#its so interesting to think what could have gone wrong. it makes watching him thrive all the more touching.

[aromanticgarbage]

theres a timeline out there, in which joji stuck with his 2015 decision of permanently merging his youtube personas with his music career and therefore abandoning all of his "joji music" projects. this is a timeline in which he never made it out of youtube before it broke his spirit or body, a timeline in which he surrendered his childhood dreams of pursuing a music career to the cruel gods of temporary internet fame. its a timeline that was well within the realm of possibility and im very proud of him for avoiding it.

[syncrovoid-presents]

So many interesting ideas! I agree that it feels likely (to me at least) that whatever deal Alastor made for his soul, it was either before he died or immediately after. At some point where he felt desperate, felt that he needed to. Or, a moment where he decided he needed more. More power, more strength, the ability to get away with more and more and not get caught. Him making a deal with someone (perhaps Lilith, perhaps Eve, perhaps someone else) makes sense.

Alastor might not have been the sort to think there'd be an afterlife, or perhaps he'd view it as a different sort of hell without free will. So why should he care about how long the deal lasts? He's smart, extremely so, but has some level of superiority complex that could have made the deal seem far more in his favour, that whoever he (might've) sold his soul too wasn't prepared for his wiles. Who knows?

The biggest reason I consider he could have sold his soul is because we don't fully know the nature of his murdering when he was alive. We know that he doesn't chase after demons, doesn't hurt kids, and does try to help, sometimes, when he feels like something unjust is happening (bad meat/lamb comic). We also know that he and Mimzy are/were friends before and after death.

I think it's likely that if he did sell his soul for power, on his end he had to agree to not use it for mindless violence, or against those that have done no wrong. He could have been murdering anyone when he was alive, but it was also during an era where many many forms of bigotry were alive and thriving, and women had few rights. Alastor has better relationships with women than men, with Mimzy being an "actual" friend, while he's more likely to judge other characters. (I'm not sure yet whether this is coincidental or important?)

It's possible that Mimzy knew Alastor killed someone while they were both alive, maybe he even killed for her protection. It's implied she's gone to him many times before with troubles, yet we don't know if that was only in hell.

Regardless, once he moved to hell Alastor wouldn't of just had the power previously bestowed to him, but also his demonic powers too. In hell far more people are ""worthy"" of being hurt, so the previous bounds of the deal would become looser. But he still took out overlords and ancient evils, evils that would have been the most despicable evils there were.

(Even if his deal was post death, it could still work. He died and realized that hell wasnt just burning to death or that post-life isn't nonexistence, but rather a new world with freedom and new targets. He seems to get quite annoyed when people don't acknowledge him as powerful, so what better a deal than gaining more power than most while having an """owner""" who is a firm believer in free will and wants some demons gone anyways?)

All of this makes me wonder if he made a deal with Lilith. Because, in a way, his chaos and morality and eagerness for death could have made him into a weapon. She gives him free reign, he can do as he pleases as long as his kills are justifiable. Evil overlords? She might've wanted them gone but couldn't do it herself without raising suspicion. He struck fear into the hearts of many demons, but if they knew he was more likely to attack if they did something he didn't like, couldn't that make them act better? More behaved?

He owns many souls, possibly thousands that he's inherited from killing old overlords, but do we really see what happens with them? With Husker it seems like he let Husker do whatever until he was "needed". Maybe he does that because Husker is a soul he got from a deal he made directly, or maybe we dont have enough information! I do think that its possi le part of why he is good at deals is because he learnt it, either from watching or from his own deal.

Also, the magic! He uses both red magic and green magic, which I want to watch the show again to see where and the possible whys, but that might be very important. Perhaps green magic is influenced by Lilith, or whoever he sold his soul too. Who knows yet!

Lilith getting him to join in on her plan to fight heaven is super interesting, and there's far too much that matches up for it to be fully coincidental. Him being sent to keep an eye on Charlie, to guide or protect her (as much as he is willing, anyways) makes sense. Perhaps he was also told to keep Lucifer out of it because Lilith doesn't want him involved or alerting heaven in any way, or maybe it's just his superiority leading Alastor to believe he'd be the better devil lol

Theres a lot of things you mention and they're all quite interesting to think about! There's going to be a lot of things happening in the next episodes, that's for sure!

It does make me wonder if Alastor setting up his radio broadcasting again is his way of rebelling. Him being tied to some duties, but finding ways around it for his own gains. Him believing, no matter if its justified, that he can outsmart whoever he sold his soul too.

I do wonder, if he did sell his soul to Lilith and she died, would it go to Charlie or would he be free? Not that I believe Lilith to be dead, but it's still curious indeed

Anyways the summary is that your theory (theories?) are quite interesting and offer many things to think about! I don't know if they'd introduce new big plot important characters in these last few episodes without foreshadowing, but it would be neat to learn about Eve!

It's funny, he's Such A Character that we don't know if any theories apply or if he is just bored and wanted new entertainment. What a guy! <- (I could keep on rambling but I shall stop myself)

My convoluted theory about who owns Alastor’s soul:

Ok so this is bit long so buckle-up.

I think Alastor tried to summon Lilith as a mortal to make a deal with her (I don’t know why, maybe he thought the cops where on him or maybe he thought his mortality was getting in the way or something), but someone else popped up pretending to be Lilith (either Eve or Roo but I’m putting my money on Eve), they made a contract and the person signed it with Lilith’s name making the deal a bit of a fraud. Alastor gets some demon powers and the person wrongfully has Al’s soul. Al dies, works for ‘them’ for a bit, finds out about ‘their’ plan to cause a war to destroy both heaven and hell, realizes the truth, goes to Lilith and tells her everything. Lilith, “The Chain-breaker” isn’t ok with this and teams up with Al to deal with ‘Them’. She technically never gave Alastor her part of the deal so she basically goes: “I’ll give you more power and your soul, in exchange: Help me fight Eve and if something goes wrong protect my daughter.” They confront and fight Eve, Shit goes sideways, Lilith is either trapped or dead and Alastor barely escapes alive using the 7 years to recuperate. When he’s healed up, he goes to protect Charlie.

There are probably some errors with this, but so far it seems pretty good.

Fun little add-ons to the theory:

Eve (Got tired of typing “Them”) might still have Alastor’s soul but I kinda doubt it, cause she would have destroyed it by now. More likely Alastor got his soul back and the powers from Lilith but he was so beat up when he left that Eve just assumed he died.

Maybe the reason Alastor hates Lucifer is because he assumed the worst by how Lilith talked about him and why she didn’t want to include him in the mess. Alastor hearing a woman say: “No! We cannot tell him, he’ll react horribly to it.” Won’t assume it’s because the husband is a softie who’s already depressed.

Eve probably doesn’t pay attention to hell’s going ons and is still hidden somewhere. BUT if someone goes around looking for her, the reason for Al’s disappearance she’ll realize he ain’t dead. Might be the reason he doesn’t want people to be nosy.

Probably kept his promise with protecting Charlie because he liked Lilith (Once on his good side people can ask a lot from him *cough* Mimzy *cough*) and because the hotel could be a good place to hide from Eve.

So…What do you guys think?

[findingjoynweirdstuff]

Expanding on the “Schlatt’s book made Dream self-aware” theory

Okay, I know this theory sounds ridiculous...but hear me out.

I haven’t for the life of me been able to come up with any other possibilities for what this mystery’s answer could be, but now I’ve had the idea.

What if Schlatt’s book made Dream self-aware?

---

Let’s go over what we know about Schlatt’s book.

---

With regards to the prison, which Dream mentions the book pertains to:

Dream: “It’s just an option, because if you can’t kill somebody, you might need to lock them up.”

“I have someone in mind, but we might have to wait to do that.”

Bad: “It’s gonna be Tommy.”

Dream: (chuckles) “Tommy’s exiled. I think, for now...Tommy could end up in it, it just depends...if he does more evil, bad stuff, but...”

-

(They discuss the Crimson a little, as it had just been discovered that day)

Dream: “Speaking of creepy things...I actually have not ever to this point brought this up, so this is interesting...Do you remember whenever I switched sides? I was helping Pogtopia and I was trying to...mostly just ‘cause I didn’t like L’manburg, and Manberg, and I didn’t like their government, and I switched sides to Schlatt.”

“But the reason I switched sides was because he gave me something in order to switch sides to him, and I mentioned that...”

Bad: “What’d he give you? I remember that! What’d he give you?”

Dream: “He gave me something...very, very, very good. BUT -- that card is always up my sleeves until...until I need it.”

“I won’t go into specifics, but what he gave me was a book.”

Bad: “What kind of book?”

Dream: “The book.”

Bad: “But what kind of book?”

Dream: “A book with massive value.”

Sam: “A book containing what, exactly?”

Sam: “Maybe information? Oh! He gave him--”

Sam and Dream at the same time: “--information.”

Bad: “Information about what?”

Dream: “Mmmm...I think that it puts me in danger if people know I have this information. I can’t clarify what it is, otherwise -- I don’t think -- you wouldn’t -- it wouldn’t be a danger to you, but to other people, that...”

Bad: “Oh...okay. I’m really curious now.”

Dream: “I...we’ll find out.”

Sam: “Wait, so you’re saying...Schlatt traded you information to join his side, which you accepted, so it must’ve been valuable.”

