November (minnow).

One-shot. This is gorgeous. I love the way the details of what's happened over the past few years are woven into the narrative, and Adrien's breakdown, even after everything, is so sad and fitting. Adrien is terrified of Marinette losing her memory (just like me) and this is done so well.

when push comes to shove by @passionfruitmacarons

Marinette is confused, Adrien is stressed, and Ladybug is nowhere to be found. Or: Ladybug gives up guardianship, and Chat Noir has to suffer the consequences.

One-shot. As usual with this trope, there's some definite angst involved, but I found the ending more than hopeful! It's so sweet, and I really loved the role reversal with Chat being on the other side of an act of self sacrifice.

Your touch is etched into my mind by plikki

She wakes up in a strange room without memories but somehow she knows him.

One-shot. This one is definitely sad and it really hurts, but there's also a sweetness to it that I loved!

new marinette by @rosekasa

marinette may not remember their first kiss anymore, but she has no doubts that adrien is the man she will spend her life with. amnesia has nothing on her love.

Multi-chapter. This is soft and sweet, despite the premise. I love being in Marinette's head as she tries to figure out what she's missing, which of course we already know. And then watching more of the picture come together...it's really well done, and the ending makes up for the angst, though honestly there's not a lot of it!

I Shall Never Know That Second Death by @into-september

Paris has been haunted by a butterfly supervillain and saved by a ladybug superhero, and Marinette has forgotten the last year of her life.

Two-shot. Read this if you want to suffer. Seriously, it's so good, but there is only pain for you here. It's so sad and bittersweet and I legit cried after I finished.

Echoes of You by @kittinoir

In the day time, she's Marinette - a normal girl, with a normal life. A normal girl, with a normal life. A normal girl, with...

Multi-chapter. Marinette’s got giant gaps in her memory she’s struggling to understand while Adrien is desperately trying to figure out just what the hell happened to his Lady. Lots of angst and a mystery and this fic is one hell of a ride from start to finish!

in case you don't know me tomorrow by @thelibraryloser

“We live in a crazy world where pieces of our lives can be erased like they never even happened. I just wanted to memorize this moment so… so I could keep it, if that makes sense.” Adrien's heart gave a little flutter. She wanted to keep this moment, meeting him. She wanted to keep… him. “I understand exactly what you mean." In a world that has created a way to selectively delete memories, no moment is truly safe. So how do you hold on to something when the memory of it is gone? And how do you keep fighting for someone when you're the only one who remembers?

Multi-chapter. AU. I normally avoid AUs, but I'm so glad I read this one! I'm not going to lie--this one hurts and I was terrified to read it. But! It's so well done and we get a happy ending that makes it all worth it!!

Just Give Me A Reason by @coffeebanana

Adrien stopped short when he turned the corner, his breath catching in his throat. Gentle thunder crackled overhead, and the sky split in two just as Adrien’s heart had months before. The clouds cried the gentle tears Adrien tried to fight back, because he knew if he started crying, he wouldn’t stop. He tried to move. Tried to force his limbs to flee. But suddenly, it was him who’d forgotten how to function. He hadn’t expected to see her. Not here, right around the corner from his usual grocery store. Not today, on the anniversary of their first kiss.

One-shot. I'm not going to lie, this one hurts. The ending can be classified as hopeful, but there's a lot of hurting...but it's so well done!

[fromduck]

Mrs. Afton’s Daily Life: TWO

Warnings: Unedited

Free Accounting Classes at the local Community College. 

(Mondays and Thursdays)

9:00 a.m - 1:00 p.m

Class starts September 05, 1979 and ends May 10, 1980

ALL OUR WELCOME

You stare at one of the flyers near the checkout lane of the grocery. E/C eyes glance at the calendar placed in front of the checkout lane. The date displayed in big bold red letters is “August 25, 1979”. 

‘It hasn’t started yet…’ you think to yourself hopefully, biting on your bottom lip. 

After dropping off both your sons at school, you stopped by the grocery store to buy the food for the week. 

Being the big man that he was, William often ate more than the rest of your tiny family. It wasn’t his fault but food often finished quickly and trips to the grocery were frequent. Not to mention, you also had to feed three growing children that were going to eat more as they grew older. As you both waited in line, you were playing with your little baby.

Dangling your car and house keys in front of her face as she watched, mesmerized by the shiny object. She would grab onto them and you’d have to stop the sweet girl from putting them in her mouth. 

Then you saw the flyer. All your attention zeroed in on its contents. 

Your children’s school didn’t start till 8:30 am and you usually picked them up around 2:30 pm. On Fridays they would get out at 12:30 pm. If you scheduled your time right, you could still do your duties as a housewife and mother. It all just depended on great planning. 

Your teeth dig into your plump lip, anticipation rolling off of you in waves. 

After dropping them off, you could probably drop Elizabeth off with the sweet old lady a couple blocks down the street. Then you’d be gone in the accounting class. Back in college you were interested in majoring in anything business-related but were unable to explore more because of your expulsion. 

Elizabeth looks at you curiously, wondering why her mom stopped paying her attention. 

One of her chubby hands curls itself around your manicured fingers. The tight baby grip, snapping you away from a hopeful dream. William wouldn’t approve of it and taking care of two children and a baby would definitely make being a student difficult. And you nearly spent a decade outside of any colleges, surely adjusting back into the student rhythm would be difficult. 

‘Difficult but not impossible,’ an encouraging voice says in the back of your head. 

“Honey, would you like a bag with that?” The middle aged woman asks you behind the counter. Her kind eyes noticed how you glanced at the college advertisement. 

“Are you considering joining?” She smiles at you kindly, your cheeks flush in embarrassment at being caught. 

“O-oh. I don’t know…it definitely seems advantageous plus it’s free..”

Her honey brown eyes glint in excitement,  

“You definitely should! I’m one of the assistant teachers by the way. Despite being free, the material being taught is the same as any other colleges. The professor is a very kind man that is excellent in teaching. There are also many other free classes available that haven’t started yet, if you’re interested!” The blonde woman’s grin widens as unwillingly the corners of your mouth start to lift. 

“There is..?” You say with awe, e/c eyes sparkling. Chuckling at your amazed expressions, she hands you a flier. 

“Yup! If you’d like I can help you sign up. My name’s Donna by the way.” She offers you a handshake. You accept her hand feeling the soft wrinkly skin of her hand. 

“Y/N. Y/N Afton.” 

Her eyebrows raise to her forehead, “say you wouldn’t be related to that grumpy man William Afton? One of the co-owners at Freddy’s?”

Embarrassed you shake your head, it seems William's unpleasant character was commonly known. 

“I wouldn’t say we're related. He’s my husband.” 

Like the woman from the school her eyes flash with pity before they brighten up again. 

“Oh~? Well isn't he a lucky fella?” You giggle at her praise, feeling bashful of being praised by an older woman.  

She then turns her attention to Elizabeth with a coo, “and who might you be?~”

The baby babbles at her, big e/c eyes zeroed in on the red nail polish of her long nails, making grabby hands at it. 

“This is Elizabeth. She’s only a year old but she’s quite active for her age.” You say playing with one of the bows in her hair.

“Aww~! I remember when my Susie was that age. I wish they stayed that small forever instead of growing up quickly. Now my little girl is starting kindergarten!” 

Smiling at the woman you let out a carefree laugh, “you and me both!”

Both you and Donna exchange numbers, she talks to you more about the accounting class and her daughter as she packs your groceries. When she’s finished you both settle on meeting up soon at the community college so that she can help you sign up. 

By the time you leave the store, you’re smiling so hard that your cheeks hurt. 

Elizabeth, also influenced by your good behavior, claps her small hands at you. Grinning at her, you lean in to press a big fat kiss on her cheek that makes her squeal. 

While you pack the groceries by the truck of your car, you make sure to hide the flier in your purse. Taking extra measures to fold it into a small square and burying it at the bottom of your bag.

Once satisfied, you buckle in Elizabeth and drive back home. Singing along to Abba, “Dancing Queen,” while Elizabeth continued to clap her hands at her mothers singing. 

For the first time in almost a decade, you felt more alive. As if that once ambitious eighteen-year-old girl with big plans for her life never died the day you were expelled. She was always there, waiting for you to get back on track. 

[xx-psych0-rabbit-xx]

opinion on susie?

hi sorry this took *reads clock* oh god this is from 8th of september oh christ i was procrastinating on finishing planet robobot bc i didnt want it to be over :c

anyways the short answer is i absolutely ADORE susie n shes easily one of the best antagonists

(note:my knowledge of anything being confirmed outside the implication of how susie knew sphere doomers and her 2.0 pause screen is non existent so uh lol if i get smth wrong? this is just how i connected the backstory lore drops in my head)

the long answer is i think shes extremely good at being sympathetic while still being extremely funny in an evil way, on one hand, i feel its very easy to understand what her deal is, she gets sent to hell as a child, crawls out of it likely already wondering deep inside why nobody came for her but too focused on reuniting with her father, only to find out not only has his work lost the purpose she knew of, but he didnt even know her anymore.i think it makes perfect sense with this shed end up not knowing what to do other than get back at him, like growing up in hell/space void/whatever man im sleepy will not result in you getting out fine and dandy specially if the person who mattered most to you, and who youd remember as your main reason to escape to reunite with, seems to not even care you were gone, and w having to fend for her life constantly, i can see why she wouldnt care for cooperating with his company as long as it leads her to the result she wants (of having haltmann remember and beg for her forgiveness), no reason girl wouldnt have a self benefit only survival sense

also i have nothing deep to say on her being funny shes just objectively the funniest kirby character.yippee! *gives you fatal computer brain damage while already fantasizing of you begging for my forgiveness*

n regarding what she did to meta knight (which is what pisses off most ppl)...its literally no worse than what taranza did to dedede, and not nearly as bad as what forgo did to him.theres nothing implying the robot turning process was painful for him and he literally flies it off like its no big deal.hes fine.also if she was a guy yall would be writing essays on the homoeroticism of your still overly angsty hcs of mecha knight.if you wanna complain abt something susie might have had dedede buried back into the castle rubble after getting his clone dna thing.kinda rude!

tl dr 2.0 no empathy revenge fueled queen whos funny.yippee!

[daincrediblegg]

ONE WARM LINE CHAPTER 1 PREVIEW

Well folks. For the old man's Birthday, this is what you get. A preview of the first chapter entirely from Lady Terror's point of view. Enjoy

In the mind of one Miss Genevieve Sinclair, September of 1846 still had time yet to shape up to become a very good month indeed.

A few months out from the Baffin Bay now, the air on HMS Erebus began to shift measurably. As the renewed cold washed in, so too did the excitement of the crew. You’d be hard pressed to find single soul on either ship to not be in the highest of spirits, but the sole woman among the total of 129 men on both Erebus and Terror (and the solitary representative of her sex on this expedition, at least, that which she knew of), was not quite as convinced.

With the cold, of course, came ice, and it was her charge to observe it, after all. She may still have been considered a Junior in these matters in comparison to Mr. Reid, and Terror’s Mr. Blanky, but she was familiar enough to know that even with how well their ships were outfitted, it would be difficult to maneuver the Passage, and the further they approached, the more difficult it would become, and the signs of that difficulty had already begun to show themselves. The ice, in recent days, like this one, began to look like lily pads on a great deep blue pond (dinner plates, Mr. Reid had called them, but she felt it an inept analogy for the way they floated on the surface, like they belonged there). Soon, they would grow to size, and fuse with one another, to create a great sheet, and soon after that, it would freeze farther down even than below where the ships buoyed themselves upright in the water. If their course was not charted carefully from here on out, it would be a certainty. And though certainty was a comfort in its own way, a possibility of success was far more palatable, and Sinclair would rather tread the unknown, study, and understand it, than take her chances with certainty.

And it was for this reason that, in spite of her own reservations on the future of this venture, she found herself at least a little infected by the enthusiasm of her shipmates. It was in fact this same energy that took her up to the portside gunwale on this day in particular, practically glowing from it as the cold air pinkened her cheeks. After wintering on the ice-locked shores of Beechey Island, cooped up for the majority of that time in her cabin out of necessity, she had resolved to not spend a single moment of their summer strait (un-summer-like though it was) below decks, and after receiving her assignment from a begrudged Mr. Reid to aid him in charting out the as of yet unmapped coastline as they passed, and of course, around mid-day Mr. Reid had gone down to attend other duties left to him by Sir John, leaving Sinclair alone to finish the task before her.

