#its more certain forms like a pearl get a certain job

[novantinuum]

jen's "Hard-Light Hybrid Steven" headcanon dump

Okay so I'm just making this its own post, because frankly at this point... the original post is so hard to get all the pulp out of due to the headcanons being spread over multiple reblogs and half of it being in the tags.

So here we go. Self indulgent headcanon time. This is how I'm now personally interpreting things within the realm of my own fic work and the post-canon storylines that live in my mind. This is NOT, however, a work of meta- I am by no means suggesting this to be what I see as "canon," only having some fun playing around with ideas I think are cool on a speculative fantasy anatomy level. Take it as you will basically, lol. This is ultimately just for me.

With that stated:

"jen what the fuck do you mean when you say hard-light hybrid Steven, what are you even suggesting"

Essentially I am proposing that Steven becomes progressively more hard-light based in form as he ages. When he was born he was two almost entirely separate halves mashed together- organic and gem- and those two halves slowly but surely merge over the years (hard light replacing organic matter) until one day they are literally inseparable, and Steven is one permanently cohesive being... entirely hewn from hard-light, but with a level of anatomical complexity that still makes him a complete anomaly amongst Gems and humans alike. Instead of the innards of his body being solid light, he is still formed of cells- only now, those cells are entirely hard-light.

His gem is somehow mimicking the form of organic matter with a level of detail that's absolutely unobtainable by shapeshifting or tailored reformation alone. Steven has become the single most complex hard-light system to have ever existed.

Some more specifics on how I imagine this merge working:

Much of the "merging" is natural over time, basically his gem branching out new bits of hard-light circuitry within his body as it integrates within his system.

However, this process is sped up significantly by all the spills and injuries Steven deals with throughout his childhood... because his body's instinctive response to injury is simply to replace damaged cells with hard-light analogues. An almost instantaneous patch job.

Steven's component halves being so distinct early on is a large reason why he takes so long to harness many of his powers.

This is also why Steven's (mostly) organic half is so weakened during the split in Change Your Mind- at that point there's a lot about his anatomy that's been converted to hard-light, so it's basically as if White Diamond yanked the power source out.

(Same idea for why he's so weakened during the movie when his gem's on the fritz... his gem's connection with the rest of his body got partially severed for a time, which. Is not Good for someone who at this point is more hard-light than not hard light.)

At a certain point post-canon, it becomes impossible for Steven's organic and gem halves to be separated. They are so tightly integrated that attempting to remove the gem would only poof him.

Now, here's the thing though...

Steven does not realize that Any of this is taking place until the blunt reality of his strange new anatomical nature is put on display for all to see... when he actually DOES poof.

Here is how (in my own post-canon musings, which I have simplified here because y'all don't live inside all the intensive lore that jangles about my brain) I envision that taking place:

So, Steven would be in his mid to late twenties at this point. He's married to Connie, and they have an infant son.

Recently, there was a fairly severe Gem incident that left Beach City and Little Homeworld pretty damaged. Things are still being mopped up from that.

Steven, Garnet, Amethyst, and Pearl head out on a quick mission one day to intercept one of the last few supporters of the Gem who attacked the Crystal Gem's hub of operation, and at first it seems like it's gonna be a straightforward trip.

Then, Steven sees the Gem in question pull a destabilizer wand on Garnet, and- unwilling to watch her to get ripped apart like that again- throws himself in between. He can take it, he thinks. These things never hurt him one bit as a kid

He cannot take it.

He poofs.

His gem unceremoniously falls to the ground, along with the clothes he was wearing and whatever he had in his pockets.

Cue the others going "what the actual FUCK" because based on everything they've ever witnessed and known about him no one had "Steven poofs" on their bingo card.

The insurgent Gem is captured and dealt with, but now... oh, boy. There's literally no playbook for this. Nobody knows what to expect.

Steven's gem is quiet for WEEKS. During that time, the Gems end up consulting the Diamonds on Homeworld to ask for intel on diamond reformation, but none of them are much help- Rose and Steven are the only ones who have actually poofed. Beyond them, this is completely unprecedented.

In a very vague sense, Steven is aware of what must have happened during this time... (even if a part of him wants to deny it, because How???)

He can pick up vague snippets of what's happening just beyond his reach... catching voices and what must be faint sensations of familiar people handling his gem, but beyond that he has no awareness of the passage of time, and he has no means by which to reach out to them mentally.

It takes almost two months for him to finally reform. When he does, his gem quickly shifts through its previous three forms and then just... outright h a n g s for a while on the new one... as if what's trying to "load" up is so complex it's goddamn buffering.

(my brain can only think of This image uyhjfsdbyuhjfg)

No one really knows what to expect but when he finally reforms, he... looks mostly the same? Still rather human in appearance, externally? The only notable difference is that his irises are pink now. (But with no diamond pupil- not unless he's going Full Power Mode.)

Steven also reforms WITH an outfit much like a Gem would.

The second he's back, he runs to embrace Connie (who is sobbing in relief) and asks how long he was out.

And he did NOT anticipate that answer to be two months.

As it turns out, he missed quite a few baby milestones while he was gone, and he feels horrible about it- it's not his fault of course, but he feels so bad that Connie had to go that long without his support, and that there's all those special "firsts" with his son he'll never get to experience.

This whole incident marks Steven's final "retirement" from participating in real combat- he outright tells the Gems to not involve him in any other combat situations unless the whole ass planet is under threat, basically. The potential risks are just not worth it now that he knows how long he'd be out of commission, should he poof once more. He can't put his family through that again.

Now, with all that outlined...

Ways that Steven is Weird now:

He looks rather human- his hair looks like hair and his skin looks like skin- but after he reforms, literally every "cell" of his body is fashioned out of hard-light.

However, if one were to theoretically slice him in half (which I PROMISE I am not going to do, this is only a thought experiment ahahah-), his internal anatomy would glow much like the Gems' do. (See below image for what I mean.) The "human-like" appearance of his skin and hair and other externally visible features does not extend very deep.

He "bleeds" pink now- but it's only surface, and is all just excess hard-light. No real blood.

His body would no longer show up on a radiograph- just the gem.

Many of his anatomical features (not all of them, though) are now vestigial in certain ways-? Like, various functions have overtly been taken over by his gem... he doesn't need to breathe or have any lifeblood beyond light pumping through his system, so his heart and lungs serve no necessary purpose anymore... but all of these organs still "exist" as like an echo of what once was, perfect mimics of their organic form but hewn from hard-light.

That being said, Connie enjoys the reassurance of his heartbeat, so he retains that function while conscious.

(Not to mention, "breathing" is literally just a habit for him by this point.)

HOWEVER, when he sleeps (another thing he technically doesn't Need to do but does anyways) his breathing and heartbeat stops entirely and it kinda spooks Connie out. The literal only evidence she has that he's still kicking during these times is the soft hum of his gemstone.

He does not have a biological NEED for food or water anymore and can fully operate on exposure to light alone, but he still really enjoys eating and drinking anyways. In fact, he's still able to absorb energy from food... so it's basically like he's over-charging his battery or whatever. He also still experiences taste (so still posesses some form of taste receptors) and instinctively feels "hungry" at meal times, so like... the running theory is that he must have hard-light analogues for all these receptors and neurotransmitters and hormones that communicate sensations like hunger in his system even though their function is entirely redundant with his gem powering everything.

Furthermore, his memories and sense of self and everything one might refer to as "the soul" is stored exclusively in his gem now. Which means, if one could manage to analyze his brain like one could with a human brain, there would be entire sections that simply... don't light up the way that others (such as the parts of the brain that govern motor control, as an example) do. This is because all the "data" once stored there has migrated.

He can fully shapeshift now, if he wanted to.

He can also still visually "age"- it's all based on his mental state, same as before.

But despite being hard-light in nature now, he can still interface with organics in fusion because his form is still so organic in shape and function. He's still the bridge between humanity and gemkind. I like to think that... theoretically... a Gem might be able to fuse with an organic too, but the sheer burden of trying to shapeshift and maintain such cellular complexity is what stops this from happening.

Steven, though? His very existence as a hybrid acted as a template by which hard-light could learn to understand organic life. He is still an intensely unique being, even IF he no longer consists of any actual organic matter.

_

I am sure I will probably add something to this later, but for now, those are all my musings.

Anyways, thank you for taking a brief visit to the deepest recesses of my brain, where I am chewing at the drywall and bouncing around the room like a cat who has just devoured the goddamn motherlode of catnip. Good night! !! :DDD

[genshinemblem564]

Pokémon Legends Arceus Retained Memories Headcanons

TW: Depictions of PTSD

• So we all know that the protagonist is post Daimond/Pearl/Platinum Dawn/Lucas (whichever you picked), so why doesn't it feel like that. It honestly feels like they've lost their memories like Ingo did, but that's clearly not the case as proven by their dialogue choices, so here's a few headcanons I made where MC remembers everything.

• Upon meeting certain characters, MC will tense up as if ready for battle. These characters would include Laventon(upon noticing the golden G on his lab coat), Cyllene, Arezu, and Coin. Likewise, they would have an overall positive reaction to Rei/Akari, Kamado, Volo, Mei, and Cogita.

• Upon finding space time rift Pokémon, excluding Sneasel and Weavile, MC makes their own Pokedex entries, which Laventon studies with the type of glee only a researcher can show.

Magnemite: The magnets at its sides are used to feed off of the electricity contained within a metal unit. The advancement of technology in this creature's time makes Pokémon like this much more common.

Magneton: As a Magnemite grows in strength, so to does its magnetism, often times causing it to link with other Magnemite forming Magneton. The increased magnetism has also increased this Pokémon's core temperature significantly. Direct physical contact is ill-advised.

Magnezone: Exposure to Hisui's central mountain's magnetic field has caused the three Magnemites' bodies to meld into one Manezone. Using its magnetic waves, it is capable of a form of echolocation similar to Zubat's. How magnetic waves are capable of this is difficult to explain, but if one ever finds a Magnezone in the wild, it is best to take cover and wait for it to pass.

Porygon: An artificial being created by future technology. Calling this thing a life form seems rather extreme, as all studies have shown it has no will of its own, only having just enough of a mind to receive and execute a command. No mind to think and no will to break.

Porygon 2: After receiving an Up-grade, Porygon has gained intelligence and emotions. While still having no signs of life such as a heartbeat, it is now more than the mindless tool it started as.

Porygon Z: A faulty upgrade has made its way into Porygon's mind. This Pokémon is erratic and unstable in its behavior and movements. Those kept in Pokéballs seem to be tame enough. If you encounter one in the wild, however, RUN.

Fossil Pokémon (Proffesor Laventon does a good enough job, this is more of just a side note.): This Pokémon was brought back to life using futuristic technology.

• Knowing the truth behind Sinnoh (Palkia and Dialga), they find the feud between the clans frustrating and stupid for different reasons than everybody else

• When the sky turns red, I think this would cause MC to go into a full panic attack, because they know what's happening, they know how to stop it, but they don't know how to reach the lake guardians considering they're sealed off.

• Volo is surprised when they mention Giratina. He's even more surprised when they say their Giratina saved them.

• I feel like Volo's betrayal would have more or less the same impact.

___________________________________________

Hey again, sorry I'm not posting for my lack of posts. My switch stopped working, so I had to get a new one and a myriad of information is no long readily available to me, but this popped in my mind, and I just had to write it. I might add more to this later, but at the moment I can't think of anything that doesn't pertain to the story. Anyway, I know I've said this countless times already, but it bears repeating for those who need it, feel free to use this if it inspired you in any way.

[andrewmoocow]

Steven Universe Snake Eyes chapter 12: End of an Era (originally published on November 13, 2023)

AN: It's been almost three years, but at long last, we finally made it. The end of the Steven Universe: Alternate Future universe. What started as a shot at altering Future to include content cut from the original series, expanding on certain plotlines left hanging by show's end, and altering things to my own tastes grew into its own shared universe with so many characters I nearly lose track of on a regular basis and lore that I've practically built with my own two hands. To you, the lovers and dreamers who have been here the entire time from Steven, to the Black Pearls, to Black Rutile's trial, Little Homeworld, the Crystal Regime, and beyond, I thank you all for reading my take on Steven's universe and for all your support. By the time I finally post this, I think I might take a little break because is currently falling apart and they're so blissfully unaware of it. But don't take this as me abandoning you all, because I got tons more stories from the past and soon to come in the future for you all to read in the meantime. But I've done enough talking, it's time to close the book on this saga once and for all.

Synopsis: The final battle for the fate of all reality begins as Squamata possesses Nosiop to defeat the Crystal Gems and destroy the universe. As everyone fights for their lives to defend Serpentes and the cosmos at large, Steven learns one last important lesson.

--

"Enlightened warriors of clashing kinships come from afar to banish the Eclipse. Only when united in heart and mind can they stop the worlds from being aligned." The Lapidarist's prophecy was the only thing racing through the Crystal Gems and the Diamonds' heads as they stared at the fusion of Steven and Black Rutile standing tall and proud before them. The fusion was a tall, androgynous figure with curly hair and pink skin dressed in a traditional superhero costume while wearing Steven's shield and Black Rutile's sword, who gazed at their hands with an eager grin on their face.

"Awesome!" The fusion gasped in amazement at their new form before facing the others. "Hey, check it out, guys. We fused! Bet you didn't see that coming, huh?!"

"Uh, Steven." Connie said as she stepped up to the fusion.

"Black Rutile." White Topaz added.

"Is that still you in there?" they both asked.

"Of course, it's still me, Steven! Er, Black Rutile." The fusion declared, getting himself confused in the process. "Hm, what should I call myself?"

"Hey, can you make it quick?! You guys got a snake monster to fight!" Amethyst exclaimed before the fusion got an idea.

"I think I got it! You can call me Rutilated Quartz!" Rutilated Quartz introduced himself. "Isn't that awesome?!" He then turned to face Squamata, slowly leaving Serpentes. "Now, if you'll excuse me, this looks like a job for Rutilated Quartz." Before they could fly off into the air like the superhero they were dressed as, someone called out for him.

"Wait, Rutilated Quartz!" Ronaldo said as he raced up to the fusion and took a knee in respect. "A great warrior needs a great weapon, and that is why I bequeath to thee my Shining Finger Sword from Mobile Home Warrior Gatha." He then handed the blade to Rutilated Quartz, who took it and examined it for a moment while it glowed with a holy radiance, no doubt the Lapidarist's final gift to her children. "Give him a few stabs for me with that, okay?"

"I promise, Ronaldo." Rutilated Quartz smiled before returning and lifting into the air to face Squamata. As everyone on Serpentes's surface got further and further away from them, the combined thoughts of Steven and Black Rutile began emerging in their head.

"So, Black Rutile, are you ready for your first battle to save the universe?" Steven asked his new fusion partner.

"I have to admit, this is a little strange." Black Rutile replied. "But I'm willing to try anything once."

When Rutilated Quartz reached Squamata, the snake of darkness possessing Prince Nosiop was already preparing to devour the planet of Serpentes below him when he spotted Rutilated Quartz flying towards him. "Ah, the ultimate fusion, we meet at last." Squamata sneered at his opponent. "I must admit, you certainly kept me waiting. I thought Gem would be the warrior to slay me, but I guess the prophecy was wrong. Besides, look what you need to do to mimic even a fraction of my power."

"Well, I'm nothing like Gem, I am a warrior of awesome power who fights for love and for justice!" Rutilated Quartz introduced themselves while striking a pose. "I am Rutilated Quartz! And in the name of the moon, I'll punish you!"

"Heheheh, you're positively adorable." Squamata snickered evilly while baring his vessel's fangs. "I'm going to feed you your own heart." Squamata charged at Rutilated Quartz with a sinister laugh, who just smirked in response before racing into the final battle.

--

As the final battle between Rutilated Quartz and Squamata commenced, everyone remaining on Serpentes gathered around where the Lapidarist died from Squamata's poison just moments ago to mourn the death of the creator of all Gemkind.

"We are gathered here today to pay final respects to our honored dead." King Cobralan declared with a eulogy. "And yet it should be noted, amid our sorrow, this death takes place in the shadow of a new beginning, the sunrise of a new era for not just the Slytherophidian people, but the universe at large."

"Just when we were getting to know the deceased, her life was heartlessly taken by an unstoppable monster bent on destroying everything we loved and then some." Yellow Diamond added while fighting back tears. "A wise man once said that the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few. But while she did die in shame, she also perished knowing that she would be redeemed, and we will not debate her profound wisdom during this last battle. Of all the creatures we have met in our years of existence, she was among the most human."

"Oh, how adorable that you're mourning the death of someone you barely knew." Pyth snickered as he and Squamata's remaining heralds stood side by side with an army of shadow demons ready to kill their enemies. "Though, at the very least, you'll get to know the Lapidarist better once we destroy you all."

"We won't let you get away with this." Garnet stated fiercely while readying her gauntlets. "As long as there are those willing to fight, you will never claim victory."

"Yeah, step off!" Amethyst added before snatching up one of the demons with her whip and making it disappear by jumping on its head. "I just turned one of your monsters into a Goomba! How do you like that?!"

"Oh, you think you're being cute?" Velhallen Beo snarled.

"Given time, you'd find us quite adorable," Pearl smirked in reply. "Now then, I believe someone wants to speak with you all." Cobralan then slithered past the Crystal Gems to confront Pyth and his cult.

"Pyth, I thought you were better than this." Cobralan snarled at his former advisor. "I have known you since I was a boy. You have loyally served my family for decades, and this is how you treat us?! Controlling my son like a puppet and using him as a vessel for that abomination!" He then pointed at the sky where the Squamata-possessed Nosiop was fighting Rutilated Quartz. "I'll have your head for this!"

"Not if I have yours first." Pyth confidently retorted while drawing his sword.

"It's treason then," Cobralan responded before taking out his sword and clashing with his former advisor. Pyth had been like family to Cobralan ever since he was a young prince set to take over the throne, but hearing that Pyth had been plotting behind his back for years was a betrayal unlike any other. Yet he couldn't bear to think about how betrayed he felt; his wife and children's safety was first on the Slytherophidian king's mind, and it was set on defending his family and his species.

"Oh, don't be too down on yourself, my liege!" Pyth laughed arrogantly. "It will all be over soon! You're all going to die anyway, and who knows? Maybe father and son can finally be reunited in Heaven-" Pyth was quickly interrupted when Cobralan took advantage of his boasting by stabbing the advisor square in his heart. "So that's how it is, huh?" Pyth then collapsed to the ground, followed by Cobralan retrieving his sword from the advisor's freshly killed body before glaring at the remainder of Squamata's heralds.

"You don't seem to understand." Cobralan declared fiercely to Beo, Mr. Manco, and Torius Vosania. "My world isn't yours to conquer." He then pointed his blood-soaked sword at the three villains. "ATTACK!" At his command, the Crystal Gems, the Diamonds, the Contest of Champions competitors, and everyone else who volunteered to save Serpentes all charged into one last battle for the fate of the universe. An entire universe, once and for all.

--

High above Serpentes's atmosphere, Rutilated Quartz fought bravely against Squamata, using new powers they weren't sure Steven or Black Rutile had before. They were faster than a speeding bullet, more powerful than a locomotive, able to soar like leaping tall buildings in a single bound, and were phenomenally talented with the swords they dual-wielded in conjunction with Steven's shield.

"Woo, this is so awesome!" Rutilated Quartz cried excitedly, firing lasers from his eyes before grabbing a meteor with his bare hands and smashing it into Squamata's face. "Aw yeah, this is happening!"

"This is not a game, fusion!" Squamata roared. "Can't you see how fruitless your mission is?! No matter how many minds you may change with your compassion and pacifism, all creatures, whether organic or otherwise, are doomed by this discordant system to fight and kill each other for all eternity!"

"Sheesh, dude, no need to be such a Debbie downer!" Rutilated Quartz frowned at Squamata's nihilism while drawing his sword. "Yeah, everybody fights with each other; it's the circle of life, and it moves us all and all that. Heck, I'm something of a fighter myself, even though I would much rather try to ask first and punch people later." He emphasized each point by blocking Squamata's attacks with their blade. "Everyone, even those who proudly call themselves irredeemable monsters, can be capable of change. They gotta find the strength within to atone for what they've done."

"Such paltry sentiments from one who is about to die!" Squamata roared before lunging at his fated opponent.

"I've lived my life by those sentiments. They're well worth dying for." Rutilated Quartz declared before charging towards Squamata.

--

Deep within Rutilated Quartz's psyche was the fusion realm that Steven and Black Rutile were situated in while they were fused. The realm itself heavily resembled Rose's room with the pink clouds surrounding the fusion's components, but there were also hints of black hiding in the sky. In addition to the newly formed duo of former enemies, they were also joined by Steven's other half, Inner Steven, who was doing most of the fighting while Steven and Black Rutile stood back-to-back in debate with each other.

"Everyone can be capable of change, pshaw!" Black Rutile snarked. "After all he did to me, Nosiop is better off dying with Squamata once we finally slay him!"

"But Black Rutile, you know that Nosiop is just as much of a victim as he is a perpetrator!" Steven exclaimed. "He wanted his father to notice him, but that let Pyth control him and turn him into that thing! He needs to learn a healthier way of getting his ideas across!"

"Just because I was convinced that my way of thinking was unhealthy doesn't mean he'll be the same!" Black Rutile argued back. "You have to accept that you can't save everybody!"

"Can the two of you agree on something already?" Inner Steven asked while trying to keep Squamata at bay. "I can't keep piloting this body for long. One of you has to take my place."

"We're in the middle of something here." Black Rutile said to Inner Steven. "Go back to doing your job!"

"Steven, can't you think of a good argument so we can blow this thing and go home?" Inner Steven compelled his more moral half.

"Perhaps we can help." The voice of Rose Quartz added as she, Pink Diamond, Smoky Quartz, Sunstone, Rainbow Quartz 2.0, and Obsidian appeared in the fusion realm. "Hello again, Steven. Oh, and Negative Steven, too. What a surprise."

"I prefer to be called Inner Steven now; we've made amends since then," Inner Steven said. "What are all of you doing here?"

"So, we meet again at last, Pink Diamond." Black Rutile greeted Pink Diamond. "I hope you realize I am not here to fight this time. As hard as it is to believe, I have changed my ways in the centuries since we last met."

"Oh, I'm not necessarily the Pink Diamond you know, Black Rutile." Pink explained to the Rutile. "I am a manifestation of Steven's thoughts, which represents the Gem side of him."

"And I represent his human side," Rose added.

"Well, what about the fusions here?" Black Rutile asked. "What do they embody?"

"As the fusion of Steven and Amethyst, I naturally represent his childlike wonder and sense of fun!" Smoky Quartz introduced herself to Black Rutile.

"I'm the fusion of Steven and Garnet, who embodies Steven's cool attitude in the face of danger!" Sunstone added before turning to speak to no one in particular. "Which reminds me, when you're faced with a situation that seems impossible, you always gotta persevere!"

"Don't mind her. That's just what she does." Rainbow 2.0 said. "Anyways, I am Rainbow 2.0, the fusion of Steven and Pearl who personifies his more feminine side." After flipping his hair with a girlish chuckle, Rainbow then pointed their parasol up towards Obsidian. "And that's Obsidian, the fusion of all core four Crystal Gems and the personification of Steven's desire to protect the ones he loves," Obsidian said nothing, only looking down at Black Rutile with disdain. "Don't mind them. They're the strong, silent type."

"Okay, if you're all parts of my mind, then what do you think we should do?" Steven asked the embodiments of his mind while summoning a control panel for them to operate. "I want to find a way to reach out to Nosiop, but Black Rutile here says he's beyond redemption."

"This is a tough situation, to be sure," Rose declared as Rutilated Quartz continued fighting Squamata. "Yes, Nosiop was a megalomaniac, but Pyth also took advantage of him from a young age and turned him into what he is today."

"Yeah, he just needs some good influences in his life!" Sunstone agreed with Rose.

"Maybe if he had someone to relate to, then we might stand a chance." Smoky theorized. "Anyone wish to volunteer?" Everybody then looked at Black Rutile.

"Okay, as much as I don't want to agree, I sympathize with how Nosiop's world came crashing down on him," Black Rutile declared. "The prince's decisions weren't entirely his to make, and he needs to learn to think for himself rather than let others make decisions for him." At that moment, she turned to Steven. "Steven, I need you to use whatever power you have to send me into Squamata's mind so I can find Nosiop."

"Don't need to ask me twice." Steven said while rolling up his sleeves and taking Black Rutile by the hand. "Okay, now hold on tight!"

"Good luck out there, love," Rainbow 2.0 said sweetly. Steven pressed his index and middle fingers to his forehead, using his astral projection powers to transfer Black Rutile from his mind to Squamata's.

--

Once Black Rutile was warped inside Squamata's mind, she discovered that death, destruction, and the end of all things were the only things on the dark snake's mind. As a result, she was forced to run from one natural disaster to another in her search for Nosiop. "Is this the mindscape of a cosmic being?" she muttered to herself. "Not something I ever thought I would be running through."

"Help. Someone, help me." Nosiop weakly cried out, causing Black Rutile to turn her head to find the prince of Serpentes crucified atop a hill below an oversized silhouette of the Lapidarist in the distance. "Please, I'm sorry for everything."

"Nosiop, calm down there, kiddo." Black Rutile said. "It's me, Black Rutile. You know, the one you betrayed and nearly sacrificed to Squamata? That Gem? Remember?"

"I wish I could, but I barely can," Nosiop replied feebly. "Ever since I was turned into Squamata's vessel, he has slowly been erasing my original self to take over my body easier. It's only a matter of time before I'm no longer myself." He then started screaming in pain from electric shock, indicating to Black Rutile that he was losing more of his personality. "Father, I'm so sorry!"

"Don't bother fighting back! Your father has abandoned you!" Squamata taunted Nosiop, his smug tone echoing in his mind. "You truly have no hope of ever earning his forgiveness after how you've treated him recently!"

"You have no power over this boy, snake!" Black Rutile immediately rushed to Nosiop's defense, much to the prince's surprise. "He is simply a victim of toxic influence in his formative years and now wishes to change himself for the better. I can relate to that. I will not let another soul be a victim of such madness as I have!"

"Madness? No." Squamata replied. "THIS IS SQUAMATA!" The snake god laughed maniacally as Nosiop was electrocuted once again. This time, he made sure to make the torturous deprivation of himself even more painful while Black Rutile tried to free the prince. "Don't bother saving him, you worthless rock. The deed was already done before you even got here."

"I can still try!" Black Rutile exclaimed. "Listen to me, Nosiop. Your father may not be good at showing it, but he still loves you no matter what! Just think of that love and try to break out!"

Nosiop stopped screaming for a moment as he lingered on Black Rutile's words and then thought back to the last thing his father had said to him before Squamata possessed him. "A human told me that I wasn't the best parent towards you. He knows from experience, for he is a father much like me, a father who also debated with himself on whether he was a good parent to his son." Cobralan's voice rang in Nosiop's head. "But at the end of the day, he accepted that no matter how much he treasured his child, he still needed to grow and change as a man himself."

And so, through his own sheer willpower, Nosiop resisted the electrocution as he wrestled his way out of the cross he was made prisoner of, screaming in further agony as he successfully broke out and collapsed in Black Rutile's arms. "It will take more than your head games to stop me, Squamata!" Nosiop cursed the evil snake. "You may have taken my mind and my body, but there is one thing I will always keep! My love for my people!"

"There. That wasn't so bad, was it?" Black Rutile asked while helping Nosiop up. "After all, you can't have others carry you around forever. You should plant your own roots. I once carried myself on the roots of others, but I guess I was wrong. We are stronger together." She took a deep breath before gazing out into the infinite horizons of Squamata's mind. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going back to give Steven a lift. Try not to do anything stupid while I'm gone, okay?"

When Black Rutile stuck out her hand, she expected to shake hands with Nosiop as a sign of their newly forged trust. Instead, she received a hug from the prince, happy that he could become a genuine friend to Black Rutile without manipulating her for his twisted plans. Black Rutile smiled while gently stroking Nosiop's back before tapping her forehead, cuing Steven to bring her back to Rutilated Quartz's mind.

--

"Everyone, give me cover!" Cobralan yelled as he raced with Constricta and Naja to their castle while the Crystal Gems helped fight off Squamata's minions, while the Coalition of Galaxies arrived to assist in the battle. "My people are in disarray; they need a leader to guide them!"

"Way ahead of you, your grace!" Peridot said before she lifted Torius and Manco by their cybernetics and smashed them against each other. "Haha, yes!"

"Come on, guys. We haven't got much time left before they overwhelm us!" Connie said as she slashed at shadow creatures swarming the castle. "Peedee, it has been a privilege going on this adventure with you."

"You too, Connie." Peedee replied before firing at another shadow demon with a laser rifle given to him by Captain Boa. "Hey, Boa, you mind if I take this home with me when we save the universe?"

"Okay, but you must promise me never to actually fire it. That rifle should only be for show." Boa advised Peedee before blushing. "Plus, I am quite attached to my weapons, just so you know."

"Less talking, more blocking!" Bismuth shouted while keeping Velhallen Beo at bay. "Naja, get your old man to the Ouraborium!"

"Right, Bismuth!" Naja nodded to Bismuth before turning to her parents. "Mother, father, follow me!"

"Right behind you, dear Naja!" Constricta said as the princess led her parents to the abandoned arena. The shadow creatures began getting closer, but suddenly, Aescul jumped in at the last moment to hold the line. "Aescul!"

"Fly, you fools!" Aescul yelled as he sacrificed himself to protect the remaining royals while the shadows overwhelmed him, leaving his fate undecided as the family reached the Ouraborium.

"Your sacrifice will not be in vain, my friend." Cobralan prayed for Aescul before clearing his throat and making an announcement. "PEOPLE OF SERPENTES, HEAR YE, FOR YOUR KING HAS RETURNED!" he announced. "I know everything looks scary right now, what with the mighty Squamata that we once worshipped wreaking havoc on the universe, and only a Gem fusion can stop him, but the events of today have told me that I've been neglecting the needs of my fellow snakes for far too long. I was more interested in keeping everyone entertained, and it caused me to drift away from my beloved children, one of whom is forced to become a vessel for that heinous snake god while his thralls seek to destroy the universe. So I ask you, my fellow snake people, do you hear me?! Do you hear the people sing?!"

A couple of scrambling Slytherophidians stopped to hear Cobralan's speech. They listened to how his desire to entertain had blinded him and distanced him from his family before compelling them to fight back and reclaim their world. And then one of them started singing.

"Do you hear the snake people sing, singing the song of the universe?" one of the elderly hecklers began singing. "It is the music of a planet that refuses to succumb to the curse!"

"When the rattle of your tail echoes a tyrant's last wails, there is a new life that will begin when tomorrow hails!" the other heckler joined his companion.

"Will you join in our crusade to defend all that lives and breathes?" the other Slytherophidians sang in harmony. "This may be our last chance, so find a sword to unsheathe! We'll fight together for a chance for all of us to be free!"

The heralds gaped in shock as the Slytherophidians armed themselves with whatever they could find and began overwhelming the shadow creatures with their makeshift weapons while their singing continued. "Do you hear the snake people sing, singing the song of the universe? It is the music of a planet that refuses to succumb to the curse! When the rattle of your tail echoes a tyrant's last wails, there is a new life that will begin when tomorrow hails!"

"What is the meaning of this?!" Velhallen Beo shrieked in terror as the Slytherophidians were prepared to give their lives for the sake of all life in the universe and beyond. "Isn't this what Nosiop wanted, for the Slytherophidians to be united as conquerors?!"

"Well, one thing's for certain." Mr. Manco stated. "We're as good as conquered!"

"Then we'll fight until the last man!" Torius yelled, firing his weapons from his cybernetics at the incoming army while Cobralan watched his people dedicate their hearts to their king from afar.

"See, Nosiop? You weren't wrong after all," Cobralan said, gazing at the sky. "Steven, Black Rutile. The rest is up to you."

--

Above Serpentes, the battle between Rutilated Quartz and Squamata peaked as the two fighters went at each other like predator and prey. Thanks to Black Rutile's help in freeing Nosiop from Squamata's possession, Squamata's physical body was weakening. But even still, the dark snake remained resilient. "You may have broken my control over my slave, but I will not stop until I have destroyed you, fusion!"

"That's what you think, Squamata!" Rutilated Quartz said with a fearless, playful smile that quickly turned to shock when Squamata launched himself at them and bit down hard on the fusion's arm, infecting him with the same venom that killed the Lapidarist. Luckily, Steven's healing factor kept the infection at bay, but it only delayed a possible death.

--

"I cannae do it, Captain!" Smoky Quartz yelled in a Scottish accent from within Rutilated Quartz's mind. "I'm giving her all she's got, but she can't take anymore!"

"This is bad. We need to think of something quick!" Rainbow 2.0 agreed in fear. "Steven, any ideas?!"

"You mean me?" Steven and Inner Steven pointed at themselves and then at each other.

"Either of you will do!" Sunstone exclaimed.

"Wait, I think I got an idea!" Steven declared. "I'm going to need everyone with me for this one!"

"We'll always have your back, Steven." Rose replied. "Let's do this."

--

"I call upon everyone across the entire universe!" Rutilated Quartz yelled while pointing his sword to the sky. "Please, GIVE ME YOUR ENERGY!" After generating a small pink energy sphere at the tip of Ronaldo's blade, Rutilated Quartz began gathering energy from all life forms across the universe. Not just from Serpentes, Earth, and Homeworld, but every corner of the cosmos as well. They got energy collected from Dangan-40 to Boba-80, Acidia, Zembilla, Bopbe, Aozul-2, Lancerik-40, Chazelle, Teslein, Sergione-29, Blacropolis, Invisibo-9, Kyukanza, Dathofar, Hifotia, the Bogon Galaxy, the Twilight Zone, Quarron, the Aeron Galaxy, the Sky Canopy Domain, the Pegasus Galaxy, the Seraphia Galaxy, the Upside Down, Hellknight's Lot, the Makyo Star System, Melmac, Spira, Cepheus-18, Aldebaran, Thra, Zeenu, Shuggazoom, Petropia, Cavenousya, Demorgon-419, Gustafring, Utrokrang-847, Tweenis 12, the Ood, the Shamoians, the Mooninites, the Watchdogs, Copper-9, Tritek, and many, many more planets and species from all over willing to donate to Rutilated Quartz's giant sphere. When they felt like he collected enough energy, RQ absorbed it into their sword, causing the blade to glow a brilliant pink.