Dream: (chuckles) “I think it’s the most valuable thing on the server!”

...

Dream: “I think that, in pertaining to the prison, it may be important, but -- so maybe I’ll have to tell you guys once the prison’s construction is done, but...we’ll see.”

“I think you wouldn’t believe me if I told you what he gave me.”

---

Now, let’s go over what Dream had been acting like up until the point that he turned.

- He had fought alongside Tommy and Techno in the Battle of the Lake.

- He was willing to trade a disc to get Spirit’s leather back from Skeppy. He still cared about Spirit.

- He claimed that he’d had a change of heart about L’manburg, that Schlatt was worse than Wilbur because he threatened the peace between their nations that had persisted up until that point.

- He supported Quackity during the Election because he figured that Quackity having a cabinet member from Dream SMP and a cabinet member from L’manburg would be an excellent way to maintain a truce between the factions. He did not vote for Schlatt. He said he “endorsed justice.” 

He had some sort of humanity to him, some sort of moral compass.

- And, very importantly...

He'd been repeatedly outsmarted by Tommy.

In the Disc War, in the Railway Skirmish, the Spirit Scam? Tommy kept slipping away with leverage against him. 

---

So how do these points add up to self-awareness?

Well, let’s go through ‘em!

- Schlatt. That guy in particular.

The only guy to have permanently died twice. Tommy referred to Schlatt’s ban as the first “death” of the server while he was in exile, and it makes sense that Schlatt’s ban would be seen as a canon death - it influenced Tommy’s character arc and was treated like a death in the story.

And when Schlatt came back...well, he was a little bit different, wasn’t he? Somehow, he was always several steps ahead despite being an “idiot.” Time and time again, he kept pulling out the tricks he had up his sleeve. Time and time again, he was more aware than he let on.

Pogtopia never outsmarted him. Ever.

He knew something no one else did.

And now that Dream knows what he knows, notice how he hasn’t been outsmarted by Tommy ever since? Tommy’s tried, but it didn’t work. Now, Dream always seems to be several steps ahead. Always pulling the strings. Always saying the right things.

- It puts Dream in danger if people know, yet doesn’t apply as much to Sam and Bad.

Having self-awareness makes you incredibly powerful. Of course Dream wouldn’t want that information falling into the wrong hands.

But why not Sam and Bad?

Well, what do those two have in common?

Not only are they neutral parties, but they’re both two of the original eight members of the server. They both keep memory of a time before Tommy. Before plot. They’d be shocked to know, sure, but they likely wouldn’t turn on Dream for it. They’ve been here before the Story.

- It’s information. And it’s the most valuable thing on the server.

Think about that for a second. Dream said that the only thing he cares about now are the discs, because they give him power over Tommy.

But this piece of information is somehow more important than those discs. It supersedes them. The discs are the entire plot! And yet this is more important.

Perhaps even the script itself?

- With regards to the prison and its prisoner, Dream kept talking about the future. Someone who’s a threat now or in the future. Sure, Dream’s smart and can plan well, but this is a long, long game plan to have over the course of several weeks. 

And what is Pandora’s Vault if not one giant plot point to avoid killing off characters? The prison is meant for a person who Dream can’t kill.

Dream can’t kill off Tommy, because that would end the story.

- It’s so shocking that the other characters wouldn’t believe it if Dream told them. I’d say gaining self-awareness is pretty surprising, right?

---

So, Dream’s lost all care for anything on the server except for the discs. He no longer cares about Spirit, or even his friends, just the discs, because Tommy cares about the discs.

The discs are what keeps Tommy fighting. Now that L’manburg’s gone, it’s the only thing that’s keeping Tommy fighting. He’s willing to die trying to take them back.

I’ve mentioned in previous posts how Dream’s character motivations seem eerily similar to the writers’ motivations in the meta -- to keep the story going, to keep everything entertaining and fun, to make the SMP thrive.

That’s the only thing that seems to keep him going right now. He doesn’t care about anything else. The discs are important because they keep the story going. As long as Tommy keeps fighting for the discs, Dream’s story will never end either.

Tommy wants the endgame, but Dream would never let him get there. Not on his watch.

Because Tommy’s right: Dream is scared of him. Tommy’s the only one who can end the story.

Dream wants the story to keep going. He wants it to keep beginning again and again, and never end.

---

He said this when Wilbur blew up L’manburg, starting the story anew:

“This is the start, Tommy. It may feel like the end, but this is literally just the beginning.”

And now:

“In all destruction, there is a new beginning.”

“Beautiful, you know? The unfinished symphony, right?”

“Tommy? I’m not done with you. Y’know, our story’s not over -- L’manburg’s story is over -- our story’s not over.”

“I don’t think our story will ever be over, Tommy.”

“I think that...you’re just too fun."

And of course...

“...It’s just a game.”

[startanewdream]

Written for @efkgirldetective's Summer of Jily Prompt #7 (Ice cream + "I don't want anybody else touching you like I do).

Tumblr exclusive at the moment because I don't have a title and the 'happy ending' part of the 'angst with a happy ending' was lost somewhere.

Rated M.

I will love to hear your thoughts about this!

_______________

I.

She is at the end of her round, going towards his cabin—her friends’ cabin, though Lily knows exactly who she is hoping to meet there—when she hears it.

‘—and Potter, what a waste. He won’t ever join him.’

‘We should just wipe him away. Blood traitor, muggle lover—’

‘You mean mudblood lover, Severus?’ Avery’s voice is tinted with malice and there are snickers around. ‘Potter and Evans seem pretty close nowadays. Do you think she gives him everything she denied you?’

‘I would never filth myself,’ comes Snape’s cold reply. ‘If he is tainting his blood, all the worse for him.’

Taint his blood. Is this what Lily’s presence does to James? Is she putting him in a danger he didn’t need to be just by being closer to him?

It’s Snape’s words and she shouldn’t listen to him—the days where she would hear him, would admire him, are long gone—but when she finally reaches the cabin (when James grins at the sight of her, bright and warm, and her heart skips a beat and Lily has to smile back), she sits away from James.

‘Anything wrong?’ he asks, familiar enough to read the tension on her face.

‘No, all normal,’ Lily says, and it’s the first lie.

______

II.

It’s summer and everyone is out of age now and apparating makes things so easy that Lily finds herself less and less at home during that break.

She tells herself it’s because she is avoiding the presence of her sister’s annoying fiance; she blames the fact that Dorcas has a beach house and it’s so much better spending days swimming and tanning; she even goes introspective to blame the pressure of the war looming over them in a way that means she needs to enjoy the last summer break before real life gets them.

But she knows the reason is James.

She finds herself gravitating towards him, unable to resist that attraction even as she knows how dangerous it is for him. Once or twice Lily thinks of telling him about it, of warning how he is stupidly raising his stakes by being near her, but she gives up only for the fact that this (might drive him away and she doesn't want it, not really) would probably just make him want to be even closer to her.

And they are already alarmingly close.

Once Lily would have been repulsed by that idea, but one year later everything has changed—James has changed—and everything about him appeals to her. The way he cares for everyone around him. The way he smiles patiently whenever he is explaining something. The way he grins as if to invite the world to share a great funny joke with him. How he runs his hand through his hair when he’s nervous. How he is so expansive that he seems to occupy any room he is in. How he loves flying, even more than Quidditch, and how relaxed he seems when he is on a broom. How he talks to her, taking it seriously when she needs to and making a joke when things get too serious. How he opens up about his own life and doubts and listens to her.

That would make them friends, really good friends, but then Lily’s heart would not stop racing when he’d touched her hand, or when their knees would bump while sitting closely in the library and then she was forced to note all the physical aspects—the muscles of his arms, the shape of full lips, the line of his jaw, the hazel kaleidoscope of his eyes and how fit he was—and give up any belief her feelings were limited to a friendship.

She fancies him, okay.

Except it’s not okay, because it’s dangerous and by now Lily is positive that James knows it too. Everyone knows it.

They end up together, just the two of them, a lot during that summer. It takes Lily a few days to realize it’s not a coincidence that her interests never align with those of her friends—if she wants to swim, somehow it’s only her and James in the sea; at night, even though it’s still so warm, they are the only ones who venture into the pool for a midnight swim, while the others stay stubbornly indoors.

When Lily suggests going to town to grab an ice cream, somehow James is the only one who is in the mood for it, despite the heat.

It’s not on purpose from his part—at least that’s how Lily sees it—but he isn’t refusing her company either and neither is she refusing his, so James’ boldness flourishes that summer. It’s not cocky as it once would be, it’s just a quiet acceptance that something is finally happening between them as if he never stopped believing it would be possible. Lily feels it when he throws his arm around her shoulders when they are sitting close, almost absently, almost not noticing when Lily lays her head over his shoulder; it’s there when he openly gawks the first time he sees her in a swimming suit, only to be nudged in the ribs by Sirius and then complimenting her ('good thing you wear robes at school, Evans, or there wouldn’t be much schoolwork done'). It’s definitely there when he intertwines their hands, pulling her to the sea with him.

And it’s there when they are sitting closer than they would need for a bench so wide, watching seagulls flying over the sea, each one holding an ice cream.

‘Chocolate chips with chocolate cover and chocolate sprinkles,’ James teases. ‘I think you have an addiction, Lily.’