In perfect honesty, she couldn’t have been more relieved. Mr. Reid surely was a well studied man, in her estimation, but his demeanor, like many of the other men on these ships, was so curt and plain whenever he spoke to her. They were all a superstitious lot, she knew. Her years on the Demeter with her Father had taught her as much, but even those men, as set as they were in their superstitions, had warmed to her by the end of their course through the Prussian seas. It truly baffled her now, even one year after landfall, and none but a handful that she could count on her two hands had seemed to change their minds on the matter of her, and even fewer with the bravery to more than tip their hats to her in greeting.

And yet, in spite of their ignorance to her presence, she couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched as she worked. She was still an oddity enough to these seasoned naval men to warrant attention. And though they would hesitate to speak with her directly, their gazes were enough to tell her what they thought of her. Even now, perched by the portside gunwale with her instruments and sketching paper, where she had been nearly since the day began, she could feel their eyes every now and again as she tried to work. It is why she preferred to work in her cabin, or alone, at night, most days, so the feel of the eyes on her would not distract her as much. But even that feeling could not dissuade her from being determined to push through with her task today. The credit for finding the passage itself would never go to the name of a woman, she knew, but it would be her strokes in crude lead and later still in fine ink upon the very map of the world itself… it would be a credit to her. And that, no man could deny her.

It was mid-afternoon now, and she looked at what remained of her work. Three Hundred miles. Three Hundred Miles was all that stood between them and the waters of the pacific. A threshold marred with isles and inlets and capes, and ice. And her hand would chart all the rest of it (or rather, as much as she could manage in her waking hours, at least). But their course through these labyrinthian miles were what counted most. She was well acquainted enough with the accounts Parry, and Sir John Ross left of their attempts at the Passage. Even better acquainted with Dr. Richard King’s theories about the safety of the coastal waters, and as she suspected, islands, and ones that they could sail through the same as they had the Bellot strait just a few short weeks ago. But their luck had won them that prize in the first place. If it had not been summer, and if it had not been in that span of time that they had passed in, she suspected, they would not have made it out the other side and here before. And the ice was beginning to form even here, well… it was all a matter of timing. And Sinclair, as she observed her lily-pad ice, knocking against each other in the rolls of the sea and against their ship, was going to make certain that the timing was correct to avoid being iced in completely.

[woodswolf]

14 and 23 fic asks!

end of year fic asks

14. a fic you didn't expect to write

UM. definitely my current wip that i've been working on since like the last week of august or something. 37k and counting and it's still only about half done. like okay! literally the longest fic i've written since high school and everything of comparable length i've written is shit!

23. fics you wanted to write but didn't

uhhhhhh do the multiple planned sequels to my current wip that i cannot physically justify writing before i finish it count

otherwise there's like 4 other things, in order of likelihood that i'd actually work on them:

another pikmin fic entirely unrelated to my current wip. i actually have some of this written but i haven't touched it in like 2 months for no particular reason. basic premise started out as "Hm what if there were long-term consequences to The Events of p4" and then turned into midsommar lmao.

Manhattan, a tribute one- or two-shot to one of my favorite fic series of all time, The Station Sequence (Wells Street Station / The Ellipse / Promenade / Narodnaya) by Marquis Carabas. Fucking INCREDIBLE takes on Coraline and the kind of trauma that would naturally arise from her circumstances, but also an excellent example of She Who Fights Monsters and the impact that that has on herself and other people. I have a lot of very specific headcanons regarding parts of this series that I would have wanted to turn into a ten-year-anniversary tribute or whatever but unfortunately I didn't think of that until both the "series start" and "series end" anniversaries had long passed. But I'm absolutely going to write this anyway at some point - there are just too many specific ideas and some of them are already partially written.

the ninjago AU longfic that i've been planning... definitely since i finished crystallized, possibly since the s15 finale (but i don't think so, i remember the early concept was much more "this is an AU of crystallized" than "this is an AU of ninjago in general" so it was probably when i finished crystallized). the concept has Evolved a lot since then, but the basic premise is that sea!nya and a weird version of zane that i invented whole-cloth out of implications... they don't really "team up" as much as "orbit around each other for a billion years" in a way. julien is heavily involved, because you KNOW i can't resist that shit, and so are echo and harumi. i've already done a lot of Figuring Out with this universe or whatever but it'd take a Lot More and frankly DLD has much higher priority.

a few miscellaneous sciadv fics that i wrote a little bit of but which unfortunately did not go anywhere, and then amadeus wasn't nearly as important in A;C as i was hoping she'd be RIP. these are probably dead unfortunately the motivation is basically gone. ironically i might circle back to writing something for O;9 at some point instead - going in i thought it'd be horrible from what little i knew about it (unfinished VN/light novels and Breasting Boobily: The Anime), but actually i watched the anime back in september. aside from the pacing in the first few episodes feeling like i got infected with radical-6 and then started watching a normal show, it was LITERALLY fantastic and i am still fucking thinking about it. but! no plot bunny, fic needs a plot bunny. maybe something would come to me on a rewatch though.

thanks for the ask! :D

[h0n3yk1tt3n]

💙🩷🤎

💙 Blue: What inspires you to finish writing a fanfic, and what makes you quit writing one at any stage in the process?

For Store Playlist, it was the fact that it was part of a big bang and I'd feel gross for not finishing it lol. For Left 2 Chill, it was/is a multi-year labor of love that i wanted to see to the end. And the epilogue will be going up in like 12 days!! So we're nearly there! (Also the deadlines I had in my head of September-October 2023 and April 2024 for a 28 Weeks Later joke/reference kicked my ass into finishing... but good lord i still need to go back and make edits bc spell/grammar check has never been kind to me)

As for what makes me abandon one, the fact of the matter is that I don't seriously start enough fics/story ideas to make them feel.. real?? I've mentioned incomprehensible scribbles in my notes app, which were made either bc I wanted to make a comic for them or just write them down before I forgot them (cough cough royal pains manifesto). So like, it's hard to call them abandoned since they were never really started beyond Vibes (halo au... i can see like three scenes for it and no other story beyond that)

As for actual fics of mine that have been abandoned (one of which has gotten a weird influx of kudos despite not being updated since 2018) were from the era of the infamous Deleted Progress of 2019 from when my old iPod Touch was being a douche about its cloud storage. So many months worth of progress... just gone.. it still makes me sad...

Sooo short answer on reasoning for abandoning fics: not being able to commit or literal outside influence I guess lol

🩷 Pink: Do you find a certain character (or characters) easy to write? More difficult -- and if so, do you avoid writing that character (or those characters) when possible?

Jeremy and Zoe are generally easy bc they're just like me fr (oddly specific familial trauma what whaaat), but it really depends with other characters. I've done very little writing for characters other than the boyfs outside of l2c (which! I! Want! To! Get! Better! About!) so like.. the au versions of the characters are generally easy for me bc. I invented them for the most part lol

I guess it was harder for me to pin down Rich, since he was a "main cast" character whose head I spent about the least time in (next to Jared, but I've already gone on abt the meta reasoning for not getting in his head much, and writing him was less hard and more mentally taxing bc i kept fussing over potential readers Not Seeing The Vision) mainly bc the other characters had more interesting things to going on to pick apart

🤎 Brown: How did you decide to write for (or why are you writing) a certain story? (Asker, feel free to chose a specific story you're curious about. You can also let the answerer choose the story.)

I'm gonna speedrun a few bc I feel like it

Left 2 Chill: started playing Left 4 Dead 2 again. Doodled Jeremy saying one of the most metal lines from the game/trailer. Quarantine happened a month later. "Haha look at me writing an au about a viral outbreak during a viral outbreak I'm sure there's no correlation at all."

Store Playlist: worked at a grocery store and watched over the self checkouts. Fun songs played sometimes that I would dance/lipsync to. Funny customer/manager interactions. ("He's sixteen." "Nuh-uh! I'm fourteen!" — "Want some water? It tastes like roses. [...] Want some roses? They taste like roses." — [The cucumber thing]) "Hmm what if self-indulgent blorbo au?"

[Anything for the Weakness saga (hi becca)]: 5am brain rot, brain rot, gay, what if missing scene, 3am brain rot, gay gay gay hgfgvcgg g a y

[runaway-osha]

The New Year's writing boost for the return of Runaway Pendragon. The plan anyway. I will be posting it by the first week of New Year's if all goes as planned and I stay stable enough for that long.

But the plan/set out for it is as follows:

September 8th was her last canonical interaction, with Kishar. The Curse that caused her to be viewed as she sees herself. Which means this is 4 months before New Year's 2023. Due to this she ran away again aside from the going to fight Alaric arc, the Ides Of March (which I never finished.) But her name is Runaway, that is what she's known for. So let's say it caused a really bad mental health break so she decided to get away.

Ran off, unseen this time, or maybe she was seen and just had not been stopped, and she came into contact with Mich very quickly. They then decided that they actually would care about her, like when they took care of her after she was nearly killed by Jack, and tagged along on her 'journy'. The two then ran into Felix, Runaway's lost older brother who Mich told her about, and with reunions, the siblings and half sibling (Mich) were off.

Eventually all three of them found a cure for Runaway's curse, and where it was from, but I don't know much about that yet. Aside from the cure being found, before that, a lot of comfort was needed for Runaway as her self esteem took a huge plummet. Before this, regret of running away again had deeply set in for Runaway, but now it was finally for a reason, the curse being gone, and it made her feel a bit better at least.

Runaway and her older brother/sibling then hunt down a lot of their half-siblings, trying to now have more of a purpose on this journey, getting rid of Alaric. During this they end up meeting a few extended family members that also despise Alaric, and help them by giving advice on more of his kids and their powers. The three even meet a few people who owe Felix or Mich a few favors, that help them throughout this mini-adventure.

Eventually the three, after all these experiences together, everything they have done, they kill Alaric. He is a gone, a few of the siblings learn that he was bad and although they have a hard time accepting it, they still do. Runaway and Felix get a few answers on what happened to their mother and tell each other a bit about what went down after Felix's death was 'faked', more than what was said before anyways.

After this, Felix parts ways. He really can't stay in one place for too long, but he promises he'll stay in touch with Runaway, and he does. Mich doesn't come directly back to OSHA grounds, knowing they probably won't be accepted. They still look out for Runaway however. And Runaway goes home at the beginning of 2023.

She gets back to the castle and really hopes that her family won't freak out too bad. After she has been gone for 4 months, she just knows a lot has happened throughout the time. She just mostly hopes that they don't hate her for leaving, although that is very low on possibility. She jokingly thinks of using the 'my 19th birthday is in a month, please don't freak out' card to avoid anything happening before making her presence known.

-

So uh. Take this if I don't manage to write it all! It'll be a lot of I do, so this is a basic rundown.

[thefanficmonster]

Love For The Faceless

Corpse Husband x Youtuber!Reader(Female)

Warnings: Swearing

Genre: Fluff 

Summary: Y/N is a YouTube gamer who has recently gained a much larger following thanks to the streams she does with her friends. Naturally, considering her faceless and bodiless nature, people are starting to get curious about her. When she finally follows her friend Corpse’s example, a lot more than her hands is revealed.

Requested by anon, you know who you are 😉 Thank you so much for placing a request and hope this fic fulfills the expectations you have for it.

“Hey!“ I greet the lobby as I finally hop into the Discord call after quickly saying ‘hi‘ to my audience.

I’ve been a YouTuber for four years now and I’ve only recently started streaming, encouraged to do so by my best friend Rae. She’s the one who got me in multiplayer games such as Among Us and Phasmophobia which led me to meet her amazing gaming squad that consists of some of the most famous names on the platform. They are all wonderful people and I will forever be in Rae’s debt for introducing me to them. However, becoming friends with Felix, Sean and the rest of the team brought not only a more fulfilled life, but also a small boost in following. Who am I kidding, it wasn’t small. It was overwhelming, terrifying even.

My YouTube channel had a little over a million subscribers at the start of quarantine and now....now it’s closer to three million. Speaking of three million, I’m about to reach it any day now and it’s really hard to believe. I’m a gaming youtuber and I’ve never considered changing my genre despite expecting to not get any attention whatsoever, with all the big names on the platform. I was convinced not even as many as a hundred people would stumble across my videos and now here we are.

My OG subscribers are very supportive of my sudden growth and are defending me when my newer fans ask for a face reveal or whatnot. While we’re on that topic I might have to mention that not even my YouTube friends, and that includes Rae have seen my face. I’ve been faceless and bodiless for the entirety of my time on social media. Some claim I do it to grab more attention or for dramatic effect, but the reason is beyond that. I’m not shallow. Actually, shallow people are the reason I don’t show my face. I’ve never been the prettiest, but my middle school bully thought that I wasn’t lacking self confidence enough. As a result, I ended up with a not so handsome scar on my right cheek that starts from the corner of my mouth and nearly misses my eye. Yeah, it’s a long and pretty noticeable scar that has thankfully become less and less obvious as the years have progressed. Still, it’s not something I’d like to show to my viewers.