"Do you see it, Squamata?" Rutilated Quartz asked while the blade of Ronaldo's anime sword glowed like a star in his grasp. "This sword, THIS SWORD IS BURNING LIKE A STAR! IT GLOWS WITH AN AWESOME POWER!" With a mighty swing, Rutilated Quartz struck the gigantic god of snakes with the fury of a gladiator. "ITS BURNING GRIP TELLS ME TO DEFEAT YOU!"

"NO, I WILL NOT LOSE!" Squamata roared, preparing one last attack to destroy Rutilated Quartz. The mighty fusion was undeterred, preparing the killing blow.

"TAKE THIS!" Rutilated Quartz screamed as the sword stabbed a hole in space and began tearing open a rip. "MY LOVE, MY HOPE, MY ANGER, AND ALL OF MY SORROW!" After ripping open a hole in the universe, the god of snakes felt himself being torn out of Nosiop's body and sucked into the tear. "There, now you can have all the planets you want to devour. But you will never harm this universe for as long as it lives."

"PETULANT FOOL, THIS WILL ONLY DELAY THE INEVITABLE!" Squamata roared as he struggled to escape his confinement. "So long as darkness and hatred haunt this plane of existence, I will return one day and finish what I have started! Who do you think you are?!"

"Who am I, you may ask?" Rutilated Quartz replied with a dramatic monologue. "Am I a Crystal Gem, a Rutile Rebel, or a Diamond? No, I am all of them. I am the fusion of Steven Universe and Black Rutile, the enlightened warriors of clashing kinships. Now they are united in heart and mind, and they shall stop the worlds from becoming aligned." At the final word, Rutilated Quartz, empowered by the energy of his friends, family, and the populace of the entire universe, stabbed the snake of darkness clean in his blackened heart before removing their blade and letting Squamata fall into the rift.

"STEEEEE-VEEEEEN UNIVEEEEEEERSE!" Squamata screamed as he was fully absorbed by the rift and imprisoned for all eternity in a barren universe with no hope of escaping. To ensure Squamata would never find a way out, Rutilated Quartz took one final swing of their sword to close the rift, ending the god of snakes' menace once and for all.

Rutilated Quartz took a breath and smiled triumphantly as they gazed out into the vast space. "I did it." They declared. "Now for a little reunion." Spotting Nosiop's unconscious body, Rutilated Quartz grabbed it using one of Steven's bubbles before returning to Serpentes, where the Crystal Gems eagerly awaited their friends' safe return.

--

"Steven!" Lapis cried out in delight as the Crystal Gems won the war against the heralds and brought them all to justice. Sylvia Spectre and Chief Max Impact led Beo, Manco, and Torius away in chains as the two turned to watch the masses cheer for Steven and Black Rutile.

"STEVEN, STEVEN, STEVEN, STEVEN, STEVEN!" the Slytherophidians chanted happily as Rutilated Quartz took one last bow before un-fusing, leaving only Steven and Black Rutile, who now carried Nosiop in her arms.

"Excuse me, Your Highness, but I believe this is yours." Black Rutile said, handing Nosiop back to Cobralan before receiving the tightest of victory hugs from White Topaz while Steven was congratulated by his friends and family on a job well done.

"How does it feel to save the universe from an all-powerful god of destruction?" Amethyst asked as Steven was surrounded by the Crystal Gems.

"Exhilarating." Steven said. "I really thought I was going to die there from that venom. Thankfully, it disappeared when I cut Squamata out of Nosiop and sent him packing!"

"However, Squamata did say that as long as darkness and hatred existed in this universe, he will find a way back." Black Rutile replied.

"And we'll be ready for him." Greg declared proudly. "Every single one of us."

As relief and excitement washed over the humongous crowds of various species from across the universe, Aescul limped back to the royal family, horribly injured but miraculously still alive. "What did I miss?" he gasped with a smile. "Looks like the prince is finally back."

"Father, I'm so sorry for-" Nosiop tried apologizing for his actions before Cobralan shushed him.

"There is no need to apologize, my child. You've done enough." Cobralan said softly before hugging his son. "I don't care what you've done or how much agency you've had. I'm just happy that we're all together again."

--

As night began to fall on Earth, the people of Beach City waited patiently for Steven and the Crystal Gems' return so that they could finally get Steven's 18th birthday party started. Suddenly, Onion felt a breeze and gazed upwards at the massive spaceship flying towards the Crystal Temple before waving his hands to signal everybody else. When the ship landed, and the townies gathered to see who was going to disembark, a massive door opened and out came Steven and friends, returned to Earth at long last. It wasn't just them coming to Beach City either; all of their extraterrestrial friends they met at the Contest of Champions had also invited themselves to Steven's birthday, happy to be introduced to his human friends.

"Hey everyone, we're back!" Steven smiled and waved to the people of Beach City, who all cheered uproariously in response. "Hope you don't mind that we brought some uninvited guests."

"Dad!" Ronaldo and Peedee yelled as they raced towards Mr. Fryman and finally reunited with him.

"I can't believe I'm saying this, but after spending so much time on Serpentes, I kind of missed Earth." Black Rutile chuckled happily before turning to Steven. "Say, are you still accepting applications for Little Homeschool? I think I'd like to finally join to make up for what I've done."

"Of course, welcome to Earth!" Steven chuckled happily and hugged Black Rutile when he noticed Cobralan standing behind him. "Oh, hey, your majesty. Got something to say?"

"As a matter of fact, I do," Cobralan said and cleared his throat. Before he could make another speech, Bialyoom and Meinerr decided to introduce the king first.

"Greetings-people-of-Earth, I-am-Bialyoom-Milamin-and-this-is-my-partner-Meinerr, speaking-to-you-all-on-behalf-of-the-mighty-King-Cobralan-Jormagundr-of-the-Serpentes-Empire!" Bialyoom said at rapid-fire speeds before gesturing to Cobralan.

"That is right. He is but one of the venerated Universal Lords ruling over, well, the universe, and you have the privilege of meeting him in person!" Meinerr proclaimed. "Now then, your highness, anything you'd like to say?"

"Yes, I do, madame," Cobralan said before clearing his throat again. "People of Earth, do not be alarmed. Though our appearances may seem alarming, we come in peace. As of today, I declare the Contest of Champions over after 420,000 years."

"Nice!" Amethyst yelled, prompting Pearl to smack her upside the head for such a dirty joke. "Hey, he was asking for it!"

"Anyways, from here on out, I wish for you all to take me to your leaders so that Earth may open itself up to being inhabited by other alien species!" Cobralan continued. "Including many whose homes were lost to the colonization of the Diamonds! In fact, here come some of them now!" Just then, another ship dropped down, and out came the former inhabitants of Invisibo-9, bringing a tear to Sylvia's eye as her people finally had somewhere to call home. "Just as a fair warning, some of them may get a little quirky, so best to keep a close eye on them."

"Enough talk! Let's get this birthday started!" Garnet yelled as Connie brought out a Cookie Cat-shaped birthday cake for Steven.

"Make a wish, Steven!" Connie suggested as Steven blew out his eighteen candles. "What did you wish for?"

"I think I already made my wish," Steven said happily before he started to sing. "Here we are in the future. Here we are in the future once again. Here to cherish each moment I'm spending with friends." He then kissed Connie romantically. "I know, we'll change. It may be strange, but here we are, and the future never ends."

"And here we are!" the Crystal Gems added in chorus.

"If I could have just stopped, I would never have gotten to see." Black Rutile added, now happily singing along as well. "This future for us, this future for them, this future for me!"

"Here we are in the future!" White Topaz joined in on the song as everyone around them started swaying lighters, flashlights, and other light sources.

"Here we are in the future!" Aquamarine and Eyeball added happily.

"And even as we take a final bow, because of this, I'll always think of how." King Cobralan, Nosiop, and the Diamonds proclaimed. "There may be other battles to be won; my life, unlike the story, isn't done."

"So, happily, we'll face whatever comes our way." The Rutile Rebels, the Little Homeworld Gems, the Contest of Champions competitors, and the Rutile Rebels joined the chorus. "And after, we might do it all again!"

"Here we are in the future," Aescul added, his eyes filled with tears of joy, as his people no longer needed to hide from humanity.

"Here we are the future!" Spinel added happily before giving Volleyball a comically huge kiss, causing the Pearl to blush before kissing Spinel in return.

"And maybe we will change. And, yes, it might be strange, but here we are in the future with our friends." Steven, Black Rutile, and Cobralan sang together before Steven pulled out his phone to take a selfie of the three of them with his birthday cake.

"And so, happily ever after never ends." Steven and Black Rutile sang one last time before taking the picture, signifying their newfound friendship and a new era for the Gems and the entire universe. In the background of the picture behind Cobralan, one could see an outline of the Lapidarist in the distance, as if she was watching over them all even after her death. Here they all were in the future, together as friends at last in a world where they would never have to fight again.

THE END

--

STEVEN UNIVERSE: ALTERNATE FUTURE

BASED OFF THE HIT CARTOON NETWORK ANIMATED SERIES BY REBECCA SUGAR

STARRING:

Zach Callison as Steven

Estelle as Garnet

Michaela Dietz as Amethyst, Famethyst, Blue Lace Agate, Ocean Jasper, Crazy Lace Agate, Chert

Deedee Magno-Hall as Pearl, Yellow Pearl, Blue Pearl, Volleyball, Black Pearl Brigade, Mega Black Pearl

Noël Wells as Black Rutile

Lauren Ash as White Topaz

Grace Rolek as Connie

Tom Scharpling as Greg

Shelby Rabara as Peridot, Squaridot

Jennifer Paz as Lapis, Laz, Zuli, Phoenix Lapis Lazuli

Uzo Aduba as Bismuth

Kimberly Brooks as Jasper, Cherry Quartz, Rose Trio, Angel Aura Quartz, Zebra Jasper, Skinny Jasper, Carnelian, Biggs Jasper, Flint, Dalmatian Jasper

Dee Bradley Barker as Lion

Charlyne Yi as Ruby, Eyeball, Navy, Doc, Army, Leggy

Erica Luttrell as Sapphire, Padparadscha Sapphire

Della Saba as Aquamarine

Patti LuPone as Yellow Diamond

Lisa Hannigan as Blue Diamond

Christine Ebersole as White Diamond

WITH:

Matthew Moy as Lars

Zach Steel as Ronaldo

Atticus Shaffer as Peedee

Neil Flynn as Aescul

Christine Pedi as Holly Blue Agate

Casey Lee Williams as Cat's Eye

Avi Roque as Cinnabar

Awkwafina as Kyanite

Allison Janney as Pyrite

Zehra Fazal as Zoisite

Lena Hall as Bloodstone

Jodie Whittaker as Xenotime

Kari Wahlgren as Pyrope, Envyrno

Melissa Fahn as Demantoid, Eyeball Demantoid

Jinkx Monsoon as Emerald, Chest Emerald

Hayley Kiyoko as Morganite

Halsey as Tanzanite

Idina Menzel as Amazonite

Mia Barron as Apatite

Gina Torres as Andesine

Barbara Dunkelman as Amber

Kristen Schaal as Howlite

Sarah Stiles as Spinel

Olivia Olson as Citrine, Citrine Twins

Christine Baranski as Hessonite

Enuka Okuma as Rhodonite

Kathleen Fisher as Fluorite

Ashly Burch as Rutile Twins

Amy Sedaris as Teal Zircon

Aparna Nancherla as Nephrite

Ian Jones Quartey as Snowflake Obsidian, Bixbite

Michelle Maryk as Larimar

Auli'i Cravalho as Orange Spodumene

Kimiko Glenn as Blue Chalcedony

Tara Platt as Cubic Zirconias

Tara Strong as Grossular Diopside

Phillipa Soo as Chrysocolla

Anika Noni Rose as Watermelon Tourmaline (fusion), Watermelon Tourmaline

Aimee Carrero as Moonstone

Martha Higerada as Topaz

Gal Gadot as Desert Glass

Willa Holland as Albite

Maddie Ziegler as Serpentine

Courtenay Taylor as Beryl

Emily King as Kunzite

Alex Newell as Monazite

Cavetown as Diaspore

Sarah Jessica Parker as Dumortierite

Alex Newell as Monazite

Aimee Mann as Opal

Nicki Minaj as Sugilite

Alexia Khadime as Sardonyx

Billie Eilish as Turquoise

Esme Bianco as Malachite

Catherine Tate as Lepidolite

Larissa Gallagher as Bluebird Azurite

May Calamawy as Chrome Chalcedony

Maggie Robertson as Painite

Ted Leo as Steg

AJ Michalka as Stevonnie

Frank Welker as Tungsten

David Kaye as Steel

Corey Burton as Chromium

Peter Cullen as Titanium

Bumper Robinson as Gold

Scott McNeil as Iron

Jeffrey Combs as Mercury

Hailee Steinfeld as Zinc

FEATURING:

Aurelio Voltaire as King Cobralan Jormagundr

Jason Marsden as Prince Nosiop Jormagundr

Shirley Millner as Queen Constricta Jormagundr

Cissy Jones as Princess Naja Jormagundr

Henry Rollins as Captain Boa

Keith David as Pyth

John Moschitta Jr. as Bialyoom Milamin

Stephanie Escajeda as Meinerr

Nicole Sullivan as Sylvia Spectre

JP Karliak as S-L1M3

Dominic Armato as Captain Gearfeet

Wally Wingert as Rigby Starglow

Britt Baron as Michelle Angelon

Julissa Aguirre as Lady Imagineer

Rob Paulsen as Monty the Moarchean

Terrence C. Carson as The Decimator

Steven Blum as Deputy Edward, Earthos

Beau Billingslea as Sheriff Spiegel

Christopher Lloyd as Batsputin Vosania

Anna Akana as Dionna of the Sands

Peter Stormare as Reximillian

Elizabeth Maxwell as Vigrid

James Earl Jones as Wobbla the Butt

Barrett Wilbert Weed as Ezlipsia

Anthony Stewart Head as Solaris Noctua

Jim Ross as Jiross

Michael Buffer as Michauffer

Dave Goelz and Peter Linz as Hecklers

Tim Curry as Velhallen Beo

Crispin Freeman as Mr. Manco

Sam Witwer as Torius Vosania

Joel Grey as King Serpentes I

John Mulaney as Flipso

Ray Porter as Squamata

Samantha Newark as Rebeugar the Lapidarist

Elton John as Stars

Weird Al Yankovic as Stevaldo

And Jack Black as Rutilated Quartz

SPECIAL THANKS TO:

Jack8090

TheCurryAstute/Devil Dragon Stand User

Brydav-Massbear

My friends, family and teachers

The Lapidot Café Discord server

And readers like you

Thank you

"Something weird might may be something familiar viewed from a different angle. And that's not scary, right?"

-Rebecca Sugar

"All our dreams can come true if we have the courage to pursue them."

-Walt Disney

"That person who helps others simply because it should or must be done, and because it is the right thing to do, is indeed without a doubt, a real superhero."

-Stan Lee

--

No joke once again, I was crying while writing this ending. This story has meant so much to me for the past three years, and it brought me together with other people who were just as devoted to Steven's universe as I was. To that, I give you all my biggest thanks I can give. It's funny, isn't it? Steven Universe ended before I went to college, I started writing Alternate Future in my freshman year, and now I'm finally ending it while in senior year while graduate school is on the horizon. This story has really been a part of my adult life for so long, it's going to be hard to let go of this silly alternate universe version of a children's show on Cartoon Network, even when I finally focus on other stories for once, including a certain other Steven story I've left hanging for almost three years. I'll be out for the rest of November so don't do anything stupid while I'm gone. I'm really going to miss you all.

[nemesis-is-my-middle-name]

If layline MC has a creation starter then maybe she shows up with an egg that they know its theirs to care for by its parent. and out come the most gangly little horse thing wobbling everwhere. its arcs are not there yet it looks cute in an almost ugly way. It comes up to their Thighs and only starst growing when the Plottm starts happening.It still only grows to be around a head taller than them and is like an affection cat. Its a scardy cat and hides behind is parent half the time. No one knows how it Eats. They blink and food has bite out of it. I think this still puts little MC as the one who is doing the Plottm and not have something do it for them. ( I assuming they themselves are throwing down with the corrupted Lords and Ladies (maybe I dont know the plot yet) and Still have that nice companionship. and baby arceus is cute in my mind)

No one knows its a god. Laventon is excited only bc He got to witness a brith of a magical creature that probably has only been hearsay before.

[ Anonymous: I thought I saw a tag about creation starts on ley lines but now I cant find it so maybe I made it up so apologies if I randomly threw that into the au think tank out of nowhere ]

no you saw correctly! it wasn't a tag, it was the first paragraph of this other reply lol. i do think babi arceus is always a very cute idea whenever it comes up

...but man. plot. plot plot plot. you've asked a question about The Plot now i have to think about it. i feel like it isn't just the nobles being frenzied again, since that feels like just doing canon again and i kind of want to get further away with it? i don't know, this is all very loosey goosey thoughts and i'm bad at putting my vibes ideas down on paper, but i feel like if the nobles and wardens and pearl/diamond as a whole are still a structure in this world, they're like, much more of a background thing? like, they have this noble soulbond so i guess they do exist, but the actual plot is some other much different Fantasy Quest and they're really just other characters on the adventure. if that... makes any sense at all.

like, is hisui even a thing? i feel like the clans might be much more spread out as a whole... if they're even clans, and it isn't just the wardens and leaders forming a structure with no other regular people involved. like every individual warden looks after a certain area, and they all report to adaman and irida, but those are the only people in diamond and pearl. and they just sort of... orbit loosely related towns and villages etc. and then they all get dragged into akari's situation, maybe because akari&co went to adaman and/or irida as a user of a primal magical force who could maybe shed some light on the situation (they couldn't, but they got caught up in the adventure for their own reasons anyway.) i guess since they're all picking up and leaving, their jobs are also much less important than they are in canon? like it's not such a huge deal for them to just wander off for a while.

this might all sound like complete nonsense, i don't know. like i said it's just vibes in here.

[sinceraindia]

5 Funny Things that May Happen to You at An Internship

Internships form a really important part of our pre-world of work days. No one can dispute this fact. It is true that internships give one a taste of what it would feel like to work full-time in the chosen sphere, and help you make your mind up about whether or not you would want to pursue the particular stream. Despite all its advantages and benefits (even the most irrelevant things come in handy, in retrospect!) an internship can be a comical affair. and here are five ways how –

The most important task of your internship may be to copy pasteYou may be an intern in the Ministry of External and Foreign Affairs, and yet feel like a silly goose there. Looking back to the day of your interview, which may have felt like the most important day of your life, you might wonder how flawed your expectations were. As interns we all make the mistake of assuming or hoping that we will be entrusted with really important work. A month (or several of them) may pass by and you realize all you’ve done is copy paste / re-type documents. But hey! Perk up, because only an intern would have access to these documents, and hence a cart load of learning material!

You could be the minion – and you can’t do anything about itCoffee and running other errands for your superiors may form a significant portion of your day. And you can’t do anything about it. No, we won’t say that there is anything inspirational about this. Neither are there any pearls of wisdom to share about this. Its just funny. Because its true.

The unavoidable existential angstIn the journey of your internship, at least once (if not more!) you will be gripped by a terrible existential angst. You will ask yourself  questions like “what am I even doing here?”, “will I ever get a real job?”, “will I ever be as good as these people?”. It’s funny because you are going to look back at those moments and realize you were being silly. Well, maybe we are wrong in calling those moments silly, because these are the moments when perhaps you come to terms with certain unsettling facts, and questions. These moments build up towards other important life decisions and choices. So, while we can’t say enjoy it while it lasts, what we can say is, this too shall pass.

Money? What money? It is the experience that countsHa ha. This is by far the funniest thing that happens to an intern. You realize most (if not all) of your pocket money gets depleted in trying to ‘afford’ the internship – because you don’t get paid. And hence, you have to take care of the travel and your lunches, and the get-togethers (your ‘colleagues’ will probably invite you so you don’t feel left out) you most definitely cannot afford. And when you pop the question about whether the internship will pay you, at the interview, you are most likely to receive a poised and sophisticated answer like “no, but we will offer you unparalleled experience.” Okay, then.

When you “pretend” to be busy and get caughtFew things can be as embarrassing as the CEO (or a superior) walking in on your screen while you are shopping on Amazon (lets hope that’s the most embarrassing it gets!). As an intern, there is only so much work you will have. Then again, as an intern, you most definitely cannot leave before time. So to be fair, you might have been just killing time; but for ages to come you will love with the guilt of coming across as a slacker. But hopefully you will look back and laugh at it, because it is funny!

Find these things relate-able? Tell us how! Have funny things happened to you as an intern? Tell us about all the goof ups, we might as well have a good laugh, if nothing else!

[keyboardandquill]

It’s a tragedy when a library closes its doors. The community loses a beloved space, and more often than not, it happens because nobody who cares is important enough to do anything about it.

More tragic still, shelves of books are left to rot; only the “valuable” ones are given homes in other libraries or on collectors’ shelves.

But the biggest tragedy of all? It’s the ones who care about the library who wind up being the ones to find a way inside after fruitless months or years of haranguing the city to let them in.

They mean well. I know they do. But every ounce of enthusiasm comes with an ample supply of “Acting Without Thinking.” And because the powers that be would rather pretend their library problem doesn’t exist, there are few (if any) public service announcements about the dangers of entering neglected libraries. It’s simply not common knowledge.

Sure, everyone knows to stay away from the big, sprawling ones going on decades or even a century old. But a library without a remediation budget can start showing signs of starvation damage after a closure as short as one or two weeks, and librarians have to bring in something new for the catalogue just to make up for the neglect. Any longer, and the city has to pay an agency to handle re-opening procedures. Remediation, as it’s known in the biz.

Do you see where I’m going with this?

A neglected library should only be handled by an expert or team of experts. The general book-loving public should stay far away. But they don’t know that, so well-meaning Friends Of the Library activist groups go in. I assume they get confused because the interior no longer looks like it used to, and that’s all they have time to think before The Library itself gets involved.

The results are messy. Too often, librarial neglect continues because now there’s nobody left to care.

~~~

There are two kinds of groups to whom I offer my services pro bono: Friends of the Library-type clubs who actually do enough research to find me in the first place, and universities facing funding cuts of their own. I have been known to take a nominal fee from small towns, the grieving children of eccentric collectors, and, in one case, a library itself.

The last instance came in the form of a book being spat through a returns slot, a twenty tucked into its pages like a bookmark. It landed at my feet as I was walking by—I was off work due to an injury at the time, and hadn’t even realized the old library had grown so much from its home building at the other end of the block.

By the time I emerged the next morning, sneezing and dusty and only a little worse for wear, the library was a library no more.

Okay, people who think the physical book itself is some kind of sacred relic, there’s no need to clutch your pearls. My work is entirely humane: I take the “essence” of the library and disperse it. Salvageable books, if there are any, are taken to my agency’s redistribution centre. The records, preserved in our database. We even archive the ephemera, like flyers for readings and such, if such ephemera exists. Once there is no longer a library, there is also nothing to starve, and nothing to pose a danger to intrepid bibliophiles.

You see? Preservation and eradication all at once. Simple.

~~~

Small agencies, like mine was when I started it, usually limit themselves to small jobs. Certain situations call for a well-coordinated team of specialists, while others, a solo agent can handle in an afternoon.

I’m probably giving you the impression that my colleagues and I are like spies or something. A more accurate picture would be “exterminator meets flood remediation technician meets librarian.” If you wanna toss in some Ghostbusters imagery too, I won’t stop you.

(And, yes, many of us are former librarians and all of us have degrees in library science. You would not believe how handy the Dewey Decimal system is in this line of work.)

That said, our clients usually have no idea what kind of agency they need. I’ve sent my fair share of potential clients to the big guys, and they’ve sent small-time clients to me. I’m normally pretty good at sussing out what kind of job it’ll be even before I get to the site, and anything that sneaks past my questionnaire or client interview typically gets caught during pre-inspection.

Notice my use of words like ‘usually’ and ‘normally’ and ‘typically.’ I can’t afford to deal in absolutes. Learned that one the hard way.

It was my first big-girl job after my internship. I’d landed a—frankly—pretty sweet position at a medium–large agency as a junior agent, and I was eager to impress. The agency had a rule: no matter an agent’s experience level, if a job’s scope reached a certain size, everyone working solo had to call in backup.

After a few partnered expeditions into mostly tame libraries, the agency sent me on my first real solo job. They paid for my flight, gave me meal vouchers, and set me up in a nice hotel on their dime—room service included.

I was excited. I was nervous. I panicked a little, then a lot, and then looped back to being excited again. My rideshare took me straight to the old library from the airport, passing the new public library on the way.

The old library building looked fairly nondescript: boarded-up windows just like many other businesses on that street (side note: the uniformity of it all should have been my first indicator something was up); a warning sign on the door saying the building wasn’t safe to enter, which was to avoid lawsuits in case someone thought it was prime squatting real estate; and graffiti on its brick facade. The street, on the other hand, looked like a bomb went off: It was little better than rubble. I’d been on smoother logging roads.

“A gas main blew,” the rideshare driver said. I guess he’d noticed my slack-jawed expression. “Thankfully, the street was already pretty empty and no one got hurt. You said you’re a building inspector?”

I nodded. It was sort of true, and much easier to explain than my actual job.

“Anyone with eyes can see they should just tear it all down. But I guess they gotta keep things official for the paperwork, eh? About time—it’s been sitting like this for years.”

That should have been my second indication that was something up. But, I was brimming with youthful naivete and running on two hours of sleep, so if any alarm bells rang in my head, I staunchly ignored them and charged ahead full speed. (Some free advice for you: Don’t do that. Always go into a dangerous situation well-rested.)

“Years?” I remember saying. Where a seasoned, safety-conscious agent would have seen the need to call for backup right then, I saw an adventure. A chance to test out all these newly acquired skills I’d gone into debt for. The driver helped cart all my gear to the front door. He probably made a comment about needing so much stuff for a simple inspection, and I probably made a joke about being prepared for anything.

He drove off after I insisted he didn’t need to wait for me, and I entered the building alone. I didn’t even pause at the doorstep. (That would be mistake number three, for those keeping track at home.)

Have you ever felt like you were being watched? The hairs on the back of your neck stand up, maybe you get goosebumps, a sense of dread like a rock in your gut. I’ve become well-acquainted with the sensation in all my years as an agent, but I wasn’t too familiar with it at this stage of my career. I chalked it up to nerves and pressed onward.

Leaving most of my kit at the door, all I had with me as I entered the lobby was my flashlight, my toolbag, and a cheap e-reader filled with titles that had all come out after the library closed. I stopped in front of the checkout desk. It was at this point I realized I had messed up royally.

Many pet owners will know what I mean when I say there’s a big difference between innocuous silence—like when a dog or cat is asleep—and suspicious silence. It’s intuition. Our brains pick up on so many details sub-consciously.

As I swept the beam of light across the abandoned shelves, the building was dead quiet. No groans or creaks. No hum of electricity. No sounds from outside. I couldn’t even hear myself breathe.

The beam wavered as my hand began to shake, and I tried to turn around. My feet wouldn’t budge. I lifted my eyes—and only my eyes, since my head wouldn’t move either—and the air rushed from my lungs.

There was no ceiling. I don’t mean the roof was missing, I mean there was nothing.

Before I was a remediation tech, I was actually pursuing a degree in marine ecology. I know, hell of a career change, right? But one summer, I went on a month-long research trip to the Mariana Trench. They took us over the Challenger Deep, where eleven thousand metres of dark water separated us from the ocean floor, and sent an ROV through those fathoms upon fathoms of darkness all the way to the bottom.

I imagined a sapient species living down there and wondered if they would fear the gloomy distance between them and the surface like we do the depths. I got my answer and then some in that library: How can you worry about something as trivial as distance when you’re staring into the yawning abyss?

And yet some people are drawn to the infinite. I’m one of them—I wanted to be at the bottom of the ocean right alongside that ROV. And maybe that’s why I survived the library.

You’ve heard that Nietzsche quote about staring at the abyss long enough that it stares back? It’s truer than you can imagine. I don’t know what that library saw in me, why I’m still here to tell my story first-hand. A starving library will consume any information it can reach, and what is a human brain but a complex repository of knowledge?

Whatever it found, I’m grateful it did. It let me go. I returned with backup. We did our jobs. The library was—is—no more. Every once in a while, I’ll come across a book that once lived there, as if it’s saying ‘Remember me?’ and I take a moment to be thankful I’m alive.

Especially considering all of the precarious situations I’ve found myself in since then.

Deep Water Prompt #3064

When libraries are not maintained they expand, swallowing cities block by block. If you run into a building too big to comprehend, that city has starved its library, and you should not go in. 

[alcinadimitrescuwu]

The Portrait (An Alcina x Maiden Fanfic)

You walk into the Atelier and find yourself once again gazing at the portrait of the Lady of the Castle, Lady Dimitrescu. She must have commissioned the portrait when she was younger because she looked like she was in her mid-20’s. She stands in an ivory-colored dress with a full skirt, holding a glass of wine. Her face is clear of her laugh lines, under-eye circles, and wrinkles but she is still as elegant and beautiful as ever. You move closer to get a better look and suddenly wonder who might have painted this portrait. Were they close to Lady Dimitrescu?

“Do you like it?”

You whirl around swiftly and find yourself face to face with Alcina Dimitrescu. The corner of her mouth quirks up in an amused grin, making her laugh lines indent into her cheekbones. Her golden eyes are glittering with mischief.

“Well?” she prompts.

You come back to yourself. “I-It’s lovely, my Lady,” you stammer. “Did you commission someone to make it for you?”

Alcina lets out a laugh like tinkling bells. “Why, yes. In fact you could say that the two of us were rather close.” She steps closer to you and the portrait, a knowing smirk on her face. “It was actually me that painted that portrait.”

“You?” you blurt out suddenly. Then you realize how rude you must sound. "Forgive me, my Lady,” you say, ducking your head in apology. “I meant no disrespect. I just didn’t know you were the artistic type.”

“Oh, I’ve dabbled in a lot of different art forms in my life, pet,” she says, and you see her eyes mist over as she reminisces. “I was classically trained in opera, I’ve painted landscapes and portraits, written poetry...I even was a jazz singer for a time. I made that portrait when I was 25. I was a very different woman than the one you see now.” She smiles self-deprecatingly. “Well, aside from the obvious, anyway.”

“It’s exquisite,” you breathe as you lean your head to get a better look at the portrait. You think of something and turn to her. “Do you still paint, my Lady?”

“Lately I’ve taken to sketching. And now that you know my secret,” she says, giving you a conspiratorial wink. “Perhaps I might come in here and do my sketching while you clean.”

You suddenly remember the actual purpose of why you came to this room in the first place. “Right! I need to polish the bells! I’ll just get started on that, then!”

You hear her chuckle low in her throat as you scramble up the ladder, taking out your polish. You look over back at her and she has sat down on the sofa, slipping a pair of pearl chain half-moon spectacles over her nose. She takes out her pens and charcoal, flips to a new page in her sketchbook and bends her dark head down to work.

Soon you and Alcina have a little arrangement going where every time you enter the Atelier to work on your tasks, you know you will soon see Alcina ducking her head under the lintel to work on her sketching. While you are on the ladder, you sneak glances at her every so often. Her lashes kiss the tips of her cheekbones and her brow is furrowed in concentration. Sometimes you will look from her to the portrait and you conclude that if possible, her aging has made her even more beautiful.

You feel a hand on your back and jump making the ladder wobble slightly. The hand braces you against the ladder so you don’t fall and you hear a soft chuckle behind you. “I’m sorry, dear. I suppose I should have announced my presence beforehand. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“It’s not a problem,” you say and you feel color flood your cheeks as you see you are truly face to face with Alcina Dimitrescu. Her face is merely inches from yours. Her golden eyes catch the light from the chandelier and up close you see they are not just golden but with hints of silver around the iris.

“There’s this spot around the gears that doesn’t get enough attention that I’d like to show you,” Alcina hands hover around your waist. “May I?”

You nod your consent and she gently moves you on the ladder until you’re on the other side. She bends down and whispers in your ear. “Just between the cog and the gear. Do you see it?” The smell of her perfume is intoxicating. You nod that you understand and she smiles. “Good! I know you always do a thorough job and I wanted to bring that to your attention.” With that she settles back down and resumes her sketching.

This goes on for a while, you working while Alcina is sketching. Occasionally she will take a break and stand nearby observing you as you work. You find it difficult to concentrate when she is around but she eventually smiles to herself saying, “Yes. Very good,” before returning to her seat. A couple times you are not certain but you think you might have seen a flush creep up her cheekbones before she resumes her sketching.

A couple of weeks of this go by and you notice Alcina is not satisfied with the progress of her drawing. You see that she is erasing more often and often starts from a completely new page in her sketchbook. “No, no, this isn’t right!” you hear her say aloud one day. You chance a look at her as you are on the ladder polishing the candlesticks. She is furiously scribbling on the sketchpad and when a loose lock of her ebony hair falls into her eyes, she pushes it impatiently away. You try to lean down further to get a better look. You’ve seen how talented she is, surely the sketch couldn’t be that bad…

Suddenly you feel the ladder twist from under you as you lose your balance. Your arms pinwheel helplessly in the air as you try to regain your footing but to no avail. You shut your eyes tight as you fall, hoping at the most you’ll just sprain an ankle.

Instead of the hard floor, you fall into something soft. You open your eyes and jolt back as you see Alcina’s aureate eyes staring back into yours. She chuckles. “It appears I cannot do much but startle you these days it seems.” She looks at you with a concerned expression. “Are you all right, dear?”

“Yes, my Lady, I’m fine,” you mumble. You blush scarlet as you are very aware that her gloved hand is on your upper thigh, your skirt riding up in her haste to catch you. She becomes aware of this too and smoothes your skirt down, murmuring an apology, but not before you catch the blush in her cheeks.

She turns her head quickly away to hide it, her hat covering her profile. “Would you like to take a moment and rest, dear? You’ve been working so hard, you deserve a break.”

You nod soundlessly and she takes you over to the sofa where she has been doing her sketching. She closes her sketchbook with a snap before you can get a good look at it.

A maid arrives with Alcina’s afternoon tea. “Set out an extra cup for Y/N, if you please,” she commands the parlor maid. The maid nods and pours you both cups of steaming apple cinnamon tea, perfect for a cold winter’s day.

When the maid bows and leaves, you turn to Lady Dimitrescu. You clear your throat. “Um, my Lady?”