‘Guilty,’ she replies, not ashamed at all, proving her ice cream and very aware of how James is staring at her. ‘It’s better than asking for vanilla ice cream.’

‘Hey!’ He would look deeply offended if not for the grin on his lips. ‘I’ll let you know vanilla is the best flavour.’

‘Never took you for a vanilla guy, James.’

‘What would take me for? The adventurous gorgeous type?’

Lily laughs, but she doesn’t answer. She doesn’t want to lie to him and deny it.

‘Attractive mysterious type, then?’ he insists. ‘Handsome scoundrel?’

‘I notice your beauty is enhanced a lot.’

‘My beauty? So you admit that I’m beautiful, Evans?’

‘Do I need to? You seem to already know it.’

‘I enjoy hearing you saying all the same,’ he says, and though James shrugs easily she can sense the shift in his eyes, the nervous glint there. ‘That means we would make a beautiful couple.’

‘We would,’ she whispers, still not wanting to lie.

She turns back her attention to the ice cream, already melting under the scorching sun. It makes a mess, and James laughs as she tries to lick the ice cream out of her hands, but then his laugh dies and she watches him swallow slowly, reacting. He always reacts to her.

She licks her lips now, and he also watches this movement, the grin on his face replaced by concentration—no, determination, a fierce look and Lily knows what James will do even before he raises his hand to slide his thumb at the corner of her mouth.

‘You missed here,’ he says, and though he must have wiped off the ice cream already, his caress remains.

His eyes are dark now, even under the sunlight, and he registers how Lily hasn’t stepped back, how she raises her head just the slightest to get closer to him. His gaze strays to her lips, Lily blinks, and then James looks back at her.

‘Lily,’ he says, and it’s a question.

‘James,’ she says, and it’s the only answer she can give him.

His lips find hers and in the bright darkness that surrounds Lily when she closes her eyes, she can see everything in colour. The white of his taste of vanilla. The green of his perfume that reminds her of early mourning in the woods. The brown of his skin as he pulls her closer, one hand holding the back of her neck and the other hand finding hers, locking their fingers together. The red of her blood pumping furiously through her veins, so loud and unstoppable.

And she sees him, messy dark hair, hazel bright eyes, her own sun.

But when they break apart, when she watches him keeping his eyes closed a second longer—savouring it, remembering it—, all that comes to her mind it’s the warning.

Taint his blood.

Her smile falters.

‘James,’ she whispers, all warmth of the day gone, hating everything but herself so much more when he opens his eyes and they are filled with hope. ‘This doesn’t mean anything.’

And this is the second lie she tells him.

___________

III.

Summer is over as far as Lily is concerned, but they still have two weeks in which she forces a smile up to her lips that doesn’t fool anyone.

Everyone knows something happened, though no one knows exactly what, and Lily feels too tired to pretend everything is normal. James barely acknowledges her when they are in the same room, and in the few occasions their eyes meet, there is nothing of that familiarity that he once thrived to share with her. He looks confused and hurt.

Lily could deal with the confusion but she is powerless against the hurt. She is the one who damaged him after all.

Their friends are mostly adamant in letting them deal with the situation, one notable exception being Sirius Black, but Lily didn’t expect anything less from him. He watches her rather resentfully in the first days, and Lily starts looking for excuses to avoid attending the events she had carefully arranged with them (with James, sitting by the edge of the lake, holding a scroll against his back as they wrote everything they would do, laughing and planning and hoping).

The summer days are hot, unbearably hot, and the breeze that comes through the window of her room isn’t enough. She could cast a Cooling Charm, but her wand is far away and the fact that she can cast spells outside school has lost its appeal now. She doesn't even celebrate when her school letter comes with a badge attached to it.

Most of the time Lily just stares at the ceiling of her room, finding patterns in the painting that aren’t really there, too strained and too tired to avoid being even more strained—her mind keeps replaying the moment James leaned closer, the brief moment his breath tingled her skin and the softness of his lips over hers, and Lily has no strength to avoid it. She is addicted to it, to the one thing she had a taste of and cannot have again.

Five days into hiding (she is hiding, Lily won’t deny it), her sister knocks on her door to tell her unceremoniously that one of her freak friends has come to visit her.

‘Hurry, I don’t want Vernon finding him when he arrives,’ Petunia tells her, and Lily ignores her completely.

Him, she said. Him, Lily thinks, and her mind conjures James sitting on the couch of her parents’ living room, a grin on his lips as he charms his way with her parents (he charmed her, Lily doesn’t see what challenge her parents would present), accepting a cup of tea and looking around trying to understand all the muggle contraptions in that muggle house—

Muggle lover. All the worse for him.

She rushes downstairs, her heart pounding on her head, her mouth dry with the excuses she will have to present (go away, just go away) but it’s not James after all.

Sirius looks even more out of place than the James she imagined inside her head, standing with his arms crossed in that pastel living room, and with an unhappy grimace on his lips. He turns at the sound of her, his grey eyes burning disapprovingly—and then, as he stares at her, his expression shifts.

‘You are a mess, Evans.’

Self-consciousness washes over her, and Lily runs her hand through her hair—or tries to, because it gets stuck in the knots of her messy braid. She knows she hasn’t changed clothes ever since she woke up, though it’s nearly midday, so she does the only thing she can: she presses her lips, crosses her arms and tries to look unfazed.

‘I wasn’t expecting a visit,’ she says. It’s summer break, she can do nothing all day.

‘I didn’t even mean your appearance. It was more your… aura.’

‘Aura,’ she repeats, a tiny part of her finding this amusing, but Lily can’t muster strength enough to break a smile. ‘Very mystical, Sirius.’

‘That’s me, master of occult arts. But in this case, I just needed to look at you. You—you look miserable.’

‘Thanks. If that’s all you wanted to say—’

‘Oh, no, I came here to give you a piece of my mind about how you broke my best friend’s heart, but you look somehow worse than him. What’s going on?’

Lily shrugs. ‘Nothing.’

‘So you just decided to play with his feelings and ditch him the moment he corresponded?’

His words are a poison that crawls through her skin, entering it slowly but certain; Lily feels it reaching her bloodstream, spreading through every part of her body, until the poison finds her heart. She thought she was oblivious to pain after the last days, but she was wrong.

‘I wasn’t playing with his feelings,’ she whispers, her voice hoarse, so close to breaking.

‘Then what? I thought—everyone thought—you fancied him too. Merlin, Evans, that boy was in love with you.’

The worst part is that Lily knows it. It was not a play to James, it never was. She saw it in the way his face lighted up at the sight of her, how eager he was to become friends once Lily first extended her peace flag. She saw how his eyes always looked first for her in any room he entered, how he’d find any reason to stay closer.

And she saw everything because she was paying attention.

Of course she was. One does not fall in love also if not paying attention.

‘I don’t know what to say, Sirius,’ Lily says truthfully. ‘I am sorry for all the confusion I’ve caused.’

‘Sorry is not enough.’

‘I know.’

Sirius watches her with something that borders on disappointment now. ‘You better find a way of fixing this, Evans.’

‘I—I don’t know how. I’m trying to keep my distance—’

‘And how is that helping you two?’

It’s not, Lily knows, and that’s the point. She can’t explain to James what is the problem and she is afraid that if she sees him again, if her determination falters her for one second—

‘We are going to have a party tomorrow night,’ Sirius says, his voice leaving no room for argument. ‘Dorcas’ house. It’s a goodbye party, we even invited the muggle neighbours. You’ll come, you’ll find James and you’ll talk. Fix this.’

‘I can’t.’

‘You better find a way, Evans, because that thing of keeping your distance? Well, Hogwarts letter came yesterday. Let me guess, you are Head Girl.’

Lily nods, not understanding where Sirius is heading with this.

‘Guess who’s Head Boy this year?’

____________

Lily hears the music as soon as she disapparates near Dorcas’ house. People, young people around her age, are walking towards the house and she joins the flow letting herself get lost in that stream of people, hoping it’s enough to not draw attention to her presence.

It’s useless. As soon as she crosses the doorway, Dorcas cries for her, her voice louder than the music, and then people look at her curiously.

‘Merlin, Lily!’ Dorcas cries, ignoring everyone in the room to whom that sentence makes no sense. ‘I thought I would need to invade the Prefect’s Cabin to see you again.’

‘Sorry, sorry,’ Lily says, accepting Dorcas’ hug, and using it as an excuse to avoid looking around. ‘I had stuff to do.’

It’s vague, it’s almost a lie, and Dorcas is on the edge of discussing it when Lily says she is going to get a drink, leaving the room.

When she reaches the kitchen, Lily considers that having herself questioned by Dorcas was preferable, because of course she runs into James at the first opportunity.

And of course he already has a company.

He is with his back to her, holding a bottle of beer in his hand while he talks with a pretty dark-haired girl. In another time Lily would find amusing how James obviously has no idea what he’s talking about—muggle rock bands, a subject that Sirius would fare better—, but she can’t break a smile right now, because she sees that James is trying.

That’s what he is doing with that unknown girl. He is making a real effort to keep a conversation, trying to understand what she is saying; he is trying to look interesting, to gather her attention.

Ten days, she thinks selfishly. We kissed ten days ago and I can’t stop thinking about it and you are flirting with another girl.

He must sense her staring; he turns around, and his eyes find her for a brief second before Lily bolts through the door (she is running, and she won’t deny it), grabbing the first bottle she sees on her way out.