Eight ‘hi’s greet me back, each making my smile grow wider. “Sorry I’m late guys. Technical difficulties.” 

“Don’t worry.“ Rae’s voice dominates over the rest, “Corpse still isn’t here so we’re waiting for him.“

I mute myself on the Discord call and take a look at my comments. I’m most flattered by the comments about my voice. Seeing as how they don’t have much to compliment about me other than my content, they make the nicest comments about my voice, personality and humor. Those comments are the ones who warm my heart most. Even when people in my day to day life compliment my appearance I can’t find it in me to believe they are being genuine. I’d like to believe these amazing people are being one hundred percent honest when they tell me they like me for who I am and not for what I might look like.

“Sorry I’m late guys.“ A deep voice causes me to even physically jolt, switching my focus from the comments to the Among Us lobby where my eyes land on the newly materialized black avatar.

“Hi Corpse.“ Rae greets him.

“Hello mister who broke Twitter!“ Sean laughs, provoking the laughter of the rest of the players.

“Yeah, congratulations man. That’s a big deal.“ Felix chimes in.

“Thanks guys, but I think you’re forgetting we’re talking about a picture of my hand.“ Corpse chuckles timidly. I have noticed how shy he gets when someone gives him a compliment - like a snail slowly withdrawing in its shell. I find it adorable.

“That’s what makes it even better!“ I unmute my mic, sending my own congratulations.

“While we’re on that topic...“ Rae begins, waiting for the rest of us to shut our traps, suggesting she has something important to say. “Y/N, do you ever plan on doing a reveal like that? Not a face reveal. Just a body part reveal.“

I have no problem talking about the subject with friends but I get nervous when I’m supposed to discuss it with my fans. Seeing as how everyone, including myself, is streaming right now, I get a bit of a stutter in my speech. “Haven’t thought about it yet. But I guess a body part reveal is harmless.” I cringe immediately after letting the words leave my mouth, “That sounds so weird.”

Rae knows that I’m not too fond of my face, but I haven’t told her about my scar yet. I let almost all people I’ve met online think I’m using my lack of appearance for effect. For the mystery of it all. Mysteries attract people which equals attention. Attention equals views and the domino effect continues.

“Just a suggestion. No pressure.“ Rae adds quickly, knowing full well I get anxious when the subject is brought up in front of cameras. “Let’s get this game started, shall we.”

                                                          * * *

The idea dwells in my mind, sitting on the back burner even after I disconnect from the Discord call. I’m sitting in my gaming chair, which was a gift for my two million milestone, and weighing out the pros and cons of the action Rae suggested I take.

“It’s a picture of your fucking hand, dummy. How bad can it turn out?“ I say out loud, shaking my head at my indecisiveness. “You’ll be fine.”

In a blur, two pictures are already posted on my Instagram. The first one captioned ‘Took a leaf from my friend’s book. Did I do it right @ corpsehusband?’ and the second ‘Thanks, Rae. These are on you.’

Rae’s POV

As I’m watching a movie in my living room, I get a notification from Instagram, informing me that Y/N has posted for the first time in a while.

I scoff, “More like the first time in forever.”

The first thing that comes to my mind is the possibility of her reaching that three million milestone that’s been long time coming. I bring the glass of water that’s sitting on my coffee table to my lips, taking a sip as I tap the notification. The picture I see makes me hurry to put the glass back down so I don’t drop it. Y/N’s hand. Her fingers are covered with several thin rings each. And here I thought Corpse had too many rings, this girl has at least two on every finger! 

Then my eyes land on the second picture she has posted only minutes after the first and my heart drops. I struggle to get the water that’s been sitting in my moth down my esophagus while my mind is struggling with the task to comprehend the picture I’m looking at. 

Another hand is resting on top of Y/N’s. A hand also covered in rings but fewer and larger. The nails are painted black. 

I think I know who it belongs to.

Before I can even finish the thought, I’m dialing Y/N. She picks up after the second ring, sound cheery as ever as she greets me. “Hey Rae!”

“Don’t you ‘Hey Rae’ me!” I practically scream. I hate being kept in the dark about anything ever so this is just driving me mad. On top of all, she’s my best friend, for fuck’s sake. “Is that Corpse in the photo with you?!”

“Ugh....“ the cheeriness to her voice is all but gone now.

I go on with my rant, not giving her the time to reply. Not that she would reply. I bet she doesn’t know what to say. “So he knows where you live?! Or was the picture taken at his place?! He knows what you look like?! You have seen him! He has seen you in real life but me, your best friend, haven’t!!! You are breaking Covid 19 protection laws to take pictures?! Are you fucking serious, Y/N?!”

There’s a long moment of silence which frustrates me even more but I literally have run out of things to yell and the power to be angry. I mean, I still am, I just can’t express it.

“Rae, sweetheart, please calm down. You’re scary when you’re mad.“ This girl has some fucking nerve! She’s on the verge of laughing!

“Listen here you...“ 

“Rae, please stop scaring my girlfriend.“ That oh so distinguishable, oh so familiar voice interrupts me.

I am flabbergasted, for a lack of a better term.

“Now that we’ve got you quiet, I can explain.“ Y/N pics up the conversation, “Corpse and I have been dating for six, almost seven months now. We started dating around Easter after talking for quite some time. We moved in together at the end of September. All thanks to you, Rae. You’re the best.” She pauses to breathe in real quick, “There, all caught up?“

I’m in no less shock than I was before she explained. Actually, I think I might be even more confused now. It all just feels like a fever dream. “Yes...no. I don’t fucking know! I need details, Y/N!”

“Details later.“ Corpse makes his presence known once again, “We’re watching Family Guy right now. Talk to you later.“

“Love you, Rae!“ Y/N calls out before the line goes dead.

My arm goes limp, dropping my phone on the couch next to me. 

“Motherfuckers” I mumble under my breath.

Y/N’s POV

It’s been a week since Rae has stopped talking to both Corpse and me. I know she just needs some time to cool off. In the meantime, the rest of our friends were informed and, as oppose to Rae, were nothing but supportive and overjoyed. I bet Rae feels the same way though. Sean, Dave and the rest of the gang have confirmed that she’s incredibly happy for us and says she noticed a spark between me and him since day one, but she can’t help but be mad at us, and especially me, for not telling her sooner.

“Any regrets?“ I remember Corpse asking me when we hung up on her after dropping the bomb.

“Not being able to see her face when she saw the picture.“ I beam at him, feeling as content as ever.

He laughs, agreeing with me before leaning down to kiss me.

@susceptible-but-siriusexual  @simonsbluee  @save-the-sky  @hacker-ghost  @itsminniekat  @bi-andready-tocry  @imtiredaffff  @jazzkaurtheglorious  @hereforbeebo  @fandomgirl17  @chrysanthykios

[fieri-sentio-et-excrucior]

Do you think Jin Guangyao meant for Xue Yang to survive his execution? The more I think about this, the more strange I find it... Because we know xy is very resilient and difficult to kill, but it feels very ooc for Meng Yao to botch that!! He is no careless enough to let a loose end like Xue Yang just "left for dead" at a ditch, and still carrying the yin tiger amulet. You'd think Meng Yao would have made damn sure he was dead...

It’s a really good question! And one I’ve thought about before too, and don’t really have an answer to. It doesn’t make much sense to me for JGY to harm Xue Yang so badly but not kill him; he knows what Xue Yang is capable of, what lengths he’s gone to previously to get revenge on people who have harmed him, and not only that, but Xue Yang knows tons of JGY’s secrets. Why piss him off by nearly killing him but then let him live, loose and unsupervised out there? I’m sure he didn’t let him live out of any sentimental affection for him after so long working together either! But as you say, JGY doesn’t botch things! He’s very thorough and detail-oriented. So I can’t see that he would have accidentally let Xue Yang live either - himself.

What I can perhaps imagine is Jin disciples screwing up by not checking that Xue Yang was definitely dead and then going back and telling JGY that they finished the job. Yi City seems fairly remote so maybe JGY wasn’t present and didn’t go out to check himself? Xue Yang looked in very bad condition so maybe his pulse was really faint and they thought he really was dead?

It does seem strange and careless that JGY wouldn’t have looked for the amulet though. Maybe it’s simply a plothole?! Although I have only watched CQL and read 2 of the 4 novels (I’m actually cross as I pre-ordered the 3rd novel which is due to be released this week but my delivery has been pushed back until September, grrr…), so maybe I’m missing something – but I have always assumed JGY was behind the attack on Xue Yang but I don’t know if it’s stated explicitly that he was? Or if there could have been someone else who fell out with Xue Yang so tried to have him killed but wasn’t as careful as JGY would have been?

It’s also interesting to me that if JGY had been behind it, Xue Yang still went back to work for him. (I read a good fic about that actually, where he went back to JGY in the hope that he could help him bring back XXC!)

Thank you for the ask!

[homoose]

Teach Me Something I Don’t Know: Part VII

Summary: Spencer’s unresolved trauma catches up with him. Reader gets her heart broken.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Category: angst, I’m so sorry guys

Warnings/Includes: brief mention of violence and details of a case; brief mention of prison, past trauma; a lil self-loathing and self-sabotaging

Word count: 3.8k

a/n: I knew that this was where this story was going from the very beginning. The dialogue is one of the first parts I had written. It still hurts. Relevant to the story: I operate with the understanding that the Jeid arc does not exist, which also means that Spencer never went to therapy in season 15. Also, huge thanks to @reidscanehand​ for beta-ing and just generally being my hype person!!!!

Song Recs: Shrike by Hozier; Better As a Memory by Kenny Chesney (don’t come for me if Spencer made playlists this would ABSOLUTELY be on there)

Series Masterlist

———

Spencer made his way to Emily’s office, ignoring the team’s eyes on him— varying degrees of understanding, concern, and uncertainty plain on their faces. As he reached the threshold, he paused for a second before moving into her line of sight. When he moved into the doorway, she looked up and waved him in. He closed the door behind him.

She gestured to the chair in front of her desk. Spencer hesitated for only a split second, but it was long enough for her to notice. He lowered himself into the chair and met her eyes.

She folded her hands on top of the desk. “How are you feeling?”

He drummed his fingers across his kneecaps. “I’m fine.”

It was a lie, and they both knew it. She bit back a sigh and flipped open the folder in front of her. “I’m finished with the official report. I wanted to go over it with you before I submit it to the director.” She looked at him briefly before reading out the report. “On January 9th, our team pursued a lead at the residence of suspect Andrew Hurley. We divided into teams to cover the two entrances to the home, as well as the barn behind the house.”

Spencer fidgeted slightly in his chair and rubbed the tips of his fingers together. Emily continued, “During the raid, Supervisory Special Agent Spencer Reid became separated from the team and was ambushed and disarmed by the suspect in the barn.” She paused but didn’t look at him. “The team was unaware of the altercation for some time, during which Dr. Reid employed various approved restraint methods and was ultimately forced to utilize self-defense measures to preserve his own life. Consequently, Mr. Hurley sustained serious injuries.”

She did look at him then, a steady and unrelenting gaze that had him shrinking inside himself. “However, I have determined that Dr. Reid’s actions were justified in order to maintain his own safety.” She returned her eyes to the report. “Mr. Hurley was detained and treated for his injuries at Sebastian River Medical Center, and he is expected to make a full recovery. Based on the cognitive interviews and physical evidence, a grand jury hearing is scheduled for January 25th.” She brought her hands to rest on top of the report.

“I’ll sign off on it and deliver it to the director by the end of business today.” She let out the sigh she’d been holding back. “Reid.”

He pressed his mouth into a thin line, torn between shame and vindication. “Emily.”

“What happened in that barn was unacceptable. And I need you to recognize that.” Her eyes were back on him, a leader’s gaze boring into a weak link. “You went against a direct order. You put your life in danger unnecessarily, and in the process you endangered this entire team. Furthermore, you could have cost us the ability to close this case, to put Hurley away and bring justice to his victims.”

“It won’t happen again,” he assured her.

“No, it won’t.” Her tone told him that if it did, he’d have bigger problems than a meeting in her office. “My recommendation to the director is that you transition to your next mandatory leave cycle early.”