She smiles at you over her teacup. “Yes, pet?”

You can’t help it. You’re positively burning with curiosity at this point. “What have you been drawing?” you ask before you can stop yourself.

Alcina’s cheekbones flood with color. “Oh, it’s nothing special really,” she says hurriedly. “Just some scribbles.”

You can hardly believe it. Was Lady Dimitrescu, usually so full of pride and grace, embarrassed? You see a scrap of paper on the ground near the sofa and pick it up. Alcina tries to stop you but you’ve already turned it over in your hands. You let out a little gasp of surprise as you see what Alcina has been drawing all this time.

There on the paper is a charcoal drawing of you polishing the bells. In the corner of the page is a closeup of you, your face shining in the chandelier light.

You look back at her, your mouth open in shock. When you finally gain the ability to form words, you ask, “Is this what you’ve been working on all this time, my Lady?” you ask quietly, your voice barely more than a whisper.

Alcina nods and opens her sketchbook to show even more pages of you. You staring at her portrait, you reaching up on your toes on the ladder to dust off a high shelf, you pouring her tea. There are pages upon pages of your likeness.

Alcina turns her head to face you. “I must confess that I had been in need of a new muse for my art,” she says. “When I saw you gazing at my portrait, something stirred within me. There is something about you that draws me to you.” She takes your chin gently in her gloved hand.

“Your hair,” she says, and she takes off your cap and settles your unbound hair about your shoulders. “Even pinned under your cap, it cannot conceal its beauty.” She takes your hand in hers. “Your skin,” she murmurs, pressing her lips to the back of your hand, making you feel a pleasant shiver go down your arm. “How it shines under the lamplight. Your eyes.” She is moving ever closer. “The way I could get lost in those fathomless depths. And your lips…”

Her face is so close to yours now, her lips parted. “What about my lips?” you whisper, scarcely daring to breathe.

You are not quite sure who closes the distance between you first, but you are suddenly in Alcina’s arms and you are kissing her fiercely, your hands weaving their way through her ebony locks. Her hands settle themselves around your waist as her tongue gently parts your lips. You lay back on the sofa and bring her head gently down with you. She braces one hand on the side of the couch while the other gently holds the back of your head.

The sound of the clock chiming startles you, making you break apart suddenly. Alcina lets out a girlish giggle. “We simply have to do something about those nerves of yours, draga mea,” she purrs. You smile and lift your head up to receive her kiss again.

[benevolentbirdgal]

“Thirteen″ Tips for Writing About Synagogues / Jewish Writing Advice / Advice for Visiting Synagogues

So your story includes a Jew (or two) and you’ve a got a scene in a synagogue. Maybe there’s a bar mitzvah, maybe your gentile protagonist is visiting their partner’s synagogue. Maybe there’s a wedding or a community meeting being held there. For whatever reason, you want a scene in a shul. I’m here as your friendly (virtual) neighborhood Jewish professional to help you not sound like a gentile who thinks a synagogue is just a church with a Star of David instead of a cross. 

Quick note: The are lots of synagogues around the world, with different specific cultural, local, and denominational practices. The Jewish community is made up of roughly 14 million people worldwide with all sorts of backgrounds, practices, life circumstances, and beliefs. I’m just one American Jew, but I’ve had exposure to Jewishness in many forms after living in 3.5 states (at several different population densities/layouts), attending Jewish day school and youth groups, doing Jewish college stuff, and landing a job at a Jewish non-profit. I’m speaking specifically in an American or Americanish context, though some of this will apply elsewhere as well. I’m also writing from the view of Before Times when gatherings and food and human contact was okay.

Bear in mind as well, in this discussion, the sliding scale of traditional observance to secular/liberal observance in modern denominations: Ultraorthodox (strict tradition), Modern Orthodox (Jewish law matters but we live in a modern world), Conservative (no relation to conservative politics, brands itself middle ground Judaism), Reconstructionist (start with Jewish law and then drop/add bits to choose your own adventure), and Reform (true build your own adventure, start at basically zero and incorporate only as you actively choose).

Synagogue = shul = temple. Mikvah (ritual bath) is its own thing and usually not attached to the shul. Jewish cemeteries are also typically nowhere near the shul, because dead bodies are considered impure.   

A Bar/Bat/Bnai Mitzvah is the Jewish coming of age ceremony. Bar (“son”) for boys at 13+, Bat (“daughter”) at 12+, and Bnai (“children”) for multiples (i.e. twins/triplets/siblings) or non-binary kids (although the use of the phrase “Bnai Mitzvah” this way is pretty new). 12/13 is the minimum, 12-14 the norm but very Reform will sometimes allow 11 and anybody above 12/13 can have theirs. Probably a dedicated post for another time. Generally, however, the following will happen: the kid will lead some parts of services, read from and/or carry the Torah, and make a couple of speeches. 

Attire: think Sunday Best (in this case Saturday), not come as you are. Even at very liberal reconstructionist/reform synagogues you wouldn’t show up in jeans and a t-shirt or work overalls. Unless they are seriously disconnected from their culture, your Jewish character is not coming to Saturday morning services in sneakers and jeans (their gentile guest, however, might come too casual and that’d be awkward).  1a. The more traditional the denomination, the more modest the attire. Outside of orthodoxy woman may wear pants, but dresses/skirts are more common. Tights for anything above knee common for Conservative/Reform/Recon, common for even below knee for orthodox shuls. Men will typically be wearing suits or close to it, except in very Reform spaces.  1b. Really, think business casual or nice dinner is the level of dressiness here for regular services. Some minor holidays or smaller events more casual is fine. Social events and classes casual is fine too.  1c. Even in reform synagogues, modesty is a thing. Get to the knee or close to it. No shoulders (this an obsession in many Jewish religious spaces for whatever reason), midriffs, or excessive cleavage (as I imagine to be the norm in most houses of worship). 

Gendered clothing:  3a. Men and boys wear kippahs (alt kippot, yarmulkes) in synagogues, regardless of whether they’re Jewish or not out of respect to the space. Outside of Jewish spaces it’s saying “I’m a Jew” but inside of Jewish spaces it’s saying “I’m a Jew or a gentile dude who respects the Jewish space.”  Outside of very Reform shuls, it’s a major faux pass to be a dude not wearing one.  3b. There are little buckets of loaner kippahs if you don’t bring your own and commemorative kippahs are given away at events (bar mitzvah, weddings). Your Jewish dude character not bringing or grabbing one is basically shouting “I’m new here.”  3c. Women are permitted to wear kippahs, but the adoption of a the traditionally masculine accessory will likely be interpreted by other Jews as LGBTQ+ presentation, intense feminism, and/or intense but nontraditional devoutness. Nobody will clutch their pearls (outside of ultraorthodoxy) but your character is sending a message.  3d. Tefillin are leather boxes and wrappings with prayers inside them that some Jewish men wrap around their arms (no under bar mitzvah or gentiles). Like with the kippah, a woman doing this is sending a message of feminism and/or nontraditional religious fervor.  3e. Additionally, prayer shawls, known as tallit, are encouraged/lightly expected of Jewish males (over 13) but not as much as Kippahs are. It is more common to have a personal set of tallit than tefillin. Blue and white is traditional, but they come in all sorts of fun colors and patterns now. Mine is purple and pink. It is much more common for women to have tallit and carries much fewer implications about their relationship to Judaism than wearing a kippah does.  3f. Married woman usually cover their hair in synagogues. Orthodox women will have wigs or full hair covers, but most Jewish woman will put a token scarf or doily on their head in the synagogue that doesn’t actually cover their hair. The shul will also have a doily loaner bucket. 

Jewish services are long (like 3-4 hours on a Saturday morning), but most people don’t get there until about the 1-1.5 hour mark. Your disconnected Jewish character or their gentile partner might not know that though. 

Although an active and traditional synagogue will have brief prayers three times every day, Torah services thrice a week, holiday programming, and weekly Friday night and Saturday morning services, the latter is the thing your Jewish character is most likely attending on the reg. A typical Saturday morning service will start with Shacharit (morning prayers) at 8:30-9, your genre savvy not-rabbi not-Bnai mitzvah kid Jewish character will get there around 9:30-10:15. 10:15-10:30 is the Torah service, which is followed by additional prayers. Depending on the day of the Jewish year (holidays, first day of new month, special shabbats), they’ll be done by 12:30 or 1 p.m. Usually.  After that is the oneg, a communal meal. Onegs start with wine and challah, and commence with a full meal. No waiting 4-8 hours to have a covered-dish supper after services. The oneg, outside of very, very, very Reform spaces will be kosher meat or kosher dairy. 

To conduct certain prayers (including the mourner’s prayers and the Torah service) you need a Minyan, which at least 10 Jewish “adults” must be present, defined as post Bar/Bat/Bnai Mitzvah. In Conservative/Reform/Recon, men and women are counted equally. In Ultraorthodox women are not counted. In Modern Orthodox it depends on the congregation, and some congregations will hold women’s-only services as well with at least ten “adult” Jewish women present.

In Conservative and Orthodox shuls, very little English is used outside of speeches and sermons. Prayers are in Hebrew, which many Jews can read the script of but not understand. Transliterations are also a thing.  In Reform synagogues, there’s heavy reliance on the lingua franca (usually English in American congregations). Reconstructionist really varies, but is generally more Hebrew-based than Reform. 

We’re a very inquisitive people. If your character is new to the synagogue, there will be lots of questions at the post-services oneg (meal, typically brunch/lunch). Are you new in town? Have you been here before? Where did you come from? Are you related to my friend from there? How was parking? Do you know my cousin? Are you single? What is your mother’s name? What do you think of the oneg - was there enough cream cheese? What summer camp did you go to? Can you read Hebrew? Have you joined?  A disconnected Jew or gentile might find it overwhelming, but many connected Jews who are used to it would be like “home sweet chaos” because it’s OUR chaos. 

In Orthodox synagogues, men and women have separate seating sections. There may be a balcony or back section, or there may be a divider known as a mechitzah in the middle. Children under 12/13 are permitted on either side, but over 12/13 folks have to stay one section or the other. Yes, this is a problem/challenge for trans and nonbinary Jews.  Mechitzahs are not a thing outside of orthodoxy. Some older Conservative synagogues will have women’s sections, but no longer expect or enforce this arrangement.   

Money. Is. Not. Handled. On. Shabbat. Or. Holidays. Especially. Not. In. The. Synagogue. Seriously, nothing says “goy writing Jews” more than a collection plate in shul. No money plate, no checks being passed around, even over calls for money (as opposed to just talking about all the great stuff they do and upcoming projects) are tacky and forbidden on Shabbat. Synagogues rely on donations and dues, and will solicit from members, but don’t outright request money on holidays and Shabbat. 

Outside of Reform and very nontraditional Conservative spaces, no instruments on Shabbat or holidays. No clapping either. Same goes for phones, cameras, and other electronics outside of microphones (which aren’t permitted in Orthodox services either).  11a. In the now-times an increasing number of shuls have set up cameras ahead of time pre-programmed to record, so they don’t have to actively “make fire” which is “work” (this is the relevant commandment/mitzvah) on Shabbat, so services can be live-streamed. 11b. After someone has completed an honor (reading from the Torah, carrying the Torah, opening the ark, etc), the appropriate response is a handshake after and the words “Yasher Koach” (again, Before-Times).

Jewish services involve a lot of movement. Get up, sit down. Look behind you, look in front of you. Twist left, twist right. A disconnected Jew or gentile visitor would be best off just trying to follow along with what an exchange student we had once termed “Jewish choreography.” Some prayers are standing prayers (if able), some are sitting prayers. It’s just how it is, although a handful of prayers have variations on who stands. 

[perriewinklenerdie]

Follow my steps (Ethan Ramsey x MC)

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x Claire Herondale

Word count: 3,8 k

Summary: OH3 Chapter 12/13 added content. Claire gets fed up with the way Ethan’s been treating her lately. She gives him one last chance to make things right, at Boston Opera House - for old time’s sake.

Warnings: It’s angst time.

A/N: I don’t even know what’s going on lately. I wanted angst and here it is. My girl C really is running thin on her patience for her man’s bullshit (and so am I).

Are you okay? was the first message he received from her that day. He left shortly after he revealed his departure from the team, so her concern really should be no surprise. Still, he sighed deeply, silenced his phone and turned it screen side down, then went back to cooking, unsure what his answer would be.

Minutes dragged by, yet somehow turned into hours and before he knew it, the sun was racing towards the horizon. Almost completely consumed by it. He reached for his phone, planning on heading to his living room and rest his mind after he spent what felt like ages of grueling research into his options. His face twisted into a frown at the sight of his screen. Immediately after, blood drained from his face.

Ethan, please let me know you’re in one piece.

A simple ‘I’m fine’ would be enough. Seriously, I’m getting worried.

He battled with his brain, still uncertain what to tell her. She had enough on her plate with the team and the Boards, she didn’t need his problems to be added onto the already enormous pile. He replied with the only thing he could think of in that moment, resenting himself for letting her worry about him for so long.

I’m okay.

By the time he sat down on the couch and some ridiculous show was playing in the background – Claire was the one that introduced him to it, and he would never admit it, but he enjoyed their debates about it – a new message was waiting for him.

Oh, thank god.

Followed shortly after by a longer one, contents of which made him feel a pit opening in his stomach.

So, want to share with class why you went radio silent for the whole day, instead of, I don’t know, letting your girlfriend know that you’re not dead so she could worry a bit less?

He had no answer to that. How was he supposed to tell her that he was terrified of what was to come and that it could possibly be fatal for him? How was he supposed to say that he didn’t want her to be even associated with the case, because he cared about her too much to risk her getting affected by it too?

In the end, he didn’t reply. And she didn’t say anything else. An impasse, of his own doing, that he had no idea how to end. He knew he had to do something – she was a very patient woman, much more patient than him, but even she had her limits. And this? This wasn’t the first time he’s pushed her away in a similar manner.

Although he was aware of that, he still refused to call her. It was getting late, she was probably studying or getting ready for bed. She needed her rest, the next week was incredibly important for her future as a doctor.

That’s what he told himself for the next two days. Every time he felt a tingle in his hand to contact her, he reminded himself of her commitments and pushed the thought down. Despite that, every single time his phone made even the smallest sound, he threw himself towards it, hoping that it was her.

It wasn’t. Two days of no contact between them.

Realizing how long it’s been made him think of their conversation a few months back. They were sitting in the exact same place he currently occupied, close to each other. His hand holding hers with certainty.

They promised each other no more secrets. No more pushing each other away. And honest conversation. All of which were his ideas. He whispered all of them with deep sense of urgency, in a fever-like state that surprised her. She nodded her head eagerly, muttering words of affirmation, then let him pull her onto him, their lips meeting again and again in a soft reassurance.

He’s broken the rules he wanted them so much to have. And not even once. No wonder she didn’t try to get in touch with him – he’s given her every indication that he didn’t want to talk about it, and she pushed only until a certain point was reached.

“I can take a hint, you know.” She once joked, poking his ribs when they walked out of the patient’s room, their initial consult being far from ideal. He smiled sadly at the memory, his chest aching from her absence.

As though he called her with his thoughts, his phone announced an incoming message. He planned what he would say, what he would do once he saw her – and what he would not do in the future. He hated when they didn’t talk to each other, and he hated the thought of losing her even more.

Instead of her words, like he expected, the screen greeted him with a single picture she sent him. Two tickets, for an evening show at Boston Opera House. A clear invitation, an olive branch that she should not have been pushed to extend – she didn’t do anything wrong. He looked closer at the photo, zooming in on the time the show was supposed to start.

Two hours. He had two hours to get himself together. Two hours until he’d see her again.

Heart pounding, he jumped up from his seat and began preparations, dialing another phone number and giving clear instructions to the person on the receiving end of the call.

~

He doesn’t think there’s ever been a time he was this nervous when stepping into the Opera building. And it was a different kind of nervous, a kind he never wanted to experience again. He was used to the anticipation that came with every date they ever had, the good kind of nervousness that stemmed from his inability to wait until he saw her. This, however, was torture in its purest form, and he admitted to himself with a pang of guilt that he subjected himself to it on his own.

His hands were full. Full of flowers that the florist somehow managed to put together when he called frantically two hours ago – he left a hefty tip with a grateful nod. His fingers traced the stems of the white roses, shaking nervously. From time to time, he tugged on the collar of his shirt, restlessly, the uncertainty of what was to come making his breathing labored.

“Nice tux.” She called out, waiting patiently for him to face her. It didn’t take long – her voice made him turn around haphazardly, his eyes drinking in her face and then widening when he noticed the dress she was wearing. Suddenly, he couldn’t see anything else but the way the fabric hugged her in the classiest way.

“Are you trying to kill me?” he breathed out, his brain short circuiting. Her lips curled in a subtle smile. She touched the pearl necklace he once gave her in wonder.

“Haven’t decided yet.”

Ethan took a step towards her, extending the bouquet slightly with an uneasy look. Her eyes fell towards the flowers and, for a moment, he thought he could see her gaze softening. She took the roses from him, the scent reaching her in waves.

“Thank you.” she muttered without looking up at him. Despite her being just mere centimeters away from him, he could still feel the chasm between them – and he felt like the space was suffocating him.

“It’s not nearly enough.” He tried again. Claire hummed, not disagreeing with his words. She reached into her purse, taking two tickets out and handing him one of them. He accepted it gratefully, combing his mind for something that would start a conversation between them. The silence was killing him.

He looked closer at the ticket and noticed something was off. “You didn’t book our booth?”

The corners of her lips shot up slightly at ‘our’. “No, I got us seats in the booth on the other side. I needed…” she hesitated, avoiding his searching gaze. “A change of perspective.”

His mouth opened and closed. She rarely said anything without thinking it through, so the choice of words she used made him feel unease all over again. Claire finally looked up at him, giving him a teasing smirk.

“Before you say anything, I didn’t go bankrupt because of those.” She nodded towards the tickets in their hands. “I have more than enough money to spend on things I want.”

“That resident salary is treating you that well, huh?” he tried joking and it worked. She gave him a laugh, shaking her head.

“A resident that’s also on the Diagnostic Team. And you’re clearly forgetting what my family does for a living.”

“Did you just flex your family muscle on me?” Ethan grinned, taking another step towards her. She nodded, challenging him with her stare. “Are you trying to impress me?”

“That’s your job tonight, babe.” Claire shot back, walking around him swiftly. He froze in place, turning towards her like a sunflower towards the sun – always following where she went. Her hips swayed from side to side alluringly as she walked, and he couldn’t look away. Suddenly, she stopped to look over her shoulder, smirking at the look he was giving her. “Are you coming or not?”

~

The lights from the stage illuminated her face just enough for him to see her features. Since they sat down and the show has started, he’s spent a total of maybe five minutes watching what was happening on stage. Remaining time was occupied by her, on the forefront of his mind and right before his eyes. Her cheeks were reddened slightly – something he noticed when a particularly bright light shone on her face.

They’ve done it countless of times before. Dates. He never got used to nerves that accompanied them, and he hoped he never would. It was a part of the allure that made it all the more exciting. Claire’s always made him feel nervous, since the first day he’s met her. Three years later, he still felt the same spark that ran through him when he first touched her hand.

He turned to her again, unable to ignore the pang that hit him every time he saw her stopping herself from reaching for him. She may have been the one that organized their evening, giving him a chance to make things right between them, but it didn’t mean she was going to ignore what was obviously there.  

She’d never make him talk if he wasn’t ready to do so. Their relationship was built on mutual respect. They recognized when the other needed to talk and when they needed some time to gather their thoughts. Through the time they’ve known each other, they learned to find those cues and signs.

That’s how Claire knew that Ethan wasn’t really ready to tell her what exactly happened, hence why she stuck to texts instead of calls or visits. His lack of any contact, however, hurt her – more so when his previous behaviors similar to this were taken into consideration.

In light of this, her hesitation to initiate any sort of contact between them made perfect sense. All he had to do was let her know that he was okay, however relative it was to say in his current situation, and none of this would be happening. All he had to do was let her in, even if only a little – she’s never asked for anything more. And yet, he couldn’t even give her that, not immediately at least.

It became clear to him that he needed to let her know how much he trusts her. When she said she knew him. When she said she understood him – better than anyone, he added with a grin. When she said she’s falling for him. He trusted all of those words, but his actions didn’t support it. He could see it in her eyes when their gazes crossed earlier that evening. She thought he still sheltered himself from her, and him disappearing, again, was the proof that spoke the loudest.

Slowly, he reached for her hand. A soft brush of his finger against hers, testing the waters to see if she would flinch, if she would push him away or avoid him. When she did none of those things, he carefully covered her hand with his, only to, after a moment, lace their fingers together. Ethan gave her a squeeze, unable to bring himself to look away from the way their hands fit together like two pieces of the same puzzle. She squeezed his hand lightly, still refusing to look him in the eye.

Music swelled around them, tugging on their emotions until it was difficult to breathe. He noticed how her face twisted gently, revealing more of her feelings to him than he’s seen the entire evening. The characters on the stage have separated, each singing their hearts out about the feeling of loss – Claire couldn’t have known that, but the pain in their voices was enough to bring her to the edge of tears by the time the break in the show began.

Before Ethan could say anything, she excused herself breathlessly and walked out of the booth, leaving him alone to his thoughts. And he’s been alone with them for quite some time now.

He began reflecting on the first time he took her to see an opera. The similarity of the situation was striking – he suddenly knew why she suggested this out of every place they could go to. Her thoughtfulness really shouldn’t surprise him, yet he was always amazed with how well she knew what needed to be done. Oftentimes, she neglected her own needs to accommodate others, which left not much space for her in it all. That’s what became one of Ethan’s priorities early on in their relationship – make sure she remembered about herself.

She was taking care of him too, sometimes even unknowingly. Making him take breaks in the middle of the day. Bringing him coffee when he was stuck in meetings and couldn’t walk out of the room for even a second – the whole Board by now knew about their relationship from their first-hand observations, sending him meaningful looks when she left the room.

One thing that spoke more of her feelings for him than anything else was how she persistently stayed by his side through it all. His world was quite literally falling apart, and she was the one holding it in place. She told him that she knew how it felt to risk losing something you’ve worked for, how it felt to come so close to having everything slip away and that she was going to help him in any way she could.

Claire told him all of that when he broke the protocol – yet here they were again. If there was one person between the two of them that had a pattern of behavior, it was him – running away when things got too complicated. Or, as it stood right now, when he didn’t want her to get impacted by his problems. She’s told him that she wants to be impacted, that she wants to help him, because she cares about him. She’s by his side because she cares about him. And he told her he knew and understood her concern, but clearly, he didn’t register it enough, if he was in the exact same position right now. It’s as though he hasn’t learned a thing.

Perhaps she was getting tired of it. If he continued to act the way he’s been acting up until this point, she’d surely be pushed enough to leave him – and he couldn’t imagine a fate worse than that for himself.

It was the last time I let myself run, he thought to himself, cursing for even allowing it to get to this point. Where was his brain when he even considered it a viable option? In what universe would that behavior be okay? Her resolve and persistence became even more striking to him – he knew that he most likely didn’t deserve her.

She was still here, though, so he must have done something right. But one good deed wasn’t enough to make up for letting her down, time and time again. Ethan didn’t need her to tell him that what he was doing was unacceptable – he’s realized it on his own.

It’s never happening again.

Claire walked back into the booth, leaning against the wall to watch him. He was perfectly aware of what she could see in his posture. His nervousness in the way he played with the edge of his jacket. She’s been gone a moment too long and he was a second away from standing up from his seat to go after her.

Ethan turned around at the sound of her steps, refraining from saying anything until she was seated. His hand itched to reach for her, to feel her skin again. He got the permission to do just that, when their gazes finally crossed and she nodded gently. Letting out a shaky sigh of relief, he laced their fingers together, feeling the soft fabric of her dress under his skin.

“I’m sorry.” He muttered, raising their joined hands to kiss her wrist. Claire guided the movement, pressing her palm to his cheek. The gesture ensured their eyes didn’t stray from one another and allowed them a moment of clarity.

“Aren’t you tired of running?” her words were laced with emotions so much, it felt like a mental blow to both of them. It was a simple question that he already knew the answer to. Nothing was more obvious to him.

“I am.”

She held his gaze, silent for a moment, then placed her second hand on his shoulder. “Don’t do it again.” she whispered, a hint of a tear shining in her eyes. “We’ve talked about it before, Ethan. I’m tired of going in circles with you.”

“I know.” He brushed the tear away, bringing her closer to rest his forehead against hers. “You don’t deserve this.”

“No, I don’t.” Claire agreed, nodding her head. She leaned away, lowering their hands and resting them in her lap. “You can tell me anything, in your own time. I’m the last person to judge, because I know that some things need that time. But I would never cut you out the way you just did, especially if I knew that you were worried.”

Ethan lowered his head in shame, finding no words to defend his dense behavior. He knew she was right – his behavior left a lot to be desired. Claire continued.

“It tells me that you don’t view me as your equal. You don’t trust me enough to confide in me. Every time something happens, it’s always the same story.” She sighed, falling deeper into her seat. Her hand was still in his, allowing him that form of contact. “I need transparency here, Ethan. We have rules, that you came up with, that you break every time things get tough.”

He winced at the vulnerable edge in her voice. More than ever before, he felt as though the ground was about to be pulled from beneath him.

“You can’t be in a relationship only a little. Or only on weekends. You’re either in it for good, and you take everything that comes with it, the easy and the difficult, or there’s nothing left to say.”

And there it was.

Ethan’s eyes widened. A hand wrapped around his heart and squeezed, making him feel lightheaded. If he ever had gotten a wake-up call before, this one was the loudest one. And the most devastating.

“Claire, wait.” He said, his voice strained when she tried to pull her hand out of his hold. She glanced at their hands, then up at him, her eyes glassy. Ethan breathed out heavily, pleading with his whole being for her to stay where she was. “You’re right. I haven’t been fair towards you.”

“That’s saying it mildly.”

“I know I don’t say it enough, but you’re my person. I trust you more than anyone else, even if I’m utterly useless at expressing it.” He gave her fingers a tender squeeze, his eyes finding hers urgently. “I’m an asshole for making you worry, and an even bigger one for keeping you in the dark. You deserve better, and lately, I’ve been messing up.”

“Can’t say I disagree.” She mused, tilting her head slightly. “Is there a reason for that?”

“I don’t know.” Ethan’s thumb traced her ring finger “It’s as though there is this outside force that’s making me do all those idiotic things, and before I realize what’s going on, everything’s already going to hell.”

“Sounds like you need to work on your impulse control.” Claire said, a tiny grin appearing on her face.

“You’re my impulse control.”

He cupped her cheek with his free hand, stroking the line of her cheekbone softly. She leaned in, just a fraction of a centimeter. Her gaze was a mix of feelings Ethan couldn’t describe – it made him feel a bit more at ease and at the edge of his seat, all at the same time.

“I’m sorry, Claire.” He muttered, voice low and thick, overcame with emotions. Claire nodded her head, a sigh filling the space between them. Her eyes, even though they were growing softer just a moment ago, were now hardened and serious.

“Don’t ever do that to me, ever again.”

“Of course. I know.”

“No, I don’t think you do.” She cleared her throat, straightening her posture. “If you don’t start treating me like your equal here, I will leave you. There’s only so much I can take, Ethan, and I draw the line at this.” Ethan’s entire body froze at a very real perspective of her walking away. The feeling of ground disappearing from beneath him came back, twice as strong. He shook his head, words rushing through his head. “And that would suck, because I don’t want to leave you.”

“I can’t lose you, Claire.”

“Then don’t lose me. Don’t push me away.” She breathed out, at last, squeezing his hand tightly. The atmosphere between them was heavy and it became difficult to breathe. Ethan knew they were not out of the woods, but he felt a bit less nervous when she cracked a smile. “Do I need to tie you down so you’d stop running?”

“You already did.” he mused, waiting for her permission, then leaning in to kissing her cheek softly.

They missed the second part of the show. He leaned close to rest his chin on her shoulder, his arm wrapped around her waist to keep her by his side – she wrapped her hand around his forearm in return. Voice low and quiet, he finally began telling her everything, sparing nothing. Once the show ends, he’ll follow her lead – after all, he’s never gotten lost with her by his side.

Notes

Am I above dissing PB in a fic, of all places? Hell no, I’m not. 

Opera because C is clever like that - and we love throwbacks to better times. 

PB is making Ethan act like an angsty teen. And don’t get me started on the ‘prying’ bit. Ma’am, it’s not prying, it’s called caring about your husband boyfriend because something is clearly going on and it seems as though he’s covering someone else’s ass and taking a fall for it. It’s called *concern*.

Thank you for reading! <3

Tagging separately

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Love is a Bundle of Contradictions.

This artwork was a piece I commissioned from @shimmeryspark​!

... There is no explanation for this other than my friends encouraged me to write Valentine’s Day Raven and Jade fluff, since the main saga is a bit lot of angst right now. (Special thanks to @twstpasta since they let me borrow their twstsona for plot reasons :9)

Imagine this...

“You WHAT?!”

“Ehehe~ Sorry...!! I guess I went and made a bad decision, heehoo~” Mac stuck out their tongue and lightly bonked their own head with a fist. “Silly me~”

“Making a deal with Azul is the very definition of a bad decision,” Raven groaned, slapping a hand to her face. “I... I cannot believe you. Dare I ask what the conditions were?”

“I gave him my taste buds! He said he’ll give them back if you help out with stocking up on supplies for the Mostro Lounge.”

“That’s... suspiciously simple. And you really just handed over your taste buds just like that? You can’t taste your beloved cheese anymore.”

“I know!” Mac pouted. “It’s so sad, so you’ll help this rataroni out, right?”

“I find it odd that Azul is demanding my assistance, seeing as how I am not the one that made the deal with him to begin with. However... I cannot turn my back on a friend in need. I will lend you a helping wing—er, hand.”

“Sweet, sweet!!” Mac clasped Raven’s hands happily. “Just remember to show up this Sunday afternoon. Meet up’s in the town square. Oh, and be sure to wear something cute!”

“Something cute? Why would...”

“It’s part of the deal—so you just gotta, okay? That’s what Azul said!” Mac paused, before adding, “Oh, oh! And bring some homemade choco in a heart-shaped box!! That’s another contract condition!”

“Oh... O-Okay...?”

Raven leaned back against a lamp post, anxiously winding a finger around the string of small pearls at her collarbone. In her other hand was a bag, and in that bag, a heart-shaped box of homemade chocolates—just as Mac had told her.

A silver heart-shaped charm dangled from the necklace, lying still against her real hammering heart. Rarely did she venture out into the local town—and, standing there by her lonesome, the raven felt out of place and awkward.

An addendum to a story that had already been penned.

She watched as her silver charm caught a wink of sun and guided the light down its curve. Reflected back in the charm’s surface was the raven herself.

Today, her inky hair was cast up in a high pigtail and secured with a cobalt ribbon. She had traded her usual outfit for a pale blouse with billowy puff sleeves, white stockings, and a high waist skirt in a plaid pattern—cobalt, like her ribbons.

I hope this satisfies the conditions of the deal.

Raven checked the time on her phone; any minute now, Azul would be showing up, and they’d get this over with. Then she could return to her attic to roost, and Mac could return to feasting on cheese and inhaling poison—

“Oya. Do my eyes deceive me, or is that you, Miss Raven?” a silken cadence called out to her, rising above the hustle and bustle of the town.

“... You,” she responded flatly, narrowing her eyes at a certain eel as he parted from a crowd.

Ah.

Jade, too, had abandoned his typical uniform in favor of casual comfort. He wore a pair of dress pants and a grey turtleneck—and over it was a brown trench coat, unbuttoned to show off how snugly that sweater fit against his lean, muscular body.

Raven squinted. His earring was slightly different today as well. Rather than three diamond shaped sturgeon scales dangling from his ear, there were heart shaped ones. Blue and glassy, like the calm sea after a storm.

His hands were polite folded behind his back... hiding something. Whatever that something was, petals of pink, red, and yellow-orange were poking out.

If she didn’t know any better, she would have said he looked handsome—and innocent—enough. But she did know better.

“What are you doing here?” Raven demanded, no longer playing with her necklace. Her hands went to her sides, curling into balls.

“Fufufu. The town is a public space. I am free to come and go as I please, the very same as you.” Jade tilted his head to one side. “Although today, I am here on an errand. The Mostro Lounge is short on centerpiece supplies, you see. I have been sent to restock.”

“What a coincidence. I’m also here to help the Mostro Lounge restock,” Raven said, a bit of bitterness slipping into her voice, “as per a contract.”

Jade attempted to appear sympathetic—but he allowed a cruel chuckle to escape him. “I see now. I was not aware that you were the one indebted to Octavinelle, Miss Raven. Had I known sooner, I would not have hesitated to summon you to fill in for Kon-san’s morning shift.”

“I’m not a waitress for you to order around.” Raven jutted out her chin defiantly. “I’m here strictly on business, so if you would kindly leave me be...!!”

“I believe you said you had to assist the Mostro Lounge. Would it not be prudent, then, to go about tending to that duty rather than standing about and looking like a lost lamb?”

“Sh-Shut up! It’s not my fault that Azul is running late...!!”

“You were waiting for Azul?” Jade said, his brows pinching together briefly. “You are terribly mistaken. It is not Azul who is assisting you with the restock, but myself.”

“... Beg pardon?”

Wear something cute, bring homemade chocolates, Mac had said. And it has to be you, Raven, not me! But why? Slowly, slowly... The pieces of the puzzle fell into place.

A thought dawned on Raven:

I’ve definitely been tricked.

“Well!! That’s all fine and dandy, but I think I shall be on my way home now. I really must be having a chat with a friend of mine,” she babbled, turning on her heel. They’re going to be buried in tomato sauce when I get to them.

“How cruel of you to abandon those in need, Miss Raven. And to think that Mac-san shall be without their taste buds... and I, burdened with the task of restocking by my lonesome. What a tragic way to spend Valentine’s Day,” Jade exhaled deeply and wiped at an imaginary tear. “Shikushikushiku...”

Raven’s left eye twitched. “Don’t you paint me as the bad guy here...!!”

“Aren’t you?” Jade challenged, a smile still plastered on his face despite his mocking tone.

“Grrr...!!” She whipped around, thrusting an index finger at him. “Listen here... Leech!! The only reason I am even here was to help someone out of a contract your shady boss roped them into!”

“If you are as selfless and loving as you claim to be, then you should have no issues with shopping with me,” Jade countered smoothly. “After all, they say that actions speak louder than words.”