Sirius must have lied to her (you broke my best friend’s heart), because James looks normal. Not hurt anymore, just… normal. Not like he used to like her in those first glorious days of the summer—bright and hopeful and awaiting—but as if she is just anyone else. Ordinary.

It’s fair, all things considered. She couldn’t expect him to remain in love with the girl who kissed him then rejected him. But she sees it, clearly as day, what the future holds: James will move on whatever he feels for her (that boy was in love with you) and then he will do with someone else everything he used to do with her—that inviting grins, the glint in his eyes, throwing his arm around her shoulder, pulling her closer, so… intimate. Familiar. Hers.

He will share with others what used to be hers.

She leaves the house, in search of a quiet place at the beach to sit on, and looks at the bottle in her hands. Wine. Not good. She will take forever to get drunk on wine and afterwards the headache won’t even be worth it.

But it’s all she has and James is somewhere in that house flirting with a girl (that’s not her) that didn’t reject him and he has every right to do it. Even if it’s a muggle girl. Even if the reason Lily is not with him is that she is muggleborn.

It’s ironic and it’s sad, but it’s not the same. This is a one-night thing. It’s the end of the summer, he’s probably just looking for the last bit of carefree summer adventure as the single guy he is. They will just dance with each other, close together, enjoying their freedom, finding a secluded room, and he will touch the corner of her lips, asking, and she will say yes because that’s the only answer she can give him.

It won’t mean anything, but this time it will be true and this time James won’t get hurt by it.

Maybe Lily should do the same. Not to get even, but to start her own way forward. She can’t be harbouring her feelings for him—wasn’t that the point of not advancing things? Wasn’t that why she lied to him? (That kiss had meant everything)

She takes a sip of the wine, then another and one more for good measure, and she rises, almost colliding with him. Of course.

‘Hey,’ he says awkwardly, arms extended to steady her. It lasts less than a second, but his hands over her arms burn all the same, stronger than the heat any day of that summer.

‘Hi.’

He is looking at a point over her head, unable to meet her eyes, his hand lifting the hair at the back of his head and Lily remembers running her fingers through the strands of his hair while they were kissing, enjoying the fact that for once she was the one messing it.

‘Look, I’m just gonna say it, okay?’ James says in a rush, not as when he is excitedly talking about something he finds interesting. ‘I’m sorry for—for everything.’

Everything. What does it mean?

‘I am too,’ she answers carefully. He takes a deep breath.

‘I heard we are going to be Heads this year—I don’t know what Dumbledore was thinking, really—and I don’t want things to be weird between us.’

Weird. Things were never weird between them before. They weren’t friends, then Lily barely stood him, then they were acquaintances, then they were friends, then they were flirting with each other and then they were so close to something.

But never weird.

Somehow this notion helps to clear the fog in her head.

‘I don’t want it either,’ Lily says, and there is no doubt in her voice. James seems to breathe again with her words.

‘Good.’ There is a moment of silence. ‘Can we forget everything and go back to being just friends?’

Lily steels herself. She takes a look at James’ face—his eyes are on her forehead now, almost meeting her eyes but not yet ready—, one last look to admire him in the darkness of the beach and she is not lying when she says: ‘We can.’

By the end of the night it will be a lie, though, and that’s number three.

___________

They are trying and because no one tries better than James Potter, they are almost achieving it.

They go back to the house, keeping a safe distance between them so no one could misinterpret it, but whatever their friends see in their faces seems to relax everyone. Lily and James are fine, they believe, they are over that weird thing between them, and Lily starts believing it too.

She can do it.

A bottle of gin finds its way towards her group and the music is exciting. It’s a party, she is on a party, and it’s easy to join Dorcas in the middle of a dance, and it’s even easier when Dorcas is replaced by a cute muggle boy who doesn’t look anything like James (that’s why it’s easier—it takes only one second for her to look for any similarity and find none and it’s so easy).

She wonders if that’s why James was talking to that dark-haired girl. If he was avoiding finding Lily in someone else too.

But that’s a bad thought, it’s not a thought of someone who’s trying (and Lily is, she swears), so she accepts his arms, let who-knows-his-name twirl her around the room, but when he leans in to kiss her, she laughs and diverts—she is trying, but it takes small steps, so she says something about getting another drink and goes to the next room.

That’s a mistake.

A big, big mistake.

She finds them sitting close together on a couch that should only fit one, joining some silly drinking game. His arm is around her shoulders, holding a glass that’s nearly finished; they are laughing and as Lily watches it, the girl leans closer to speak something in his ear, her hand playing with the curls of his hair as she speaks. It takes a full second, but he grins, turning to her and winking.

It could be nothing, it could be just some joke, but it’s not harmless, Lily knows it. It’s a flirt, and James has every right to do it; he is free and Lily has just told him they can be friends. Friends don’t get jealous. Friends don’t get their hearts ripped out with the sight of the other smiling happily at someone else.

Lily can’t do it at all.

So she turns away and runs once more (she’s getting quite good at it by now), sprinting upstairs in search of an empty room, somewhere where she can rest until she can breathe again, until she can rearrange her expression into something normal enough for her to come back to the party, find that blond guy who is not James and enjoy her summer break as he is doing right now.

Until she can pretend everything is normal.

‘Lily?’

His voice breaks the silence of that room—though Lily knows she would have heard it anyway—and it sends a wave of panic through her body. She is not ready. She can’t look at him and still keep her promise.

James doesn’t know about her troubles—he is trying after all, and he is so much better at this than Lily will ever be—so he walks towards her, takes a look at her face and kneels in front of her.

‘Are you okay?’

‘No,’ she says, unable to lie. He would see through her anyway.

‘I saw you leaving—what happened?’

‘I need more time. I can’t...’

‘Can’t what?’ She doesn’t answer. James sighs. ‘Are you drunk? Come on, rest a little, I will bring you some water—’

‘I’m not drunk,’ Lily says. Another truth. ‘I just need—I want—’

‘What?’

In answer, she raises her hand and lets her fingers comb his hair. He shivers, his breath catching, his eyes widening and he holds her arm to stop the movement. Nervous. Insecure. She can’t fault him. They’ve been there before, at the edge of something, and she accepted only to turn him away a second later.

‘What are you doing?’

It’s a demand more than a question, and Lily attends it. ‘I don’t want anybody else touching you like I do. It’s mine.’

Her voice is ferocious and unfair and Lily waits for his cold reply, the one she deserves—she has no right to claim any part of him—, but it never comes. Instead, James blinks.

‘Then take it,’ he challenges. Lily does.

Her lips crash over his, and this time is not soft or patient. It’s desperate and when she tastes the whiskey in his mouth, she understands the difference and gladly accepts it. His hands are everywhere—holding her waist, climbing under her skirt, running through her hair to pull her closer—but what somehow stays with her it’s the moment he closes the door and then they are alone and the darkness is their friend.

The darkness makes it easy, embarrassingly easy, for her to break the kiss enough to lift his shirt and for him to slide her dress down and for them to find their way to the bed. He holds her, his lips incessantly, and a part of Lily wonders if he doesn’t want to break apart for fear of what happened the last time he did it.

But the majority of her is too wrapped in the feelings he is bringing to worry about anything. She accepts him, accepts every caress he distributes openly, and returns it eagerly. She tastes the saltiness of his skin, feels every muscle of his chest—the ones she has memorized after so many days at the beach though she had only imagined how they would feel under her fingers—, presses herself closer to him. His hands are exploring her—he saw her at the beach too—and then his mouth replaces his hands and the moan that escapes her lips is true.

She pulls him up, tasting her own sweat on his lips—it was a warm day and it’s a warmer night—and her hands work on the button of his jeans. There is a moment of hesitation—he breaks away, his eyes boring into hers even as the darkness barely allows them to see each other—and then it’s gone. He pulls her last piece of cloth then stands up long enough to take out his last one and then there is only them.

Only Lily and James, except they don’t feel like two anymore. They are one and in the darkness, Lily sees those colours that are so James once more, fireworks whose sounds are moans and short breaths and names whispered so low that the other could pretend they didn’t hear.

But Lily hears it and it’s hers. He is hers for that moment and she is his.

She lied before (and now she knows it). She can’t forget him. She can’t be just friends. James is bright sunny days, cosy cold nights and she longs to share it all with him (she couldn’t, but her mind can’t recall why right now). She locks her hand with his, her nails burying into his skin, and Lily doesn’t want to let go.

He holds her hand, pressing it so hard that she can’t feel circulation there anymore, and then he cries her name, this time impossible to deny it. He called her.

It’s not the last time he will do it tonight. He presses another kiss to her lips—it’s feverish and urgent and somehow even more desperate than the first one—, rests his forehead against her catching his breath and Lily enjoys the moment, enjoys that pleasure and soreness that runs through her body, enjoys how her chest brushes against his as she breathes, slower each time, recovering.

Recover. As if she could.

James breaks apart, rolling to the side and for a moment there is silence, the music distant, the world distant until it’s not anymore, until the world seems too close and the air too heavy, not one breeze to refresh it. Lily thinks of opening the window—it’s already opened, the wind bringing the smell of the sea to the room—when she realizes it’s not the air that feels wrong.

It’s them. No, it’s him.

‘James,’ she calls, panic and fear trembling her voice, coldness spreading through her skin in a way that it should not be possible, not on this summer day.