“I can handle—”

“It’s not a request. You’re on sabbatical starting tomorrow. That’s an order, and one you’d do well to follow.” She closed the file in front of her. “We’ll see you back in the bullpen on March 7th.”

“I don’t need more time off, Emily,” Spencer snapped.

He could see her grind her teeth together at his tone, but he couldn’t seem to care enough to feel contrite. She took a deep breath in through her nose, leveling him with a pointed look. “If Simmons hadn’t broken it up, you’d have killed Hurley on the floor of that barn.”

His mind snapped back to the lifeless eyes of Hurley’s victims— eight year old boys in shallow graves. Boys who died afraid, and in pain, and crying out for their mothers. His thoughts raced to the feel of Hurley’s throat under his arm, the crack of the zygomatic under his fist. Emily was right of course. If Matt hadn’t found them in the barn and dragged him up and off of Hurley’s nearly lifeless body, Spencer would have killed him without compunction.

“Reid.” The stern edge was gone from her voice. Spencer refocused his eyes on her face, now showcasing an underlying concern that made his stomach turn. “I’m not recommending another cycle of mandatory counseling at this time, although I reserve the right to require it moving forward. But… I’m asking you to take care of yourself. You’ve been through a lot in the last two years. More than a lot.”

“I said I’m fine,” he insisted, but there was less fire behind it this time.

“And I’m not saying you aren’t,” she countered. “But I am saying that the person in that barn… that wasn’t you. That was not the Reid that I know.” Emily tilted her head and furrowed her brow. “The Reid I know uses his intellect and empathy to see angles that the rest of us miss. He depends on the strength of his mind and his unwavering compassion to diffuse conflicts without violence. He invites his friends to foreign film showings and puppet theater.”

When he didn’t budge, she let out a long breath. “I want you to take the next fifty days to find that Reid and bring him back to us.”

...

Y/N dropped into her desk chair with a huff. They’d been back from winter break for two weeks, and she already needed another vacation. But tomorrow was Friday, and then they had a long weekend. She could make it through one more day.

She closed her eyes for a long moment, tired in the way that only kindergarten teachers fresh off a long break can be. She heard the click of Anita’s shoes coming before she even entered the room, and Y/N couldn’t stop the twitch of her lips.

“Dude. How is it only Thursday?” Anita flopped down into the plush Calm Corner chair.

“This has been the longest week of my life,” Y/N agreed. “My kids were off the chain.”

“There is so much drama in middle school right now,” Anita groaned. “I can’t keep up with all the tea, and you know how I love to stay up to date on the freshest brews.” She shot Y/N a look. “Speaking of, where’s the good doctor?”

“I think they’ve had a lot going on at work,” Y/N surmised. “I haven’t seen Mrs. Jareau in over a month.”

“Well, I’m getting antsy,” Anita complained. “Thought for sure you’d be going steady by now.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t help but feel a little impatient herself. If she’d known it would be this long before she’d see him again, she might have made a move when he’d volunteered. Then again, probably not. She sighed.

Her phone chimed with an email message, and she automatically swiped the screen open to read it.

Spencer Reid Re:

Are you free today? If you are, I’ll be at Soho.

...

Spencer sat at the table in the corner of the coffee shop. He sipped absentmindedly at his tea, almost gone cold. He hadn’t waited for a reply before leaving Quantico. He drove straight to the city, figuring he’d wait at Soho until he felt some semblance of calm returning to his body.

He didn’t know why he’d emailed Y/N, and he wasn’t sure he really wanted her to show up. Usually he’d talk to Penelope or maybe JJ. But he’d wanted to get as far from the BAU as possible, and he didn’t want to drag Penelope away from the colorful, safe corner of the world she’d created for herself. He didn’t want to fill it with all the tragedy she’d tried so hard to leave behind.

If Y/N did show, he was certain he could keep the conversation vague, focus on her and the classroom, ask her about her holidays. She wasn’t a profiler, didn’t know his tells well enough. She’d be none the wiser, and he’d have her warmth and presence to focus his energy on, if only for a few hours.

Every time the bell chimed, his eyes flew to the door, searching for her. He knew it was ridiculous. He’d only known her for one hundred and eleven days. Pragmatically, he knew she shouldn’t be the one he wanted to talk to. Realistically, he wasn’t planning to burden her with all of the mess of the past week, the past year, his entire life.

But in the six hundred and forty seven minutes he’d spent with her since September, he’d felt more like himself than he ever had. He was never afraid to be himself with her— the silly story voices, the ridiculous costume, the magic trick, the vulnerability about his mom. All of these pieces of himself were things he usually waited years to show people. It had taken her a matter of weeks to draw them out.

He couldn’t help but believe that if he wanted to, he could tell her everything. She’d know exactly what to say. She’d listen for as long as he could keep talking. She’d cover his shaking hands and wrap him up in the warmth of her spirit. She’d give of herself to guide him back to the person he used to be. She’d be more than willing to use her radiance to illuminate the dark so that he might have a little light again.

The bell sounded, and his eyes focused, and there she was. She was wrapped up in a puffed jacket, a bright blue scarf tied around her neck. Her nose was adorably red from the cold, and she rubbed her hands together as the door closed behind her. Her eyes found him immediately. A small smile turned up the corners of her mouth, and she gave him an enthusiastic wave. And he knew that he was right about all of it.

She approached the table, unwinding her scarf. “Hi!”

“Hi.”

Her eyes flickered over his face, and then settled on his mostly empty mug. “I’ll get you a refill, and then we’ll catch up?”

He nodded, and she headed to the counter. There had been a part of him that thought she wouldn’t come, but of course she did. For some reason, unbeknownst to him, she liked talking to him. Even among his closest friends, he was often made to feel self-conscious about his tendency to ramble, but Y/N had literally asked him to. She sought him out, asked him questions, listened intently, and remembered things he’d told her. She was kind and thoughtful and genuine. Of course she came when he called.

She returned with two mugs, carefully setting them down on the tiny table. She unzipped and removed her jacket, hanging it on the back of her chair and revealing a crew neck sweater covered in tiny astronauts and rocket ships. When she sat across from him, her hands wrapped around the mug and her eyes met his.

“Hi.”

He couldn’t stop his lips from twitching, despite the events of the day. “You said that already.”

She laughed, and he felt the weight begin to lift. “Yeah, well, I haven’t seen you in forever, so— I’m just making up for lost time.”

“Sixty one days.”

“Hmm?”

“It’s been sixty one days, eighty eight minutes, and approximately,” he looked at his watch, “fourteen seconds since we saw each other last.”

She laughed again, and his mouth completed its curve. She tucked her hair behind her ear. “I like that you’ve been counting.” She let her chin come to rest in her hand, eyes studying his face. “How are you?”

He wanted to lie, but she was looking at him so earnestly that he mumbled out, “I’m managing.”

She mirrored the way he’d looked at her across this same table nearly three months ago. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not really.” That was a lie, too. But asking her to meet him was enough of a burden.

“Okay. Well, if you change your mind at any point, let me know.” She wiggled her eyebrows at him. “Until then, I can just regale you with all the kindergarten stories you’ve missed while you were out saving lives.”

And regale him she did. For almost an hour, he listened to her tales of love (budding crushes were taking over recess time), loss (the class pet— a stuffed zebra— had accidentally taken a swim in the Atlantic on a vacation to Florida), and lessons learned…

“So, in case there was ever any doubt, we are now painfully aware that we shouldn’t attempt to flush our underwear.” Y/N let out an exasperated laugh.

She’d been talking to him for fifty three minutes, and his heart already felt one thousand times lighter. “I’m really glad I wasn’t there for that one.”

“I really wish that was the only poop story I had.” She shook her head. “There are a lot of things they don’t tell you in grad school. I think there’d be a global teacher shortage if they warned you about the amount of bodily fluid management involved in teaching kindergarten.”

She toyed with the edge of her empty mug. He watched the movement of her fingers.

“Do you—”

“Do you—”

She laughed and gestured for him to speak first.

“Do you want to get out of here?”

…

They ended up in Mitchell Park. The trees were bare and the grass was brown, but he was with her, and so it was beautiful.

They’d been walking in comfortable silence, when she asked, “Did you change your mind? About talking about it.”

Spencer put his hands into his pockets. “It’s, um— it’s kind of a lot.”

She shrugged. “I’ve got time.”

“I don’t mean— I mean, it would take some time to get through it all. But it’s also— it’s a lot.”

“We don’t have to.” He could feel her eyes on him. “Do you talk to— someone about it?”

“I talked with my unit chief today,” he answered.

“Okay. But— I mean, have you ever— talked to someone. Like, a professional.”

Spencer bristled slightly. Although he knew she wasn’t passing judgement, her question exposed the reality that she thought he could use it. “I’ve had some mandated counseling over the years.”

“Obviously it’s your choice whether you talk to someone or not,” she mused. “I just— I know that I’ve benefited a lot from seeing my therapist.”

Spencer was unsure of what to do with that information. Here she was, confessing that she went to therapy— sweet, lovely Y/N. In comparison, he wasn’t sure if even daily meetings with a counselor would be enough to tame the darkness that had grown and festered inside him over the years. That sometimes threatened to swallow him whole.

For a long while, there was only the crunch of the frozen ground beneath their feet. It wasn’t uncomfortable, but there was an uncertainty about them that felt uncharacteristically heavy. He was hyper aware of her presence, and so he felt her pace slowing down before she came to a complete stop. He walked a few more paces before it became clear that she wasn’t planning to catch up.

He turned and saw that she’d taken a seat on one of the park benches. He carefully made his way to the bench, sitting beside her quietly. She didn’t look at him, but instead studied her fingernails intently. She cracked her knuckles once, twice, and then turned her body slightly toward him on the bench.

“I’m sorry if I overstepped,” she hedged carefully. “I didn’t mean to tell you what to do, or like, imply that there’s anything wrong with you. There’s nothing wrong with you at all. I just—”

“It’s fine,” Spencer assured her. The way she looked at him then— like he was something fragile, delicate— made his eyes burn. He kept his voice even. “I know what you meant.”

She smiled, eyes crinkling and filled with something that felt familiar and far away all at once. “Good. I can’t have you out here thinking you’re anything less than wonderful.”

He couldn’t stop looking at her, attempting to solve the impossible cypher behind her irises. As he failed to decode it, his inability to read her blinded him to what came next. He missed the dilation of her pupils, the way her tongue darted out to wet her lips, the increase of the beats in her carotid. So when she leaned in and pressed her mouth to his, he was momentarily paralyzed.

Her lips were so soft against his slightly chapped ones, pressing with a perfectly gentle pressure. She brought her hand up to cradle his cheek, the pads of her fingers just barely ghosting the curls falling around his ear. She sighed into his mouth and pressed a little closer. He took one peaceful moment to bask in the realization of a desire he’d had for almost four months.

And then she swiped the very tentative tip of her tongue against the seam of his mouth, and his hands involuntarily wound into her hair, dragging her closer. He opened his mouth against hers to swallow her sweet little gasp. His grip on her hair tightened, and she let out the tiniest mewl, and like a switch had flipped— suddenly his mind was full of the darkness she’d spent the evening chasing away.

Y/N beneath him in the dark. Maeve in a pool of blood. His hands around Cat’s neck. His mother’s slap against his cheek. Max walking away from him. His fingers pressing the plunger on a dirty syringe. The slam of the door behind his father. Y/N calling out his name. A knife at his throat under a canopy of bones. Innumerable sets of lifeless eyes staring up at him. His life being snuffed out on the dirt floor of a shed. The clanging of metal bars and fingers ghosting over old bruises. Y/N looking at him with warm, loving eyes. The violent crack of bone underneath his fists. Y/N’s face, lovely and perfect— and then twisted in pain.

He broke away from her, releasing his hold on her hair and pushing her back into the bench. He took a second to gather himself before he dared to look at her. Her hair was tousled from his rough grip; her eyes were half-lidded and focused on him; her lips were red and kiss-bruised and turned up in a small, sweet smile.

And all at once he knew he had to hurt her, and it had to be now. Because what Cat had said about him was true. He might have escaped his mother’s illness, but he hadn’t been able to outrun the violence— and unlike her, he didn’t have the excuse of being sick. He had hurt people, and he had enjoyed it. He would have killed Hurley, and he would have slept soundly. He was no better than the men his team hunted.

Every time he thought he’d moved past it, that wickedness lurking just under the surface would grab him by the throat, choking everything else out. Emily’s directive rang in his ears. Find that Reid and bring him back to us. He knew who she was talking about. The problem was, he wasn’t sure that person still existed.

He was going to hurt Y/N eventually. Better to do it now, before things got too far.