The little bird vibrated with irritation, her cheeks puffed out in a pout. Her stomach coiled tight, uneasiness brewing. As much as she hated to admit to it, he was right.

Raven clenched her teeth and sent a glare his way. “Fine...!! But I will be keeping an eye on you to ensure that there is no funny business!”

“Then by all means, ‘keep an eye on me’, and do not let your gaze stray for even a single moment,” Jade chuckled, somehow sneering through his smile. “I welcome it.”

The eel held out a hand to Raven. “We’d best not be separated while on our errand.”

She stared hesitantly. Her eyes flickered between his eyes and the hand he offered. Subtle changes in her expression occurred in rapid succession—the raising of her lids, the tremble to her lower lip, the tinge to her cheeks.

“... Yeah. We’d best not,” Raven finally agreed, her grip on her bag—the bag containing her chocolates—tightened. “Which is precisely why I will follow you at a safe distance.”

“Ah, but that would ruin the surprise.”

“What, the bouquet? You’re not exactly doing a masterful job of hiding it.”

“Nor are you doing well to hide your little surprise, Miss Raven.”

“I was deceived. This chocolate is not meant for you.”

“I didn’t say that it was, now did I?”

“... I’m going to eat them myself, then. That’ll show you!”

“Do with it what you wish, for selfish purposes or not,” Jade laughed, revealing his bouquet—all the colors of the setting sun. “These flowers, on the other hand, are meant to be gifted...”

He pushed the bouquet toward Raven. Up close, the flowers seemed even more vibrant and beautiful. Their warm hues enveloping the raven, enchanting her senses. Mesmerized, she reached out to accept the flowers—when Jade suddenly clicked his tongue and pulled them away.

“But alas—not to you,” he teased, pressing a finger to his lips. “Do try to keep up with me now, Miss Raven.”

Jade turned and dove into a sea of townspeople, leaving a trail of sunset-colored petals in his wake. And, like the fool that she was, a fuming raven stormed after him—chocolates still in hand. Heart quivering.

Terrariums—the flowers were meant for terrariums all along.

Jade had taken his sweet time leading her down a winding path and to an art supply store tucked away in a corner, and even longer to observe the shape and feel of each terrarium container. Spherical, cuboidal, prismatic... Holding up the bouquet every so often to compare how the flowers would look in each.

In the end, he had gone wild with his purchases, electing to buy a selection of shapes, along with other supplies—just to keep himself amused. Jade had paid with a platinum card embossed with Octavinelle’s logo. Mostro Lounge Master Cash Card, it read. Azul’s property; do not steal! Sign the loaning form if you must borrow.

It was all for the terrariums, for business as usual.

I should have realized sooner. Stupid, stupid, Raven scolded herself.

She grunted, struggling to carry the bagful of terrarium supplies that Jade had saddled her with, while he carried one of his own without any trouble. The eel cast her a mocking glance over his shoulder.

“Are you in need of a break, Miss Raven?”

Bite me, she wanted to snap back—but a bark of pain shot up her arms, silencing her defiance. “... M-Maybe.”

He sighed in an exaggerated fashion. “Very well. I see a café up ahead. We can rest there for a few moments, though it may require the purchase of a food item if we wish for a table.”

“Sounds peachy.”

Together, they swept through the café doors. The duo was immediately greeted by the smell of sugar and the hum of the other patrons, many of them couples.

Raven stiffened at the sight, turning a deep shade of red. Suddenly, she was very, very aware of how she—and Jade—looked.

“I think I changed my mi—“ Raven was cut off when he grasped her hand and held fast. She jolted back, her skin turning clammy. “Eeep! Wh-What are you...”

“Table for two,” Jade requested of an employee. “We do not intend to stay for a large meal, so just an ice-cream parfait will do.”

“Certainly, sir. Right this way.” The server quickly seated them, and with a bow, departed to retrieve their order.

“... You can let go of my hand now,” Raven hissed, attempting to free herself. To no avail, initially. She tugged again, and finally broke free, aggressively rubbing at her hand to ward off the residual eel cooties.

Jade chuckled, tucking his strand of black hair behind his ear. His earring glimmered in the afternoon sunlight pouring in through wide windows. “Play along. You are aware that today is Valentine’s Day, yes?”

“Yes, but I do not understand what that has to do with... physical contact, especially seeing as how we are not engaged in that kind of a relationship.”

“It is simple.” He laced his fingers together, resting his chin on them. With the most serene of smiles, Jade purred, “We should take advantage of the couple discounts being offered at eateries such as this. An excellent way to save on spending, especially after that particularly large purchase made on the Mostro Lounge’s coin.”

“You’re a shrewd one.”

“Why, thank you.”

Raven’s hands curled in her lap. Her lips pursed, she found her gaze trained on the white lace of the tablecloth, rather than on her dining companion.

Time and time again, she has been tricked today, told white lies. Teased and deceived. It was simply how he was—and though it did irk her in some ways, it also never made a moment dull.

Hot and cold. Push and pull. Bitter and sweet. That was Jade Leech.

“Your parfait is here!!” The server from before popped up in her periphery, startling the raven from her thoughts. They set it down and stepped back. “Here you are—enjoy your date!”

“Thank you. We certainly will,” Jade reacted before Raven could and dismissed the server with a wave. “... Well, let’s dig in.”

“You didn’t correct them.”

“We won’t get the discount if they don’t believe this farce,” he replied calmly, nudging the parfait and a spoon toward her. “Now then, less talking and more eating. You need your strength if you plan on helping me haul all the supplies back to campus.”

She let out a huff, but dug her spoon into a frozen mound. The parfait was massive, composed of several scoops of pink, blue, and green ice-cream, flanked by chocolate wafer bars. With a smattering of sprinkles, a crown of whipped cream, and a maraschino cherry on top, the dessert looked absolutely picture perfect.

Raven steadily brought a spoonful of pink goop into her mouth, allowing a sweet bubblegum flavor to spread across her tongue. Her eyes cut to Jade, who had not bothered to sample any for himself. He smiled back, gaze half-lidded as if recalling a fond memory.

“Have some, too. I feel weird eating it alone—and you must be hungry too. I know how big your appetite is.” Raven pushed the parfait glass toward him.

“If you insist.”

The head of his spoon sunk into a green scoop with shards of chocolate chip weaved throughout. It pulled away cleanly with a large mound, which was soon consumed. Then another bite, and a third, a fourth... Before Raven knew it, a good third of the parfait was missing.

Jade patted his mouth with a napkin, eyeing her expectantly.

“Are you still hungry?” Raven asked, eyebrows raising. She retrieved a scoop of blue this time—vaguely flavored like a medley of fruits.

“Perhaps... though I do not plan on taking more of the parfait for myself. Were I to, there would be none left for you.”

The fruit seemed to sour in her mouth. It was true that she was hungry, yes—but at the same time, she did not wish for Jade to be left dissatisfied.

She frowned, setting her spoon down and reaching into her bag. Seconds later, she produced a heart-shaped package and shoved it at him.

“Here, chocolates. They’re yours now, since I have no other use for them,” Raven mumbled insistently. “You can eat them now, or save them for later. Just hurry up and take them before I change my mind.”

“Oya, it is rather bold to profess your undying love to me in such a public space.” Jade teased, chuckling lightly into his hand.

“B-Be quiet...!! We... We can’t get that couple’s discount if one of us passes out from hunger.”

“Fufufu. I doubt that either of us would.” His mismatched eyes twinkled with mirth. “... Thank you for the sweets, Miss Raven. I will be certain to savor every last bite.”

The town became even busier in the late afternoon, filing with the sound of street performers and spectators. A monkey in a vest and a small hat barreled by Raven’s feet as she and Jade exited the café, nearly causing her to double over. A chorus of children’s laughter chased after the monkey—and she, the raven, stumbled on her recovery.

“Perhaps now would be a good time to reconsider my offer,” Jade suggested, a hand on the small of her back to support her. That same hand trailed around and tickled the back of hers. “It would be a shame if we lost one another in this crowd.”

Raven regarded him with a pointed look, but slipped her hand into his without further resistance. “... Only because I have to.”

“Of course, of course.”

Together, they braved the bustling streets.

A new world unfolded before Raven’s very eyes. Costumed performers of all kinds paraded about, garnering attention from passerbys. Some tossed confetti and candies, others brandished instruments. Brass, strings, percussion—all their notes floated up into the festive atmosphere.

There went a dancer, leaping like a lithe deer, limbs outstretched and the flowy fabric of their uniform like a curtain of smoke. And here was an artist perched on a stool, sketching the outline of a woman posed on a wooden crate. A young man jingled a tambourine, trying to catch coins in his cap.

A number of food carts patrolled the roads, calling out their wares. Crepes, sandwiches, sodas... Families, friends, and couples lining benches, exchanging bites.

Love was truly in the air and oozing out of every pore of the community.

Raven couldn’t keep her head still. She turned this way and that, trying to soak up every last sight and sound. Her golden eyes sparkled with wonder.

Jade, of course, took note. “Excited, are you?”

“It’s very different than Night Raven College,” she replied shyly. “Almost like a magic kingdom.”

“Magic kingdom? You can be rather melodramatic at times.”

“Yeah? So can you and Azul and Floyd, with all your fake tears...” Her wandering eyes caught something bright red as she spoke. “Oh...!! Look.”

Raven tugged on Jade’s hand, urging him to a halt. Her gaze was transfixed on a lamp post with a multitude of red strings. At the other ends of those ribbons were heart-shaped balloons, as red as blood.

His eyebrows pinched together in mocking sympathy. “You truly are fascinated by the simplest things. Is it true what they say? That ravens are attracted to shiny objects?”

Her mouth flew open to protest, but she was interrupted by a woman by the balloon-bearing lamp post “You there!! Sir with the earring and ma’am with the blue ribbon! Care for some balloons?”

“Er... What are they for?” Raven asked.

“For love, of course,” the woman laughed. “Today’s all about appreciating one another, right? This is my way of spreading love.”

She separated three balloons from her bundle and offered them with a flourish. Raven eagerly accepted them, staring up in wonder at their floating bodies.

“Oh, and one more thing!!” The woman produced a red ribbon from her jacket pocket and nodded at the duo. “Your pinkie fingers, please!”

Raven held out her hand as directed, letting the woman secure the ribbon in a neat little knot. The balloon bearer extended the length of the ribbon, glancing to Jade. Raven, too, looked at him expectantly. Jade expelled a quiet sigh and allowed the red ribbon to be tied to his pinkie.

“There you go!” the woman declared triumphantly. “You’re all set now! Enjoy the rest of your Valentine’s Day, folks!”

“Thank you!” Raven shouted over her shoulder—even as Jade started to lead her away. The woman waved and waved until she was out of sight.

“... It has been a while since I have seen you this enthusiastic,” Jade remarked with a glance to the balloons. “I do suppose it is a departure from the monotony of daily life, but to think that such little things bring this amount of joy...”

“It reminds me of a story a little birdie once told me,” Raven chirped with a small giggle. “The story of the Red Thread of Fate.”

“Oh?” Jade raised an eyebrow. “Do tell.”

“The Red Thread of Fate is said to connect ‘destined people’. It can tangle, twist, or stretch, but it can never break. From the moment you are born, you have an unseen thread flowing from your pinkie finger, tying your fate to that of the person on the other end,” Raven recited, her tone turning solemn—her storytelling voice.

“Someday,” she said, “you will cross paths with the one that shares your thread, and your lives will be forever changed by the encounter. It could be a meaningful battle between rivals, the loss of a loved one, the promise of marriage... but the course of their stories will never again be the same.”

“How sentimental. And what, pray tell, does this red thread of ours mean, Miss Raven?” Jade questioned, lifting his end of the ribbon—the crimson shining in the sunlight.

“How would I know? I’m not a god,” she huffed. “It’s just fun to imagine the possibilities.”

“It is, indeed. Even so, surely there must be one favored conclusion to the story of the Red Thread of Fate in that pretty little head of yours.” He brought a hand to his mouth, yanking Raven toward him.

She glanced up with a glare. “I’d have to have a bird brain to tell you that.”

“Is that not the duty of a storyteller? To stand on stage and tell the tale until the curtain closes. Your adoring audience awaits.”

“You’re being booted from the metaphorical theater before you get to hear or see the ending.”

“I would like to see you try.”

Jade slowed to a stop, Raven following suit. They were back in the town square, by the lamp post where they had met up. Ending where it had all begun.

He pulled out his phone and consulted the time. Jade unlocked his device, quickly wrote up a message, and tucked it away again. “I can take it from here.”

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely. Besides,” Jade cast a pitiful look at Raven’s trembling arms, “I doubt you would be able to haul those supplies the remainder of the way, and certainly not in an efficient manner.”

“... Then what was the point of stating in the contract that you needed a helping hand?”

“I am afraid that even I am not entirely privy as to Azul’s intentions,” he chuckled, gently prying a bag from her hands. “I will be certain to let Azul know that Mac-san’s end of the contract has been fulfilled.”

“Eh...? But—“

“You have our thanks for lending the Mostro Lounge your time. You are free to go now, Miss Raven. I’ve already summoned Floyd in your stead to assist me.”

“Th-The ribbon, you fool! I can’t leave if I’m still bound to you!”

“Oh? You don’t say.” His singsong held no concern whatsoever, only amusement.

“S-Stop playing dumb! You know very well what you are doing!!”

“You said it yourself, Miss Raven. Our lives have been forever changed since our encounter. There is no going back now.”

“Stop manipulating the narrative to suit your needs.”

“I haven’t the faintest clue what you mean. Jade smiled, feigning innocence. “You’ve resigned yourself to spending the rest of the day with me—at least until Floyd arrives to relieve you of your burden. Ah, but given his moodiness, who knows when that will be.”

“Just because your surname is Leech doesn’t mean you need to suck the life out of me like one,” Raven snapped. She reached for the red ribbon, intending to undo it—

—only to be met with a bouquet a second time. Flowers the color of the sunset, smelling like the drip of sunshine and a cut of meadow.

“For you—no strings attached this time.”

“Those are for the terrarium centerpieces.”

“I can easily replace them,” Jade insisted, “and I must repay you for your kind chocolate gift. Consider this... ‘favors for favors’, so that neither one of us is left indebted to the other.”

“... Alright. I’ll take them, but only because they might be useful for brewing some new inks.”

“I’m glad to see that you are being agreeable.” Jade slipped the flowers to her. “Take good care of them.”

Raven leaned against a lamp post, cradling the large bouquet in one arm. Her heart fluttered, and her limbs felt as light as air. Warm and floaty, like the balloons in her hand. 

Favors for favors—but it still counted as a gift from Jade, and that very thought sent her mind spiraling. She took a shaky breath, and focused on the confetti and laughter in the distance, the song and dance of the street performers.

Waiting and waiting for Floyd.

“Miss Raven.”

“What now? Haven’t you bullied me enough for today? Are you still not satisfied, you sadist?”

She dared to lift her eyes to meet Jade’s—and her heart stood still, for he looked back. His sharp eyes soft and shrouded by long lashes, his lips pulled into a tender smile.

“Contract or no, I always enjoy my time with you—I enjoyed today,” Jade murmured. “I hope that we are able to do this again sometime.”

“... Shut up. J-Just shut up already, i-it’s embarrassing listening to you speak...!!” She buried her head in the flowers, concealing her pink face. Still feeling floaty, like a balloon, high on happiness.

“Fufufu. Happy Valentine’s Day, Miss Raven.”

[lilydalexf]

Old School X is a project interviewing X-Files fanfic authors who were posting fic during the original run of the show. New interviews are posted every Tuesday.

Interview with MustangSally

MustangSally has 33 stories at Gossamer. Even if you haven’t read it, you’ve probably heard of at least one of them, Iolokus, since it’s an X-Files fanfic classic. All her fics hit big and are well worth your time. I’ve recced some of my favorites here before, including And Dance by the Light of the Moon, All the Children are Insane, and Iolokus. Big thanks to MustangSally for doing this interview.

What's the story behind your pen name?

I could tell you but then I would have to kill you.

Does it surprise you that people are still interested in reading your X-Files fanfics and others that were posted during the original run of the show (1993-2002)?

Yes and no. Yes, because life has moved on since the early nineties and the characters and the fans are in vastly different places now. Our current tech would make the premise of the X-Files impossible. No, because of the longevity of some of the Star Trek TOS work (there’s an archive of hard copy fanzines at the University of Iowa). Top-drawer authors started out in TOS fandom.

I’m just greatly saddened that my physical body is showing wear and tear while the fic doesn’t. Fic gets to stay smooth-skinned and muscular, captured at the peak of perfection.

What do you think of when you think about your X-Files fandom experience? What did you take away from it?

At the risk of sounding atrociously trite, I think of the friends I made.  I met some very remarkable women that I’ve been able to stay friends with online for over twenty-five years.  We may have moved to Facebook and post entirely too much about our pets and which of our body parts has sagged this week, but we’re friends.  It’s a furiously funny, feminist, and well-educated group of women with jobs in the highest levels of academia, finance, communications, and media.  I’m amused by the fact that if I have a question about how a virus replicates, I can ask a PhD I’ve been drunk with in Las Vegas.

Back in the day, I had a job that sent me traveling around major cities in the US and UK. I could post on a message board and within ten minutes there were people I could go out for dinner and drinks with. We already knew we had something we could talk about for at least a couple of hours. Additionally, most of these people were women so there was an added level of security. Social media didn't really exist during the show's original run. How were you most involved with the X-Files online (atxc, message board, email mailing list, etc.)?

Well, it was mostly atxc and the Yahoo! groups mailing lists that spiraled out into Geocities sites and, eventually, LiveJournal. The amusing thing is that getting in on the ground floor of social media and the Internet has helped me get jobs!  When I look at a new piece of software, I think, ‘this is hella easier than uploading to Geocities.’  We had to walk uphill both ways, in the snow, on dial-up, fighting off dinosaurs with our AOL CDs while writing HTML code. What did you take away from your experience with X-Files fic or with the fandom in general?

DO NOT FEED THE TROLLS.

The past four years in politics have basically been the ugliest online kerfuffle the world has ever seen. I survived the Shipper Wars of ’96 and I thought those were brutal, but that was NOTHING. The only way to win an argument online is to not have the argument at all. Arguing with a troll is like mudwrestling a pig: You both get filthy and only the pig is happy.

Also, READ THE FUCKING TERMS OF SERVICE.

What was it that got you hooked on the X-Files as a show?

I had the most terrible straight-girl crush on Scully. I wanted to be her best friend, I wanted to BE her.  I wanted to order Chinese food and paint each other’s nails and talk about bones.  Scully and Princess Leia and I could all just hang out poolside with hot and cold running waiters and poolboys, drink margaritas, and bitch about how unfair it all was – if the stupid men would just get OUT OF THE WAY AND LET US DO OUR JOBS, the world would be so much better. What got you involved with X-Files fanfic?

This question is really about Iolokus, isn’t it?  You can’t fool me. [Lilydale note: I can neither confirm nor deny the motivation for this question, but I cannot complain about the answer.]

Simply put, I was enraged. The moment it was revealed that Scully’s ova had been used in experimentation, I lost my feminist mind. It was the most obscene defilement imaginable.  Scully wasn’t nearly as angry as I was.  What I thought needed to happen was for Scully to become a fiery force of vengeance against the MEN who had done this to her.  Clearly, I was not going to get that level of satisfaction from the show, as I was imagining Kali-like carnage on a global scale. I emailed RivkaT (whom I did not know well at that point) with a proposition that we work together. Strangely enough, we didn’t meet face to face until we were well into the project, but we did talk on the phone quite a bit. The rules were simple – everyone had to be punished in truly horrific ways, and at some point, we had to see if we could write a car chase (only because that seemed impossible).  Then it basically turned into a very twisted game of chicken to see who could be the most outrageous in terms of killing people off or writing really horrific things that fit within the structure of the narrative.  I did, in the end, write the car chase, but RivkaT one-upped me by throwing in a helicopter (a FOX News helicopter, at that).  

Really, RivkaT?  A helicopter? What is your relationship like now to X-Files fandom? I am terribly proud of what I wrote, pleased that it brought pain and pleasure in equal amount to people, and, again, thrilled by the people I became friends with. I admit that I stopped watching the show when Scully announced her pregnancy.  I could only see a long jump over a shark tank for the rest of the series. I haven’t watched the new episodes, either.  It is complete in my mind and doesn’t need to be continued.  I wouldn’t say no to having a reunion with some of my fic friends, although we’re still chatting online like everyone does.   Were you involved with any fandoms after the X-Files? If so, what was it like compared to X-Files?

Rivka and I wrote in the Buffy fandom for a few years, but then we moved on to real adult jobs that left absolutely no time for me to write. I’m in education, and I regularly sweat blood for fear that someone is going to find my old fic. The Buffy people were fun; there was a certain *shininess* to them that I really enjoyed. The X-men authors were just batshit and delightful, and some amazing stuff came out of Marvel fandom, particularly in the Thor/Loki and Steve/Bucky subgenres. I’ve learned to appreciate a good coffee shop AU and one famous Erik/Charles fic where all the main characters are crabs. Seriously, crabs—it’s hysterical. [Lilydale note: Other Crabs Cannot Be Trusted by groovyphilia currently has almost 2,500 kudos at AO3.]

Every few years, I’ll have a student try to explain to me what fandom is and I just smirk. Do you ever still watch The X-Files or think about Mulder and Scully? No. Not really. Do you ever still read X-Files fic? Fic in another fandom? I fell into an X-Men hole a few years back and had a great old time wallowing in the Cherik muck, and there was a flirtation with BBC Sherlock as well. Strangely enough, I became interested in A/B/O fics only because of what they were saying about the role of women in our society. The limitations on the male omegas seem absurd and then you realize those are the same limitations put on women all. the. time.

Is there a place online (tumblr, twitter, AO3, etc.) where people can find you and/or your stories now?

RivkaT very nicely formatted everything and put it up on AO3. What is your favorite of your own fics, X-Files and/or otherwise?

I will always be stupidly proud of how shocked and horrified people were by Iolokus. The truth of the matter is that Iolokus has Greek drama at its core. Scully is Medea, and the entire story is lousy with “blood on the threshing floor” and Dionysian rites. The everyday is subverted into horror, and wives and daughters will tear men limb from limb like the Maenads. Since I was ultimately disappointed with what Chris Carter did with the entire show, that approach seemed appropriate.

At a certain level, all fic is corrective fic.  Like critic Anne Jamison said, “Irritated fans produce fanfic like irritated oysters produce pearls.”  And because fic has fallen so much into women’s sphere, a pure form of correction is not just the death of the author but the MURDER, a new creation springing up from the spilled blood like Cadmus sowing dragon’s teeth.

Okay, that’s a bit much. Maybe I should just take myself back to the isle of Goth Amazons or something. Do you still write fic now? Or other creative work?

I had to write a self-evaluation and a reflection on pedagogy today. If that’s not fiction, I don’t know what the fuck is.

All my creativity is caught up in trying to pretend to be a normal middle-aged white woman so no one knows I am really a lizard.

Is there anything else you'd like to share with fans of X-Files fic?

Keep writing, keep reading, keep fighting the commercialization of narratives. As things grow more and more commodified, all our dreams and desires reduced to tchotchkes made in China, it’s a revolutionary act to separate your work from the marketplace. Be bold, take chances, turn the trope on its ear and kick it in the ass. Take everything the creators have done to make a work palatable to the unwashed masses and set it on fire.

Be subversive.

Be mean.

Have a great fucking time.

(Posted by Lilydale on March 2, 2021)

[chocosvt]

⚬ pairing: mingyu x fem!reader | purge!au ⚬ word count: 15,728. ⚬ warnings: weapons, death, drugs, blood. ⚬ genres: ANGST, spicy/nsfw scenes, fluff to mend the heart, romance, action, and whatever else you could fathom lol.

✧✎ synopsis: the annual purge was a system of purification, alleviation, a supposedly psychological device in which people found a moment to unleash their indignation. you never purged until you met mingyu, a boy whose warmth was just as palpable as his darkness. you begin to fall for him, which means involvement with the evil he’s managed to attract.

✧✎ a/n: longer note at the end of the fic! sorry i’ve kept this in the vault for AGES bc i couldn’t figure out how to write in the ‘twist’ or whatever the fuck. you’ll know when you get there. anyways this is for @mihgyu (sorry it freakin took so long!) and @solgyus​ as they are my Resident Mingyu Stans. i also changed the title bc i thought... yknow... it fits better!

You had always wondered what life was like for the previous generation, the generation who grew up without acquaintance to the annual purge. It was an alien concept if any concept at all, one so foreign and inexplicably bizarre that the cogs in your mind would start jamming against each other in a struggle of comprehension. The education system had groomed its pupils into believing it was the only plausible way to recover from an economic collapse, feeding into gullible and malleable minds the possibility of clearing rage through bloodshed.

When your parents disappeared at dawn, leaving nothing behind but the sound of a lock clicking shut and a note advising you to stay away from the windows and doors, it could be assumed they’d return at morning with crimson-stained clothing, crusted lacerations, and heavy weaponry sealed taunt to their hands; or maybe they wouldn’t return at all. Yet you were taught to believe that was okay. At least if you didn’t have your family, you had your friends. 

At least if you didn’t have your family, you had Mingyu. 

As much as you despised admitting to yourself, Mingyu meant to you what the moon meant to the tides, what the sun meant to the meadows. He kept you in perpetual motion, allowed you room to recuperate and blossom into a much stronger version of yourself after your father never came home. When he lost his job your family lost its momentum. The last you ever saw of the man was his backside as he slipped through the door frame, a chortling in the evening air, a black revolver clasped to his hand.

He seemed to disappear alongside your mother’s sanity. She isolated herself and pushed everyone away, even you, the only person capable of nurturing her. In school you’d learned that the purge was supposed to bring purification, it was responsible for cleansing humans of the everyday stresses that slowly crushed them flat. Purging allowed them happiness; a twelve hour capsule to unleash what the law prohibited three-hundred-sixty-four days a year.

Yet when you looked to your mother, you didn’t see any traces of happiness or fulfillment, just an empty shell that sat with sunken eyes in her rocking chair, mumbling to herself like a toddler. Before you even had time to find closure after your father’s disappearance, your mother suffered a similar fate, abducted through the windowsill by a maniac who sought vengeance for the crimes committed beneath your father’s hand. He was a stingy businessman who often scammed to make his money, therefore collecting a myriad of enemies.

Notably, you didn’t start purging until you met Mingyu. The first time you’d ever used a gun with malicious intent was when you ran into the man responsible for abducting your mother. The kick-back from the trigger had you stumbling across the watered asphalt, the silver slick rain that caved down from the clouds washing away the minuscule spatters of his blood that blew onto your face. As he slumped down against the red bricks, the animation draining slowly from his eyes, he spluttered,

“S-She’s dead, she payed for your father’s incompetence, his greed.”

In complete lifelessness you lowered the weapon, not realizing how close the  distant gunfire sounded until Mingyu had to drag you away by the wrist. He murmured his condolences to you when the air was tinged with less bloodshed, carefully nuzzling you into his chest when the reality of what you’d just done had come spiraling forth, leaving a slap so brutal across your face the burn seemed more realistic than the raindrops hitting your skin.

You felt disgusting, enclosed in a body that had been consumed by the purest form of hatred, and there was nothing you could do to evade the feeling of that ugly gun pressed into your hand. But within that same moment, hot tears pumping onto Mingyu’s shirt, you understood a certain satiation that tempted so many people to do what you had just done.

“We can’t stay here,” You felt the vibrations from his deep voice against your cheek, coolness stinging the heated flesh of your face when you lifted your head to meet his gentle eyes.

“Gotta keep moving, alright? It’ll be over soon, I promise.”

Mingyu’s composure was definitely an admirable trait. But then again, he’d been exposed to this environment long before you ever questioned purging. At that point you had felt completely numb, allowing him to wind you through the crevices and shadowy tunnels building the foundation of the city, your vision blurred by a mixture of salt and rain water. You felt safe with Mingyu, though it hadn’t always been like that. Before your friendship you were an outsider to the boy, harbouring nothing but a tiny crush toward him and his handsome face.

In fact the first time you’d ever spoken to Mingyu, it was after his fight with Wen Junhui, one of the most infamous, cynical purgers you prayed to never meet.

Two Years Ago –

“I’ll kill you if you come near her again!”

“Is that supposed to scare me?!”

You’d never seen a fist fight in real life before, and you were positive that was a good thing. A large crowd steadfastly increased around two tall, venom-eyed boys caught up in their alcohol. They were spitting profanities, threats, and whatever else their clouded minds could formulate within the gap of the other’s speech. The party had been rather lackluster before that point anyways, so like the congregation swarming to the centre of the room, you etched into the crowd and managed to stand just inside the inner circle.

“Shit – sorry,” you squeaked as you were suddenly shoved into the girl beside you. Your face became hollow like a crater on the moon when you saw that it was Mingyu’s girlfriend.

“What am I supposed to do?” She mumbled whilst biting her nails, “I didn’t know how to stop it.”

“Stop the fight?”

She continued babbling, “Junhui kept coming on to me and Mingyu saw. They’re both competitive, boggle-brained idiots when they’re drunk. I don’t know what to do.”

Her name was Yang Yeeun, born and raised by parents maintaining such wealth that rumours began circulating their bloodstream was crushed rubies. You could see her pearl earrings flashing behind the straight black locks framing her small face. You don’t think she ever took them off. Her father manufactured security systems for the purge; however, the most recent release had been proven to bore many defects and flaws. She didn’t care, as long as she got a slice of the wealth.

In the beginning, Yeeun and Mingyu’s relationship came as a slap to the wrist. How could two people reaping such difference in personality become so close? Yeeun was frank and staid, with cold, cindered eyes that never displayed an eclipse of emotion. Her complexion was just as pale as the pearls she wore and her heart swam darkly.

Mingyu was her polar opposite. 

Sure he was intimidatingly tall, but any menace he constructed with his height was easily derailed through his bubbly nature. He was what you call, “a gentle giant,” and anyone who contacted him for more than a brief period understood this. The warmth was in his honey-brown gaze, the velvet of his tanned skin, the sepia tones that were shaggy in his hair. When he spoke you could feel the gravel roll beneath your feet, and when he said your name heat would flood your face like steam throughout a hot spring. 

Again, Mingyu and Yeeun made a bizarre couple, yet he loved her so deeply you swore the dark coverings in her heart had peeled back a little.

You kept in mind, a little.

“They’re fighting over you?” You questioned carefully, trying not to exaggerate your words so that it seemed utterly impossible for her to be worth fighting over.

“Yes,” Yeeun gritted, her eyes darting around the crowd, strangers pressing into the circle, allured by drunken shouting, “can’t they wait until purge before they start ripping into each other?”

Wouldn’t it be best if they didn’t rip into each other at all?

“Like you said, they’re drunk and stupid,” you opted for the latter choosing.

Mingyu’s mellow stare had been licked over by enraged flames, the remaining liquor still pumping through his system and warming his blood until it sizzled. His fists were balled tightly, fangs peeking past the taunt snarl on his lips. Junhui appeared calmer, though the bar of composure was quite low to begin with. The unkempt ends of his midnight black hair were shaking, his sharp nose crinkled, and his stare so impossibly intense that you were nauseated a vein on his neck might become engorged and pop. 

As interesting as it would be for you to witness your first fist fight, you knew it wasn’t a wise idea for these two to start swinging at each other.

You set a hand on Yeeun’s shoulder, “maybe you should stop thi—,”

Suddenly, her palms encased her mouth as the last few words of toxicity were spat between Mingyu and Junhui, the crowd erupting in brazen cheering as the two lunged for one another in a flash of blurred colour. Your jaw was permanently unhinged, your body set in stone, attention completely spellbound under the boys who were viciously entangled. The world seemed to spin at a snail’s pace whilst the fight flickered faster than lightning. At one point Mingyu had Junhui shoved up against the wall, one hand nearly ripping through the boy’s black-collared shirt as he tore his free fist back and swiftly launched it forward. The hard ridges of Mingyu’s knuckles connected with Junhui’s eye, his head smashed back into the drywall so that an indentation remained.

“G-Get the fuck off me, Mingyu!”

“You fucking asked for this, dumbass!”

In another fuzzy whirlwind of movement, Junhui managed to push Mingyu backward and onto the snack table, bowls and bottled alcohol spilling across the floor with jade shards of glass scattering in flurries. Junhui drew his fist into Mingyu’s face, the collision splintering against Mingyu’s brow bone. You could see the speckles of blood flying off Junhui’s hand as he curled his fingers into another ball, preparing to throw once more. Panic encompassed you from every angle; it drowned you above your head until the crowd’s bellowing became a muffled choir to your ears. 

You could hardly breathe as your sights shifted to Yeeun, the girl with her hands still clasped to her mouth, doing absolutely nothing.

Was that a smirk hidden behind her hands?

She really did have a dark heart. By the looks of it no one was going to intervene. You were most likely the soberest person in attendance. Even if it downright petrified you, letting those two get their hands so bloodied it would look like they doused their arms in red paint wasn’t a viable option.

“Hey!” You barked, slowly etching your way into the clearing, “what the fuck is wrong with you two?! Get off each other!”

Mingyu and Junhui were still a violent mass now buckled to the floor, anger and alcohol swelling through their bodies like a drug. You felt your knees wobble, as though a tight fist had an ironclad grip on your entrails and was squelching them around slowly. Junhui had Mingyu pressed to the floor, and raised in his arm was a sparkling shard belonging to a smashed bottle. You didn’t know what it was, but something inside compelled you to react. In a mere instant you were ripping the shard from Junhui’s hand and screaming at the top of your lungs, the crowd’s cheering turned to hushed whispers.

“Enough!”

Your chest was heaving, fingers grasping the glass piece tightly enough that thin lines of red began dripping down your hand. Junhui and Mingyu had peeled themselves apart, the deep marring of hatred etched so profoundly into their eyes you’d never be able to forget it. Yeeun suddenly blossomed with emotion after standing on the outskirts smirking into her palm, the girl bounding toward Mingyu and snaking her arms around his neck like she’d been downright sobbing with worry the whole time.

“C’mon, Gyu,” she gritted, “we’re leaving.”

Thanks for the help.

You were tempted to call.