She can hear him rising from the bed, grabbing his clothes.

‘Lily,’ he answers shortly, opening briefly the door and she can’t see his face. ‘I know, it doesn’t mean anything.’

And that’s James Potter's first lie.

[maddiwrites]

Precious Life

Pairing: JJ x reader

REQUEST (From anon): could you write a jj maybank imagine where he and the reader are together, but she pushes him away due to her mental health. she has insecurity issues after her last boyfriend and her bestfriend passed a few months ago leaving her horribly depressed. finally, she opens up to him and its just super fluffy and he showers her in love and support.

Note: Thank you so much for the request and I’m so sorry it took me a while to write, but hopefully you like it. I kinda suck at fluff, so I’m sorry if it’s not enough fluff. Let me know what you think! 

Word Count: 5k

Warnings: mentions of death of a friend, mental trauma from a past relationship, depression

You don’t know when it happened - whether it was overnight or throughout the past few weeks. Unlike everyone else who was excited about the summer finally beginning after what felt like the longest school year of your life, your days felt darker as you dreaded the upcoming season. You use to love summer - hell, you thrived during the hottest months of the year. You loved outdoor dining, surfing, beach parties, going out on the boat in the marsh with your friends. But now the thought of doing those activities made you want to vomit.

After your best friend passed away only a few months ago, you lost interest in all those activities. Because they all reminded you of her. She was the one who brought you out of you shell and pulled you out of your dark place when the world felt too unbearable to live in anymore. And now she was gone. Just like that. Life is so precious, you remember people telling you that at her funeral. They weren’t wrong. But you never thought your life could compare to the one of your beautifully made best friend.

Her birthday is next month in the early weeks of July. Her mother wants to hold a small party as if she was still there to celebrate. Of course she wants you there, but you don’t know if you’d be able to handle it. A birthday party for a dead girl? What an obvious reminder that she’s not there. It’s going to be the first birthday you spend without her. The tradition of getting smoothie bowls and going to the local zoo and finishing the night off with a bonfire and beer cans you stole out of your parents fridge is completely destroyed. Gone just like she is.

The only person making your miserable life a little more bearable is your wonderful boyfriend, JJ Maybank. Despite only being together for about two months, he became your closest friend. Your best friend would have loved him and would even be impressed that you went for such a bad boy. Your type usually consisted of stuck up boys with egos bigger than their daddy’s bank account. Sometimes you picture a life where your best friend and JJ knew each other. They’d probably be best of friends. Your friend would be weary of him at first, but JJ would work his usual charm and win her over in seconds. It’s what he did with you.

You met him after getting really close with Kiara when her dad hired you as another waitress at the Wreck. You remembered the day he first walked into the restaurant with his friends. You felt his eyes on you the entire time. Feeling bold, you walked over to his table and asked to borrow his phone. You opened his snap chat app and took a selfie with the two of you and said, “Here’s a picture if you want it to last longer.” And that was how the love story of JJ Maybank and Y/N Y/L/N started. JJ still has the picture saved as his Lock Screen. It makes you smile every time you see it.

Your life with JJ was nearly perfect. What started as a flirty banter became something serious. Kie knew JJ was in deep because he never complained about how slow you wanted to take the relationship. Aka sex. Usually JJ is the kind of guy who will go get what he wants. And if that’s a quick lay, that’s what he’ll go searching for. Someone that won’t make him work too hard for it. But with you? It was different. Sure he wanted to explore that part of the relationship with you, but only when you were ready. It was hard for him some days, especially when you wore his hoodies or kissed him so deeply that he swore his skin was on fire.

Although JJ has been nothing but a respectful KING about your decision to wait, you can’t help but feel guilty about keeping him waiting. It’s not that you didn’t want to - because god did you want to. But it was hard for you to give someone all of you like that. Part of you blames that on your own insecurities and the other part knows it’s trauma due to your past relationship. You never told anyone the kind of vile and disgusting things your ex boyfriend would say to your face. Well, you confessed to your best friend on the night he broke up with you. You physically had to hold her back by her hair to keep her from setting his house on fire. She tried to make you see that everything he said about you was wrong. Dumb, fat, whore, useless, poor, ugly. You wanted to believe her, but it was like your ex had physically tattooed the words onto your skin and it was hard to see anything else. When things were getting heated between you and JJ and you felt his hand dip under the thin material of your t shirt, you would pull away, afraid that he would feel the rolls on your stomach. You never let him see you without makeup on. And even wore baggy clothing so you wouldn’t have to worry about showing too much skin. You didn’t want him getting the wrong impression.

JJ tried asking Kie about it. JJ is smarter than people give him credit for. He had a feeling that your choosing to not have sex ran deeper than just not being ready. Which is totally fine but he wanted to be there for you if you needed help. Of course Kie had no idea. But just like JJ, she noticed you pulling away from the group slowly. She thought maybe it was the stress of finals as the end of the school year wrapped up, but then summer came around and the less you did.

“She’s been off, right?” JJ asks Kie. His legs bounces up and down anxiously and he chews on the nub of his thumb nail. “Do you notice it too?”

Kie doesn’t know how to answer. Of course she wants to be honest with her best friend, but she also doesn’t want to hurt him. “I mean, she’s been kind of distant with us. Maybe she’s been busy. I mean she’s gotten a few of her shifts covered in the last two weeks.”

JJ shakes his head. “I don’t know. I can’t shake off this feeling that it’s something more than that. Something I’m missing. I mean...” he sighs and takes his fingers through his hair. “Do you think it’s me? Did I do something? Maybe she feels pressured by this whole sex thing-“

“No. Of course not.” Kie says. She knows JJ would never make you do anything you don’t want to do, and he would never make you feel guilty about it. “You should talk to her about it next time you see her. I mean, I could bring it up too but I think it would be best coming from you.”

JJ nods and accepts this answer from Kie. It doesn’t make him feel any less anxious about the state of your relationship but at least he’s not crazy for thinking you’re pulling away.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

He doesn’t see you for another week. You claimed that you’ve been busy with work and college prep. JJ didn’t buy it but he also didn’t push it. He saw you when you showed up at his window at the Chateau. 

You’d come after having one of your episodes - one where you can’t sleep or eat or even focus on one thought. You don’t know why you came to the Chateau. You knew JJ would be here but you didn’t think he’d be able to help you. No one ever can.

“Hey,” JJ flicks on the lamp from the bedside table as he watches your figure squeeze through the window. “What are you doing here?”

You shrug. “I - uh. I don’t know, exactly. Just wanted to see you, I guess.”

JJ tilts his head and narrows his eyes at you. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” You lie. 

JJ nods, but he doesn’t believe you. “Then come here.” He opens up his arms for you to fall into. When you do, he pulls you in close with your head laying on his bare chest. You focus on his steady heartbeat and his warm arms around your body. You miss this. Being with JJ whole heartedly - mind and body. Recently it’s only been your body - your mind off somewhere else. 

“Did I wake you?” You ask softy. 

JJ kisses the top of your head. “No.” 

When you close your eyes, you picture your friend again. Her smile and laugh. Things that should have made you happy. But they don’t. Not anymore.

You don’t remember when or how it happened - how you ended up being below a hovering JJ as his lips peppered your skin. You remember starting the heavy make out session, hoping to distract yourself from the depressing thoughts of your dead best friend.

However, the deeper you got into it, the deeper you got in your own thoughts. First about your friend and then about your ex. What he would say if he were the one above you - “I thought you were going to the gym?” “You didn’t shave?” “You could use some sun.” - His voice rang in your head like a screeching record and you couldn’t do it anymore.

“Stop,” you mumble softly enough that JJ doesn’t hear it until you physically push him off of you and say more loudly. “J, stop!”

As his back hits the mattress again, he holds his hands up in surrender. He didn’t realize he was doing anything wrong and his heart races with the thought that maybe he hurt you or had gone too far.

You quickly pick up your tossed shirt and bag while avoiding all kinds of eye contact with him. You felt embarrassed. It’s not his fault that you can physically feel every skin roll on your body or think you can smell every bad odor radiating off your skin. JJ has never been anything but a prince to you since you started dating. You felt bad that you couldn’t give him what he wanted. Sex should be a normal part of your relationship yet you couldn’t seem to give him your all just yet.

“I’m sorry. Did I-“ JJ starts to apologize but you cut him off.

“No. I’m sorry. I should go. I should have never come -“

“Hey,” JJ sits up and tries to reach for you, but you yank your hand closer to your body when his fingers graze your skin. JJ frowns. “You don’t have to go. We can just go to sleep. Or I can sleep on the couch.”

You pause at the bedroom door with your back to him. You squeeze your eyes tight to stop the tears from cascading down your cheeks. You hate this. Feeling like another burden to someone else. Not being able to give the one you love everything they want. It’s not fair. It feels like everyday your days just keeping getting darker and darker as if the sun never rises. And you don’t know how long you’ll be able to take it.

“Y/N...” JJ softly calls out for you. He can see the tension in your shoulders and your knuckles turning white as you clench around the door knob. He knows something isn’t right. That there’s more than meets the eye when it comes to what you’re going through. He’d never force you to tell him anything. But he wants you to feel comfortable enough that you know you have the option to talk if you wanted to.