“You’re Michael’s teacher,” he said, as evenly as possible.

Her smile faltered, and she pressed her lips together. He could still feel the phantom press of them against his own, and he was sure he’d never forget it. She cleared her throat. “You’re right, you’re totally right. I, um— I won’t be in a few months, and maybe then—”

“You don’t even know me,” he interrupted.

Now there was confusion in her eyes. That much he could read. She huffed out a small laugh. “I— I don’t think that’s entirely true.”

He looked directly at her. “Why? Because you read my bio on a university website? Because we got tea a couple times?” His voice sounded harsh, patronizing, and he hated it.

Her confusion shifted into shock, and he ignored the tug on his heart. “Are you serious?” she questioned, genuinely searching for a sign that he was joking.

“Dead serious.” He shrugged, and it felt like his bones were breaking. “You don’t really know anything about me, Y/N. If you did, you wouldn’t be sitting here right now.”

“Where— where is this coming from?” Her voice was small, close to breaking. He lined up the last nail on the lid of the coffin.

“Maybe I gave you the wrong impression. I’ve appreciated talking to you. Volunteering in your classroom was entertaining. But I don’t— I don’t see you that way.” It was a lie, and if he didn’t have such a practiced poker face, she might have seen through it. As it was, his poker face had helped get him banned from every casino in Vegas, so he watched her as he hammered the final nail. “You’re just Michael’s kindergarten teacher.”

“Oh.” The hurt flashed across her features— the furrow of her brow, the tightening of her mouth, the storm clouds in her eyes. “Well, I— I really read this wrong, huh?” She laughed, but there was no humor in it.

“Yeah.” He put his hands into his pockets to keep himself from reaching for her, the desire to comfort her a strange juxtaposition to the pain he was intentionally inflicting on her. “I guess so.”

She opened and closed her mouth twice before taking a deep breath and nearly whispering, “Okay. Well. I’m— I’m gonna go.”

She brushed some imaginary dust from her pants and then stood. She turned to him, and he waited for her to explode— to scream and curse at him. But it didn’t come. She didn’t look at him at all. “Um— yeah. I’m gonna go.”

He didn’t say anything, and he knew she’d take his silence as indifference. But he had to keep his mouth shut, because if he didn’t, he’d beg her to stay. He’d tell her every single random piece of information he had stored in his brain. He’d tell her that he loved her from the moment he watched her help a child pick a solution from a pencil box. He’d tell her that he only ever dreamt of two things these days— her or the lives he didn’t save. He’d tell her every single one of his deepest, darkest secrets. He’d tell her that sometimes he was so afraid of himself that he could barely breathe. And if he told her all of that, she’d walk away anyway.

So instead, he watched her turn and start back up the path, hugging her arms around herself and swiping her cheek against her scarf.

When she disappeared over the slope of the path, he scrubbed his hands over his own damp face and let himself break.

———

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Broken tags: @saspencereid @this-is-gublerween

[quarantinevibes2020]

LoveDrug

Summary:  That trope where someone's eyes dilate when they see someone they love. That's it. That's the whole fic. OR Virgil and his accomplice play matchmakers for some literal star-crossed lovers.

Word count: 2198

Pairing: Romantic Roman/ Logan (college AU)

Warnings: drinking (not underage), other drugs mentioned but no one uses any

Yes this happened to me. Hush and let me project

AO3 Link

Roman was going to murder his roommate. Or at least shave an eyebrow off in his sleep.

He had been trying to navigate a small apartment decorated in polaroids and newspaper paintings, crowded with people he didn’t know. He had done his best flitting around from group to group: parties weren’t exactly a foreign entity to him and usually he would relish in the chance to make new friends. However, he had been looking for a particularly stormy visage among the sea of people.

He locked eyes with his target: Virgil Kross, aforementioned roommate who had dragged him here in the beginning of the night and told him to stay close before uncharacteristically darting off.

The get together was for everyone in Virgil’s physics class and when Roman found him, Virgil was propped up against a wall and sitting on some steps, swirling around a cider and talking to someone in square glasses and an almost comically over-formal button down.

Virgil caught his eye and lifted an eyebrow. Roman shook his head in a restrained don’t you dare Virgil I swear sort of way. Virgil either didn’t see it or outright ignored him. He waved Roman over, made some sort of excuse that Roman didn’t hear, and left the two alone.

Roman was going to fill Virgil’s pillowcase with popcorn kernels. He was going to tape his toothbrush to the ceiling. He was going to hide his socks in the freezer. He was going to-

“Roman?”

Roman sucked in a breath, litany of threats against his horrible, no good roommate suddenly coming to a halt.

In front of him sat Logan Nova, Virgil’s study partner from when he had taken astronomy a semester ago and also, less important, the person Roman had been pining for ever since Virgil had dragged them on their fieldtrip in September. The class was supposed to map out the stars they saw, identify them, and measure their distances or something. Roman didn’t really keep track of the details. He wasn’t even too interested in looking at the stars, coming from a city where they were mostly blocked out by the light pollution.

And sure, they were pretty in the open sky, but not prettier than the wide eyes that drank them in, than the elated expression that same face had when Roman asked him a question about the class since Virgil was off probably shotgunning a beer with their professor and Roman was bored out of his mind. Logan had shown Roman his star maps and pulled out a worn out textbook with tenderly placed bookmarks of his favorite constellations. Roman had been fascinated by the stories behind them and the two spent the night going through the book, cover to cover.

By the end, Roman was sure he never thought the stars were beautiful until he saw them reflected in Logan’s eyes.

Virgil continued to bring Logan over, even after their astronomy classes had ended, sometimes completely unannounced, before flouncing off to run some errands with his art major friends (how Virgil managed to double major never ceased to amaze Roman, especially given that both those majors were so hard). And for the past six months, Roman had gone from crushing to something close to besotted. It wasn’t something very easy to hide so the next time Roman caught that spider he was going to put ice down his back and-

“Um, there aren’t anymore seats. I can move if you’d like?”

Logan’s voice brought Roman back to the present. He took an extra swig of his drink, hoping that Logan wouldn’t notice how he almost downed it for the courage, and shook his head.

“Scooch on over, Specs, we can share,” Roman said, the burn behind his sternum fueling his words.

Logan laughed, a little bubbly and Roman guessed that his cup was full of something with a similar texture, and moved for Roman to balance on half the seat.

Roman took another sip, looking out over the room of people.

“So this is what you physics people do on a Friday night, huh?” Roman asked, a little teasingly, “not bad.”

Logan bumped him and Roman barely kept his heart from fluttering out of his chest like a frantic dove.

“Did you see how drunk half the class got at the Meteor Fields?”

Roman snorted, “Fair. We almost had to carry Virgil back to the room.”

“You almost had to carry him. I did carry him.”

Roman made a noise of offense, “Excuse me! I am a knight in shining armor! Not a carriage!”

Logan laughed and Roman finally turned to look at him, startling when his face was much closer than he had anticipated.

“I don’t appreciate that I am the carriage in this metaphor,” Logan said with a faux-pout. Roman wanted to quip something back, but he had something of an elephant-sized lump in his throat. Logan tilted his head before leaning in. Roman just barely managed not to squeak.

“Goodness,” Logan said, “your eyes are so dilated!”

Roman blinked, taking another sip of his drink and trying to will a blush down.

“Yeah?” he asked.

“Yeah!” Logan exclaimed back, leaning in even more and woo-boy was he close.

Roman looked to his drink slightly, not able to hold Logan’s wide eyes for a second without turning cherry-red.

“It’s pretty bright in here, they shouldn’t be,” Roman said, trying to ‘science it out’ like Logan loved to do. Logan, mercifully to Roman’s thundering pulse, sat back a bit: considering.

“Well. Quite a few things can cause one’s pupils to dilate. Lack of light. Opiate withdrawal. Looking at someone you’re attracted to. Love. Parasympathetic activat-”

“Coke,” Roman nearly choked out. Logan paused in the list he was rattling off and blinked.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Coke. I did coke. Just- whole line of cocaine all in one gulp.”

Logan furrowed his eyebrows. “You don’t drink cocaine, Roman. Furthermore-”

Roman didn’t hear the rest of Logan’s sentence. He pushed off the wire seating, sputtering out something about refilling his drink, and made a beeline for the back exit.

When he got to the balcony, he nearly slammed his head into the corner of the railing.

Well Roman thought miserably better for him to think you’re on drugs than hopelessly in love with him. Really dodged a bullet there.

The thought didn’t help. Roman let out a groan and let himself slump. He poked his legs between the columns of the balcony and swung his feet. Above him, the sky was hazy. The moon was barely visible as it peeked through a curtain of clouds. Not a star in the sky. A part of Roman thought that was rather fitting given how royally he had just messed up.

A door opened and closed behind him. For a moment, Roman thought it was Virgil from how quiet the footsteps were and was about to get up and tell him he was heading out when he turned around.

Logan Nova, adorable wavy black hair and now slightly-crumpled but still endearing button down, was staring back at him. Clutching his drink a little as he moved to sit next to Roman. He didn’t say anything for a moment. Then-

“Whoever your dealer is, I don’t think they gave you cocaine,” he finally said.

Roman swiveled around to meet his eyes. Logan’s eyebrows furrowed even further.

“Your eyes are dilated again. And while that is a symptom of its ingestion, your behavior otherwise does not indicate its use.”

Something bubbled out of Roman’s throat. For a horrifying moment, Roman thought it was his drink trying to take revenge, but no- it was laughter. Croaky at first, but rapidly devolving into full-bellied howling.

“Perhaps I misjudged?” Logan said after Roman’s guffaws continued, Roman shook his head, trying to stop the shake in his shoulders as Logan, obviously more than a little concerned at Roman’s ‘illicit drug use’, got more and more worried by the minute.

“I didn’t do any drugs, Logan,” Roman finally got out between heaving breaths. Logan stuck out his bottom lip a little.

“But you said..?”

Roman waved at him, he must have misjudged the distance because his hand caught Logan’s shoulder but Roman didn’t feel like moving it.

“I know what I said,” Roman said, laughter trickling, “I know, it was stupid, I promise though. I haven’t had anything besides this crappy beer and,” Roman took in a breath, now or never he guessed, “maybe a little love,” he finished quietly, not sure whether he should thank the alcohol or curse it for letting him say it.

Logan’s eyebrows shot up, “Lovedrug? Like ecstacy?!”

“What?!” Roman shot back, looking incredulous before rubbing his face, “NO, not- not lovedrug you-UGH- how are you smart but so dense??”

Logan only blinked in return. Roman supposed he deserved that.

“Lo,” Roman said, taking his legs out of the balcony and setting them in a lazy kneel, “what were the things you listed off for making someone’s eyes dilate?”

Logan’s nose scrunched, “Em. Parasympathetic activation?”

“Keep going,” Roman said, exasperated but woefully fond.

“Ecstasy would certainly be on the list.”

“Logan.”

Logan huffed, “Ah. I believe I also said looking at someone you’re attract-”

Logan stopped. His expression almost sent Roman into hysterics again but he didn’t give in because if he did he might have ended up crying.

“Oh,” Logan said in a small voice.

“Yeah, oh” Roman echoed softly, “sorry I lied, I kind of just. Panicked. A little.”

“So you led me to believe you had taken a bad strain of cocaine?” Logan replied, voice strained but still shocked out of emotion.

Roman squirmed. “Yee. My bad, you don’t- you know. Have to say anything though. I know you don’t- I just wanted you to know since you seemed a little freaked that I was having a bad drug reaction.”

“You know I don’t what?” Logan asked suddenly as he spun to face Roman. Roman looked down and scratched his nose.

“You don’t-ugh. Don’t make me say it dude, you know what I mean.”

“Roman, look at me.”

Boy, Logan was not making it easy. But he supposed if he was going to get rejected, he should look at him straight in the eyes. At least he’d retain some of his dignity then. Roman lifted his chin.

“What color are my eyes?”

Roman blinked, a little caught off-guard from the question. Was it that obvious that Roman had been waxing poetic about Logan’s eyes in his own mind from the moment he had met him? How they caught the light and sucked it in, like two galaxies swirling in his irises. How his lashes curled naturally, almost touching his brow bone when they were alight with wonder. How it didn’t even matter now that he couldn’t see a star in the sky because they were all caught in Logan’s eyes. They were a force of gravity pulling him in and everything else with them.

“…black?” Roman said, tamping down on his raging thoughts. Logan cocked his head.

“Are you sure about that?” he asked.

Roman almost would have been offended if Logan hadn’t chosen that moment to tug Roman’s chin towards him.