The fight between Mingyu and Junhui might have stopped, but the party continued to thrive. You were wandering through the upstairs hallway as the wooden floorboards jolted beneath you, driven by incessant music that became a furthering echo. Fresh blood had yet to stop streaming down the grooves between your knuckles, pooling from the lacerations of that jagged, glass shard and wetting your warm skin. You continued seeking for a bathroom, any room really that might contain a first aid kit, or at least some water and tissues that would help to clean your hand.

Each room was either occupied or locked. A defeated sigh ghosted from your lips as you stood at the end of the hall, weakly knocking your healthy hand against the last door. Scarlet drops were creating a puddle on the wood whilst you waited, until the brass handle jiggled and you were stepping back in shock that someone had actually acknowledged your presence.

Of course, the person doing the acknowledging had to be Yeeun.

“Oh! It’s… you.” She murmured. Behind her slim frame you could see Mingyu sitting on the sink, holding a cloth to his eyebrow.

“It’s me,” you replied, desperately wanting to skip the small talk and use the first aid kit. Didn’t she say she was leaving?

Yeeun finally noticed the red pathways on your hand and nodded, “I see you need to get yourself bandaged up.”

“Yeah, that’d be nice.” You hummed, trying not to sound impatient but utterly failing.

“Well… I’ll be right back then. Just so you know there’s no gauze left.”

“That’s okay, I don’t think I’ll need an—,”

“I’m going to look for some!” Yeeun called as she squeezed her way past you and began trudging down the corridor, “be back soon!”

Mingyu tossed you a lopsided smile when you entered the bathroom. You kicked the door shut with your foot to drown as much noise as possible. Though the small barrier didn’t do too much in regards to sound, it certainly made the bathroom feel one-hundred times smaller. Or maybe it was solely Mingyu and his gargantuan height. Perhaps it wasn’t any of those factors and you were just feeling nervous to be enclosed in a private space with him. Either way, your face turned into magma and you felt like swallowing sand. Without saying a word you turned on the sink and let the cold water stream between your fingers.

“Hey.” He began.

Oh no. If you initiate conversation with me there’s a ninety-nine percent chance I’m going to fall in love with you.

“Thanks for intervening. You kinda saved my life there.”

You scoffed whilst scrubbing the dry scarlet from your wrist, “I think you could have taken him.”

Mingyu took the wet cloth from his brow and folded it over before reapplying pressure to his own wound, sighing deeply. “Fuck this. I hate getting drunk.”

Fastening your teeth into your lower lip, you remained silent and continued swirling around the bloodied skin until the red currents seemed to all drain away, down the white porcelain. You winced a little because there was indeed a stinging sensation, but it was better than allowing the cuts to get infected. Mingyu’s curious gaze was watching the scene intently, and with his body propped right next to the sink, there was really no easy way to avoid your feelings other than to talk with him.

“How’s your injury?”

“I don’t know, how is it?” He peeled the damp cloth from his brow bone. You could see that directly in the centre the skin had spilt, a little ways above the brow and a little beneath it, bright pink flesh gleaming from between the dark hairs and tanned skin. It would definitely leave a scar.

“I’m no doctor, but you might need stitches.”

“Seriously?” Mingyu grimaced. “That fucking sucks.”

You scoffed. “That’s funny. The same kid who socked Junhui in his eye is afraid of getting a few itty bitty baby stitches.”

Mingyu pouted, his thick brows then slanting downward which made him wince petulantly. You couldn’t suppress your chuckling, turning off the sink with a coy smile playing along your mouth.

“I’m joking.”

“I know.” Mingyu said. “I’m sure everyone’s gonna start saying he’ll rake my eyes out at purge.”

You laughed at that too, though deep down you both knew it wasn’t anything flowery to laugh about. Junhui was the definition of nefarious. Similar to Yeeun his family danced in riches, their security systems were top-notch, and his access to weaponry and blueprints of the city could be in his hands within minutes. People worshiped the ground he walked on, but it wasn’t because they liked him. It was only sensible to play nice to the person capable of taking your life away in a single breath. 

Of course, Junhui’s reputation made him a prime target, yet despite all the people who secretly wanted him dead, it was difficult to even lay a scathe on his amber skin.

In your eyes it was better to avoid the boy altogether. That way you never gave him any reason to seek out your oblivious-self during the annual purge. Mingyu had crossed that line to the fullest extent. He laid more than an innocent scathe on Junhui; the boy had given him an entire fist to his pretty, supposedly untouchable face. Feeling your heartbeat thump widely, you quickly willed to change the subject.

“Do you see any cloths? Or Kleenex? Anything?”

Mingyu frowned. “Sorry, nothing.”

You shook your arm out over the sink to shed some water droplets, yet the blood still continued to bead. Mingyu looked sympathetic. He presumed it was his fault you were even injured in the first place.

“Yeeun’s getting gauze.”

“I think I’ll be okay—,”

“Wait!” Mingyu suddenly piped. “This might be super awkward but—,” the boy’s tongue peaked out between his pink lips as he gripped the end of his white t-shirt and gave it a tear, pulling off a strip of fabric.

Your cheeks began crackling and your palms felt oddly clammy, “M-Mingyu, don’t worry, I’ll be fine.”

“Doesn’t matter,” the boy said, “this shirt’s old and busted anyways. It’s better than walking home, dripping blood everywhere.”

You smiled softly and stared at the floor.

“Here! I’ll even wrap it for you.” He purred, gently reaching for your arm and twining the white material like a roll of bandages around your hand. 

Forgetting about his own spilt brow that began clotting with blood, Mingyu finished his dexterous work with a tender glance that made your stomach flip, his chocolate bangs falling endearingly before his eyes. After shaking the fringe away, he gave you a thumbs-up.

“Now you look like you just got into a fight.”

“Right, because I’m the first person everyone suspects to start a fight. You hit the nail on the head with that one.”

Mingyu chuckled at the heavy sarcasm, blinking his pretty lashes at you with such warmth you keened to melt like an ice cream cone. You supposed after that moment, Mingyu might not be nearly as brutal as his drunken, love-induced mind influenced him to be. For a fleeting moment you even doubted that this was the same boy with his own kill-list. His eyes glimmered like diamonds catching a shaft of light.

“That’s something only time can tell.” He purred

Two Years Ago –

When Mingyu and Yeeun broke up, it was like the universe took its cue to make everything in life feel unreal. If their romance was nothing more than a mirage, then had romance ever existed in the first place? At least to you, it routinely appeared as though Yeeun’s heart had never been within the same realm as Mingyu’s. There was always an island of separation between them, one little ploy that prevented the couple from truly clicking like puzzle pieces. That ploy was exigent in the form of onyx hair, a sultry voice, and bottomless eyes.

In other words the obstacle was Junhui. Yeeun started dating him no less than a month after the break-up.

Mingyu, he was crushed; taking the point of devastation and expanding it an extra nine yards. In contrast with Yeeun’s heart, his was always wide open, warmer than a summer fire and more embracing than sun rays. You swore she would be the girl he took to meet his mother, the girl whose finger he delicately touched to slide upon a silver loop. A part of you crumbled each time you saw them together, before the break-up, and even more so after the party.

Remembering how his rough fingertips skimmed the wet (and surely burning) skin of your hand as he wrapped the cloth around it did something peculiar to your mind. Reminiscing on the soft timbre of his chuckles made your head spin, and replaying the manner in which his eyes twinkled as he gazed at you through his thick bangs brought forth fluttering in your stomach. It was what you were daydreaming about even after their infamous break-up, fingers clacking against the keys on your laptop whilst you finished an essay in the library. To your dismay, the thoughts were scattered by conversation at the table behind you.

“Think Junhui is gonna gut Mingyu at purge?”

“Probably not, Mingyu would be expecting it. And it’s not like he’s hopeless. Did you hear about how he stabbed someone to death in the tunnel last year?”

“Yeah. But Junhui’s clique practically owns the purge. They’ll tear your fuckin’ house down if they can find it.”

“…True. Those two seriously have some bad fucking blood. Do you remember the rumours about how Junhui sho— ”

Unable to listen any longer without this horrendous churning against the walls of your stomach, you shoved your laptop into its carrying case, swung it over your shoulder and began shuffling between the book shelves. Your stare traced the floor whilst a pummeling sensation thundered into your ribcage. Mingyu didn’t seem like the type to kill, though you didn’t know him personally, and perhaps he had matters of vengeance that crooned for redemption. This tiny hope inside you flickered, prayed that Mingyu was unlike Junhui, the kind that tortured for torture’s sake, the kind that shoved a pistol beneath your jaw because you looked at them funny.

Suddenly, you collided with someone. Blinking upward, you gazed at the body you’d walked into, Mingyu, who was in the midst of pulling out a book.

“Sorry! I wasn’t looking where I was going.” You apologized.

You hadn’t seen him for a while, but he looked healthy, a bit tired perhaps, but mostly healthy. Dressed in comfy clothing, a grey hood drawn with his earbuds plugged in, he popped one of the speakers out and lent a small smile. His eyes were slightly veiled by his earthy bangs, the coarse fronds wavy in front of his forehead. His scent was a concoction of something tropic mixed with cannabis, and when he spoke his voice was lower than usual.

“Were you leaving?” Mingyu asked.

Yes.

“No, no. I wanted to finish my essay somewhere that wasn’t... back there.”

“Oh,” he sighed, “seemed like you were in a rush.”

“I was just thinking.”

Mingyu stuck the book back into its gap and smiled, “about?”

You sniffled. “What?”

“What were you thinking about?”

Obviously you were not going to admit that you just overheard conversation about Mingyu being gutted under Junhui’s hand, about Mingyu supposedly cramming a knife through whoever’s chest during last year’s purge, about Mingyu’s history of participation in the annual mayhem that plagued the country like a sickness each year. Now that the purge was on your mind, a dark worry skulked in the shadowy crevices of your brain, yet it seemed to dissipate just as quickly as it arrived when Mingyu stared at you so gently.

“How much I hate essays.”

He nodded. “That must be it.”

Without thinking, you blurted, “what happened with your eyebrow? Did you get a scar?”

He simply carded back the bangs covering his forehead and poked at the nick with his finger. It would have been courteous to receive a warning that he was going to reveal his forehead. He had no clue how powerful a mechanism it truly was, how badly you wanted to kiss that tiny scar after seeing the slit through his brow. Swallowing the flushed heat that arose in your throat, you grinned with a closed lip.

“Well, it makes you look like a badass if that’s any comfort.”

Mingyu let his hair flop back into place and laughed quietly. “What’s up with your hand? That cut looked so nasty.”

Looking down at your fingers, you probed the faint lines of where the glass had sliced your skin, engraved almost, like a stone carving.

“Kinda. It doesn’t look as cool as your eyebrow slit though. And you’re way less busted than Jun. His eye is still purple.”

For a brief ellipse you simply embraced the opportunity of being alone with Mingyu. That some higher deity had taken pity on your life barren with romance and granted you this precious exchange to add to your vault of daydreams. The more his hoarse voice lapped at your ears, surely roughened yet equally soothing, you felt your chest create a burrow for him, a gap that only he could fill. It baffled you, that Yeeun could break his heart. But it didn’t surprise you. She was built from titanium, similar to Junhui, and together they were hawks that would make prey of everyone.

“Trust me,” Mingyu said, “it wouldn’t make me feel any better if we were matching.” 

His jaw clenched, and his stare slipped to the floor for a transient moment. A nearly imperceptible breeze tickled up the back of your neck, causing you to rub at the fine hairs as Mingyu’s usual aura slowly dissipated into a much darker nuance. You gulped, attempting to laugh something of comfort back into the air.

“There’s a lot we could match in, like... bracelets! Or a necklace! Or one of those couple t-shirts... Not that we’re a couple,” stuttering helplessly, you felt electricity tingle in your cheeks, “I was just thinking about matching stuff and that popped into my hea—”

“It’s fine.” Mingyu responded, the storm clouds cast in his gaze finally ebbing away. He smiled, and a deep chuckle rumbled in his chest.

“You’re pretty cute y’know? I don’t think I’d mind.”

1 year ago –

You never spoke commonly to Mingyu about the idea of purging until you were thrust into the political nightmare on a whim, a stupid, stupid, moonstruck whim.  The few times the morbid topic arose seriously, neither of you had enlightening stories to exchange. A bitter knot lodged itself into your throat the night you reiterated to Mingyu about the tragedies concerning your parents; the disappearance of your father and the abduction of your mother, a tearful lining glossy in your eyes.

You’d never seen Mingyu express such grief when he returned the storytelling.

He moved out from his parent’s house when he was eighteen years old, his best friend, Minghao, making the journey alongside him. Faintly, you remembered Minghao, more or so from your high school days when you shared the same last period art class. He had always been rather subdue, never really speaking with anyone apart from Mingyu, though there had was a handful of times where you caught him and another boy, Wonwoo, skipping class together. Apparently Wonwoo didn’t have a very good home life. He’d supposedly been forced into purging since middle school, and his psyche never quite recovered. 

You never even saw Wonwoo smile apart from when he was with Minghao. 

However, one day that boy from your art class just disappeared, and the rumours hadn’t stopped swirling since. It was a common fact that Minghao never purged. He didn’t have any bad blood with anyone either.

Not that you were aware of.

In the beginning stages of Mingyu’s purging he used to commonly venture with a group of three friends. Wonwoo happened to be one of them, plus another named Jihoon (who you could recall dawdling around in the background of the party) though Mingyu never named the third. He described it as being pure, inexplicable dread. They were constantly finding themselves in gruesome situations that forced their true colours from camouflage, how they stole burning glimpses of the other when the night came to an end and blood was caked to their clothing. The purge had tainted all of them, some more than others, whether it be with drug addiction, eternal madness, or an unhealthy fascination to mend so seamlessly with the evil that they personified it.

However, genuine fear pitted in the core of your stomach when Mingyus’ fists had clenched in his lap, his features distracted by a look of anguish as he sucked in a breath and spoke in an unsettling, distant tone.

“It was four of us in my car. I was driving, Wonwoo and Jihoon were in the backseat, and he... he took up the passenger seat. It was different... How he reacted to the purge... The rest of us were still somewhat fearful of it but he almost thrived in all the destruction. We were even talking about going purging without him the next year, but...

Mingyu had to clear his throat.

“I guess Minghao was waiting for me to come back to the house. He probably wasn’t even waiting on me specifically, he had this little crush on one of my friends, Wonwoo. They were always messing around together. Minghao probably got excited when he heard us, so he came outside, onto the grass... But then I heard the pop of the gun out the open window... I just... I don’t fucking know if he thought Minghao was a maniac or... If he was on drugs or something... But, God... He just —“

You didn’t allow him to say anymore when his words became warped, when his voice cracked and his eyes split like a sheet of broken glass. Minghao didn’t just disappear - he was killed, and Mingyu knew who was responsible. Instead of pressing him for details, you reached for his hand, rubbed your thumb along his knuckles, made sure he knew that you were there for him. 

And yet you had been thrust into the setting of the same picture during your first purge, the first time you had ever experienced what it was like to harm someone, turning their existence into an irreparable patch in the universe.

This is your emergency broadcast system, announcing the commencement of the annual purge.

At the siren, all crime, including murder, will be legal for twelve hours.

All emergency services will be suspended.

Your government thanks you for your participation.

“This is going to be your entire fault if I die tonight, Mingyu! I just want you to know that!”

“Relax. You’re going to be fine. We’re going to be fine.”

It was nothing short of chaotic. Pitch blackness shrouded the skylight like a heavy cloth, the distant rattle of gunfire and screams sitting heavy in the air as you raced down the street. The horrendous acts were most commonly centred to the city’s heart, where prime businesses, rich corporations, and notorious killers congregated to create havoc. Still, that didn’t make you any less petrified, your nails sinking into Mingyu’s hand like dog’s teeth. Fights were slowly beginning to litter the sidewalk, a store going up in orange flame and hissing embers now glinting behind you.

“I knew that we weren’t going to make it back to your place on time. I knew it was stupid that we even questioned going out on purge in the first place - Ah!”

You shrieked at an unprecedented decibel as two men came tumbling out of the alleyway only meters away from your feet, your body slamming into Mingyu’s backside when he cemented himself to a halt. The men payed no notice to you, entirely engulfed in their own world of vengeance through bloodied fists and messy punches.

“This way.” Mingyu’s words were like a breeze in the midst of a hurricane.

You hardly registered he’d even said anything until his grip lurched you forward and you were stumbling to the opposite side of the street. Then, your jogging pace skyrocketed into running, the breaths just squeezing from between your lips and the pain in your chest aching so potently you felt like vomiting. Your stamina was breaking faster than glass. You couldn’t afford to run any longer.

“M-Mingyu, can we please stop?”

The boy didn’t seem to have a choice as your fingers began unclasping from his hand, your body collapsing on the concrete staircase belonging to the city bell tower. Mingyu anxiously carded his hair back, his eyes moving hyperactively down the street only to be greeted with more and more violence consuming his vision. Gunshots seemed to thunder from every direction, splintered shouts joining hymn. Large trucks blared down the black pavement with ominous members hunched in the open cap, holding weaponry and wearing masks of painted wood.

The boy squatted down, his palm firmly encasing your cheek and keeping your head up.

“I’ll give you a minute. But then we have to keep going. It’s too dangerous to stay in one spot.”

You stared into Mingyu’s face with a tiresome expression, the bronzed and gleaming hue of his skin reflecting the fire that crackled in the distance. His touch became sterner as he moved in closer, his eyes no less than a few inches from your own.

“Trust me, I know you’re exhausted. We’re gonna be at my place soon though, okay? You just gotta hold tight for a little longer.” He pressed his forehead against yours, and met your gaze head on. “I’m going to keep you safe, I promise. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

An intruding shout echoed a little too closely down the street, engendering you to choke on your own heartbeat. Mingyu growled in irritancy, pivoting his head and glaring at the stranger who stepped from an alleyway. Rather than looking frightened (you were on the verge of sobbing bullets), Mingyu’s forehead crinkled angrily, the tiny scar that cut through his brow beginning to slant.

“Stay put.” Mingyu commanded you.

There was a colder lining to his tone that you’d never heard before, malevolent and icy. As soon as his touch fell from your cheek, you knew his hands were about to tend to a much different matter. Your mind implored for you to look away, yet your heart waned for the exact opposite. The man was scraggly and a bit stockier than Mingyu, a mischievous intent welling in his movement as he seemed to dance back and forth like a hummingbird. He wore a smooth, white mask and a heavy brown coat that bore many unidentified stains, a long, curved blade in his hand.

“You’re just a kid,” the man taunted, “it’s always the younger crowd that get so riled about the concept of murder, think they’re all that, but they drop faster than flies when it comes down to it.”

Mingyu didn’t waver. “You should keep talking if you want that knife poking through the opposite side of your throat.”

You inhaled stiltedly. This was definitely not the same Mingyu who smiled with the power of a burning star, his mannerisms filling your chest with laughter and his golden eyes bathing your face with heat. You thought back to the library, the conversation that drawled behind you. This was the Mingyu they were talking about. You had a feeling that the innocent projections in your head were close to changing.

The man chuckled and pointed his knife, shaking it at Mingyu, “you’ve got the same cockiness as that rich China boy’s little clique. I’m sure you’ve heard about them. They’ll be flocking to the streets any minute now.”

Mingyu spoke gutturally in response, the disgust and repulsion so thick in his voice you almost couldn’t recognize it. “Don’t you fucking dare compare me to him.”

The man chuckled darkly, “hit a nerve, did I?”

You weren’t sure what happened next, mainly because it all happened so fast, a series of swift movements (on Mingyu’s behalf) that resulted in your pulse fizzling like hot oil. Ultimately you were going to be exposed to murder one way or another, though watching it reflect in the glassy curve of your own eyes left behind a deep scarring. The man lurched at Mingyu with his hefty blade slashing for the chest, most likely assuming that because of Mingyu’s height he would be quite slow and lack agility.

However, that was severely not the case, to the man’s dismay more than anyone else’s. Within the span of sixty measly seconds Mingyu had tripped him onto his back, snatched the blade from his grip and wedged the knife directly into the man’s windpipe, exactly as he said he would do.

At that point you couldn’t look away even if you wanted to. Mingyu’s breathing was level as he rose from the man’s waist, a burgundy pool of blood bubbling at the neck where the blade had punctured skin. Mingyu lifted his jacket, pulled the knife out, and attached the weapon through his belt. He spent an extra few moments patting the fresh corpse down until he uncovered a small revolver hidden in the inside pocket on the man’s coat. When Mingyu handed you the revolver in means of protection, you didn’t realize you were shivering.

“Now,” he pronounced, “we’re going home.”

And at the time you believed him. 

Until thirty minutes stretched into an hour, an hour into two hours, three hours, four hours. The chaos that was the purge had encompassed you both. This supposedly psychological device controlled you like a ventriloquist. Violence sneered at every turn and eventually an unspoken conclusion emerged; that it was easier to join chaos than it was to run from it. Later that night everything came full circle. 

You were the one pointing the weapon, aiming the silver barrel into the face of the man who had broken in your home and abducted your mother last year, on account of stupid, petty crimes your father had committed in the past. Seconds before touching the trigger, all you could picture was his face swathed in moonlight, the horror that clawed in your stomach when you ran down from your room that night to see him yanking her out the smashed window. 

And when you felt the release of the bullet, it became emboldened that it truly was a small, cruel world.

Present –

Squeezing one eye shut, you held the black gun with both hands and aimed the muzzle toward a tree stump that acted as your target, a cheek pressed into the taunt muscle of your shoulder as you inhaled a steadying breath. Delicate winds blew across the meadow, each strand of grass rippling in a hypnotic wave. The horizon lay beyond the tree trunk, a bleeding yellow sun submerging quietly behind the endless terrain, casting a honeyed glow to speckle like rain droplets upon your face.

There was not a single sound apart from the grassy fronds tickling against each other, your concentration solidifying to a mar in the tree bark. Then, your finger ghosted over the trigger, a sharp burst echoing into the pale yellow sky and causing a distant congregation of birds to take flight. The bullet struck the wood, right where you had envisioned the lead entering.

“Look at you,” the tension keyed into your bones drifted away, exiting your body in a shallow exhale once Mingyu’s prideful tone filled the spaces between the winds, “your shot may be even better than mine now.”

After lowering the firearm to face the earth and switching the safety on, a demure smile danced across your lips. Mingyu’s arms were strong and looping carefully around your waist, hauling you back into the broad expanse of his chest. He buried his face into the smooth plane where your shoulder met your neck, his soft locks feathering along your jaw. You giggled the second his lips kissed your shoulder, evening sunlight spilling across the meadow and encouraging heat to caress your skin.

“The student becomes the teacher,” you purred, “I even remembered to turn the safety on this time.”

“You’re damn right you remembered to turn the safety on,” the boy quipped sternly, his palms gliding downward to grip your hips and spin you around, “you almost took my kneecap off the last time.”

Furrowing your brows, you pursed your lip at him petulantly, “can we stop talking about that? It was a mistake you big idiot.”

“I know, I know,” Mingyu cooed, “a very, very, very dangerous mistake.”

You rolled your eyes as he unwound the black firearm from your fingers. He walked toward his jacket that sat on the blanket you’d strewn across the grass, making sure to place it back inside the pocket.

“You still need some more practice, but I think for today we can call it quits. How does that sound?”

The boy then fell back onto the blanket with his head titled to the side, his eyes staring up at you winsomely. With the sun flaring behind you, the vibrant streaks set the grass aflame, making it appear as though Mingyu was sitting in the centre of a fire. His skin twinkled like golden silk and his canines peaked between his lips in a smirk. Shrugging your shoulders impetuously, you stumbled toward the blanket and fell into the boy’s lap, squirming against his broad body until he became pinned beneath your weight. As though he were a glass vase, you gingerly swept your finger along his scarred brow.

“Sounds fine,” you hummed, “since I kinda wanna makeout with you right now.”

“I love how straightforward you are, baby.” Mingyu confessed with his intoxicated gaze drinking in your image, already imploring for a taste of the strawberry balm that defined the pretty arches of your mouth.

Unable to quell how your body yearned for him, you gave your eyes a toss and pressed your lips to his. Mingyu craned his neck forward in immediate desperation to feel more pressure against his mouth; however, he soon gave up his craning and allowed his elbows to give out beneath him. His hands snuck beneath your shirt, to which he placed soft squeezes against your ribcage, fingertips skimming lower and lower until they were running along the back hem of your shorts. You continued to straddle his waist as the kiss drawled further, rhythmically slow and sweet.

You didn’t think it was humanly possible for your chest to be so encompassed with fondness, yet here you were, brushing your digits through Mingyu’s tresses, pressing your forehead to his, encasing his lower lip between your teeth to experimentally tug until the flesh swelled and glistened in garnet. You weren’t really sure how you started dating, it just sort of happened. It was perhaps an escalation of lingering touches, infatuated glances, and hot, fever dreams that kept you both slamming awake at blue midnight.

After your first purge together, the connection between you strengthened, like welding two pieces of molten iron into one. It was an experience that ruined you, stripped you of any innocent fragments still clinging to your bone, and once the night came to an end and you were sitting on Mingyu’s bed with blood spatters sopped into your cloths, you burst into tears. Strangely, you weren’t sobbing out of pain, mortification, you were sobbing because you could. It was the only accurate way to depict the weird melancholic, hopeless lump in your throat.

You squeaked as Mingyu grew impatient of your slow kisses. His want was increasing and he couldn’t bear to hear the quiet mewls that kept slipping from your mouth. His strength effortlessly allowed him to flip you on your back, his mass keeping you slack against the blanket as his lips dotted your jaw, your ear’s cusp, until he craved to taste more of the natural salt on your skin and his kisses ventured further down your throat.

Mingyu began suckling at a sensitive patch near your pulse. The warmth of his tongue combined with his teeth, and you felt him scrape his canines sharply against your skin. It wasn’t until the boy nudged his thigh between your legs that your fingers lurched into his scalp, tugging the earth fronds tightly. You couldn’t help but buck up against him, summoning a growl from his chest that only made him press his fangs into the soft skin with more force; not enough to actually break the petal-thin flesh, but enough to leave deep, possessive indentations. The ecstasy drumming in your veins was insatiable.

And yet, you knew it couldn’t progress.

With a fragile whine you placed your hands against Mingyu’s chest and gave the giant a small push, his mouth regretfully detaching from the beautiful marks he was intent on leaving all over your body. He spoke coarsely, breathlessly, when his rosy face surfaced from your neck, though the glaze in his eyes had quickly softened out of fear he’d made you uncomfortable.

“What’s wrong? I wasn’t being too rough, was I?” He gathered your hand in his and kissed along your knuckles apologetically.

“No, not at all,” You mumbled, still dealing with the blare of crimson running through your veins, “I just… Don’t think we should, do it, in a field.”

The hollow grooves in Mingyu’s features immediately flushed with solace, a large sigh escaping from his chest as he allowed his head to tumble into your shoulder.

“Thank God, I thought I hurt you or something,” he heaved in relief.

Your heart sang wildly, knowing that he truly was a boy gentler than butterfly wings and softer than cotton. It was difficult to imagine him as the same boy who ruthlessly shoved a blade through a man’s windpipe, allowing thick trails of blood to slide from the open wound and create morbid puddles on the hard cement. The evening air seemed to turn cooler, the wind’s peaceful lilting now picking up with more vigor. Mingyu collapsed at your side, one of his long legs still tossed over your waist as you stroked his hair.

With the sun halfway behind the horizon, you gulped whilst watching the yellow sky fade into watered, fierce shades of orange.

“Mingyu?” You hummed.

“Yeah?” His warm breath scattered in a ticklish manner against your neck.

“What’s going to happen with you and Junhui?”

Mingyu stiffened instantly. Nibbling on your lower lip, you watched with sincere eyes as the boy lifted into a sitting position. You joined him, closely monitoring the contours of his face that had surely twisted at the mention of the sinister purger. There was no room to blame Mingyu for harbouring such distaste toward the boy. Junhui did swoop in and steal his ex-girlfriend fresh after the breakup and run purge night like he invented the device himself.

Still, you wondered if there could be something more. If there could be a more profound explanation for why the air was so stale between them.

“Nothing is going to happen,” Mingyu said flatly, “are you scared?”

Caught off guard by his sudden questioning, you stumbled over your syllables for a painful second, his gaze turning back to wrack you curiously.

“N-No, I was- I just- I was only wondering.”

“He’s too obsessed with himself to care about me. Don’t worry, okay? Nothing is going to happen, baby.” Mingyu said in a much lighter tone, his signature, canine smile quirking along his lips. 

Despite his calm protrusions, you could sense that something murky was swimming behind the curve in his eyes. The boy leaned backward and planted his lips against your forehead, leaving a small, adoring kiss. Shaking away the ominous tension that came with simply speaking the purger’s name, you grasped for Mingyu’s hand and smiled.

“Let’s head back into town.”

He set his jacket as well as the blanket in the backseat and climbed to sit at the wheel.

“Don’t forget about that, y’know,” you reminded him whilst gesturing to his jacket, “it’s not like there’s a gun in there or something.”

“A gun with the safety on.” He replied sheepishly, to which you simply huffed and stared out the window.

You stopped Mingyu when you were no less than a block away from your new apartment building, the tires crunching to a halt beside the common coffee shop.

“I’ll get out here,” you told him, “I’ll be fine to walk back to the complex. I just really want caffeine.”

Mingyu leaned over and pushed the car door open for you, his palm tenderly grazing your thigh as he found your lips. He gave you a quick goodbye kiss, and you felt flowers bloom between the bones of your ribcage.

“Text me when you get home, alright?” He reminded when you slid from the passenger seat.

Scurrying into the coffee shop, you already had an idea of what drink you’d like to get. As you stood off to the side waiting for an employee to call out your coffee, you fell into a slight trance, your eyes casting mistily across the cozy atmosphere whilst the sky began darkening beyond the clean window panes. You thought about Mingyu, how laughable it was that you were dating, and yet you knew you loved him like ink loves to kiss paper.

Hm, you chuckled inwardly, that girl sitting in that booth by the window, she looks like Yeeun, and that guy beside her really resembles Junhui. That’s funny.

That’s funny.

That’s… funny…

“Order 24, half decaf, two sugars one cream.”

To your inexplicable terror, heart-twisting dread, and every other repulsive emotion that could have cloaked you in that moment of realization, the couple sitting at the window booth was indeed Junhui and Yeeun. The employee called out your order again, this time a little louder, drawing customers to look left and right with puzzled glances. The nefarious couple was sitting across from two familiar faces, one with jet black hair brushed away from his forehead, the other disquieting with how vacant his face appeared, a grey beanie pulling back the fronds from his porcelain features, and a lollipop shoved between his lips.

It took you a minute, but you eventually recognized the lollipop boy as Wonwoo. He looked insanely different compared to your outdated, high school memories, where he was just a scrawny, fox-faced boy with the straightest black bangs you’d ever seen, always running around next to Minghao, getting pink in the face when the younger so much as smiled at him. It was evident that purging had completely hardened his face, his aura, to which he developed an almost sinister light. Whoever he was now, he definitely wasn’t the same boy. Jihoon sat next to him, impatiently spinning a stir stick between his fingers.

You didn’t know why you weren’t moving. Mingyu’s words rang in your head.

Are you scared?

Craving nothing more than for a sinkhole to form beneath your feet and swallow you whole, you did the sole thing your body permitted you to do; walk sternly out the coffee shop and pretend you never ordered a single thing.

God - I hope they didn’t see me. That would be the last thing I want, for Junhui and his purging buddies to have anything to do with me.

Jihoon and Wonwoo with Junhui was odd. Had they always been friends? Junhui never attended your high school either, rather he used to be a student at a prestigious private school you couldn’t ever dream of getting into.

Your apartment was close. You could distinguish its height amongst the low-cut buildings lining the sidewalk. If you just walked a little faster, you could be up the cement staircase, swinging open the glass doorway, and be safe within the front lobby. Titling your head back you quickly ogled at the sky. It wasn’t completely black yet, but there were distant tinges of dark, oily colours that pressed down like a heavy thumbprint amongst the grey. The wind picked up behind you, slamming into your backside in menacing howls.

Finally, you’d reached the cement steps—

But it was too late.

His tone was smoother than a crystal ball, lower than baritone, and incredibly seasoned at feigning genuineness. Hearing your name cascade from his mouth that was deceivingly shaped as a heart made your breath flatten. You didn’t want to turn around and face him, but it was too late to pretend you never heard his chant. Unwillingly, your body pivoted like a stone statue, your foot taking that one victorious step back as it left the staircase.

“You walk so fast, you could have been sprinting.”

“Exercise is good.” You nearly wheezed.

For the first time, you realized just how tall Junhui was, his body appearing as a shadowy mass as the wind blew the tails of his trench coat. His brows were slanted, lips quirked, his irises so rounded you could hardly see the white bits. He was handsome in the way that some people found graveyards entrancing. It was the eeriness that allured you.

“You left your coffee.” He stated.

“I realized I had somewhere to be.” You tried to hold his gaze, but it was impossible to evade the nervous eye fluttering.

“As anyone would, it’s getting late.”

The wind whistled between you, dark clouds swirling above your head as though the sky were a witch’s cauldron.

“I think it might rain,” you said meekly, “are you looking to ask me something?”

Junhui took a step forward. He’d never been this close to you before, maybe a few inches away from the tip of your nose. Your gaze tripped to his eye, the eye that Mingyu had driven his clenched fist into that one night, causing Junhui’s head to thrust back against the plaster. You swallowed the salty brick in your throat.

“I heard you like to purge now.” Junhui said with a smile. You swore his caramel gaze glinted with excitement.

Your blood froze. How did he know about that? Junhui saw through you like a translucent piece of plastic. He saw how you inwardly panicked.

“I was surprised,” he cooed, “you don’t seem like the type… But I suppose all that running around with Mingyu changed your morals.”

Your heart was beating at such a frantic pace you feared it may dislodge itself from your chest and land in your mouth.

“I’m so elated you found purpose,” his midnight fronds then fell mischievously before his eyes, keeping the candor of his secrets hidden from you, “the purge is a time of cleansing intended to help people like us find a little alleviation in the world. That one person whose been causing you grief? You won’t have to worry about their disgusting discrepancy that makes you so infuriated. It’s quite healing,” Junhui purred, “if you ask me.”

It felt as though someone just ripped your tongue from between your teeth. You couldn’t speak even if you wanted to. A splash of rain thumped your forehead, and yet you allowed the cold bead to trickle along the side of your nose and run onto your cheek. Junhui’s hand delicately raised, his thumb caressing the droplet away. He stood closer now, eliminating any room in which the wind could whisper through, his bangs tickling your forehead as his onyx pupils bore through your heated face.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, looking toward your lips through his heavy lashes, his fingers pointing your chin upward, “I wouldn’t want you to get hurt just because Mingyu can’t take care of you.”