“I’m sorry, J...” your voice cracks which makes JJ’s heart break a little more. Still with your back to him, you shake your head. “I can’t be what you want me to be.”

“Y/N -“

You finally turn to look at him. “You deserve someone who will give you everything you want. Someone who makes you happy - someone who is happy.” You sniffle back the tears. “I’m sorry. That’s just not me.”

Tears prick at JJ’s eyes. He wishes he can say he is surprised, but he honestly saw this coming. You’ve been distant and hard to read. He thought you were falling out of love with him for weeks. But that doesn’t make this any less hard to hear.

“Don’t do this,” JJ shakes his head. “We can work this out -“

“I can’t do it anymore,” you shake your head as one lone tear falls down your cheek. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

You rip the door open and stumble through John B’s house before JJ could say anything else. You throat feels on fire as you bite back a heart wrenching scream from what you’ve just done. You probably ruined the best thing that’s ever happened to you. No surprise there, you think. Nothing in your life seems to ever go as planned.

You run home until your legs feel like they’re literally on fire. By the time your back hits the mattress of your own bed, your muscles feel like jello, and you wonder if you’ll ever be able to walk again.

You cry into your pillow until the world around you fades to darkness.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Its been about two weeks since you last saw JJ and the Pogues. You didn’t think it was possible, but without them, your life somehow felt even emptier. Days feel like years. Your body feels so heavy, it’s hard to get out of bed most days. You can’t remember the last time you showered. Your skin on your face feels dry from all tears that have been shed. Some days you want to pick up the phone and call JJ or Kie, just to hear their voice. But you don’t. Because you don’t want to feel like a burden to either one of them. You broke up with JJ. You’re not their problem anymore.

With your head tucked deep into your pillow, you feel the corner of your bed dip as if someone had just sat down. You figured it was just your mom checking in on you again for the hundredth time. She doesn’t say anything and you don’t acknowledge her either. 

Your phone beeps with another text message from JJ. You peek your eye open at your phone and slowly reach for it. You hesitate opening the message, afraid that whatever he has to say will only break your heart and make you feel like an even worse human being.

“You’re seriously not going to answer that?” The person sitting on your bed says, making you snap around to face the girl who is for sure not your mother, but your best friend. The same best friend who’s buried in a cemetery fifteen minutes away from your house. 

She looks exactly how you remember her. Long beautiful hair that frames her perfect jawline. Tan almost glistening skin that radiates off the sunlight that shines through your window. Eyes sparkling with life and mischief.

You look at her with wide eyes and an open mouth. You were truly at a loss for words. Confused was an understatement. It didn’t make sense.

She laughs at your reaction and shakes her head. “Do you need a minute?”

“I don’t - how - am I - am I dreaming?” You stutter. 

“No I’m just the prettiest zombie you’ve ever seen,” She says sarcastically and holds her grin. You blink at her. “Yes, you’re dreaming. Well, kinda.” She stands up and faces you. “You’re definitely dreaming but I’m in control of visiting you in your sleep. Kinda cool, right? It’s a ghost trick I recently learned.”

“I’m officially going crazy,” You say.

“You’re right. You are going crazy,” Your friend rounds to the other side of the bed to come face to face with you as you sit up and rub your eyes. “But not because you’re seeing me. Because you’re not seeing JJ.”

You drop your hands at your side and glare at her. “You don’t even know him.”

“I know of him,” She says. “He’s a Pogue. A hot one too. And he’s head over heels in love with you. What else do I need to know?”

You shake your head. “It’s complicated.”

“Why? He loves you and you love him.”

You flip your comforter off you body and walk past the girl who loves sticking her nose in other people’s business. You always told her it would get her in trouble one day. But you secretly loved that she was so nosy. Because she cared and always gave the best advice. 

You walk towards your dresser and stare at yourself in the mirror above it. The bags under your eyes are dark and your skin pale. Your hair is greasy from your lack of washing it and you’re starting to realize you’re beginning to smell.

Your friend sighs and sits back on your bed. “He’s in your head,” She says glumly.

You scoff, “I think if anyone’s in my head, it’s you.”

She glares back at you. “You know what I mean. Y/Ex’s/N. He’s still tormenting you after almost a year of not seeing him.”

You shake your head. “No I’m -”

“Come on, Y/N. You can’t lie to me. You’re still hiding your laugh behind your hand because he called it obnoxious. You hide yourself under baggy clothing and you won’t have sex with JJ because Y/Ex’s/N said you were bad at it -”

“Stop.”

“Clearly you weren’t bad at it since he got to come every single time. If anyone was bad at it, it was him.”

“Y/BFF’s/N.”

“What? It’s true,” She shrugs. That’s what you always loved about her. She was unapologetic. She meant what she said every time no matter what. You wished you had her confidence. She sighs and moves over on the bed so she’s closer to you. “Y/N, you deserve to be happy,” she says more softly. “And JJ makes you happy. Why are you pushing him away? Why can’t you let yourself be happy?”

“Because you’re not here!” You finally kick down the wall that’s been building in your head since your friend’s death. You never talked about her with anyone. Not even with her own family. She was your person - the girl who was going to stand by your side at your wedding, be the god mother to your children, your shoulder to cry on, and your therapist when you needed to rant. And now she’s not here and it feels wrong living the life you were supposed to live together. “How can I be happy when you’re not here?”

“Y/N...”

“No,” You cry. “It’s not fair. You’re supposed to be here. I can’t pretend like everything’s normal when it’s not. This was supposed to be the best summer of our lives and then you just left.” You snap your fingers. “Just like that. Out of nowhere. And if that can happen to you then it can happen to -”

You cut yourself off, afraid to say what you really were thinking. You didn’t want to put that kind of energy into the atmosphere because the thought haunted you every night when you were alone with your thoughts. You never thought you could lose someone like you lost your best friend. You didn’t think that would ever happen to you. But it did. And it put life in perspective for you. You don’t think you’d be able to live through another loss like that so falling for JJ was scary to you. Because if something ever happened to him, you wouldn’t know what to do. 

“Hey,” She stands up to embrace you in a hug. You sob into her shoulder and squeeze her tightly against you. You don’t want to let her go. She feels so real. You’re actually touching her. “Look at me.” She eventually pulls away to look at you. She offers a sad grin and pushes your hair out of your eyes. “I’m sorry I died. But you get to live! You know how jealous I am that you have the ability to eat smoothie bowls every day and go surfing and date cute boys and go on road trips with your friends and family? You don’t even know how good you have it. And on top of that, you have the hottest guy on the island fawning over you and you’re too sad about me to even realize it. I don’t want you to live this way -” she motions to your messy room. “I want you to take advantage of the life you have. If I can’t live it, then you have to live it for me.”

“I don’t want to do it without you,” You cry.

She shakes her head. “You’ll never be without me, chick. I’m always going to be with you. Besides, I like JJ. You’d be stupid to let him go.”

You bite your bottom lip and feel a rush of heat climb up your neck to your cheeks. “He is really good to me.” You knew your friend was right. She was always right. “I miss you.”

“I miss you too,” She says. You both turn when you hear someone knock on your door. She looks back at you and smirks. “That’s my cue.”

“Wait -”

“Don’t worry, chick. Remember what I said. I’m not far away.”

You gasp awake wrapped in your sheets with dried drool stuck to your chin. You sit up and look around frantically for any sign of your best friend. But she’s gone. So is any sign that she might have been here. You rub the dried saliva off your chin with your fingers and sigh up at the ceiling. It felt so real.

Your mom lets herself into your room and smiles at you. “Oh, good. You’re awake.”

“Yeah...” You say slowly. You think back to everything your best friend said to you in your dream. How lucky you are to live a life that she can’t. For the first time ever, she was jealous of you. For a life you’re taking for granted. Although it was hard to be happy without her by your side, you knew she didn’t want you sulking around for her. Some days are going to be hard. That’s just the inevitable. But you have the ability to make it easier. It all starts with you. “I think I’m going to take a shower.”

“Really?” Your mom says, surprised by the effort you’re making so early in the morning. 

“Yeah,” You grin and walk past her to get to your bathroom. Today is going to be a new day, you say to yourself as you let the warm water rain over you. 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Two days later was your best friend’s birthday. A day you’ve been dreading for weeks. Your heart felt heavy and your mind clouded as you moved around your room getting ready for the day. As much as you wanted to stay in bed, you knew it wouldn’t be what she wanted. You haven’t spoken to her since that night, but you knew she was quietly watching over you. 

You throw on a pair of sports shorts and a long sleeve t shirt. The day is cold and foggy so you knew the cemetery would be cold. Your parents offer you a small smile as you walk out the door with a bouquet of flowers and a blanket.

You slowly come to a stop as you’re walking to your car parked on the street in front of your house when you recognize a familiar truck parked behind it. JJ steps out of the driver’s seat and approaches you with his hands tucked in his short pockets. He smiles sheepishly at you and glances down at the flowers. 

“Hey,” He says. 

“Hey,” You shuffle awkwardly on your feet. Why did he have to look so good? He’s dressed in a Coors Light tank and cargo shorts. His golden hair is perfectly quaffed and his skin perfectly sun kissed. “How are you?”

“Good, good,” He nods. He hates that your relationship has resulted to this. Awkward small talk. “I’m sorry. Am I catching you at a bad time?” He motions to the flowers. 