“Look closer,” Logan said.

Breathe, dumbass Roman’s brain said. He listened to both as he squinted.

There were still the swirling galaxies in the middle. The soft gaze did nothing to curb that, but there- Roman tilted his head as he saw something else. Like the sun brimming over the earth, a honey brown at the very edges. Logan must have seen Roman’s expression as he realized it.

“My eyes are amber, Roman.”

There was something in Logan’s voice, it was the same one he used when he was helping Roman with his GenEd calc class. Like he was trying to lead him somewhere. If Logan’s eyes were amber, then his pupils must have been massive because they took up the majority of the…oh.

“But-I-I don’t,” Roman stuttered.

“What were the reasons for someone’s eyes to dilate?” Logan pushed.

“Didn’t take you for a coke guy,” Roman said, trying for cool but bordering on watery. Logan huffed, his face was so close that Roman could feel the breath.

Then, Logan’s lips were on his own and suddenly Roman could care less about eyes.

“Logan,” Roman breathed, smiling when he pulled him forward into another kiss. He turned to pepper more along his jaw bone. Logan giggled. Roman tried to stamp the sound into his brain.

“You’re amazing, you know. Amazing, smart, beautiful, so beautiful,” Roman whispered, half out of his mind as he tugged on the hair at the nape of Logan’s neck.

“Are you sure that’s not the alcohol talking?” Logan managed, though it came out a bit garbled.

“Nothing can addle my brain more than your beauty already has,” Roman replied instantly, pulling Logan in again.

-

Behind the window of the balcony, a blue sweater clad boy adjusted his round glasses and gleefully took a five dollar bill from a pouting spider.

“I told you all they needed was a little push,” whispered the glasses boy.

“Fucking finally,” replied the spider, not missing his five dollars all that much.

[phykios]

honesty and promise me, co-written with @darkmagyk [read on ao3]

Update: Annabeth has not done what needs to be done. 

August moves over into September, hot and sweltering days giving way to the first few hints of the coming autumn chill. One unseasonably cold night, Annabeth had gone to bed wrapped in one of Percy’s old Paris Opera sweaters, waking up with it and wearing it home to ward off the chill of the morning drizzle, like some a normal girlfriend would. 

It’s a problem, she knows, but she just cannot quit this man. 

And boy did she try, about a hundred different times. 

One time, she spent an entire Tuesday before seeing him googling around until she found a picture. It was three years old, and it showed Mittie--oh, sorry, Her Royal Highness Margherita--at a soccer game in Moscow. Next to her is the handsomest man in the world. Percy’s hair is shorter, and something about his windbreaker reminds her of some of the crew boys she knew at Harvard. They aren’t touching, but they are both smiling. This is the kind of girl Percy deserves. This is the kind of girl he should want. His type. She reminds herself of it for hours before meeting him at a show. But the smile he gives her is nothing like the one in the pictures with the princess. And when he whispers what he wants to do to her that evening, she just can’t do it. 

She even took him to his favorite pizza place once to soften the blow. But then she thought about how her dumping him would forever taint the magic of Antonio’s for the both of them, and she just couldn’t abide that.

So she kept putting it off. And putting it off. And putting it off.

And then he asked her to dinner with his parents again, on his one night off in three weeks.

“You’re sure you don’t want me to bring you something?” he asks for the fourth time, concern making his connection thin and tinny.

“It’s just a little stomach thing,” she lies, shaking out a ramen flavor packet. “I’ll be fine. You go have fun with your mom.”

“Okay. I’ll call later to check up on you.”

She rolls her eyes. “I’m just going to be asleep.”

“Talk to you later.”

“Yeah.”

He clicks off. Her apartment is very quiet. For lack of anything else to do, she decides to check her mail.

Who even mails anything anymore, she thinks.

Rifling through the pile of wasted paper, she sighs at the banality of it all. Junk, junk, junk, NYCB brochure she needs to cancel, junk… Harvard?

She peers at it.

The red seal is unmistakable, as is her name, printed in neat, black ink. “Ms. Annabeth Chase.” Why are they contacting her? And more importantly, who the fuck gave them her address?

Hands shaking, she unfolds it. “Dear Ms. Chase,” it reads, “Thank you for your generous contribution to the Harvard Graduate School of Design. As one of our most promising graduates, we are so pleased and thrilled to receive your encouragement. With your gift, we were able to reach our fundraising goal of $2.5million, which will go to support the various operations of the school, so that we can continue to provide a top-notch education for your fellow students. You do make a difference for us, and we are immensely thankful for you!” And then it goes on. “As a thank you for your generous gift of $15,000, we would like to invite you to the Alistair Moore dinner for distinguished graduates and faculty. We would be delighted to receive you at...” 

She can’t finish, dyslexia scrambling the words in front of her. Or maybe that’s just her, trembling so hard she has to sit down. Fifteen thousand. The Alistair Moore dinner. She knows it well, yet another fancy networking event, like the Eta Industries party. Bile rises in her throat. Who would…

The answer hits her like a freight train. Only one person would be so bold. 

Crumpling the letter in her fist, she pulls out her phone, dialing the number she still stubbornly has memorized, despite deleting it off her contacts list. 

She isn’t sure if she’s upset that she gets his voicemail, or relieved. “Hey, dad. It’s me,” she says, grimacing as she starts off like he wouldn’t recognize her voice. Like it’s any other phone call. “I got your message. The Alistair Moore dinner? I’m not going. I told you, I don’t want your help. I don’t need your help. What I need,” she sneers, “is for you to butt out and leave me the hell alone.”

Then she hangs up, before she can chicken out and delete it.

She shoves the letter into her recycling bin, down to the very bottom. Out of sight and out of mind. 

Well, her night is pretty much ruined. 

Ramen growing colder, she lies on her couch, her head hanging over the edge, studiously not looking at her phone. She shouldn’t have left that message. She shouldn’t have opened that letter. She shouldn’t have rebuffed Percy’s invitation. Or maybe she was right, in all those situations. Who the fuck knows. Who the fuck cares. Her leg bounces, frantic, stomach roiling.

Like a gunshot, her phone vibrates on her coffee table. Annabeth catapults herself up, reaching for it, nearly dropping it, even as her eyes begin to blur. Please let it be her dad. Please let it be anyone else but her dad. Please. Please. Please. 

checking in, writes Percy. feeling any better?

With a sob, she hits call. He picks up after the second ring.

“Hey,” he says, softly. “Everything okay?”

“Can,” she hiccups. God damn it. God damn her. “Can you please come over?”

She can feel his demeanor change over the phone. “I’ll be right there,” he says, calm and collected. “What’s your address?”

Her address is supposed to be a secret. No one is supposed to know where she lives. She doesn’t even like Luke knowing where she lives, and he might be the closest thing she has to family right now. But she tells Percy, and he promises to be there within thirty minutes. Throwing her arms over her face, she lies back down, breathing through her nose so she doesn’t vomit.

He makes it in twenty. here is the simple text, devoid of any hearts or emojis, and she buzzes him up. Less than a minute later, he knocks on her door. “It’s open,” she calls, pressing the heels of her hands into her eyes. 

Softly, the door clicks open, someone smoothly and quietly stepping inside. “Annabeth?” 

“Here,” she moans. She should get up to greet him. She can’t feel her legs. She can’t feel anything at all. 

The couch dips as someone sits next to her, a warm, large hand on her shoulder, and she can’t help but open her eyes. Percy is there in his blue sweater that she returned the last time she had slept over at Nico’s apartment, his brow furrowed in worry, but he’s smiling a little, too, just happy to see her, to see that she’s safe. In his other hand, he holds up a plastic bag. “I brought you a cookie,” he says, gently. “Chocolate chip.”

Annabeth blinks. “It’s… blue.”

He nods. “It is.”

Blue cookies. His mom’s special recipe, he had told her, for bad days of aching feet, harsh dance instructors, and school bullies.

The dam breaks. 

She launches herself into Percy’s embrace, sobbing. He tucks her head into his neck, his arms coming up around her. “It’s okay,” he murmurs. “It’s okay.”

“I’m--I’m so sorry,” she gets out, in between heaving breaths. “I just--I didn’t want to be alone and--”

He shakes his head against hers, his nose in her hair. “I’m here. It’s okay.”

They sit there for a long, long time, him holding her as she cries, pathetic. She can only imagine what it must be like from Percy’s end: here he was, having a lovely dinner with his mother uptown on his night off, only to get a frantic call from his hookup, demanding that he drop everything and rush to her side. And he did. He even fucking brought her one of his mom’s special cookies. 

She does not deserve this perfect, amazing man.

It’s that thought more than anything else that pulls her out of her spiral, her sobs abating somewhat. “There we go,” he says, sweetly. “I’m going to get you some water, okay? Be right back.”

Resisting the urge to hold onto his sleeve like some kind of child, she lets him pull away, stepping into her kitchen. Head aching and eyes puffy, she can’t even really register the fact that he is in her apartment right now. Her secret hideaway. Her sanctum sanctorum. He can see her tasteful couches and her expensive coffee maker and her giant TV screen. 

But honestly? She doesn’t care about any of that right now. All she cares about is the long, solid line of Percy’s body next to hers as he sits back down next to her, handing her a glass of water. She drinks it down, greedily, falling back against him, his hand automatically coming up to her shoulder, and she turns into his side, drinking him in, just as desperate.

They don’t speak, just holding onto each other. 

As she drifts off, there on her couch, her arm around Percy’s midsection, she only has one real thought in her head. 

Forget the apartment--this is her sanctum sanctorum. This is her safe space.

***

Annabeth wakes up in a bed that isn’t her own, in an apartment that isn’t her own. 

It reminds her, weirdly enough of her mom’s apartment, she thinks as she sits up in the soft, cream sheets, here in New York. She had only ever been a handful of times, whenever her mother deigned to claim her for their allotted family time. She doesn’t remember much about that place--mostly the skyline through the window, the low, uncomfortable furniture, the spotless, empty kitchen. 

Across from the bed is a mirror, squat and wide. Annabeth has her hair back, her face devoid of metal. She looks tired, she thinks, and maybe a little older, dark, heavy bags beneath her eyes. She’s wearing a real, actual set of pajamas, rather than a sweater or an oversized shirt, pale pink silk tight around her body. 

Shaking her head, she looks down, and spies a thin band of gold on her left hand, which rests on her stomach, sporting a slight, but noticeable curve. 

Only then does she realize it’s a dream. She lets out a grateful sigh. Just a dream.

It seems like a pretty boring one, too. She’s older, a little fatter, and has a nicer apartment. Somewhere in the distance is the indistinct sound of a person singing. And beyond that the even more indistinct sound of the city. 

Stumbling out of bed, her feet falling into a pair of soft, pink slippers, perfectly positioned next to her bed, she makes her way out into the apartment. The walls are cream, decorated with generic seaside landscapes, a nondescript sailboat in the background against an unchanging, cornflower blue sky. 

The kitchen is empty. Breakfast is cooked, laid out on a placemat at the kitchen island, but no one is there eating it. No one is there cleaning up, or making coffee. The food looks delicious, like a magazine spread: a perfectly made bowl of granola and yogurt, a lemon poppyseed muffin, a glass of orange juice on the side. Nutritious. Small. 

It’s weird. It’s really weird.

Moving on, she enters the living room. There’s a little girl on her knees, maybe three or four, she’s wearing a red pinafore over a white polo shirt and Mary Janes shined like the top of the Chrysler building. The preschool version of a prep-school uniform. She’s hunched over the glass coffee table, frizzy blonde curls bouncing as she moves her hand back and forth, scribbling with a colored pencil on a piece of paper. 

All of a sudden, she notices Annabeth standing there. 

“Mommy!” She jumps up, holding the pencil behind her back, her green eyes wide with apprehension. “I--I was--”

She hears whistling, and turns to see… well, it's Percy, but he looks nothing like her Percy. His hair is cropped shorter, parted and moussed perfectly flat. He’s in a three piece suit. He’s in trousers. Not a pair of sweatpants or a muscle tee in sight.

He stops when he sees her. “Sorry, didn’t know you were awake, wouldn’t have been singing.” Which makes no sense, Because Annabeth loves Percy’s ambient music. He looks around her, speaking to his--to the girl, “I told you you’d have to stop when mommy got up.” 

Annabeth glances at the little girl, who nods too solemnly. 

“Don’t worry,” this stranger wearing Percy’s face says, “She’s ready for school. She is ready for her Math qualification. I only said she could draw for a little, to calm herself down.” He glances at the girl again. “Put your things back in the art box, and we’ll go to school. I have an 8:30 meeting with the board.” 