“I-I trust him,” You managed to squeak, though it required every bone in your body to summon equal modicums of courage.

“C’mon,” Junhui seemed to taunt, “you know who I am, right? I can have any weapon, any blueprint, any ctv footage I want directly in my hands, and all it takes is a single phone call.” He grinned wolfishly. “Besides, Mingyu doesn’t have the most durable history of looking out for others.”

His grip on your chin hardened like steel, heart-shaped lips pressed lightly to your ear’s cusp, “you do know what happened to Minghao, don’t you?”

Your body turned more frigid than ice, the warm blood that pumped beneath your skin running colder with every second that Junhui stood, seeing straight through you and to his old friend he’d hurt so dearly. You instantly grew sick to your stomach. The universe beyond Junhui’s shadow was spinning wildly, darting in nauseating circles like a carousel. The images came in flickers; the truck pulling into the driveway, the window cranking down, the crack of the gun as its bullet pierced a shape in the darkness. No wonder Jihoon and Wonwoo were friends with Junhui. He had been the other person in Mingyu’s car.

You felt lightheaded, like you were going to faint.

“I’ll let you go, but just consider your options. Really, truly consider them.” Junhui murmured. “I’m sure you have some personal contentions kept covert beneath that kind tongue of yours. Given your participation, I know you can upheaval your need to feel purification. If you’re wise, you’ll cleanse with us, with me, as you are entitled to.”

Without a single ripple Junhui broke away, his touch drifting like the edges of a silk blanket from your cheek. Immediately afterward, a disturbing burst of wind whipped between your bodies, inducing a long shiver that crept down your spine and fizzled at your fingertips. Your throat felt like cracked sandpaper and your chest bottomed out with a horrendous, wrenching fear.

Junhui knew that Mingyu didn’t fear him, but he knew that you feared him, and he knew that your fear would grow to consume you now that you’d been introduced to the devastating truth. 

The radio was on, high-pitched static and monotonous advisement rasping through the car’s sound system. It was clear that in time, there would be a chorus of other harsh noises leaping to fill the sky, any pockets of oxygen, and the spaces that lingered between your hazy breathing. Yet in the dense heat, you could care less.

This is your emergency broadcast system announcing the commencement of The Annual Purge, sanctioned by the government.

It was hot, burning. The air felt like scorching linen that pressed fire into your skin. Mingyu’s teeth scraped along your collarbones, the thin layer of flesh that mapped over them singed with bruises and bites and kisses that still glistened.

Weapons of Class 4 and lower have been authorized for use during the Purge. All other weapons are restricted.

The radio continued to blip. Your fingers tangled through his earth-toned tresses, gripping the thick strands and tugging on them as your throat started to ache. The windows were splotched with oily fingerprints that had been left earlier, when you first climbed onto his lap.

Government officials of ranking 10 have been granted immunity from the Purge and shall not be harmed.

Your legs quivered over his thighs, his hands guiding your hips with such a brute strength that the pain welled into numbness and everything that surrounded you seemed nonexistent, save for where your bodies connected like a jewel to its staff. His forehead fell on your shoulder, groans muffled as they brushed your hot skin. He continued to hit deep, and you knew you couldn’t hold on for much longer, the sparks catching a foreshadowing flame 

Commencing at the siren, any and all crime, including murder, will be legal for 12 continuous hours.

It was then, when your weight came down on his lap for the final time, his hips stuttering upward at the perfect moment, that your head tossed back and you felt the energy rip from your body in a single scream. Mingyu wrapped his arms around your waist, keeping you flush against him, working the pleasure for all its worth. You then buried your face into his neck, a soft sea of your whimpers filling the thick air whilst Mingyu emptied inside you, filling you with warmth.

Police, fire and emergency medical services will be unavailable until tomorrow morning at 7am, when the Purge concludes.

For a moment, you just needed to close your eyes and breathe in his scent, hear his heartbeat, feel the familiar heat spread throughout your abdomen. He squeezed your hips tight, and his words were barely audible, attempting to drown over the radio’s static as well as the heavy breaths from your lungs. You heard them, even if your ears really had to strain to decipher the syllables whispered at the peak of his sensitivity. Mingyu said he loved you, and he meant it with every ounce of his soul as he felt your body shake in his arms.

Blessed be our New Founding Fathers and a nation, reborn.

And you would have meekly hummed the words in return, if the sudden cacophony of a siren didn’t shred the air like pastry, startling your system that had just come down from the best cloud nine experience you could ever fathom. It would have been wondrous to bask in the afterglow, to trace patterns on his biceps and run your lips over the scar in his brow.  It had all been purloined from you in an instant. Though your centre still ached, you crept off his lap and into the passenger seat, cleaning yourself up as best you could.

“Here,” Mingyu held out his jacket that he’d tossed in the backseat, probably since your training in the fields, “it’ll keep you warm if it actually rains tonight.”

“Thanks.” You murmured whilst slipping the fabric around your body, noting that something a little heavy was inside one of the pockets. You remembered the gun was still inside. Suddenly, Mingyu started the car, the engine purring lowly and musty clouds of exhaust puffing into the empty parking lot.

He tapped the steering wheel with his palm, “where should we head?”

When the sirens faded away, you looked to him and smiled, “wherever you want.”

The red sun seemed anxious to disappear, for its rays cracked across the sky like bloodied, broken ice, hurriedly pushing itself further below the horizon as Mingyu drove into town. The Purge never introduced an easy atmosphere to stomach, yet tonight, you felt the bile in your throat was more acidic than usual. Maybe it was because you knew a huge secret, one that tied Mingyu’s hatred to Junhui’s existence.

You didn’t confess to Mingyu anything. Every word that seeped like a venom from Junhui’s lips was sealed within you, and only you. It was already painful enough for Mingyu to brace through such a traumatic incident. There would come a time when he told you his reasons for hating Junhui, and that time had yet to come.

Even so, the terror was exhausting. The first few nights after your encounter with Junhui, your slumber was plagued by gruesome nightmares, his comfortable laughter, and the black fire that seeped in his eyes as though he were some underworld creature. You’d slam awake in a cold sweat. At times you’d be so drenched that you needed to take a shower before going back to sleep, that is, if your mind allowed you to. Sometimes you would phone Mingyu and lie to him, tell him you needed to hear the brass in his voice as your nighttime spell.

You never told him about the nightmares, the panic, or the anxiety. Now the Purge had returned after its position was quelled in the nation for a year. Your head turned to glance more thoroughly out the window after you flitted past a man holding an axe tool, a painted mask shielding his face.

It didn’t take long for the streets to begin flooding with people of the same stature, and if their eyes of thirst were hidden behind costumes, then it became more than evident in the weaponry that adorned their guises. Mingyu seemed calm as he stared out the dash, his eyes giving away nothing that would hint toward his inner complex. You sighed and let your cheek rest in your palm, your gaze unable to stop tracing each and every person that emerged from the dark crevices.

About forty-five minutes had passed, driving around the quieter outskirts of the city. Looking into the side-mirror, you watched as the occasional killing occurred behind you.

Mingyu smiled. “The night just started and you already look like you’re over it.”

The echo of a gun pierced the air. You cringed slightly.

“I don’t know if I’m over it or not. I guess I’m thinking about how I’ll ever suppress witnessing senseless murder, y’know?”

The boy gently stuck his arm out, across the glove compartment, his thumb stroking your cheek for a fond moment.

“We don’t have to hang around. I can drive up to the field where we’ll be away from the worst of it. What do you want, baby?” He asked.

You scratched at your knuckles and puffed through your nose. “I don’t even know what I want. Am I supposed to feel this way?”

Mingyu raised an eyebrow, “what way?”

“Melancholic, sorta like everything seems pointless. How do you feel?”

Mingyu took a wide turn to avoid a collection of smashed bottles that glinted on the road, increasing the vehicle’s speed steadily as the chaos increased. Like your first Purge, you saw the distant glow of burning buildings appear across the lake, at the other side of the city.

“I don’t even know if I can describe it anymore.” He shrugged.

You turned your head to look at him, deciding to ask something rather abrupt, but a topic you were curious on nonetheless. 

“Why did you start purging?”

The boy’s canines pushed into his bottom lip as he probed his mind.

“Because I was friends with someone who wanted to. Even involving yourself once makes enemies. You can’t hide from it after that.” 

Staring at the side of his face, you felt almost dirty for knowing a pivotal piece belonging to Mingyu’s past.

“Were you friends with Junhui?”

There was a thick silence as you waited for Mingyu’s response.

“At one point, yes.” He admitted, his words sounding distasteful. 

You shifted up in the seat, stretching out your hand to rub Mingyu’s bicep. 

“I don’t care if you were. I know you aren’t the same as him, and that this night changes people. You don’t let it consume you like he does.”

Mingyu took a turn through a wide alleyway to avoid a hostile situation escalating at the far end of the intersection. You didn’t get a good look as the sky was continuing to lose its orange light, but the flash of the group’s masks and weapons was convincing enough to take a different path.

You couldn’t help but note that Mingyu’s eyes had become slightly watered.

“It was never about purification,” he told you, “I never had any specific target, or someone I detested. Neither did Jun. But he comes from a family that relies on purging as their income. His mom designs weapons and his dad works for some underground branch, assigning bounties. He just isn’t the same as us. I was lucky if I could even hold a gun in my hands without trembling. I had to learn how to desensitize myself. For Jun, it was almost natural.”

A familiar sickness made your stomach twirl.

“It’s sad he had to grow up like that.” You sighed, glancing out the window whilst Mingyu remained silent. 

A few minutes later, and you were laughing. “I didn’t mean to make the mood so terrible. I was just wondering.”

“I know,” Mingyu said, his lips curling warmly, “I can’t blame you for being curious, baby. I just don’t think back on my past all that much.”

He then gave you a thoughtful look, and your chest started fluttering embarrassingly fast. “I like focusing on right now, where I have you.”

It was quiet again, to which you let your thoughts roam astray. 

You pictured the night your father disappeared, the night your mother’s life was taken away from her when she wasn’t even capable of defending herself. The feeling of coming down the stairway to broken glass, spilt moonlight, and a dirtied face lugging her away couldn’t be compared to any pain. And daring to unlock that enraged, bitter half of yourself, you thought to applying pressure on the trigger that killed the man responsible for her death.

Those memories influenced your appreciation, your gratitude, toward Mingyu, the boy who you had always admired at a distance, never knowing he could be so tender and benevolent. It was possible that you could have turned out similar to Junhui if you let your indignation take control. Seeing how Mingyu always remained so grounded helped you keep your footing, and you hoped there never came a day when you started looking at the world how Junhui did.

All of sudden, your musing was shattered when a pick-up truck roared from an alleyway and soared into the street, plumes of grey smoke pumping from its pipes as the tires screeched against the asphalt.

”Mingyu, watch out!” You screeched, gripping the steering wheel.

At the same time, Mingyu veered away from the truck, your heart nearly tearing a hole right through your chest as the head of your vehicle rammed into a light post. The collision jolted your body forward, though the seatbelt kept you strapped in and unscathed. Mingyu cursed through his teeth.

“Fuck, are you okay?” He rasped.

“I-I’m fine. Let’s just get the hell out of here.” You replied shakily.

Mingyu’s facial expression relaxed for less than a second. He appeared ready to oblige, though casting another inspection into his features relayed a nauseating truth. Suddenly, Mingyu’s hand gripped the back of your neck and he forced your head down between your legs. You heard it, the crisp echo of a gunshot. Except there was no bullet that punctured the glass and made fragments rain over your body. There was no dent in the metal door either. The barrel was purposely aimed to a different area, and as the second shot fired off, you felt like passing out.

They’re shooting at the tires.

Mingyu whispered to you with a coarse urgency, “this way!”

He’d managed to open his door, your only choice of escape a labyrinth of alleyways that lay beyond the mangled car. The alleys were dark, damp, and most likely rife with impending danger. Your throat closed in when you attempted to swallow. You could see the blade that Mingyu had collected from the console, already tight in his hand. Licking your leathered lips, you squirmed out his side after he’d gone through. He was squatted down, waiting for you.

Just as you joined him, you cast a glance above Mingyu’s head, your blood turning into ice as a slim figure appeared around the back end of the car. It was a man, dressed in a black raincoat, long and glossy. He was wearing a dirtied, white mask, where kohl paint was runny down the large eyes and the mouth was outlined in a red marker. Next to his side was the long barrel of a shotgun, and you felt unimaginably dizzy. Mingyu immediately identified the terror that leaked into your gaze, and with a thick gulp, he dared stare over his shoulder.

“Hey Mingyu,” the stranger mumbled, taking the pointed chin of the mask and tipping it upward, revealing a fox-like face, “long time no see.”

Mingyu wrapped his fingers around your hand and stood up slowly, ensuring your body was sheltered by his size. You breathed as quietly as your vandalized chest would allow, your diaphragm keening to erupt. 

“Wonwoo?” Mingyu echoed, “I haven’t seen you in ages!”

“Didn’t mean to scare you or anything.” The boy said, his voice very deep and smooth. The depth reverberated in your chest and made your skin crawl.

“Are you crazy, dude?” Mingyu growled. “You shot out my fucking tires.”

Wonwoo scratched the nape of his neck. “I was just following orders.”

You had no idea what was happening. The only piece of concrete knowledge that hadn’t been fogged over in tangible fear was that you could still hear incessant firing in the distant, chaotic screaming and rioting. Looking down to the blade that glinted in Mingyu’s palm, you were able to plant a little reassurance in yourself knowing of his skill and ability to stay grounded. Keeping your mouth shut, you held Mingyu’s hand in a vice grip.

“Following orders from who? What are you talking about? Are you wired?”

“It’s understandable you would think that,” Wonwoo sighed, “but I’m not. If I were though, your death might be a little easier.”

“Since when are you supposed to kill me?” Mingyu sounded flat out bewildered.

It was then that it dawned on you: Mingyu really had no idea Wonwoo was still a part of Junhui’s brigade. 

Grinding your teeth together in contemplation, you finally decided to swallow the grain in your throat and break the truth. Getting close to Mingyu’s ear, you whispered to him what you knew, no matter how much of a fable it may be perceived as. Visibly, his body stiffened. His fingers gripped the blade’s handle with an unprecedented rage. 

“What are you doing?” Mingyu implored, candor in his despair. “Even after what he did to Minghao? What the hell is holding you to him?”

“It’s nothing personal, but as you know already, Junhui is filthy rich,” Wonwoo gloomed, cocking the barrel once more, “and he’s promised me some things.”

Mingyu clenched his jaw. “You mean more of those drugs he keeps stealing from his dad’s lab? Wonwoo, what the fuck happened to you? The last time I heard from you, you were getting clean, you were going to start fresh!”

There was an unorthodox twinkle in his black stare, oddly full of emotion, hurt, repressed pain that cut deeper inside than out. 

“I tried,” Wonwoo stated, a slight anger tainting his voice, “I went to three different rehabilitation clinics. I took a vacation to the rural springs and received lessons in guided meditation and bought myself a journal so I could document my success in getting clean. And you know what? I haven’t touched that journal since the day I fucking bought it. Tell me, Mingyu. How the fuck am I supposed to care about staying clean, how the fuck am I supposed to care about anything when I saw the love of my life get fucking shot right in front of me?”

Mingyu shook his head in disbelief, “Wonwoo, I--, I know that was horrible, I know that hurt you and--”

“Just shut up,” the elder interrupted flatly, “maybe today I’ll actually feel something when I put this barrel between your eyes.”

It was impossible to stand by and remain silent. Chewing on your bottom lip, you gathered a modicum of courage and poked your head around Mingyu’s shoulder.

“So you’re going to kill us just because Junhui wants you to? That’s how you’re going to live the rest of your life? Listening to his psychotic fantasies about purification and entitlement?”

Wonwoo narrowed his eyes at you, his jaw taunt.

“I know you loved Minghao, I know your life hasn’t felt the same since. Minghao was Mingyu’s best friend too. You weren’t the only one who lost somebody. Do you think when I came downstairs at fourteen years old and saw my mother get pulled away through the window that I wasn’t upset, angry, confused at the world? Junhui just sees you as a pawn to delegate the matters he doesn’t want to dip his hands into, but you’re a real person. Wake up and act like it!”

For even just a fraction of a second, Wonwoo’s shoulders slumped, his finger that was feathering the gun’s trigger drifted from contact, and the stoic cloud in his eyes fuzzed a little. You were starting to feel confident. Yet just as easily as the feeling came to you, you were caught off guard by an arm that slid around your neck and lurched you backward, against a hard chest.

Mingyu barked immediately, his blade drawn and eyes wildly dilated as he turned to face the person responsible for holding onto you. Biting the inside of your mouth, you squirmed and thrashed and kicked, until something cold pressed into your temple and suddenly the energy evaporated from your body like dew droplets on an August day. 

Mingyu’s voice sounded rusty as he gaped again. “Jihoon?!”

Wonwoo piped up suddenly, and his eyes turned cold once more. “Be careful, dammit. She’s the one we can’t afford to bruise up.”

Jihoon’s arm was now wrapped around your neck, pressing against your windpipe and causing your air supply to falter. You knew it was a gun that was poking sharply into your temple. 

Mingyu’s gaze was wild and rife with fire. He growled between his teeth like a wolf. “Don’t even fucking think about it, Jihoon.”

Wonwoo stepped forward and shook his gun at the boy who was closing off on your breathing. “Junhui wants that one,” he pressed the snout of his weapon into your chin, “alive.”

Jihoon sulked, his voice rumbling in his chest, “So what’s our fun tonight? We kill Mingyu and then pack up?”

You wriggled again in Jihoon’s arms, tempted to gnaw right into his wrist. “Can we not kill anybody?!”

“Calm down,” Wonwoo instructed, “I hate shouting. If any of you shout I’m planting a bullet in your brain.”

“You’re such a bore,” Jihoon whined, pressing into your windpipe with more force, painting speckles of white across your vision. Mingyu was bubbling with rage, like a teapot left on the burner for too long, his teeth clamping down so tightly his whole face was aching.

Wonwoo used the muzzle of the gun to tip your chin toward the moonlight. “A word of advice. Stop struggling and you won’t get hurt.”

“H-He’s hurting me,” you attempted to coherently spit past the pressure concocted against your throat. Jihoon was issuing enough force to make your eyes water and your head spin. Mingyu piped up, but Wonwoo was swifter and beat him to it.

“Lighten your grip.” He told Jihoon.

“I’m not even holding her that tightly!” The boy protested. Wonwoo’s face didn’t crack. He just repeated himself with an underlying menace.

“Lighten. Your. Grip.”

“It’s all pretending! Can’t you see? They’re trying to distract you so Mingyu can shove that blade through your back. Don’t be so fucking soft, Wonwoo. Look! I’m hardly touching—“

Bang.

Wonwoo dug his gun right into Jihoon’s forehead and pulled the trigger, the strict barrier against your throat immediately releasing. A fresh gulp of air hastily entered your lungs as you stumbled, Jihoon’s body folding onto the sidewalk from the corner of you eye. Mingyu quickly caught you, cupped your face in his hands and wiped the beaded sweat at your forehead. He kept whispering to you that you were okay, repeated the words in a soothing, husky mantra, his thumbs stroking your jaw in comforting sweeps. The ringing in your ears was unfathomably painful, it stung and stung and stung.

“Well,” Wonwoo announced with a despondent sigh, setting the gun over his shoulder, “I really do hate yelling.”

Mingyu’s kissed your forehead briefly. Your lips were still dry and they struggled to form a word of thanks to Wonwoo. The boy shrugged.

“He was holding you kind of tightly.”

Mingyu gasped, “no fucking kidding.”

Wonwoo sighed. “I guess I don’t expect to live much longer now that I’ve gone and wasted my companion here with my last few bullets. Not to mention I have  prolonged the existence of your life, Mingyu, which I was strictly ordered not to do. It was nice to meet your little partner in crime too.”

“What are you talking about?” Mingyu questioned whilst gathering you into his side.

“I didn’t follow through on my order. I can’t bring myself to do it. ” Wonwoo mumbled. “We’ll catch up in the afterlife or something. Maybe where you’re going is different than where I’m about to go. You’ll probably be with Minghao while I deservedly rot. One of life’s many mysteries, right?”

There wasn’t much of an opportunity to process the situation, not when a gunshot echoed from down the alleyway and pierced the boy in his temple. The shotgun clamped in his hand clattered against the cold, concrete sidewalk, and his mask clattered off his head. His body joined the likes of Jihoon who’d been staring up at the night sky with dead, glazed eyes, a trail of red leaking down his nose. Your head pivoted and you felt a surge of vomit climb to the back of your mouth, for the person behind the trigger was Yang Yeeun, her pearl earrings flashing against the silver moonlight.

“Horrendous.” Her accent was thick with venom, heels clicking down the alleyway as she stalked in her black trousers and white dress shirt.

Intimidation sweltered against your skin at just her attire. The fact she dressed expensively for the night proved she wasn’t expecting to get in any confrontation that would result in her own blood being spilt.

“I expected Jihoon to cause trouble, but not Wonwoo. He was so promising. I guess he really did need drugs to stay sane.”

She stepped over a corpse you hadn’t noted lying face down in the alley, growling between her teeth.

“Filthy,” Yeeun remarked without a grain of empathy, “nothing but filth.”

Mingyu gripped your wrist and you felt your body stumble behind him. Keeping your arms drawn against his back and softly breathing, you inhaled the musky scents of damp, nighttime air and car exhaust. Though you couldn’t directly see Yeeun, her voice was still audible, lacquered in such a feigned delicacy it reminded you of Junhui. Mingyu hadn’t said a thing. He didn’t have to speak for you to know his heart was decaying.

“There’s my sweet boy.” Yeeun cooed. She was close now, so close you peered between Mingyu’s legs and saw her shiny heels standing in blood spatters. 

She regarded Mingyu like they were still together, like they still reflected the image of romance that was envied by so many people, you included. Her arm extended, pale, numb fingers brushing along his amber cheek. You wanted to scream at her to never touch him again. It was her own mistake to let Mingyu go, when he was positively in love with her and preached their future with honeyed words, like an artist who preaches with paint.

“You know, I miss you,” she hummed, tracing the flint of his jaw, “I’m so terribly sorry you had to witness your old best friends get a bullet to the brain, but, that is what happens when tensions are high, and, you know, we can’t afford to let many errors slip past us. Now, let’s not let that put a damper on the night. It’s still young, and so much has yet to happen. How about you come with me?”

You knew there was a handgun she was keeping pressed to her leg right now, and that if neither of you complied, it would be put to good use. Mingyu hadn’t opened his mouth. His lips were tight and his eyes were concentrated. Maybe he was trying to scheme.

Yeeun stretched out her gun and let the muzzle clink with Mingyu’s knife, trying to push the weapon from his hand.

“Just drop this and follow me, sweetheart. Due to these unforeseen events, there’s been a change and your presence has been urgently requested.”

Quicker than expected, Mingyu complied. He let the blade untwine from his grasp and rattle against the ground. If he did have some sort of plan, you were hoping that giving up his only weapon was part of it.

“She can come too,” Yeeun purred, “Junhui wants to see both of you.”

Yeeun trudged behind you, her weapon drawn, a manicured nail feathering upon the trigger just in case one of you attempted something of trickery. Tall, grimy buildings surrounded you, leading up to the black sky, where the stars gazed down in lamentation. Mingyu’s fingers were wrapped around your wrist with such steely strength that you felt your circulation dwindle, though the tiny, tingling feeling would never surpass the fear that sat like a pound of tar in your stomach. Similar to your first purge, tears pushed at your ducts, though there was a certain exhaustion shrouding your body that prevented them from falling.

Despite your unstable condition, the possibility of death snickering right in your face, the wavering thought that either Junhui or Yeeun could imbue a torturous fate, you were worried about Mingyu.

Yeeun was playing him expertly. She knew it wasn’t her heart that cracked after their breakup, it was Mingyu that suffered independently.  Only he bit the nail, only he felt the salt mix with his wounds, and only he would welt in self-contemplation over a love that he nurtured, alone. If it came down to it, and your life was on the line, would Mingyu hesitate? Would he be afraid of hurting someone he used to treasure so dearly? You didn’t doubt his affections for you. His heart was strong, but what if Yeeun’s deceit was stronger?

The labyrinth of alleyways had finally led you to a dead end. Your wrist shook in Mingyu’s grasp, for the man nonchalantly leaning against the solid wall was none other than—

“Junhui,” Yeeun cawed, “you won’t believe what the fuck just happened. Wonwoo popped Jihoon. He’s dead, should have brought more crew instead of displacing them like we did.”

She finished her sentence by fitting her gun right snug at the back of your head.

Junhui spat onto the floor before he unstuck himself from leaning against the wall, his hands stuffed in the pockets of his dark trench coat.  

“It doesn’t matter,” he dismissed, “using Wonwoo and Jihoon was a squander anyways. I could have concluded both their lives at a much more efficient pace. I’m guessing you took care of the traitor?”

Yeeun cackled, “right though the side of his head. He fell like a stack of cards.”

“It’s a real disappointment,” Junhui huffed, “since the beginning Wonwoo and Jihoon have shown the utmost loyalty for me and my craft. But, I guess this just demonstrates how purifying this device truly is. We’re ridding the streets of scum, aren’t we?”

Mingyu released your wrist, and you felt like a bomb had just dropped to the soles of your feet. His lips parted and his voice was deep. Hearing him speak allowed your heartbeat to calm, even with Yeeun’s gun taunt into your hair.

“The streets will never be rid of scum until you’re over and done with.”

Junhui cocked his head, his mouth falling open and his eyes twinkling as though a tiny flame had ignited in their inky depths.

“And here is the biggest traitor of them all!” 

Junhui tossed his head back and ludic laughter echoed into the compressing air, “how do you suppose you’ll rid me, Mingyu? Are you going to give me another black eye? Curse at me? Damn me to hell and back because of what happened that night? Damn me behind my back because I took Yeeun away from you? The girl you once loved and valued with your every essence?”

It was then that Junhui shifted his sights on you, his lips pulling wide in a smile.

“I’m not sure if you’re aware Mingyu, but your partner and I exchanged a very compelling conversation a while ago. I guess word never got around to you.”

Junhui’s boots dragged over the crumbs of dirt and asphalt that littered the ground, his presence nearing closer and closer. When you tried to lower your head, Yeeun’s gun pressed with a stricter force into your scalp, filling you with enough fear to keep your gaze straight.

“You’re very fortunate, Mingyu. To have such a pretty thing to call your own.”

Junhui’s hand reached for your chin. His touch was colder than the dark shadows that masked his soul, and it engendered a shiver to slither along your spine. 

“Don’t put your hands anywhere near her!” Mingyu seethed, to which Yeeun instantly switched her gun to point against the back of his skull.

You could see his jaw clench from your peripheral vision. But Junhui didn’t listen, and his thumb pushed down on your bottom lip as though he intended to brand your skin with his insanity. He spoke lowly, smoothly, confidence lathered into his every syllable.

“Do you know why I did it?” Junhui stared into your eyes and asked.

“Dd-did w-what?” You warbled.

“It wasn’t because I was jealous of Wonwoo and Minghao, or because I had some personal contention against the boy. I didn’t even think when I pressed the trigger. I spent the whole night adding so much blood to my hands, that the moment I saw another shadow move, my body just - it just acted for me. Like it was an instinct. I wasn’t sad... But I wasn’t happy. I only knew I was no longer myself... I was someone stronger, someone enhanced, and that is the greatness of this evening!”

Junhui clutched your shoulders and shook them, his eyes alight with a certain derangement that petrified you to your core.

“You’re reborn! Don’t you get it? You’re no longer tied down by the concept of goodness, and your free will is truly free. When will you two realize that--”

Out of nowhere, Mingyu shoved into your side so aggressively you stumbled sideways and collapsed on the sooty ground. The air was knocked from your lungs and your heart pumped like it had been electrocuted. Fuzzy splotches of colour coalesced before your watered vision, projecting nothing but an obnoxious blur. There was shouting, the loud crack of a harmless gunshot, and scuffling that emanated from every direction. Before you could separate the blacks from the blues, something cold wrapped around your wrist and dragged you backward. Then, your entire body was thrust up against the brick, scrapes and bruises already forming on your bare skin.

When your head stopped spinning and the world dulled down from reflecting three versions of the same image, you were shuttering, whimpering, as Junhui held you firmly against the wall.

Across the alleyway you could see that Mingyu had Yeeun pressed to the floor, his palm covering her throat whilst he took advantage of his weight to keep her slim frame still. He fought to unwind the firearm from her fingers, but when he did, the weapon was digging into her forehead. You wanted to scream at him to pull the trigger, to fucking end her already, even if your throat felt like it had been scraped of all moisture and scrubbed with a pad of steel wool. You heard Junhui snicker, his mouth twisted cynically. It was evident what he was thinking, for it was identical to your own thought.

“Like hell you’ll do it!” Junhui screamed.

If it came down to it, and your life was on the line, would Mingyu hesitate?

Love. It was just as much a weapon as it was a comfort. And as Mingyu stared down at Yeeun, silver pearls of water slipping from her brown eyes, the eyes he had fallen for, you felt consumed by terror, that your life may truly end at this exact location. Mingyu proved your doubts were transparent and his finger jammed against the trigger. Except – there was nothing, nothing at all. The gun had no ammunition left. Yeeun sighed heavily.

“Don’t do this,” she mewled, still wriggling beneath him, full-fledged tears pumping down her flushed, scarlet face, “I never meant to hurt you. It’s just – you wouldn’t understand why – he didn’t leave me any choice!”

Mingyu released his ironclad grip over her throat and used his fingers to sweep the stray hairs from her eyes.

“Shut your fucking mouth.” He abruptly snapped. “You lie through your teeth like it’s the only thing you’re good for. You don’t love anyone or anything. I bet you lost that silver spoon you were born with, huh? Daddy’s security systems aren’t as bulletproof as he thought they were? So you had to run to Junhui?”

She gargled slightly on her own saliva, coughing a bit of foam, though she never tried to respond.

Mingyu lifted Yeeun’s head in his hands. Squeezing your eyes shut didn’t make the snapping noise any less gruesome. If anything, it only amplified the sickness building in your gut, it only amplified Junhui’s enraged storm of cursing as his companion’s body went limp, her eyes stained with not even a smidgen of regret. If there was any regret at all, it was that she couldn’t have killed you herself. Hope began trickling back into your body, and, taking advantage of Junhui’s distracted vacancy, you attempted to give him a swift kick.

And yet that thought was a mistake in itself. Junhui lost his composure, his sophistication.

Your struggling only encouraged the anger spilling inside him, prompted him to uncover a blade that was hidden inside his coat, its silver gleam reflecting off your eyes for a millisecond before you felt its sharp edge nuzzle into your skin, somewhere around your stomach. A surge so violent and unbridled soared through your body, forced you to lean over the blade where your eyes soaked up the unholy sight of Junhui’s knuckles pale as snowflakes wrapped around the handle. You spluttered out nothing but air, watched as dark liquid began seeping from the wound and wetting your shirt.

Junhui took it upon himself to slowly, ever so slowly, extract the knife from its crevice, his teeth grinding together as just the point remained in your flesh. Then, he dug the blade back in through its opening, giving the weapon a slight twist. 

When Mingyu had risen from Yeeun’s corpse and tore Junhui away from you, a silent sob wobbled off your lips. At some point that your mind was too fogged to remember, you were sitting, slumped against the wall as thick, grey storm clouds crowded the night sky. When you could no longer find solace amongst the stars, your gaze flitted across the alleyway, to where Junhui and Mingyu were a vicious tangle of limbs that punched and kicked and pulled. It reminded you of the party, the stupid party that had somehow preluded your path to cross with Mingyu’s. They were shouting at one another, at war for Junhui’s knife that kept slipping from their grasps like butter.

Wincing, you stretched an arm to fold over your stomach, attempting to apply even the meekest amount of pressure to your wound. Your brow furrowed when something hard nudged against your arm, a harsh weight that seemed to sit inside your jacket.

Well, it wasn’t your jacket, it was Mingyu’s.

Chewing down on the inside of your mouth, you ignored the pain that cut through your every nerve and fought to wind your hand within the jacket, fingers poking and shuffling around until they brushed the pocket stitched to the inside. Despite your battered condition, you nearly yelped when you gripped the handgun, the same gun that you’d used to practice your aim in the fields. There was not a moment to squander, nor a moment to think. Your whole body screamed as you drew the weapon from its pouch, fingers slippery with blood as you fought to turn the safety off.

Your entire arm shook like a brittle leaf in mid-autumn, yet you still held the gun forth, your head banging, your vision blurred, bile pushing and stinging against your throat. Junhui had Mingyu pinned to the grit, his boot heavy on Mingyu’s wrist. Raised in the air was the knife, stained with red globs of your blood. It was just like the party, except it wasn’t a tiny glass shard sealed between Junhui’s fingers. It was a literal hacking device. There was nothing you could do to stop your arm from shaking. You had no more ammunition apart from the bullet left in the gun.

What if I miss, what if I miss Junhui and hit Mingyu? What if I hit Junhui but it isn’t enough to stop him? I don’t think I can do this. I can’t I can’t I can’t—

“So,” Junhui barked, his vocal chords strained and hoarse, “where’s your little guardian angel now, huh? If it weren’t for your girlfriend fucking getting in the way two years ago, you would have had it, Mingyu. But now there’s no one to save you. You don’t know how long I’ve been waiting for this moment. Finally, I’m entitled to purge how I’ve always wanted.”

The tears finally erupted from their ducts, streaming down your dusted cheeks and dripping at your chin. You felt like a child, a blubbering infant.

But it wasn’t worth it to lose Mingyu.

You weren’t entirely sure what happened when you sucked back the distracting binds of your self-doubt and clamped the trigger down. It didn’t register that the bullet had struck Junhui’s head until his body collapsed off of Mingyu’s lap, lying lax on the pebbles like a sack of flour. It didn’t register that you had saved Mingyu’s life until the first few cold splashes of rain thumped against your forehead, dampened your lashes, and trickled along your scuffed flesh. The gun dropped from your fingers and the whole world went black.