“Um,” You glance between the flowers and him and shrug. “No. I was actually just going to see a friend. Would you like to come?” You remember all the things your friend had to say about JJ. How he loves you, you love him, and he makes you happy. You messed up by breaking up with him, but maybe you can make it right by explaining everything to him. 

“Oh,” JJ looks surprised that you’re offering time to hang out. He was afraid you were going to push him away and shut your front door in his face. He didn’t know what was going to happen. He just wanted to see you. “Yeah. Definitely.”

You smile. “Great. But we have to stop for smoothie bowls on the way.”

JJ laughs. “No problem.”

Surprisingly, it wasn’t awkward being alone with JJ after all this time. The two of you spent the car ride talking about the other Pogues and what they’ve been up to in the past couple of weeks. It was bittersweet talking about them because of how much you missed them, but you hoped that they would accept you back into their friend group after you explained to JJ why you’ve been so distant. 

“Uh, Y/N.” JJ says when he parks the car.

“Yeah?” 

“This is a cemetery.”

You can’t help but giggle at his apprehension. “I know. Come on.”

JJ carries the flowers and you carry the brown paper bag that holds your three smoothie bowls and a blanket. You lead him through the wet grass, past dozens of tomb stones until you find where your best friend peacefully lays. 

JJ stays silent as he looks between you and the tombstone. The years etched onto the tombstone indicate that someone your age is buried here. He quickly puts the puzzle pieces together and tries to read your facial expression. Your sadly grinning at the tomb stone when you feel JJ’s eyes on the side of your face. 

You lay the blanket down and offer half of it for him to sit next to you. He does but stays quiet, waiting for you to explain whenever you’re ready.

“This is Y/BFF’s/N,” You introduce her. “She was my best friend.” JJ nods and lets you continue as you stare at the tombstone. “She died a few weeks before we met.” You pull out the smoothie bowls and pass one to JJ and place the other one in front of the flowers placed by the grave. “Today’s her birthday and  we had this tradition that we would get smoothie bowls every morning of our birthday.” You pop open the lid of your bowl and push around the berries laying on top with your spoon. “I know I owe you an explanation.”

“It’s okay. You don’t have to...”

“Trust me,” You smile at him, “I do. She would kill me if I didn’t.” 

You told JJ about the mental toll her death had on your life. Even with JJ by your side, you felt her missing presence heavily all day every day. It wasn’t that you weren’t happy in your relationship with JJ, it was just that something was missing and it was something you couldn’t bring back to your life. Because of her loss, you fell back into a depression you once experienced towards the end of your last relationship. You told JJ about the mental anguish your ex left you with and why you don’t feel comfortable opening yourself up to him, both physically and mentally. You promised it wasn’t because of JJ but because of your ex and the things he said to you. With your friend���s birthday coming up, everything was weighing you down mentally and you didn’t want to hinder JJ’s life any longer. You told him you thought breaking up with him was best for him so he didn’t have to deal with your problems and he can find a girl that makes him happy. You regret ever walking away from him that night. Your friend was your person, but now so is JJ. You want him to know everything about you. Good and bad. He deserves to know the truth.

“She would’ve liked you,” You brush your fallen tears away with the back of your hand. “You guys are alike in a lot of ways.”

“Yeah?” JJ smiles at you. “How?”

“She made me laugh and always pushed me past my comfort zone. She challenged me to do more with my life. And she never gave up on me,” You grin up at him. “I’m sorry for pushing you away.”

“You don’t have to be,” JJ says. “I get it. No one deserve to lose a friend like this. I don’t know what I would do if this happened to John B or Pope or even Kie.”

“I still love you, J. And I want to give you every part of me. I just...need some help opening up.”

JJ sets down his smoothie bowl and turns to face you. His hand caresses the side of your face and pushes your hair back behind your ear. “Hey....we can take it as slow as you want. I’m not going anywhere.”

You smile at him. “So, you wanna try this again?”

“Abso-fucking-lutely.”

JJ leans in to kiss you on your lips. Butterflies erupt from your stomach and fireworks shoot across every nerve in your body. When you eventually pull away, you’re smiling because even when your best friend isn’t here to physically push you, she has her own way of getting into your head and making sure you don’t take the life you have in front of you for granted. And you couldn’t be more grateful for that.

Unbeknownst to you, your friend watches from a far with her arms crossed and a smirk on her face. Slightly shaking her head, she says to you, “You’re gonna be just fine, chick.”

[lady-of-lyon]

So, I made one post a while back about how awesomely feminist the show Wild Kratts was, with how its two main female characters were women of color in engineering and deserving roles of power, female villains who weren’t motivated by spite or quest for youth, etc, but today I wanted to talk about something slightly different, that I’ve wanted to cover for a while now, because I also think it’s very good - and that’s how the show portrays masculinity, in a way that’s really positive!

First, we have our two main characters, Chris and Martin Kratt. Keep in mind these two are basically self-inserts - and there are plenty of creators, especially males, who have used self-insert characters in really scummy ways - all I have to say is Powerpuff Girls reboot and you know exactly what I’m talking about. Even if they weren’t literal self-inserts, male characters, superheroes especially, oftentimes serve the male power fantasy, being just the strong, stoic, all-powerful person so many boys are told they’re supposed to be. I could get into a whole discussion about how the male power fantasy is present even when males are not (ever look through a fashion magazine and wonder why there are so few men? Sure, part of it is that the industry thrives off exploiting women’s insecurities, and men aren’t as concerned for their appearance, but another part of it is so that the guy, looking through it, can feel like he has no competition for these women - there’s a reason so many comedians have jokes about fashion magazines being their sexual awakening as kids. It’s really scummy) but that’s not what this is about. So, the bros had every opportunity to do just that - make themselves these traditional heroes who aren’t actually really good role models, like batman or what have you. It’s certainly not uncommon for celebrity cartoons to do stuff like that. But Martin and Chris chose a different approach. They’re pretty strong standouts for positive masculinity. They’re openly affectionate - both with eachother as brothers, and with their friends. They cry, sometimes over little things - most of the time when big superheroes cry, it’s ‘cause they lost the girl they loved or their mentor or something like that, only in the big, most agonizing moments do they shed a tear. But here, Chris or Martin will cry just because they’ve had a bad day, or because they’re overwhelmed and overjoyed that someone named a mantis after them! In a lot of shows or movies when a guy cries over something little, it’s usually played for laughs, or to emasculate him, but here it’s casual without being unreasonable or overdone. The brothers cry just ad much, maybe even more (haven’t gone back and counted or anything) as the girls do. Not to mention, it’s a very nice depiction of a loving, healthy sibling relationship. As the youngest sibling myself, it’s refreshing to see a pair who don’t abuse eachother with noogies or cruel and snarky remarks. When they do fight, it’s never a screaming match, and also because they had a conflict of interest or disagreed over a fact, not because, say, one of them stole the other’s shirt or is neglecting the other’s feelings. Kids, being very impressionable, get exposed to a lot of abusive sibling relationships played as normal in media, and start thinking this is how siblings are and should act. For instance, my sister (who is now my best friend and has gotten over all these bad habits over time) when she was younger watched a lot of Kim Possible, a show that is great, but has a bad family dynamic with Kim and her little siblings. The “tweebs” as she calls them are always irresponsible, destructive, and making Kim annoyed to no end. My older brother was one of the most polite, reserved, kind little kids, but she still treated him like he was a brat and a nuisance, because that’s what shows like Kim Possible taught her little brothers were. Additionally, I was always treated like a spoiled crybaby who just wanted attention and got away with everything - I was not any of those things, ever, but that’s what shows teach you little sisters are. Sure, Wild Kratts has a smidge of that, with Chris seemingly being the stereotype of the know-it-all little sibling, but instead of being constantly looked town upon for being too “perfect” like with Hailey Long in American Dragon, Martin often praises his brother for his abilities. Sure, Martin gets annoyed when Chris tries to correct him on things, like in the episode Wolf Hawks, but everyone else does too, so it feels more like a take-down of mansplaining than a sibling spat.

I talked too in the feminist post about how refreshing it is that Chris and Martin more or less willingly put themselves under the authority of Koki and Aviva, two women of color. I don’t think it’s possible to say any one character is the “leader,” they all work as a evenly balanced team, but it’s safe to say that Koki and Aviva make the more responsible decisions. The bros try to get out of their calls a few times, but the show plays it more like they’re being irresponsible, and less like they’re renegade cool dudes who don’t take nothing from nobody, especially not two girls. They are pretty much always punished via karma for their reckless choices, most especially in To Touch a Hummingbird, where their arrogant attitudes blow up in their faces rather spectacularly. We also never see the narrative most present in sitcoms, where the male leads mess up and go out of their way to cover it up and ultimately gets away with it - after all, you have to root for them, right, because sure they messed up and had no consequences, but aren’t they just so lovable? No, here Martin and Chris always have to fix their wrongdoing, and it’s always deserved when they get comeuppance. Another aspect of the show I like is that, many times, when the bros get captured or are in peril, they are saved by the women - and most refreshing of all, there’s never a moment of “wink wink nudge nudge wow I can’t believe I had to be rescued by a GIRL” or even “wow you saved me you’re pretty good honey guess I shouldn’t have underestimated you, you go girl!” No, when the girls save them, it’s just - you know, relief? Because they were saved? It’s never a scenario played as an exception, or any more dire than when the bros need to rescue eachother. The bros are genuinely happy to have them as teammates. The show even did the standard “boys vs girls” episode in the form of When Fish Fly - but instead of being actually girls vs. boys, it’s engineers vs. adventurers. There’s nothing really gendered about it - the girls happen to be engineers, and the boys happen to be adventurers. And the episode doesn’t end with the boys being “wow gosh darn I shouldn’t have doubted you girls are better at everything,” it’s a mutual agreement that both parties have hard jobs. Basically, the bros are very naturally respectful of women. That plays more into their feminist narrative too, but either way, it’s refreshing.