The little girl runs off. Holding her paper and her pencils close to her chest, like she’s afraid someone is going to take them away from her. Maybe someone is. 

Percy turns to her. “I confirmed our reservations at 7 tonight at Sarabeth’s with your mother’s assistant this morning. And the nanny is going to stay late, so we don’t have to bring her.”

The her in question reappears just then. She’s so small. And she’s carrying a backpack. She looks like that breakfast, out of a magazine. But normally kids in magazines smile. 

“Are you ready?” Annabeth’s voice finally says.

A beat, then she nods again. “Yes, mommy.”

“Good,” she says. Outside, the sunlight through the windows isn’t so bright anymore, but dark and cold, like a solar eclipse. “Make me proud.”

And she turns to go back to bed, but the floor has disappeared, and she steps on nothing, tumbling down into the void.

With a start, she wakes up again in her bed, to the smell of breakfast in the air. Which is confusing, because she’s pretty sure she fell asleep on the couch, and she usually doesn’t wake up in time for breakfast, let alone actually make it herself: she has Percy for that, now. 

Right. Percy. 

It comes back to her in flashes: the donation, the voicemail, calling Percy out of desperation. Inviting him into her room, her bed. Falling asleep in his arms. 

She physically shakes her head, roughly scrubbing her face, forcing herself further into consciousness. The light coming through her window is grey and weak, doing absolutely nothing to help her out. The morning feels muted, for some reason, like it’s very far away. Maybe it was her nightmare.

She can’t hear Percy, Annabeth realizes. That’s what’s wrong. She can smell breakfast, but she can’t hear him puttering away. She doesn’t hear the clanking of pans as he tries to be quiet, or his off-key humming, or the dull thump of footfalls on her floor as he practices his steps. 

God, how late did she sleep? If he has to leave for a morning class he usually makes sure to wake her up, first. For a kiss if nothing else.

But when she pads out to her kitchen, she’s stunned to find Percy still there, sitting at her warped kitchen table. There are two plates in front of him, eggs and bacon untouched and cooling. He’s fully dressed, too, in his dark jeans and stupid dance pun t-shirt: “Girls Just Wanna Have Buns,” his sweater on the empty chair. Annabeth had been weirdly looking forward to wearing that this morning; he likes seeing her in his clothes, and she likes seeing him without them. It’s a system that works for them, typically leading to a lot of smiles, a couple giggles, and maybe another round or two before he has to leave.

He’s not smiling now. His gaze is fixed on his plate, hands in his lap. “Morning,” she croaks, softly.

Percy lifts his eyes to her, unfathomable like the sea. “Morning.”

Something in her stops her from sliding into the seat across from him. Standing gives her strength, gives her power that she doesn’t want to give up. She may not be able to tell what Percy is thinking right now, but she knows when someone is gearing up for a fight. “What is it?”

“What is what?”

“What’s the matter?”

He is uncharacteristically still. Annabeth has gotten so used to him expressing himself via his body, the stillness is unsettling. Percy holds her gaze for a moment, then sucks in a breath, sitting up a little bit straighter. “I kicked over your recycling by mistake, and when I was cleaning up, I…” He bites his lip, a little ashamed. “I accidentally read some of your mail.”

“Okay.” He can’t be that broken up about her junk mail, can he?

It’s only then that she sees it, laid out neatly next to the breakfast plate. The letter has been carefully uncrumpled, but the red Harvard seal is as obnoxiously bright as ever. “I don’t mean to pry, but…” Percy licks his lips, gathering his words together. “I thought you didn’t get into Harvard?”

She doesn’t say anything.

“It’s just--this is from the Graduate School of Design,” he continues, looking at the page as if to confirm it. “And the dean says you were one of their ‘most promising graduates,’ here, so. That means you have, what, a master’s degree? Right?”

Still, she doesn’t say anything.

Percy rubs a hand over his mouth, square jaw squaring further. “I guess I just don’t understand why you lied to me.”

“I never--” she blurts. 

“I mean, were you trying to spare my New Yorker sensibilities by telling me you didn’t get in? Did you think I would actually care?”

There’s nothing she can say in response. So she doesn’t. 

After a moment, he blows out a sharp breath. “So. Fifteen thousand dollars, huh.”

She sighs, looking away. It’s not like Annabeth doesn’t hate it, too. “I didn’t do that,” she says, crossing her arms. “My dad did it, he just put it under my name.”

“And, he did that… why? I mean,” he tilts his head, a little bewildered. “I thought you guys weren’t on speaking terms.”

“To try and get me to network again, probably.” She shrugs. “And I’m not on speaking terms with him. He just hasn’t gotten the memo yet.”

He hasn’t raised his voice at all. He hasn’t moved from his seat, or made any kind of threatening gesture, but like an approaching storm cloud, she can feel the anger rolling in, dense and crackling. “Does he do this a lot, your dad? Throw his money around for you?”

“It’s not like I asked him to.” 

But he’s shaking his head, rueful. “I don’t know how I didn’t see it before. You know, I thought it was weird that you could afford an apartment in the East Village with a bedroom on periodic architecture contracts, but I’m guessing he pays for that, too?”

He’s right, of course, but that doesn’t stop her from bristling. “It’s a trust fund,” she snaps. “It’s still my money.”

“A trust fund,” he says, softly. “Right.” 

Anger lances through her, cold and burning. Just because her dad had set it up for her didn’t mean that she wouldn’t use it. “Yeah, a trust fund. Is that a crime, now?” 

He opens his mouth as if to say something, then snaps it shut with an audible click. Pushing his chair out, he stands up, hands flat on the table. “I should go and get ready for my class. I’ll… I’ll text you later, okay?” Percy takes a step towards her, hands reaching for her on instinct, then pauses. “See you around.”

Percy leaves without so much as a look back, closing the door so quietly she can barely hear it over the roar of blood in her ears.

[bryan360]

My YCCTEAM's Wireless Switch Pro Controller - Part 16/Final (Career Mode racing in Asphalt 9: Legends)

What's up guys? Welcome back to be at another YCCTEAM Controller topic review share, but guess what? This will be the final video post that I've been waiting for a long time or in case a year half and months since the beginning of revealing my controller back in 🎃October 3rd, 2020. Even though it needed takes time to make sure to correct in details such as doing comparison from my other controllers, testing its buttons, battery charging to battery life results, and pretty much else I've been gone through in months. However, there is one more topic review post that I'm bringing to an end as of my decision; especially when if I'll be doing other topic reviews to my new items soon.

For today's post though, I decided to merge two videos as originally gotten both recordings from last week I've been saving. It's something that I should've done from my past video postings while I'm in YCCTEAM Controller topic reviews, but nevertheless it was alright when I'm getting used to. Anyways, I'm back to try out my final testing as you expected while I'm at Asphalt 9: Legends again. This time I'll turn up the notch by doing real racing with other opponents in career mode and both of the control settings to use after from doing tutorial last month.

Here it is as I'm in track based on San Franciso; the same place I've already cleared its first challenge back in January 18th, 2020. Link Here

I also did the second challenge during part 3 of my Asphalt 9: Legend’s career progress to remember. Link Here #2

However for this topic review post to share, I wanted to go back its first challenge to race through like I did in last year, but showing off my YCCTEAM Controller again and using the same car of Mitsubishi Lancer Evolution; as I previously used on few challenges or just one during my career progress from last year. I'm giving some upgrades along the way, but hoping I can show it during my contining Asphalt 9: Legend's progress soon. Let's get into it as It'll be the final topic review post for my controller.

During two of my recording videos being merged, I'm using my controller to show as I'm racing through San Francisco track against other racers like I previously did in January 2020....two times to be exact when I used both different control settings from manual to gyro like last time when I'm showing off during tutorial mode last month.

It's gonna be different to see which settings I can used for my career mode in progress; despite being obvious it had to be manual settings with pressing buttons for acceleration, brake, and nitro boost. I'm just making this as I'll go along when using both settings once again. I'll even bring the results after crossing the finish line for the races end and how much did I do in time. If I can remember my first one back in Janaury 2020 was 00:43.366 or 43 minutes and 366 seconds while during its first challenge I gotten. Here's my last year's screenshot in high quality to get a better look.

Just wondering how it can compared to my other two racing results during this recording. Well I'll tell ya this is gonna be interesting and hoping to my closest friends to see as well.

On first half until 1:22, I'm doing my first racing through San Franciso track in title "City Dash" where I needed to reach the goal from other opponents they'll trying to catch on me. I did good while using my YCCTEAM Controller in manual setting with the steering analog stick and some tricks like jumping on ramps. However, I was bumping into things while I'm trying to press the left button for brake and drifts, but other times was performing the 360 move at opponents for no strange reason that I'm trying to get knockdowns. ^^* (at least I did have one knockdown on first half, though) Anyways while continuing my race, I made it to a finish line at the end from doing turns, jumping into ramps like two times, and some bumping into walls that I'm trying my best to dodge those. So my racing time results was unexpected since January 2020 is the very first one I've gotten while I'm in manual. Instead, my new racing time results change to 00:44.647 or 44 minutes and 647 seconds while I'm in manual settings a second time as before. I was so close that it should've been much lesser than that if I could make some room in obstacle or something. Nevertheless, it was of really was while doing my YCCTEAM Controller post to share, but at least it was a good first half.

As for the second half though, I'm switched up to gyro control when using my controller to move left and right. During another racing track through San Francisco, I've gotten into somewhat good start as well when using my controller to move my car and the buttons for acceleration, brake/drift, etc while reaching the racing goal again. That being said however as I'm still working on some "errors" while having to race against opponents. Mostly though was while perform my ramp jump, I've almost getting crash into the wall just before landing on the road by luck. It happens at 02:14 to 02:18, but man that it was still lucky or otherwise would've been ruin if I'll start all over again. I tried to steer to get away from and some others that I've keep bump into to get knockdowns at opponents. Nevertheless, it was not bad second half to make while moving my controller in gyro settings; just wanted to work on its sensitivity of adjust along the way. How's my racing time results during it though was really unexpected is 00:43.334 or 43 minutes and 334 seconds to compared on others. (January. 18th, 2020's and September. 8th, 2021's in two recordings merged) Let's just say in other words, the gyro setting I did during second half takes the top spot here by surprise. Maybe because I putting nitro boost for its speed just to catch up at opponents before reaching the finish line? Or simply put on fate to see how do well in gyro settings I've been practicing; like last time when you've see me during my past topic review post while I'm in tutorial mode. Either way, it was pretty not bad to know how I managed to get there during second half recording I gotten; after checking the racing time results changes to 43 minutes and 334 seconds.

My thoughts and a final conclusion for this topic

Just like from last month when using my YCCTEAM Controller for tutorial test, I did really well for this one when I'm in career mode racing through San Francisco. After doing two settings both manual and gyro motion was another review test to see how which would I prefer to use when I can continuing on my career mode in progress and another for hoping there's normal race mode to unlock. I had missteps along the way; including the one during second half where I was almost crashed into the building's wall until I safely landed. Nevertheless, they're both alright when I'm taking my time off to see what racing results I have in both. Unexpected for gyro motion controls having to recognized that it compared from what I did in Janaury 18th, 2020 when clearing its first challenge at 43 minutes and 366 seconds. However for manual settings like I did before that was so close to match; as it underperformed at 44 minutes and 647 seconds. Thought I could handing well like last time if needed, but guessing I've miss calculating a little. So that's means gyro motion setting won? Doesn't matter though as they're both good tests while using my YCCTEAM Controller to show; just like last month when I'm cleared through tutorial mode. However, I'll be closing this topic review to an end after long time of giving details, comparison to other of my controllers, batteries, and more I gone through so far.

🐰🖌Maxwell: Yeah. We've been waiting for after year and the half when he did his best of reviewing this alternative controller to work on his Nintendo Switch system. If I could remember, there are good ones to choose from other past posts; like when he did on Super Smash Bros match with Mario against Banjo & Kazooie.

🐰👊💥May: There's more than that, Maxwell. Like doing his button test it works alright; especially knowing fits well then previously use his Joy-Cons when it had the R button stop working and of course drifting. Hoping it won't effect his YCCTEAM Controller anytime soon.

🦊⚽️Sam: You said it. At least rest assured when it comes to making his topic review, the YCCTEAM Controller had a good run with its battery life, the design to make as a similar Switch Pro Controller, and impressive feedback or response when playing those games in manual or gyro motion setting in Asphalt 9: Legends for example.