The next time you awoke, you were faced with a pair of glimmering, penny eyes that rapidly blinked, tiny crinkles mapping along wet, amber skin. An instant pain jolted into your gut when you attempted to fidget, and a whine nearly tore itself from between your cracked lips.

“Don’t try to move,” you heard a rough voice, “stay still as best you can.”

“Mingyu?” You croaked, reaching upward to stroke his cheek. 

His fingers coiled gently around your wrist, bringing the scars that were carved like ancient hieroglyphics to his lips. The second he pressed kisses to the old wounds, you smiled.

“You have no idea how happy I am to see you awake,” he rasped, his eyes soft, gleeful, “you fucking saved me, y’know? It’s because of you I’m still here, still breathing. All because of you.”

Your face scrunched in confusion.

“Wait… So, I’m not… dreaming?” 

Despite Mingyu’s earlier advisement to stay still, you forced your body upward, though you faced immediate repercussions as a jarring bolt struck you in the stomach. Mingyu attempted to make you relax once more, but you refused to listen to his cooing. Distant thunder rolled in the distance, and you could see a pale glow beaming behind the flossy clouds that shielded the sky. Seven o’clock was probably on the brink of arrival. You were still in the alleyway. Casting a glance toward your new wounds, you noticed that Mingyu had wrapped his jacket tightly around your waist.

“Now would be a good time for lots of gauze, right?” You smiled.

Mingyu settled his palm delicately at the back of your neck and pushed your lips together, a smile slowly dancing along his mouth as he felt your fingers thread through his locks. Just like Mingyu had predicted, a misty rainfall was spraying from the early morning sky, infinitesimal droplets of glass sitting upon his skin as though he were a springtime rose. You kissed his lips again, and again, and again, until the pain in your stomach became too much of a distraction and your head was falling to the crook of his neck. Stealing a glance around the alleyway, you couldn’t help but notice that Junhui and Yeeun’s bodies had been laid beside each other.

You thought about what Wonwoo had said.

Maybe where you’re going is different than where I’m about to go. One of life’s many mysteries, right?

Well, at least Junhui and Yeeun would share an eternal fate in the one place they truly belonged, and it wasn’t exactly a mystery where that place was either.

“Mingyu,” you reached for his shirt and gave it a small tug.

He peered down at you through the fanned arch of his lashes.

“Are you still in a lot of pain, baby? I wish I could take it all away from you. I’m sure the medical services will be here soon, I promi—“

“I love you.”

Mingyu stuttered over the humid air. “O-Oh – I, um, I – I love you too… But, I think you already knew that.”

A molten blush crawled up from the column of his neck and flushed throughout his face akin to a raspberry burn. Though it ached to giggle, you couldn’t evade in doing so, your eyes turned to crescent moons as more golden splashes of dawn light ebbed through the clouds. Somewhere in the distance, you no longer heard gunshots, incoherent slurs, riots and the skid of tires creating friction against pavement. You heard the whirr of emergency sirens and helicopter wings, medical services beginning to flood throughout the city like a creek. It was over. Mingyu was still tangible, warm, smiling whilst he pressed kisses against your forehead.

You don’t know how, but you survived the chaos, you survived Wonwoo and his ludic friend, Jihoon. You survived Yeeun and you survived Junhui.

You survived the Purge together.

✎ a/n: ugh. this is just one of those fics where you become v attached to the characters. i was able to write this quicker than expected (MINUS THE STUPID TWIST THAT STUMPED ME) bc i was truly invested in the plot, and i rly adored every moment of it. actually, this fic was supposed to be posted ages ago, i think last year? but last year was terrible in terms of my health and wellbeing, so i kinda forgot this fic existed as i went on my hiatus. anywho, in my opinion, the first purge film was the best.

i haven’t watched any of the newer purge movies tho, so they could be good! since im a horror/thriller fan, i liked the aspect of vulnerability the purge brought and how it forced ppl to invest in their capacity for violence, especially when the ppl they loved were involved. obviously - only for the fic lmao. bruh, during a real purge i am going to lock myself in the crawl space with a blanket and some cheerios. ALSO!!!! A HAPPY ENDING!!!!!! be proud of me!!!! this was an adventure!!! i hope you can enjoy the story as much as i!! hearing ur thots is appreciated as always!

[evielallemxnt]

"There are T W O types of secrets: those we hide from others ─ and those we hide from OURSELVES."

have you seen GENEVIEVE 'EVIE' LALLEMENT strolling around central park at lunchtime? rumor has it they’re actually A HUNDRED AND THIRTY-FIVE years old, but i’m pretty sure they’re only TWENTY. they’re currently posing as a PRIVATE INVESTIGATOR at LALLEMENT LAW, but when dusk falls, you can usually find them heading home to MANHATTAN by TOWN CAR. apparently they DID attend the met gala this season! @duskintro

* / CHARACTER INFLUENCES: Jake Peralta ( Brooklyn 99 ) + Veronica Mars ( Veronica Mars ) + Nancy Drew ( Nancy Drew ) + Claudia ( Interview With The Vampire ) + Rebekah Mikaelson ( The Originals )

* / ANTHEMS: PRETTY SAVAGE | YOU MADE A MONSTER | 7 RINGS

*** PENNED BY BRI FOR DUSKFELLHQ ***

FULL NAME: GENEVIEVE "EVIE" LALLEMENT

FACECLAIM: Savannah Lee Smith

AGE: 20 ( estimated @ time of changing ) physically | 135 mentally

SEXUALITY: Lesbian

PRONOUNS: She/her

POSITIVE: Intelligent, charming, loyal, brave.

NEUTRAL: Spontaneous, trustworthy, daring, cocky

NEGATIVE: Impulsive, self-destructive, snide, and Machiavellian.

ELEMENT: Fire.

MBTI TYPE: ENFJ.

MORAL ALIGNMENT: Chaotic neutral.

HOGWARTS HOUSE: Slytherin

AESTHETIC: Breakfast at Tiffany's, fine tailoring, diamonds and pearls and rubies, late-night bubble baths with red sangria, Chanel No.5, bubbly stocked fridge, penthouse parties, drinks @ The Blond, exclusive social club, wigs and disguises, sly smiles, bad decisions, midnight sleuthing, gossiping until dawn, closets filled with Birkins, eyes that hold secrets, smudged lip gloss, devilish temptations

TW: Death, dying, blood

* / BIOGRAPHY: The history of Genevieve Lallement is a tricky one. If you ask her, she became a creature of the night in some whirlwind fashioned tale filled with love, betrayal, and sacrifice -- all the makings of a heart-clenching closed shut story. But the reality? That's much more of a mystery.

Her genesis is one filled with darkness. No memories. No family. No nothing. The only solace coming in the form of her sire -- Cassius. He saved her from a fever that took many in late 19th century England and told her as much as he knew. That he had found her bedridden and sickly in a run-down isolation ward where patients were sent to die more than to be cured. Apparently, she had reminded him of a sister he’d once lost and he acted on an inner impulse to save an innocent. The staff had told him that she had admitted herself under what they proved to be an alias, so there was no way to notify family or even prove she existed.

She was a ghost. Alone in the world. And dying.

So, he gave her new life. Eternal life.

When she’d awakened from the transition, the ripe young vampire found herself unable to remember, well... anything. It was as if the transformation erased everything human about her, wiped her slate clean as she re-entered the world as someone else. Something else. Cassius said that vampirism isn’t a perfected process. There are some ailments that the immortal blood which now ran through her veins can’t heal. By the time he’d found her, her mind had already been overcome with the sickness that was moments away from snuffing her out completely. To drag her back from the depths of near-death, she had to lose some parts of herself along the way. There were some upsides, though. She clung to Cassius like a newborn, and he grew to coddle her as if she were his own. Being inducted into the Lallement family allowed her to see a world that was previously unattainable as a mortal having had come from the dregs of England. He’d brought her to New York at the turn of the century, and it was a sight to behold as she realized…this was HOME.

As the decades passed, the new Lallement glided through life. The adjustment to vampirism wasn’t as hard as it probably was for others. Sure, she had her hiccups, but it was almost as if the lack of memories helped. There was no other way of living for her to remember or to acclimate from. In some ways, there was no true loss. Her new family filled the voids ( even helped her pick out a new name ‘GENEVIEVE” ) showered her with endless love ─ and the bloodlust helped pick up the slack. For a while. As an immortal, it is easy to become distracted by the power, privilege, and play that is now bestowed upon you. But eventually, the semblance of loneliness and eternity creep in. For Evie, it was plaguing thoughts of the unknown that haunted her. Did she have a family when Cas took her away? Did they look for her? Mourn her? Soon all she could think of was the possibility that they somehow survived the plague and managed to continue on. This led her to try to trace their footsteps back to the town Cassius found her in to look for anything, any semblance of a clue that pointed to her previous human existence. Only for Evie to be faced with the harsh reality that the one hospital in town, the very town she’d believed herself to have been raised in, had burned down not long after they’d fled. Along with the patient records. Any possibility of tracing back her roots had been destroyed in a reckless accident and something in Evie c r a c k ed. Never again to be fully healed.

But if anything, she’s a survivor. Evie turned her sadness into something productive, going on to study criminology and criminal justice in the ’70s and '80s, along with a myriad of other majors she probably got too distracted to finish. Evie figured, if she couldn’t figure out the mystery of her own life, then the least she could do is help others figure out the mysteries in theirs. Becoming a private investigator sort of just happened, but it soon became her life’s joy. Piecing things together, going on recon missions, and doling out the truth was something that Evie not only excelled at but truly found fulfilling. At least ─ during the day. When the sun goes down, she resorts back to her party-girl ways, needing to find some sort of entertainment as a method to keep herself distracted. Because, you see, the only thing Evie hates most in the world is being by her lonesome. It leaves time for that inner sadness and loss to come creeping back in, to remind her that there’s nothing in the world to truly call her own. That the Lallement name is a placeholder for the truth. And that’s the one truth she cannot face.

So, she parties, boozes, pushes the limit because she has none, and there is always a need for M O R E. Because boredom is never on the menu. And when the town car arrives eventually to take her back to Manhattan, merely a few hours before she must be up for work, Evie revels in the few minutes of silence and thinks ─

‘Another day down. Only an eternity to go.’

* / PERSONALITY: Evie is, more than anything, fun. She likes to have a good time and to look good while doing it. Sure, her deviousness occasionally gets her into more trouble than intended, and in some ways, her childlike need to be paid attention to can be exhausting to people, but she is not all play. Evie truly enjoys being an investigator and will isolate herself for days, weeks even, if that means cracking a case. Her job and lifestyle have been carefully cultivated to always keep her busy so the facade can stick. No one knows about her growing concerns with the idea of unlimited time or the feeling of wanting a connection with someone -- anyone. Evie doesn't really give into supernatural politics or bias, and her ruthless side only comes out when hangry or when you threaten someone she loves. Then it's all-out chaos.

* / FUN FACTS:

She's gone to college several times and has studied many things but only holds a degree in Criminology and Interior Design

Currently paying a witch to figure out a way for vampires to get tattoos

Obsessed with all things horror and true crime

Officially identified as a lesbian in the late '60s

Has two poodles named Khaleesi and Drogon

Manhattan PD knows her by name

* / WANTED CONNECTIONS:

SCOOBY GANG/HARDY BOYS/7 RINGS - These are her people, her confidantes, her ride or dies. Can be supernatural or human, mortal or immortal. Whether they met decades ago or the night before, tipsy, in the Cosmopolitan bathrooms, they instantly clicked and have been loyal to each other ever since.

ROOMMATE(S) - Evie lives in one of the many ritzy buildings Manhattan has to offer. While having an entire floor to yourself has its benefits, it can feel quite isolating. So, the vampire opened up her doors to allow in some roommates -- free of charge!

ASSISTANT - As a private investigator, sometimes certain cases can become quite tedious. While her work rarely ventures away from mild cases Cassius needs help with, Evie does also take cases from anyone who needs help. Keeping everything organized, going with her on recon, and even offering their own input and theories is what they provide for her.

PLAYTHING - Now Evie isn't evil, she doesn't play with people's emotions ( at least not intentionally ) but she does indulge in the power and influence that comes with vampirism. Not only would this person be someone to go to for the occasional midnight snack ( where they're the snack sowz ), Evie would also indulge in their life. Making sure they're well taken care of, listening to the things they're going through, and being there for them whenever they need her.

FOES/ENEMIES - When you live forever you might make an enemy or three. Evie has ruffled a few feathers over the past century, that's for sure, and she has no problem continually poking the bear if she finds herself bored enough to do so.

also: literally anything else pls plot with me i'll send you kit kats and a coupon for a free taco.

[razorblade180]

Twin Snowflakes part 25: Date Night pt2

Atlas, city of dreams. It was a name post people overlooked and even more scoffed at. Still, it was a little hard not to believe the title from the way it looked; especially with the hundreds of lights illuminating the snow covered city. Veronica was no stranger to Atlas at night but she still couldn’t help but marvel at the sights passing by her window. They were almost as charming as the boy sitting next to her in the backseat, almost. Her mind still couldn’t believe this was happening. Veronica was going on a dinner date with Nick. How did that happen!? Well...she knew how it happened but it was still crazy! The situation wasn’t ideal but Veronica wasn’t exactly upset about it. Not in the way she had shown earlier. Veronica simply wished this event happened as a result of her efforts more than Valerie’s mistakes. Then again, all’s fair in love and war. If Valerie was going to be childish enough to hurt Nick, then that was all the more reason for Veronica not to pull her punches in winning him over. Not that she ever did, for the most part.

She looked over at Nick to see him sinking into his seat, eyes closed and body relaxed. “He must be more exhausted than he let on. She thought, listening to his breathing. He must’ve sensed Veronica’s gaze on him because his eyes opened seconds later. He caught the girl off guard by turning to her and smiling gently.

“Something on my face?” He asked.

His voice was a little deeper than before because of his short rest. The change made Veronica a little timid. “Uhh no. Hehe, your face is fine!” She uttered terribly. A snicker from Winter upfront made Veronica turn a little red. Her ears fell down as she realized how dumb that sounded. “I mean there’s nothing on it. That’s what I…yeah.” She really wanted to stop talking.

Nick sat up straight and rubbed his eyes. “Sorry I drifted a bit. I took a nap when I got home but I guess I was a little more spent than I realized.”

“No worries. A smooth ride puts me to sleep all the time. If you don’t mind me asking, where did you go? Back at the manor your mom said you went to go talk to someone?”

“Oh, that…” he looked in the rear view mirror to look at Winter, who looked back at with a smile.

“The lady asked you a question. Don’t mind me. It honestly isn’t as big of a deal as you think Nicholas. No need to tiptoe around it with your mother, uncle, and I. We’re adults after all.”

“I know. I just...I don’t know, feel a little guilty if I wasn’t careful about it.”

“You are just fine.” Winter reassured him. “To answer your question Veronica, Nicholas likes to visit his grandparents' graves to pay respects and ponder.”

Her ears perked up. This was news to her. Well, not entirely. She had known Nick liked to pray. He’s done it for as long as she could remember. Anytime things were rough or really important, Nicholas could be found giving a small payer. It was only later did she put together that the habit must’ve been formed during his sister’s time in the hospital. Though not religious in the slightest, Veronica could understand praying in a situation like that, but for his grandparents…?

“That’s a little strange, considering you never met either and one of them wasn’t exactly…” She wanted to pick her words carefully but it was hard not to call Jacques a piece of shit. “Let’s just call your grandfather a not so good influence.”

“Heh, that’s certainly putting it lightly.” Nick chuckled, “I guess I do it because...I’m a hit afraid. For me, I can’t imagine anything worse than passing away and the people left behind, the world, it just forgets about you; as if you had no impact on life. I wouldn’t wish that fate on even my enemies. Also, my grandfather’s wrongdoings in a weird way made my mom the person she’d be to have me and Summer.” He smiled at his own weird logic. “Gotta at least be thankful for that, right?”

His reasonings were flawed in some manner but completely understandable to Veronica. “Same rules apply to your grandmother?”

“More or less. I know it’s a little odd.”

“Yeah but it’s also very much a thing you’d do. Always trying to bring someone peace, it’s like your day job at this point.”

Nick shrugged. “Can’t argue with that.”

Winter began pulling over to the curbside, finally reaching their destination. A well known set down restaurant called Blended, known for its many different cuisines that specialized in ingredients that involved purée styled cooking; hence the name. Winter watched Nick get out of the car to escort Veronica, only for the girl to playfully roll her eyes as she got out of the car by herself.

“Well at least she’s consistent with her spunky attitude.” Winter thought, actually approving of the act. “You two be safe. Nick, don’t give your mother a heart attack.”

“How would I? This is just dinner, not a battlefield.”

“Knowing you, anything could happen.” She gave a little smirk before leaving them to ponder that diss.

Nick was both flattered and insulted. “Anyways…” he held his arm out which Veronica happily grabbed. The two went off to make their reservation. Tonight was going to be nice. Like Nick said, it’s just dinner. What could happen? The inside of the restaurant blew Veronica away. Elegant marble tile, pearl white cloths over the table, mood lighting,crystal chandeliers scattered about like if they were as cheap as lightbulbs, and the most divine scents imaginable. They had only entered the front door and yet her nose could pick out an array of ingredients in the kitchen. Veronica hadn’t seen the menu but she already knew there was gonna be a steak in front of her before this night was over.

“You know my opinion of Atlas might actually go up depending on this food?”

Nick chuckled at her comment and went towards the counter where a blonde woman in a waitress outfit stood at the ready. “Hello. Schnee, reservation for two. The usual spot please.”

“Why of course Mr. Sch-” the waitresses eyes quickly caught attention to Nicholas’s plus one. “Umm, Mr.Schnee? You know we actually may have a table on the private upper level if you like?” She said with a smile, maintaining eye contact with him.

“No thank you. Too close to the smoking area. I’ll take my normal table, the one by the window.” He said calmly. Nick took a moment to look at her name tag. He hadn’t seen this one before. “Sophia, that’s a nice name.”

Worry crept up on the corners of the waitress’s smile. “If smoke is the issue then may I recommend-”

“Sophia.” He said again. “Is there a reason in particular that I can’t have my window seat?”

“Well...it’s...just….” she fidgeted her hands, doing her best to not look at Veronica and cause a scene. “.....Right this way sir.” Sophia grabbed two menus and quickly went to lead them before Veronica put a hand on the menus. “M-Ma’am?” She stuttered.

Veronica wanted a good look at her but the waitress would barely meet her eyes. All Veronica could get was a side glance and a worked up heartbeat. “Nick, what do you usually drink?”

“Uhhh apple cider?”

Veronica took the menus out of Sophia’s hands. “Cool. Sophia, he’ll have that and I’d like water. Seeing how it’s a usual spot we’re going, Nick could just lead me himself. Thank you. Nick, if you would?” Veronica said, grabbing his arm.

“Okaaaay?” Nick didn’t question her orders. He grabbed the menus from her and walked through the restaurant. It was past the time most ate, but several clanging plates nearby told him there were a few late customers; about three people every five tables or so. Seeing them was easy even with dim lighting, but that also meant they saw him. A few looked up before continuing their meals while others stared for a couple seconds, forcing him to awkwardly wave as he went by.

“Sorry, usually it’s emptier by now. I come at this time to avoid drawing attention of people who always got a thing or too to say about the Schnees”

“Or the company they keep…” Veronica added. Their table was on the right side a little more than half way towards the back, right next to a window that showed the snowy streets and dazzling lights. A real winter wonderland sight. No wonder Nick liked this spot. She finally sat down. “By any chance do you know the owner of the restaurant?”

“Dyle, what about him?” He opened his menu and began reading.

“That waitress felt like she was on the verge of a panic attack. She really didn’t want us sitting here too. Care to guess why?” Veronica reached over and pressed the menu down with a finger, making sure that Nick saw her ears wiggle. “This is why I wanted a bow.”

“Point taken, but I remember saying screw anyway that has a problem with you. I’ve never known Dyle to have a problem with faunus by the way.”

“Was that because he showed that he didn’t or because you just weren’t paying attention?” Vee noticed the waitress walk over. Sophia once again avoided her gaze, in favor of Nick’s. She also made sure to place Veronica’s water on the table but handed the cider to Nick directly.

“Ready to order?” She asked.

Nick had noticed the treatment of the drinks and had been aware of the eye contact. He only wanted a little time to think about everything as a whole. He didn’t have Veronica’s hearing but he did notice the paleness of her skin. “Are you well?”

“H-Huh?”

“You’re pale. Sick, or spooked by anything?”

“Oh, I’m fine…” The woman fidgeted. “Excuse me, I’ll be right back.” Sophia quickly left the table.

At the same time, Veronica took a sip of Nick’s cider. “Well at least this place has good drinks. Be sure to ask for a second. I’d ask myself but you know, playing things safe around our jumpy friend.”

“Yeah….” Nick flipped through another page. “So there’s either one of two things happening right now. One, our waitress is scared of you, or-”

“A certain somebody wouldn’t want her serving us. Me, is what I should actually say. Gee, I wonder who?”

Nick couldn’t deny this was odd. “Again, point taken. However, it would be weird how many times Dyle has served my family, who actively promotes faunus rights. We’ve held meetings with your mother here before and other faunus.”

Vee always loved Nick’s simple logic, but boy was it not doing him any favors tonight. “Lesson time, my dear knight. I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt of you not thinking critically with how tired you are at the moment.” Vee propped her arm on the table and rested her head in her palm. “We aren’t our parents. We’re just their brats. Adults know better than to pick on the pups when they’re around their source of income. Also, how many of those meetings were in perfect view from the street?”

Nick paused for a moment, then looked at the view. “.....None.” He closed his eyes, mentally kicking himself. “They’re up top and away from prying eyes.

“Out of sight, out of mind. Out of the way of any potential customers who may think twice of entering. Translation, private seating is a sweet way of saying it’s embarrassing to have you front and center.”

“Veronica, I didn’t-”

“Mr. Schnee!” A jolly voice called.

The teens looked to the side to see a husky redheaded man in a chef’s uniform and a hat as big as his handlebar mustache.

“Dyle.” Nick said, noticing Sophia turning ghost white a few feet behind him.

“How is the young heir on this fine night!? Craving our pastries again I bet! Oh ho ho ho!” The man patted his stomach at his one witty remark. His olive colored eyes shifted to Veronica. “My, my, where are my manners!? I’m Head Chef Dyle! Clearly Nicholas forgot his manners too for not introducing his partner in crime this lovely night. Though I guess there’s little need whenever you have credibility among the higher class? That and those lilac eyes, I’ve served a few times in the form of one fiery huntress who loves my steak! I assume your-”

“Yes, I’m her kid. To what do we owe the pleasure of the head chef himself coming to greet us?” Veronica said, hiding her attitude with fake jolliness.

“One of my little worker bees had told me one of my favorite customers was here yet again. Imagine my surprise to see him without his typical plus one. I tell you, that Valerie sure can eat until I feel a hole in my wallet! Ho! Ho! Ha! I crack myself up. Have you met her.”

“Occasionally. Sports art my thing. More of a cooking contest watcher myself. When I realized I get to try your steak I nearly jumped for joy!”

“Why thank you! Nicholas my boy, you sure bring a surprise each and every time, but you should know better. A table in the back near this drafty window at this time of year, and at night! Up your game. I’d be more than happy to let you two enjoy the comfiest seat in the building. Nothing sets the tone like the second floor. I can get you a private table right this second!”

If that wasn’t a slap in the face, then Nick didn’t know what was. Has this really gone over his head? Nick wanted to believe this was a classic case of misunderstanding, yet that felt inn accurate the longer Veronica looked at him. There was no anger, only a reserved look that poorly hid the fact she was uncomfortable. Nick stopped feeling sorry for himself, choosing to do what his family did best; put on the face that commanded respect. The face of Atlas’s most powerful family.

“Dyle?” Nick spoke, dragging out the chef’s name like a sigh of boredom. Nick focused one the menu in his hands while giving the man an occasional glance with only his eyes. “Do you know why I come here? I’ll give you a hint.” He tapped on the window.

“The...view-”

“Nope.” Nick said firmly, closing his menu. “It’s the view and the respect I believed this place had for its customers. All of its customers, but tonight is making me think I believed wrong. You’ve never been this insistent whenever Valerie and I ate here. I gotta say I’m a bit concerned. Between your behavior and our waitress, I can’t help but feel like this has everything to do with my lovely date and her perfect features.”

“Perfect.” Veronica thought, bashfully folding her ears.

“Dyle, am I correct to reevaluate my beliefs in this restaurant. No lying now. I want your honest answer.”

The jolly man wasn’t feeling so jolly anymore. Dyle’s smile turned into grimace teeth and panicked eyes. “N-No! it’s just...just!” He looked around and through the window for any watchful eyes. “It’s business. Your family should understand th-”

“My family is no longer in the business of just caring about good business. Fail to understand that and you won’t have to worry about yours.” Nick stood up and finally looked at the giant of a man as best he could. He could see it, the resentment and frustration building within the chef. By all means who wouldn’t be upset when against a member of the most dangerous family name, blatantly throwing power around like if it actually earned. Nick understood the look. If Whitley taught him anything, it was that look does nothing but keep the hate alive. Flex power, but wield it generously.

“Dyle, I will choose to believe you are in fact a good man.”

“W-What?” He said, caught off guard by the tone shift.

“If this is strictly business then we’ll treat it like so. Now there isn’t any scenario where I don’t get what I want, but I’m more than happy to get what we all want. The first thing is you apologizing to Veronica. After that you will tell all your staff to refrain from enforcing whatever faunus rules you have given them; followed by creating the best steaks you can ever create for this table. Your work won’t be done though. I do expect a dessert that will blow our mind. It is only after creating such a grand meal with your hands that you can rest easy knowing that it will have a fairly generous contribution to its stability. Indefinitely.”

“You’re...going to invest here?”

Nick sat back down. “That depends on you. A pretty decent offer I’d say. Equality and a good meal in an exchange for financial stability. Is that good with you Veronica?”

“Hmmmm, I say we should sweeten our pot. An easy fix with an official change in this place's mission statement as a public service. One that states on paper that this restaurant is for all. This isn’t a compromise.”

Nick smiled. “You heard the lady. Is it a deal?”

Dyle stood, confused by the offer. By all means it was not expected or heard of. “So this is how a Schnee conducts business now?”

“This is how I do business.”

“Hmph! Then I guess it’s fortunate you have deep enough pockets to back it up.” The man removed his chef’s hat and bowed. “Please excuse my blatant disrespect, Mrs. Belladonna.”

“Apology not accepted, but a deal is a deal and who am I to not capitalize on it for my people? Just keep your end of the bargain and I’m satisfied.”

“Ma’am.” Dyle rose from his bow, swiftly exiting to the kitchen. Veronica took a sigh of relief. Finally the man was gone. Any longer and she would’ve said something worth being glared at.

“Sorry about all of this.” Nick said with a guilty look. “Didn’t expect this level of confrontation tonight. Here I was thinking I was taking you to a stress free spot in Atlas.”

“I don’t see why you’re apologizing. After all, you are the one who told me not to hide my ears. Screw what others think, remember?” Veronica gave him a comforting smile before getting another sip of his cider. “The occasional loudmouth or prejudiced jerk is nothing new. Still… thanks for sticking up for me. It’s usually me being the mouthpiece for others or myself. It’s nice not taking the lead.”

Nick propped his head up on his right hand “Glad to be of service.”

“I can see that. How’d you know the waitress was being forced and not racist herself?”

“I’ve never met my grandfather, but his handy work I’m too familiar with.” Nick said, staring out the window.

Veronica could tell she had walked onto a sensitive subject. Between him trying to avoid talking about the grave in front of his family, it was easy to understand what he meant. She wouldn’t press the issue any further. Now wasn’t the time to get heavy. “You know if you keep looking out the window like that, I might just faint from your handsomeness.”

Nick’s face turned red. He whipped his head around to see his date smirking at him. “Oh why you gotta tease me like that!? It’s embarrassing.”

Veronica could only giggle as the flustered boy did his best to hide his face. “That’s more like it. Just keep smiling for me. That’s all I need.”

xxxxx

While a dinner date had begun in the city, a house breakout had started half an hour later. Schnee Manor had gone quiet. Dinner had ended long ago and all adults had retired to their room. Summer couldn’t ask for more. The young huntress in training double checked her supplies before making the great escape. Black wig? check. Favorite pair of ripped jeans with a nice leather jacket; check and check. She put her guitar case on her back and looked in the mirror.

“And mom said no good would come from mentioning Bleiss? Well...I am sneaking out, so I guess she had a point.” Summer left her room and began carefully walking through the halls with her boots in hand. Can’t be too careful. Even the finest houses can creak. Thanks to Nick being out, the alarm wasn’t on. Escaping would be cake walk. All she had to do was pick an exit that wouldn’t be seen or heard. Pesky cameras and windows made that a bit more of a challenge.

“Mom and dad and probably still catching up with Blake and Yang, so I should probably leave through the-”

“Beautiful night for an escape.”

Summer whipped her head around to see Blake looking at her, arms folded and smiling. Summer’s face went pale. “Es-Escape!? Me!? No...I was just….”

Blake raised her eyebrow. “Just…?”

“Esssscaping- yeah I was escaping.” Summer held her head down in defeat. She really needed to get better under pressure. “How did you know?”

“I heard the sound of glyphs earlier when you said you were eating. Multiple glyphs, launching something outside and around the house. You know it might’ve been less suspicious if you decided to grab whatever you needed, and haul it back to your room normally? No way Yang or I would know if it’s out of the ordinary.”

“Hindsight isn’t always 20/20. Plus I like plans. This one appears to be a bust though.”

“Not exactly. I won’t tell if you won’t.” Blake winked.

Summer’s eyes went wide. “Wait, what? You’re okay with me sneaking out.”

“It won’t earn me any warm feelings with Weiss but it’s clear to everyone in and out of this house that you need an outlet. I do have some conditions however.”

Summer squinted. Now she knew where Veronica got her deal making skills from. “I’m listening.”

“First, cut your parents some slack and go to school every day until after the tournament. I heard you’ll fail otherwise.”

“Ugh, why does everyone want me to- okay, fine. I was planning on it anyway. Next one?”

“Please try and be Veronica’s friend.”

“I’m sorry, did you ask me the impossible?” Summer said, making Blake frown. “What!? It’s the truth. Friendship is a two way street and both lanes are closed.

“Listen, I know my daughter hasn’t been the nicest to you, and I know what I’m asking is completely selfish. However, I’m asking anyway. Maybe if she had actual friends to open up to, then things wouldn’t be so bad for her.” Blake sighed.

“Are you trying to tell me Mrs. Fashion designer with perfect skin doesn’t have a line of people trying to rub elbows with her?”

“Hehe, you’d be surprised… Besides, I figured you would know first hand people like that aren’t exactly friend material, Mrs. Teen Idol.”

Summer bit her lip. “Fair point, got me there.” She folded her arms and began tapping her foot. Blake meant well, but it really felt like she was asking Summer to move a mountain. Especially after the forest incident. “Really twisting my arm here.”

“Could you at least make a strong attempt? You both will be spending more time together after all.”

“Hmmm, fine.”

Blake squinted, “Strong attempt, Summer.”

“I heard you.” Summer turned her head away like the snooty rich girl regular folk saw her as. “Is that all?”

“One more thing.” Blake walked up to the young girl and placed her hands on Summer’s shoulders. “Never forget you’re not alone.”

“.....Yes ma’am. Thanks, I mean it.”

Blake rubbed Summer’s head. She’s grown since the last time they met, yet still oh so small. Not to mention a bit frail. Summer may have looked like her mother but Blake could see how much more gentle she was in comparison. Not that Weiss wasn’t a softie in her own right, but she also had an uncompromising defiance. Blake didn’t see that in Summer. Her defiance by all means could be compromised. With any luck and help, it wouldn’t be. “Okay, I’ve held you hostage long enough. Have fun and be safe. I’ll feel guilty otherwise.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll be at my home away from home. If I don’t get lost in the music then I’ll definitely be back before midnight.”

“And if you do get lost in the music?”

“Make sure the bathroom window in the third hall downstairs is unlocked. Sneaking is easier at ground level. Bye now.”

Summer gave Blake a hug then rushed off out of sight. Blake couldn’t help but sigh. “Oh boy, maybe I’m the softie?”

xxxx

“Nick?”

“H-huh!?” The boy shook himself out of his daze. Veronica chewed another slice of steak while giving Nick a look of concern. Nick quickly tried to snap back to reality. “Something wrong with steak?”

“Oh something is definitely wrong, but not with the steak.” Veronica took a sip of her third cup of cider. “Maybe you can tell me what’s wrong? Nick you’ve been spacing out more and more ever since we got our entrees. Is a twin thing happening that I’m not aware of?”

“What? Oh, no, no it’s nothing like that. Sorry I’m just more out of it than I thought tonight.

Veronica nodded. “I see. Well… I guess that’s what happens when your crush hurts your feelings.” She watched Nick’s face turn from shock to guilt in no time at all. “You know it’s fine to talk about it right?”

“No it’s not. This is supposed to be a date and what kind of jerk complains about relationship stuff in front of somebody who has feelings for them? It’s not exactly dating etiquette.”

“Oh absolutely. Just thinking about another woman while there’s one in front of you is a real low blow. Frankly I am a bit bruised by it.”

“That’s why-” his words were silenced by the sweet taste of steak Veronica placed in his mouth.

“Let me finish while you chew on that, kay? Yeah my poor little pride is a bit bruised, but it’s not like I don’t already know where I stand when it comes to Valerie; much like how I know you’ve been doing well to try and set that aside. However, I’m here to tell you that’s flawed thinking. At least when you’re dealing with me. I’d much rather you talk about it with me than mentally check out whenever we’re together. So seeing how this dinner date is already far from conventional, let’s not beat around the bush a talk about the girl on your mind.”

Even though she was clearly being nice, Nick couldn’t help but feel like even more of a jerk! “It’s- it’s okay, really. We don’t have to make a big deal out of-”

“Ten minutes.”

“Huh?”

Veronica pulled out her scroll and set a timer. “It was your bright idea to have a ten minute unfiltered grace period between us. I’m calling in your ten minutes sucker. Deny it and I’ll never agree to doing it like you want.” She hit the timer. “Now spill your guts.”

His own system, used against him. Nick wasn’t sure if he should be happy Veronica remembered it, or upset. “Well played. Fine I’ll talk. Yes, Valerie has me lost in thought.”

“About what?”

“About a lot of things.”

“Nah uh, it’s something specific that has you upset. Might as well come clean now.”