Thanks, Sam. I think I can give this a positive thumbs up 👍🏼 for how I using my YCCTEAM Controller to my Nintendo Switch system. Except some minor cons like when turning the rumble features on to my controller that it keep on rumbling through Super Mario Odyessy's cutscenes.

🐰🖌Maxwell: Or another one when you trying to turn on your Nintendo Switch system with your pro controller's home button, but doesn't work it right unlike your used Joy-Cons for some reason.

Yeah, that too. I'm fine to turn on my Switch system manually anyways, but would like that if the developers ever updated my controller so it can be easy to press the home button to activate my system just as easily. Someday, but not today I guess. Anyways, hope you guys and my closest friends to check out my lastest YCCTEAM Controller topic review to share and to my final conclusion after giving my thoughts about from year and half ago. I'm hoping to take it rest and continuing on other stuff like I'm promised to bring my own Super Mario 3D All-Star progress to share for example. I had too much things to get through that I nearly forgotten. Sorry if it happens. 😔

There's one more thing, though. If you finded interests about getting the YCCTEAM Controller like I have, then maybe you can check out at other online stores such as Amazon.com. it cost $25.99 or $26.00 in price which it can affordable if you called that in different way. I even check through search to see its there and it was still available as I link to this one. Link Here

Not sure if it'll work on other countries, but I would like to see when my P-Pal managed to get those in other online stores he could find, but just saying. 😅

Previous Posts for my YCCTEAM’s Pro Controller Topic:

Wireless Switch Pro Controller for Nintendo Switch/Switch Lite (Part 1) - Link Here #1

My YCCTEAM’s Wireless Switch Pro Controller for Nintendo Switch/Switch Lite Unboxing (Part 2) - Link Here #2

My YCCTEAM’s Wireless Switch Pro Controller for Nintendo Switch/Switch Lite Comparison with my Xbox One (Part 3) - Link Here #3

My YCCTEAM’s Wireless Switch Pro Controller for Nintendo Switch/Switch Lite Comparison with my Nintendo Switch’s Joy-Cons (Part 4) - Link Here #4

Testing Buttons (Part 5) - Link Here #5

Rumble Feature Testing (Part 6) - Link Here #6

Battery Charging Test (Part 7) - Link Here #7

Playtime Battery Life Results (Part 8) - Link Here #8

Gyro and Motion Controls 1st Half (Part 9) - Link Here #9

Gyro and Motion Controls 2nd Half (Part 9.5) - Link Here #10

Playtime through Super Mario 3D All-Stars game in Super Mario 64 #1 - Link Here #11

Playtime through Super Mario 3D All-Stars game in Super Mario 64 #2 - Link Here #12

Playtime through Super Smash Bros Ultimate #1 - Link Here #13

Playtime through Super Smash Bros Ultimate #2 - Link Here #14

Tutorial through Asphalt 9: Legends #1 - Link Here #15 Tutorial through Asphalt 9: Legends #2 - Link Here #16

[pankowfruitsnacks]

Shattered JJ Maybank Chapter Twenty-Five

master list | series master list

warning: kissing, slight teasing

word count: 1138

———————-

"Hey Topper!" Ava called out from the stone wall she was sitting upon. Tonight was the annual non fire, typically the first week of September.

"Ava, it's been a minute. How have you been?" Topper and Ava had class together last year and even though they didn't really talk, the two were on good terms. Plus, she's seen him around at the Cameron house often ever since Rafe came home. Ava has been over to visit him along side Sarah for her support.

"I'm doing good. Enjoying the nice weather and bonfire."

"This is a proper Outer Banks welcome."

Ava giggled. "I came in February. It's been nearly eight months."

"So the timing is a little off is a little off." They both were smiling big. "Where are your friends?"

"I told JJ I wouldn't talk to him unless he sent a rough draft of his English paper, so he's coming soon. The rest are scattered about." Ava enjoyed Toppers company while she was waiting. He's always been kind to her and hasn't been vocal, at least that she's heard of, about her past. Ava loved when people looked past it and didn't bring it up.

Topper continued to talk about the homework he was assigned and how he would end up having to complete it while hung over. He also enjoyed talking to Ava, they were acquaintances at minimum, almost friends. It was that weird inbetween. The pogues were very on the fence about his presence, but since the start of summer, Topper has made an effort to change.

"How is Rafe doing? I saw him a little bit last week. It was a quick interaction."

"I mean this in the best possible way, I barely recognize him. The effort he has put in to prove himself worthy of his fathers business and the determination to stay clean and sober, he's completely new." Ava nodded. Rafe and her weren't close, but she's visited him enough times at rehab and since his return to get to know the "new Rafe."

"I didn't know him before, but the person he is now is quite amazing." Ava only spoke the truth she felt in her heart.

"Well I am going to go mingle. Are you good by yourself?"

"I can handle it."

"Good talking to you. See you around, Ava." With that, her friend was gone and JJ was approaching.

JJ stood between Ava's legs, resting his hands on her thighs. He left a simple kiss to her lips. "What did he want?" There wasn't hate in his voice, more of a protective and concerned one.

"Just catching up, getting updates on Rafe." JJ trusted Ava and her judgement, him on the other hand found it difficult to forgive the two. They wrecked the pogues lives in more ways then one, but she said she has seen them trying to do better and he would give them the benefit of the doubt for the time being.

"I sent you my paper like you asked. We're you really not going to talk to me if I didn't finish it?" He teased.

"It might of been hard after a while, but I need you to graduate with me." She threw her head back laughing. JJ took the opportunity to press his lips against her neck. He could never get enough of her touch and taste. Ava was soft and sweet. Forever addicting.

Ava felt the vibrations all through out her body, pressing his head closer to her. Her mind traveled to all the possibilities an action like this could lead to. To be honest, that's all she wanted in the moment. If she would willingly give herself over to someone in that intimate way, it would be JJ. Once she had her mind set on it, Ava was going to follow through.

JJ pulled back and noticed a red solo cup beside his girl. "What do you have there, missy?"

"Some water." JJ read that drinking a lot can cause or worsen depressive episodes, so they both decided to cut back a little. Plus Ava was still not a fan of drinking in large crowds after her first encounter at the boneyard with a touron.

JJ smiled. "Can I have a bit?" Ava thought hard before lifting the cup. Oh we're gonna have fun tonight, she thought.

The girl poured a little bit down her own neck and grinned at him. "Drink up." Her intent was evident to JJ, but he was more than happy to oblige.

"God I love you, Ava." His lips were soft on her skin.

"Good. I would feel stupid if I was in love with you but you didn't care."

JJ nodded. "Okay, as much as I want to stay and love on you like this, let's go dance." With that, he led her by the hand, meeting up with the rest of the group some where in the middle.

His arm was snaked around his girlfriend's waist. JJ knew the game she was playing, the way she moved and teased. It suprised him none the less. His desire for her was strong, there was nothing he wanted more than to spend the night tangled together. He wanted to show her how much he loved her the one way he knew. It would change everything for them, but it had to be up to her.

They have only been dating two months, but JJ knew he wanted to spend a life time with Ava. Sure they've had their ups and downs, the occasional fight about the small things, but he loved her. He let her into his life and nothing would ever make him let go.

Ava rolled her hips back on to JJ as she was laughing with Sarah and Kie. The girl's friends were extremely drunk and giggly, but they were enjoying themselves. "Ava." The boy groaned, pulling her closer.

"Something bugging you, sunshine?" Ava stopped and turned to him.

"No continue. Don't stop on my account." She ran her fingers over his dimples.

Ava glanced down, noticing his problem growing. "I think something is bugging you."

"Yea. You." He playfully rolled his eyes.

The girl wrapped her arms around him, pressing her body as close as possible while pulling his head down so her lips were by his ears. She wanted him to hear her loud and clear. "JJ." He hummed, gently kissing her shoulder. "I'm ready."

His blonde head pulled back to look her in the eye. He felt the same joy as kid on Christmas morning. This was a gift he would always cherish. "Ava?"

"I know what I'm saying. I'm sober. I want to JJ." With that, JJ grabbed her hand and led her to her car to take her somewhere else.

[natromanxoff]

Queen live at The Forum in Inglewood, CA, USA - September 15, 1982

Photos supplied by: Bill Cordero

(x)

This is the final concert Queen would ever play in North America. The tour was ultimately not nearly as successful as previous outings. Four nights at the LA Forum had become two. In a 1999 interview with Mojo magazine Roger Taylor recalled, "I remember suddenly realising that we weren't packing them in quite as much as we used to."

According to this review, Staying Power was played on the last night.

Billy Squier, who has opened for Queen at every show on this tour, joins them in the encore during a one-off version of Jailhouse Rock, adding vocals. Saturday Night's Alright For Fighting is also played before Bohemian Rhapsody for the last night's sake.

A bit of video from this show exists. The band are seen going through the corridor to the stage to begin the concert, and Michael Jackson is with them (thanks to Julien Cohen for the link).

Currently, recordings commonly labelled as being from one or both of these Los Angeles dates are from one of the umpteen bootlegs of the Fukuoka '82 shows. Genuine audience tapes and even an 8mm film are rumoured to exist (most likely due to the historic nature of this show), but have never been confirmed.

The concert pictures, snapped by Robert Matheu, are from Phil Sutcliffe's excellent book, The Ultimate Illustrated History of the Crown Kings of Rock.

Here are a few more pro pics: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13

Reflecting on this tour, Squier had some kind things to say about Freddie Mercury. "He loved to perform. I think all the words about how great a performer he was have been used up. I just used to stand and watch him every night thinking, 'How do you do that? Just how do you get away with it?' It was the onstage Freddie that was most fearless. He believed in what he and the band were doing so much. He never projected the slightest fear or self-doubt and that just swept the audience along with him. He just knew that the show was going to work. He was made for the stage. His sense of theatricality was the key, and it was a key which so very few other rock performers have at their disposal."

About a week after this show, Brian May was interviewed for the January 1983 issue of Guitar Player magazine. Here are some excerpts:

"We used to do the song 'Son and Daughter' on stage, and the solo section in the middle of that became what was in 'Brighton Rock'. After 'Brighton Rock' was recorded, that solo evolved a lot more. One facet of it was the way it is on the live album, but it's changed a lot since then. Sometimes we've dropped it because I felt I got stale. I don't like to do exactly the same thing two nights running. That should be a time when you can do something different. Now we don't do "Brighton Rock" anymore, so it's gone full circle. In the beginning, the solo was there and the song was around it. And now the song's gone and the solo's there.

"It's just a delay machine set on one delay rather than a multiple, so it's not a sort of echo effect. It's one line coming back at you. I have two delay machines, so I can do three-part harmonies with that: I can play alone - maybe two or three notes - and then it comes back and I can play along with it. And then it comes back again and there are three parts. The delays are mostly about one and a half seconds. A lot of things can happen: You can play in synch with what comes back and make the harmonies, or you can play chords and then single notes on top to get a playing-in-rhythm effect. You can also do various kind of counterpoints. Sometimes they work. It all depends on whether I can hear myself well. If it's a good night and I can really hear well, I can do things that demand very close timing. On this tour I've been experimenting with steps which are not exactly on the beat: so when it comes back at you, they are in a different place each time. I found I could do all sorts of strange things with that, just making them mesh in a different way.

"I've thought it was obsolete many times. We've thrown it out. We haven't done it every night on this tour. But somehow it seems to creep back in there. It's weird. I did it for years, and nobody would talk about it. And then when I threw it out, people said, "Hey! How could you do that?" On this tour we did some special things with the lights. We had t hose pods which can fly about, and I used to do a little battle with those. That gave it a new lease on life. People would tend to notice that. As opposed to not saying anything, they would say, "I like the lights in the solo [laughs]." I've found that people seem to appreciate long solos more on this tour than they did before. I think a lot of people thought our material was veering too far away from the heavy side, and they thought the solo stuff redressed the balance to a certain extent.

"I didn't feel that this tour was making me very happy. I've often felt that in the studio, but that's the first time I felt it on tour. I didn't feel happy until the last concert. The last night in L.A. I felt quite cheered up. I was prepared to think, "Well, I don't really want to do this anymore." Somehow when it got to the last one, Freddie was really on form and giving a million precent, and I felt that it was going well. So the end of the tour finished on a good note for me. I felt like I did want to be out there doing it again sometime. But we are going to have a long rest." [Of course, after the six shows in Japan next month.]

Back in 1977 Brian was quoted saying, "We've always thought it was wrong to regard a tour purely as a promotional exercise, because some people have done that, and gone out and slogged away at the hits and the new album, and I don't think that makes for good touring." Maybe that's at least partly the reason why he didn't enjoy himself this time around.

(x)