“You’re really not gonna make this easy huh?”

“Nope! Tough love is tough, now speak.” Veronica smiled.

“Sigh, Val...made it seem like I was embarrassing to be around. That I stick my nose into everything. It’s not just her too. Summer said something similar to me butting in as well. The entire thing has been bugging me. Am I really that annoying to them?” Nick slouched in his chair. “Have been pushing them away?”

Veronica clicked her tongue. He opened up faster than she expected. “While I can’t speak much about you being embarrassing since I don’t think you are by any means; I can totally say you do make it your mission to be a helping hand in every situation. So yeah, you do butt in.”

The waitress came back and Veronica quickly gathered their dirty dishes to give to the actually nice woman. “All that being said, that’s nothing new Nick. You’ve always been like that. I’d say it’s actually one of your better qualities.”

“It is?” He said confused.

“Mmmhmm. I’ve never minded it at the very least. There’s a comfort in knowing there’s a helping hand in your corner. Plus it’s not like you blatantly ignore any request telling you to stop. You did give Valerie space when she asked for it after all. As for your sister, she’s all talk. I can tell just from reviewing footage and our short trip to the forest that Summer is quick to depend on you. If you ask me, she’s more annoyed at herself for that than she is at you.”

“I doubt it. They both gave me that same look of frustration. Especially Valerie. One minute she wants to be included whenever I’m in trouble but the next she’s telling me to take a hike. It’s pissing me off.” Nick rubbed his hand through his hair and let out a sigh. This entire thing felt like a complex math equation he didn’t know how to solve.

Veronica could tell by the look on his face how conflicted this made him. How conflicted Valerie made him. Needless to say, she was a bit envious. “Why do you love her so much?” She asked bluntly.

Nick’s face turned red. “Uhhh what?”

“I’m just trying to understand what makes her special. After all, Nicholas Schnee could have a girlfriend everyday of the week, yet he fawns over one. The same one since kindergarten. It can’t only because you’ve known each other for so long. What makes her special in your eyes?” Veronica knew she was practically asking to get hurt but she had to know. What was it that made Valerie different from her?

“D...Do I really have to answer that? It’s kinda sudden.”

“The clock has five more minutes on it and you have a girl willing to listen to gush over another girl. Money can’t buy you a scenario this sweet. Fess up.”

Nick took a long sip of his cider before taking an even longer breath. It would’ve been nice if he could do this for five minutes straight but that would be asking for too much. The only way out was through.

“It’s not the most complicated reason if you’re wondering. Growing up the way I have has had numerous blessings I won’t begin to look down on. Family, money, influence; all of that has been a joy. That being said, I didn’t really revel in being who I am as a Schnee until maybe four or five years ago. Everything I did or everywhere I went, a person would always watch what I would do. Nick is gonna go far. Oh he’s great at that, perhaps he’ll go pro? That sort of thing. Ice skating was just a hobby at first. I did it because it was relaxing and mom liked skating with me. I never paid attention if I was actually good at the moves I tried.”

“But...the people did?” Veronica asked, receiving a nod.

“I didn’t think much of it. I was only around seven perhaps? It actually made me happy. So what if a few people liked my routine? I was on the ice for fun and happened to win a medal. But then, as I kept on skating, a pressure started to form. More eyes started watching me. Waiting for the next medal, talking my skill up, muttering rumors about the contests I didn’t participate in, shaking their heads at my failures…they weren’t looking at me. Only my achievements and shortcomings. Ice skating stopped being fun, again. Mom was always quick to tell me to never pay them mind and eventually convinced me to take a break from it altogether. I could never skate again and she’d be perfectly fine with that.”

“Of course. She shared that with you as an outlet, not a sport. I think she knows better than anyone how cruel it is to make a child participate in performances just because they’re good at it.”

“Yeah, hehe, she really has the perfect playbook of what not to do with a child. It would be cool if it wasn't also sad. Anyways, the break was well needed. People eventually stopped talking and I skated in private. By then I’ve taken up some early combat stuff. Nothing serious. Fencing, a few things a bit more in the huntsman category but for more of sparring and building blocks of it all. Valerie had taken notice one day and got the biggest smile. Finally we can do some real horse playing! She shouted and cheered. Next thing I knew I was being driven to the gym with a hyperactive twelve year old who may have been a little too eager to hit her best friend.” He chuckled.

“And they say I’m feisty. So what? Did she hit you so hard you thought it was cool?” Veronica teased.

“N-Well it was cool, but that wasn’t the linchpin! We were having fun sparring. I was having fun. Learning how she did and showing me the ropes everyday was a blast, until one day I did something really cool I guess. Cool enough that people noticed; and kept noticing. People started talking again about what this might possibly mean for me and began watching my practices. I remember starting to feel the overwhelming stress build up again. It was frustrating thinking that this thing I do for me was about to be taken for the people again. I wanted to cry on the spot. Next thing I knew, Valerie had gotten on this platform to make herself taller and kindly told everyone that they were interrupting our training. To my surprise, they left. It only hit then that I’ve been so caught up in trying to avoid them or please, that I never once tried telling everyone to leave me alone. I asked Valerie how she could easily tell people that also expect so much from her to leave because they were in way. Why would I ever care about their input? I do what I want for me. They’re just along for the ride. S-”

BZZZ! BZZZ! BZZZ! Ten minutes had finally gone by. Veronica clicked her tongue. She reached to shut her alarm off when Nick reached for her scroll.

“It’s only right to finish a story this far in. Not much left anyways.” Nick shut the alarm off to continue. “As I was saying, Soon after that is when I began getting back into ice skating and really started participating for myself; figuring out my agenda in all things I did. Especially tournaments. That’s the gist of it. Like I said, silly.”

“No, I get. Valerie gave you back your enjoyment of your hobbies. Helped make a new lease on life. How could that not be a big deal? If anything it makes me irritated that you have such nice reasoning.” Veronica poked her lips out in a dramatically pouty way before turning head to the window. “Guess I should’ve figured as much. She did to you what you did for me. No wonder you like her. Still, I’m not phoning things in yet. Especially if those are the words she told you.” Veronica stopped herself from clenching the table cloth. “That hypocrite. Not caring about their input my ass…” Veronica let out a little chuckle. That was certainly informative. “Thank you for your honesty.”

“Yeah don’t thank me yet.” Nick put thirteen minutes on the timer and smiled. “I believe it’s your turn?”

Veronica’s pleased expression quickly turned to panic. “Wait, what!?”

“Why do you like me?” He asked without mercy. The flush on Vee’s cheeks was redder than wine. “Y-You can’t just ask a girl why they like you!”

“Oh but you can ask me about my romantic feelings without question.” Vee nodded shameless.

“Yep that pretty much sums it up. Besides it’s not like I asked about your feelings towards me. That’s embarrassing as hell.” Veronica watched Nick purse his lips and gave her a look that screamed “seriously?” It was enough to make her start combing her fingers through her hair and look at the coconut cream pie slice that the waitress somehow managed to put under her nose without detection. “I...specifics are bothersome to explain. Just understand that...Nick, you’ve…” she could feel her heart pound in her own ears. “You’ve given me a lot of strength, hope actually. In ways I can’t begin to explain. I’m grateful; dare I say blessed.”

Those words truly shocked him. It wasn’t everyday a term like that came from Vee’s lips. “Blessed huh? That’s a big deal coming from a nonbeliever like yourself.”

“And despite knowing that you still tell me how you pray for me. Not that I particularly mind that I’m in your thoughts regularly. Also it’s rude to just straight up say nonbeliever. I have beliefs. Now the feelings associated and to what the beliefs are is a different story. Thank you for the prayers nonetheless though.”

“Maybe one day you’ll pray for me, hehe.”

Veronica smirked. “I doubt any deity would heed the words. I’ll keep the praying business to the faithful.”

“Fair enough.” Nick took a scoop of ice cream off his fudge brownie and looked at the timer. “Seeing how you’re a bit resistant to tell me why you feel the way you do towards me, can you at least be frank with me by telling me why you’re so adamant about not getting along with Valerie or Summer?”

Very slumped over. “Of all the questions, you’re set on detective work?”

“This timer thing isn’t even meant for interrogation. I offered this as a way to vent without consequences but you’re the one who wanted to play twenty questions.” He finally took a bite of dessert. “Tough it out” He said, a warm smile on his face from the flavor.

“Sigh, guess I have no right to complain. I wouldn’t say I have any real personal grievances towards them, even though I have a few unpleasant memories of your sister harassing me when we were little.”

“We were five.”

“Well I was six and a hurt tail is still a hurt tail, but I digress. Those two, they’re not the kind of people I find myself liking very much. Summer always wraps individuals into her pity party by acting like she’s making a genuine effort, and then Valerie, sigh, there’s not a thing about her that doesn’t make me want to hit her. I know you like her and wouldn’t say she’s a bad natured person, but…” Veronica held her tongue before she overstepped. These were still Nick’s loved ones.

Nick on the other hand wasn’t satisfied. “Say it, what’s on your mind. Zero consequences remember?”

“You say that but it’s not like we’ll magically forget what we’ve said in this last twenty six minutes.”

“No, but I trust you won’t hold my words and secrets against me. Do you trust me? Good or bad, this is meant to clear the air. I’d be a hypocrite to not let you speak your mind after asking you to.” It was a bit brash but Nick reached for Vee’s hand and held it.

Veronica felt her own breathing slow down at the sight of Nick’s reassuring smile. Her eyes went to her pie to avoid his gaze. He was too disarming for his own good. It made her feel guilty for doubting, as well as relying on him the way she did.

“Valerie isn’t a good friend, not you and I, not your sister for that matter. Yeah she might help out because she’s a good person but she’s far too self centered in my opinion. I mean just take tonight for example. You’ve made plans with her that fell apart because everything you two do are on her own terms. What friend gets upset that another saved them in a training exercise, or uses a pet name that the other person doesn’t like!?”

Nick raised his eyebrow. “Pet name?”

“Summer hates to be called Princess, right? That could be a thing with me personally but with the way she gets so pissed about it I would think Valerie using it would be annoying. Yet she does it anyway. Like how she’s quick to try to act like she’s above something when she clearly isn’t. I-”

“Vee? My hand…” Nick winced, his hand being squeezed like a stress ball.”

“Crap…” Veronica immediately loosened up to look at it. Thankfully her nails didn’t dig into him but she did make his hand red. Veronica gently begins rubbing it in some pointless attempt to relieve the pain. “Sorry I… I shouldn’t lose my temper like that. Ugh I know better too. Maybe steak was a bad idea after all?”

Nick watched as Veronica became fixated on the light injury. Her ears had fallen down and the anger she had while speaking had vanished entirely. All she could do was rub his hand. “It’s fine, honest. I don’t even feel pain anymore.”

“You shouldn’t have felt pain at all. This is the second time I’ve hurt you.”

“Well...I did actively walk into a fight the first time. Faunus reasons or not, a person should expect to get whaled on a bit when breaking a fight up.”

Veronica knew Nick was trying to be nice and there was truth to his words. That still didn’t make her feel much better. “I guess there’s one thing Valerie and I have in common. We get you hurt for needless reasons that could be avoided.”

“Vee…”

“Hey, I know she makes you happy and I shouldn’t really try to persuade you to feel otherwise, but… I can’t help but feel like… if you were to ever allow it one day if you’ll look my way, because…Nick, I think I can make you even happier.” She gently held his hand with her trembling ones.

Nick couldn’t see her eyes but could see how the blush took over her. She wasn’t the only one. How could he not feel embarrassed when Veronica Belladonna, the most brazen girl he knew, was now currently holding his hand sheepishly while her tail swayed side to side. Thank goodness he had set a timer beforehand. The buzzer finally went off and Veronica snapped out of her trance, letting go. Rather than speak further, her pie became the scapegoat, getting devoured without interruption. Nick wanted to say something but even the work up to speaking made her face redder by the second. Besides, the timer hit zero. He had to respect the rules he made. A lot was learned within a short time.

“It’s been some time since we had a talk like that. Thanks, Veronica. I feel like I know you even better than before.”

“Just...eat your dessert, please?” She said, embarrassed beyond belief. How could she say something so compromising like that!? Claiming to make him happier than Valerie was bolder than she meant to be.

xxxx

The rest of dinner was pretty quiet. Both of them couldn’t think of any light topics to discuss after prying into feelings. It wasn’t awkward to speak but felt more, inappropriate, so to speak. Both desserts were finished and the chef had passed his taste test. Nick would keep his end of the bargain. However, the generous tip he usually left for all workers involved was purposely missing. The chef had lost the privilege entirely. The waitress would be in for a shock the next time she checked her savings. No need to punish those in the crossfire after all. Veronica and Nick left without saying a word to anybody.

The two of them walked down the sidewalk in the season's chill embrace. Veronica felt the chill winds creep down her thin dress. It felt colder than in the forest. Not even a single person or car was on the street! Nothing but an ever forming winter wonderland!

“Eugh! I know walking home was my idea but maybe I should’ve thought ahead?”

Nick chuckled. “Maybe so?” He took his dress coat off and draped it over her shoulders. “Better?”

“Yeah but you just got over being sick. You can’t afford to catch another cold.”

“Relax, I got sick because of stress. Temperatures like this are nothing to anybody who lives here. The cold is nothing in the face of a real Atlesian. It’s in our blood!”

“And central heating is in your budget. Speaking of which, shouldn’t that be on full blast in the winter!? I mean my goosebumps have goosebumps.” Veronica shivered.

Nick smiled. “I’m glad you asked!” He took Veronica’s hand and quickly rushed over to a building with an awning for them to be under. “There’s a reason I picked a reservation for today. It’s the night manual resets happen.”

“Manual resets?”

Nick nodded. “Yep! You’re right about it being super cold. The lack of people is a dead giveaway.”

“What’s up with that? I thought Atlas was a city that never slept? It’s like a ghost town now. Nothing but….actually…” Veronica looked around the streets, lamps, and every building. There were noticeable less lights. A far cry from the dazzling show she saw earlier through the window. “The heating system, it’s off.”

“Not entirely. A majority of buildings still have them on but yes, external heating vents get temporarily shut off and rebooted. It’s common in the winter since they have to run constantly. You didn’t think it was weird that it was snowing so steadily?”

“Now that you mention it, I guess it is. Everything was already covered in snow so I didn’t notice.”

“Most snow melts on contact but there’s no getting past it during the cold season. Heater or not heater, you’re gonna see snow fall.”

Veronica breathed on her hands to warm them up. “So why come out when the heaters are off if you can see snow whenever?”

“Because I’m not here for the snow. There’s only one thing Atlas gets to really witness whenever the heaters come back on, because the reboot forces the heaters to come back on at full blast.”

“What would-” Before she could finish, Veronica witnessed it first hand; the sudden burst of heat that washed over her body as the orange glow of heaters returned to pale white city. The previous atmospheric silence had been broken. Pit pat pit pat pit pat pit. The familiar brought Veronica’s attention to the streets. Right before eyes like magic, suddenly and seamless, the winter wonderland turned into rain. Lots of rain.

Any and all snowflakes melted before pitter pattering on the pavement. Rain was nothing new to her and neither was Atlas at night for that matter, but a rainy night lights in the city of Atlas? That was a different story entirely. It was if she was in a new kingdom altogether, the way the lights shimmered on the water in the air and on the ground. Atlas somehow went from looking like a snow globe, to a chandelier.

“Woah~” Veronica was floored. She extended her hand out. The feeling of frigid rain contrasted against the warm so much it made her jolt. “Ah! Man that has a bite to it!” She laughed.Veronica stepped out from the awning.

Nick, shocked by her actions, quickly grabbed her hand. “Hey, your dress!” He shouted with agency. Veronica did not bother with his words. Instead she pulled Nick into the rain with her as she laughed.

“Hahaha! What’s a little water!? I love the rain!! Between the heaters and a pour like this, I’d say this is more refreshing than the showers back home.” Veronica’s grin widened. She took hold of Nick’s hands and began swaying. “Come on, dance with me!”

Nick let himself get strung along into Vee’s antics. He caught her guard by pulling the two of them into a ballroom stance and began to waltz.

Veronica’s ears wiggled. “Oooo look at you Mr. Casanova, taking the lead like that.”

“You’re pretty upbeat for a cat in the rain.” He teased.

“Jokes on you, panthers love water, and people from Menagerie love the ocean. I do have a surfboard after all.” She leaned back to que Nick to support her back. Veronica dramatically stuck her leg out to do an over the top dip before Nick brought her back up, pulling her close.

“Nice moves.”

“You’re not the only one who has to learn etiquette. Gotta stay on my toes for the public too. Pretty easy with a tail for balance.”

Nick chuckled. He waltzed his cheeky date back over to the awning near a heater as she continued to laugh. “I could’ve sworn minutes ago you didn’t want me getting sick?”

“Well someone bragged about being one with the cold.”

“I didn’t say all that now. I’m surprised someone complaining about the cold gets excited to dance in the rain.”

“Yeah well…” Veronica moves even closer to Nick, until there’s virtually no space between them. “I feel pretty warm right now.” She said, looking up into his eyes. Maybe it was the heater, the cold rain, or the warmth from his arms now wrapping around her, but it made Veronica warm to the point of feeling dazed. It couldn’t just be her. Not when Nick’s face was its own shade of red. The two let the sound of rain surround them yet again. The smile Veronica had slowly shifted into an expression of longing. She was so close to him right now. Closer than she’s ever felt. His warmth, his cologne, his lips…; Veronica’s body couldn’t help but lean forward. Right...until…

Beep! beep! The sound of a car horn made both jump out of their skin. They looked to the street to see their waitress waving joyfully.

“Thanks for the tip!” She said emotionally as she drove off.

The surprise brought Veronica back to her senses to see Nick’s face flushed and embarrassed. As well as conflicted. Like how he was back at Penny’s lab. Veronica felt the weight of her actions hit her like a tank and quickly took a step back.

“Sorry! Silly me, hehe. Here I was telling you that I wouldn’t be too forward or force anything, then I pull this! Talk about embarrassing huh?!” There wasn’t a bone in her body that didn’t want to find a hole to hide in. How could she get lost in emotion again!?

Nick frowned. “Ver-”

“It’s fine! Totally my bad.” She could feel her own heart start to race from her recklessness. “Tonight has been nice. We should probably start heading back before-”

Nick took Veronica’s arm and shut her up by kissing her cheek before wrapping his arms around her tightly. Her body went a little stiff before eventually hugging him back.

“No date is complete without a little intimacy, right.” Nick said, doing his best to kill the tension. “Sorry things got weird. I should’ve spoken up. It’s not like I would’ve been upset.” He admitted. “I just...you know. But I hope this is okay at least?”

Rejection is nothing new. Veronica was ready for the sting. However, Nick’s words didn’t sting at all. In fact, Veronica could only find herself hiding her face in his shirt, enjoying this comfort. Her heart stopped racing and she felt calmer than she had all night. This wasn’t rejection. Not by a long shot. A to be continued perhaps?

“This is perfect.” She said, holding her crush closer. “Stay just like this for your date. At least for a few more moments.”

Nick smiled. “As you wish.”

Veronica may not have Nick’s attention like how Valerie does, but at this moment, Veronica had Nick focused on her and her alone. He was hers right now. Veronica couldn’t ask for more. This definitely was an unconventional date, clumsy and hardly what anyone would call romantic. Veronica would cherish it all the same.

xxxx

While the sweet sound of rain soothed one duo, another couldn’t hear it all, it being completely drowned out by applause with bubbling excitement. Tonight may be one of the coldest nights for Atlas, but for a warehouse in Mantle filled with young adults, passion burned in the form of a young woman in black about to conquer the stage with her guitar and vocals. Summer was ready to vent. While Eliza carefully observed from afar.

If she wasn’t here then she might not have believed it. With those clothes and confidence, Eliza was sure she was watching a stranger.“Summer Schnee, you and your brother are one surprise after another.”

The singer grabbed a microphone and looked out to the many eyes ready to cut loose. “ALRIGHT EVERYBODY LET’S MAKE SOME NOISE!”

Summer screamed, receiving nothing less than twice the excitement back. No time was wasted in playing how she played less. Tonight was her night. Problems could wait until tomorrow.

[octalove]

VIII: Struck by Lightning

(Batgirl/Red Hood)

Description: Reader makes a confession, and goes on a date. Previous.

TW: Brief mention of gore (just blood)

In the weeks succeeding the Little Italy mission, I found a rhythm in the two conflicting heartbeats of my life. Occasionally, I met with Jason to file down the multitude of criminals who opposed him (it wasn’t all rescuing orphans and kittens, but his justice was fair and swift), and other than that, I carried on with life as normal; both as myself, and Batgirl. It was an inconsistent, exciting balancing act.

I tried to humor Bruce’s transparent attempts to placate me with cold cases, deeming it study. My school work had unsurprisingly lost its appeal, and I found myself rocking in the river banks of what was sure to be a failing grade in most of my classes- though I had yet to run ashore. Yet.

I danced along, despite my reprisal (a lack of sleep, and white lies on either side), and overall there was a certain stalemate. With that, peace. Or at least, the closest I could get.

On a Saturday I happened to have free (to my great relief), I woke up at one in the afternoon, to a blessedly dim day that kept the light in my room dark enough to cradle my lie-in.

I washed the sleep from my face, and stumbled downstairs, muscles sore from a Thursday night mission with Jason at the Port (of which I told my family I was going to a party). Tim was the only one in the kitchen- looking like he, too, had just crawled out of bed. He was eating cereal in silence.

We hadn’t been avoiding each other, per say- just got wrapped up in our own routines. Routines that kept me out of the house, and him trapped within it.

“Morning.” I said.

“Mm.” He replied.

I poured out my own bowl of cereal and settled on top of the glossy white granite. It was kind of a running joke at the Wayne household that you could sit anywhere but the chairs. Even Damian picked up on it- and, naturally, he was the best at it- perching his lithe little form atop the fridge at one point.

Now, Tim and I sat side by side on the countertop, shoulders brushing and spoons clanging against our glass bowls. Nothing more was said, but it was a comfortable silence.

I thought, for a second, about the world he’d been living in for the past few months as November bled into December. About his work and his many, many jobs he had to do. The way he shouldered them all week-to-week. He didn’t have to, but he did.

Tim made me a better person. I thought so, anyway.

But then, before I met him, I was the kind of person who let Carolyn Crawford slap me across the face to cover for someone else’s secret. Now, I was the kind who let other people take the blame for mine. Maybe Tim didn’t make me a better person. Only I could do that.

*

“I need to talk to you.” I said it firmly, and with authority. Mostly to convince myself that I was certain in my intention to go through with it. Bruce eyed me, looking up from his book.

“Alright.”

“...”

“...”

“In private.”

Alfred and Damian’s voices carried through to the living room as they had tea (an evening tradition). Bruce nodded, closed his book, and led me upstairs.

His office was a quiet, peaceful place. Finished dark wood, glass tables, and black leather accents. It was the room in the house that was most furnished to his own private taste, and thus, a glimpse inside was into him. It was mostly predictable; W.E. briefcases, notebooks and pens, case files open, and a map of the city that was displayed behind his desk. But there were other things too; a rubik’s cube half solved on the settee, a magazine featuring Vicki Vale with a pen in her hand and a defiant, head-strong look on her face. A gorgeous trailing point knife that belonged to Damian (probably confiscated).

I sat down in the chair that faced his own; his giant, glossy desk between us. I wanted to be swallowed into the dark leather. I felt like I was back at the shrink.

“Tim didn’t sneak off on the 21st.” I said quickly, cutting off the silence as quickly as I could. “He’s not the one who saw Red Hood kill that guy. It was me. I made Tim promise not to tell. He lied to cover for me.”

Bruce was quiet. He did that a lot; made you wait for him to speak. Seconds, minutes, hours. It all felt the same when he let you simmer in your own mistakes. I didn’t look up.

“I see.”

Silence. A long, testing silence. His irritating little desk clock ticked away.

“Is that all you wanted to tell me?” He asked.

I nodded.

“Very well. You’re dismissed.”

“Really?” I asked. “That’s it? You’re not mad?”

He paused. “Should I be?”

I blinked, gaze falling on the floor. “I put Tim in a really shitty position. He didn’t have to lie, but he did because I asked him to. I’m mad at me.” I admitted quietly.

Bruce nodded pedantically, resting his head on his hand. “Then that’s good enough for me.”

I furrowed my brow. It wasn’t good enough for me. “It was wrong.” I clarified, trying to press for some manner of reprimand that I didn’t truly want, but felt deserving of anyway. Bruce considered this, in his quiet, inscrutable way. After a moment, he spoke.

“Your mothers trusted me.” He said. I knew that. My parents were business-oriented like that. They were pulled together by happenstance, each without family and carving their own way in the world by studying international law, and applying it to companies who could afford private foreign trade, such as Wayne Enterprises. I attended the parties, the galas, standing around in my designer gowns while my moms handed out their business cards and talked about imports. They weren’t neglectful, just distracted.

“I don’t know if you remember-“

“I do.”

And if I had a dollar for every time the cops or the shrink asked me if I remembered that night, I’d buy my own manor.

Bruce Wayne was at my birth. He and my mothers had been business partners for a while by that time. He watched me, dutifully, when my parents went on date nights, and played catch with me when I accompanied him and Dick to the park. He cooked me breakfast the morning after my mothers died.

I knew it wasn’t a random killing, but he didn’t talk about why they were murdered in their own bed until I was fifteen. By then, I was knowledgeable enough to go searching through the police reports on my own. So instead, one night he’d sat me down at the kitchen table, looking at me earnestly.

“You have to understand, Y/N. Your mothers were...” He’d taken a deep breath. Tried again. “They were involved in things. Things I didn’t know about. It made them a lot of enemies.” Then, something harder passed his features. A frustration.

“They were completely blind to the fact that it meant you would never have a normal life. Not as long as they kept it up- that... double life.” I let the statement hang in the air for a time. “That was stolen from you, from the moment they got involved with the Baciu. And I’m sorry.”

It was easy to be sorry. I was sorry, too. My mothers got themselves tangled in Gotham’s heroin trade, and they weren’t careful enough, so they died for it. It was fairly cut and dry. Open file, close case. But the part that was so bitter to swallow was that it happened to me. A fourteen-year-old child creeping into my mothers’ bed because I’d heard a noise, and the re-runs of Ghost Hunter I’d religiously consumed were conjuring movement in the shadows. But there were no ghosts. Just sheets stained with blood that looked black in the darkness. Just the wet, clogged sort of sound when I peeled back the covers, unable to register they way my mothers were bent, and stilled in a way that only death can induce, where just earlier that night they’d been walking and talking. Bringing me Chinese take-out for dinner.

Their death, and everything that followed was emptying. Cracking open a great chasm and bringing death home, into the halls, and into my room. No longer a rumor. It was an empty chair, and a storied space made cold and worthless. It would’ve been easier if they had simply died as a random killing. Tragic, standard, random Gotham City killing. If I had just been that unlucky. If they’d only been struck by lightning. Instead, I grieved twice; once for who they were, and another time, for who I thought they were.

When Bruce adopted me, I became Batgirl. I made it my own vendetta to stop criminals without killing them, because I knew that some- most of them had children at home who would be the real victims if I did.

But then, I thought deeper. More considerately, about who my mothers were. Moreover, who they weren’t. Pearl and gold, white teeth and hairspray. Singing to me, and playing Monopoly, at which they were both so competitive that they had to kiss and make up after every game. Bringing me a strawberry cupcake in bed every year on my birthday. Kissing me on the head. Telling me to be good. Leaving me in that big house. Going off to Port Adams, or Crime Alley. Signing orders. Putting bodies in Finger River.

Nobody’s innocent here, dollface.

“They trusted me.” Bruce’s voice interrupted my reminiscing with the ghosts of my past. “I know their death was hard, and you may still be recovering. I’m trying to do the best I can for you.” He finished. For all the gnashing teeth and avaricious expanses of Gotham City secrets, he looked tired.

“I know, Bruce.” I said quietly. “Me too.”

*

The following Tuesday, I got home from school and started on a mountain of homework I needed to do- some make up work as well. Christmas break was around the corner, and I was slowly losing motivation as the semester drew to a close. I had too many distractions; and tonight was no exception.

Ding.

My phone buzzed, and I looked down, eyebrows raising to find that it was a text from Jason- one that wasn’t just a pin dropped to a location.

Meet me at Twin Sharks. I’ll buy you a coffee.

- What’s the occasion?

No reply. I sighed. I should’ve called him and made him tell me, but I knew that I would go no matter what, so I decided to play the apathy card. Despite my cool response, my heart (the traitor) was fluttering like a bird. Was this about the kiss? Our partnership? Was it an actual, regular date? Or was he breaking it off? My mind raced, and as I pulled together a tasteful outfit and sprayed myself with perfume, I promised myself that it wasn’t for him.

The Twin Sharks was a diner in Upper West Side, near China town. It was nicer than the likes of Sherman’s, or anything else East End had to offer. The late afternoon was unexpectedly bright, clouds parted for a sweet reprieve of gold and blush in the sky. The sun was a striking blood-orange, hung low over the city. It struck a match in my chest- some childish, poetic hopefulness.

The diner’s door jingled, and I scanned the booths and tables. It was a little crowded, but I spotted Jason alone in a booth, his eyes cast down, involved with his phone. I made my way over to him, slipping off my coat and plopping down his opposite.

“Hey.” I said. His eyes fell upon me, and I saw something on his face- maybe surprise, or something to that effect- before he composed his expression into something unreadable.

“Hey.”

The diner had a big, hot pink neon sign that depicted a matching pair of sharks above the counter. Its buzzing glow mixed with the orange gleam of the lowering sun through the windows- it was all very rose-colored.

The waitress put a coffee in front of me, and I got to work on adorning it with the little cream and sugar packets on the table. He watched me do it for while.

“What?” I asked, narrowing my eyes.

“Nothin’.” He said. Then, he reached across the table, and took my hand, pulling it back to him, and pressed a soft kiss to my knuckles. I was so startled by it that I dropped the sugar packet I was holding. Neither of us seemed to notice. He turned my hand over and placed another kiss in the inside of my wrist before returning it safely to my side of the table. I was certain my face burned like the neon sharks.

“I’m- um- is this a date?” I asked, trying to get him to say something- anything- to get my mind off the way he’d just reduced me to a puddle.

He looked amused by that. “You want it to be?”

“I don’t know.” I shrugged, stirring my coffee. “You invited me.”

He nodded, eyes falling away. “Yeah. I’ve got an update for you. D’amici business.”

“Oh.” By the look on his face, it wasn’t good news.

“You’re not gonna like it.”

“Perfect. My day’s been a little too good so far.” I said. He slid me his phone- on the screen was an article from the Gotham Quarterly.

Young Bride Found Murdered in Diamond District Estate

I read over it a couple times, brow furrowing. “You mean...“

“Penelope. It happened last night.”

“Shit.” I muttered, scrolling down and scanning through the article. My throat caught as I read over it. She was shot in her bed. “It says there’s no suspects.”

“Course it does. It’s the mafia. They handle things nice and quiet.”

“And I’m guessing you have a few a suspects.” He nodded grimly as I slid his phone back to him.

“One better. I know exactly who did it. I think you do, too.”

I put my head in my hands, mulling over my options. Really there was only one. Penelope’s beautiful, flustered face and apologetic eyes flashed through my mind. Her wind-chime laugh as we ate scones under the watchful eye of her adoring, peculiar grandmother.

“Okay.” I resolved. “Let’s get that girl justice.”

[dribbonart]

Steven Universe Rewatch: s1e12 “Giant Woman”

Fusion! This episode is the big one!

The show does such a wonderful job of parceling out information. Amethyst and Pearl’s figures are detailed enough to know who they are, but Opal is going to be a big reveal, so her figure is just a generic person with long hair. She doesn’t even have extra arms!

Is Betty some kind of 1920s slang Amethyst thinks is still used?

Garnet’s future vision is great for getting the perfect gift. Steven really likes his present of a rock. 

Garnet the chess master. Like with the rock, Garnet is using the smallest amount of energy to fix the situation. Telling Steven to keep the harmony is presumably the small push necessary to result in Opal and reconciliation between Pearl and Amethyst. We see Garnet giving a parting message that seems to cause her plan to unfold at least one more time.

This is one of those lines that make a certain type of fan lose their minds. Fans LOVE to take offhand comments like this and assume that they are a law of nature, where they’re often just a generalization that only applies to the moment they’re spoken.

It’s reasonable to assume that Pearl is saying, “We, as gems, only ever fuse in deadly situations as a universal rule. This is canon for all times, past, present and future.” This makes people think that Pearl is lying here. But she didn’t say that. 

It’s equally reasonable to interpret Pearl as meaning, “We, Amethyst and I, only fuse when we have to. We don’t like to fuse, so we don’t do it all the time, even though we could if we wanted to. This may change in the future if we get over our issues.”

There must have been a huge Pearlmethyst shipping community. I don’t think I ever saw it in my social media though.

“Giant Woman” is a great song. 

This room is perfectly made up. Pretty impressive, considering that it was probably last tidied thousands of years ago. I guess it’s possible the beetle was maintaining the place, despite being reduced to a more animalistic form. They seem to have obsessive behaviors.

I don’t think I’ve ever said this, and I never will again, but Pearl is in the wrong here. She should allow Amethyst to dance in her own style. Pearl didn’t even consider dancing in Amethyst’s style, why should Amethyst have to make the change? Also, can you imagine Pearl copying Amethyst’s dance here? If you can imagine it, can you draw it and send it to me, please?

I like that animals in Steven Universe are always just animals. This goat doesn’t want to help, it just wants to get its munch on.

Gradual reveal of Opal. Hands and arms, indistinct shot from the distance, partial shot in shadow, then finally a clear shot. They don’t show us a successful fusion dance in this episode.

Opal’s bow and arrow is a combination of Amethyst’s whip and Pearl’s spear. She’s very powerful.

This is one of the truly perfect moments of the show. I can’t describe how touching it is. Steven’s initial shyness turned into this beautiful revelation.

I love that these funky lesbians become fan favorites.

Garnet mentions that Steven will be great at fusing one day. I wonder how confident she is at this point. Her future vision isn’t perfect, and I think it’s more indistinct the further in the future it goes. People seem surprised by his eventual fusing, especially Garnet.

This is, for me, the first breakthrough episode of the show. It shows the kind of amazing possibilities they’ll be exploring for the rest of the series. If I were to try to sell the show to someone who had never seen it before, I’d show them this first.