Then, we have Jimmy! Jimmy, the lovable gamerboy pizza man. At first glance Jimmy seems like the stereotypical cowardly, pathetic, emasculated loser. He’s frightened of most things, as of yet has no power suit, and he BAKES for crying out loud! But none of these things are framed as terribly bad traits. Sure, we laugh when he screams and runs from an animal, but though it happens over and over, the crew doesn’t get sick of it. They don’t berate him or belittle him because he’s so gosh darn cowardly. There’s a great scene in Rattlesnake Crystal where Jimmy has to deliver something to the bros alone, in the middle of a spooky desert. He is terrified the whole time, sprinting off after he delivers the goods. When Martin and Chris run into him, they don’t laugh at him for being spooked, they just greet and then bid fair well to their friend. To them, this is just Jimmy, and there’s nothing wrong with it. Jimmy isn’t coddled, but he is reassured many times that he’s a valuable member of the team. I love that little message, that you’re just as important of a person even if you can’t do as much or have greater limits. When his friends do try to get him over his fears, it’s not because they have to, that the day will somehow be ruined by Jimmy’s incompetence p, but because they’re his friends, and want him to experience fun and wonderful things that he would otherwise miss out on. But what Jimmy CAN do is just as important! Jimmy is a gamer, which in a lot of shows, is portrayed as a lazy, useless, mindless hobby. But here, because he plays video games, it makes him essential for piloting the ship and teleporting important items. There’s always the joke that video games improves your hand/eye coordination, but recent studies have shown it has much better effects. It can make you much better at keeping track of multiple moving objects and processing technical but variable information- two traits which, fittingly enough, are really really important for air traffic controllers and airplane pilots! He also demonstrates a lot more courage behind the wheel of the Tortuga, which makes sense - in an impersonal setting, he would have more sense of calm and control and courage, because it’s so similar to a video game world. It’s not all too different with how I feel more emboldened to pick fights with people on the internet, but get crazy anxious if a real person so much as looks at me. So Jimmy’s love of video games isn’t because he’s irresponsible, it has real benefits. A quick last point - Jimmy also eats a lot, but they thankfully don’t make him fat or greedy or anything like that. He never takes food from people, he actually bakes, and shares it with others! Having the baker be a boy is a lovely touch.

I might do another post about the toxic masculinity of the two villains, (or four villains, I guess, if I wanna discuss the minions) but I’ve got other work to do, and this post is long enough already, so I’ll get around to it later. I’ll sum it up with this - Wild Kratts is a show that teaches boys it’s not only ok to be kind, but essential. The brothers protect defenseless animals, advocate for things “icky” and “weird,” like bugs or snakes or worms - not because they’re boys, and boys like icky things, but because they genuinely see the beauty in all life, and are encouraging us to slow down and do the same. The Wild Kratts are heroes who save the world not by being the strongest or smartest or coolest, but by looking after those who are exploited and vulnerable, who are essential to the world, even if they can’t always do everything. In Wild Kratts the only weaknesses a man can have isn’t what he can’t do, but what he does do that he shouldn’t have. Sure, it’s a cute show about two funny guys who have cool powers, but it’s also a show about accountability, compassion, respect and trust. The show says “boys will be boys” in all the right ways - Martin is a lovable goof with a heart of gold, but he still has to get his act together when he messes up, and he’s still creative and smart and openly sensitive. Chris is a bit of a know-it-all show-off, but he can also mess up as much as his brother, and is still bold, brave, adventurous, and can put his money where his mouth is. Jimmy is a cowardly, napping, eating machine video-gamer, but he’s still a valued member of the team, has incredible skills and talents, and will always help his friends, even if he is really, really scared. It is so important to have role models like these, in a world dominated by unhealthy machismo. The Wild Kratts are heroes who save the world - both animated, and real.

All they need now is a canon queer character, and I’ll stan them forever! My money’s on Aviva!!

[the-phantom-ender]

okay serious entity assignments time now because i said i might yesterday and i am better rested now.

first off, ill say that like... i dont know everything about every empire, i might be a little off base with some of the members i know less about.

second, the thing about aligning characters with entities is that it doesnt tend to be as easy as just something they fear. they also have to thrive in it. if all it took was fear, there would be lots of people marked directly by the web, if all it took was the ability to thrive, most introverts would be marked by the lonely. it takes a careful balance of both (unless the characters hand is forced, which we do technically see in t.ma canon at least once) for someone to be effectively marked by a fear, much less be an avatar (which is... a loose term at best but i digress because the explanatory bit is getting long dfjkhdf)

stuffs under the cut because it got. long. and feel free to share your own thoughts about them!!

shelby: an interesting case where my gut said corruption but upon reflection i think aligning her with the eye makes more sense? she definitely is shaped by corruption, but her arc thus far has mostly revolved around her desire to learn and her fear of what that knowledge might reveal. after her encounters with xornoth, she also seems very nervous about the idea of being watched.

lizzie: the vast is obvious for her, but it does make sense. its the fear of heights and deep waters and human insignificance, infinity. lizzie absolutely thrives in the depths and holds no fear for the waters but she does show hesitance when it comes to leaving. the danger comes from the outside, the other. which seems more like the lonely, sure, but the vast and lonely link greatly.

joel: im a little biased with the desolation alignment for joel because of 3l. i still think it could work for empires, but... the stranger might work better. i dont think theres anything quite as 'stranger' as filling your home with statues of yourself, giving workers your face, but everything is just slightly... wrong. be it that they dont fit quite right or that their limbs are leather and wood. Unfamiliarity, the uncanny.

gem: so id originally said eye for gem but @loganprobably (i hope the tags cool sjgkhdfh) mentioned the lonely and... both work i think. gem has an appreciation for knowledge, for awareness and learning. but shes also in a position where she both isolates herself and gets overly involved. being one of the people to try to ally with everyone but having a clear side picked. the welcome and the shunning. whats a girl gotta do for some peace and quiet?

scott: scott is... hard. itd be so easy to just throw lonely or eye at him because he stays to himself and knows a lot. id wager the web might work better, though. he keeps his distance, keeps an eye on all that goes on, and... makes no moves. he waits, plans ahead. if war brews he needs to be able to side with the winners. he shows a distain for the idea of being controlled and avoids situations where he could be. hes careful with his choices when theyre made.

jimmy: jimmy. lonely, but for a different reason than gem would be. he is friendly and kind and cares deeply for others, yet hes so clearly... the outcast, even within his own circles. hes the picked on, the betrayed. a friend to all but loved, respected, by none. in his times of need he is forgotten, silenced. yet he doesnt seem to hate the loneliness, just the fact that no one came.

joey: oh god here we go. joeys hard to pin down. the hunt might work? he could fall into the lonely but being lost doesnt inherently mean lonely (it actually ties more in with the vast). i say the hunt, though, because he refuses to back down from his stances, even if theyre objectively wrong, and will do so by whatever means necessary. hell instigate the death of others for the sake of getting what he wants.

fwhip: the slaughter. sacrifice and destruction follow him in everything and he thrives in it. his violence isnt entirely mindless but he has a penchant for war and the things that go into it. heres where my stuff starts getting less cohesive as i watch these members much less ;^^

sausage: the corruption and the desolation lay equal claim on sausage. in everything he plays tricks and feigns niceties and makes himself out to be the one in the right. all the way he makes it seem as if hes kind and just in his actions even if his motives are chaos and destruction. he still holds a fear for things going wrong and holds tight to his alliances.

pixl: the end. his vigil is very very 'end' to me. death, to him, is inevitable, a fact of life, and he choses to honor it and give it respect. in all things he does he knows death to be a cause and an end to the means. even if his trickery may just be a signal of the spiral... whos to say?

katherine: okay. bear with me for this one, yeah? the flesh. no im not only saying this because of the bone garden. the fear that we are just meat and bones, the realization that animals go to the slaughter. i believe its a fact that many involved with the flesh become vegetarian after encounters and her whole thing is plants. she shows a distaste for killing animals but a desire to use them in projects.

pearl: the dark. yes, this is the obvious choice, but i do have reason beyond it. pearls character in empires is directly contrary to her name. she revels in the light and lives around sunflowers and growth. despite this she will let herself work into the night, she will let herself turn a blind eye to damage being done. what she cant see cant hurt her.

bonus:

xornoth: the extinction. i know there are no actual avatars of the extinction in the source, however: it makes sense, right? more than this creature is corruption or the end it wants mortals gone. it wants mortals gone and to be released and freed to do this deed.

[el-gilliath]

Maybe Forever

I did two remixes this year, and for @rnmremix I took on @daughterofelros and her story Maybe Someday which is about Michael plantsitting Alex’s plants. I turned it around, and this has Alex plantsitting Michael’s plants. I angsted in this, but the ending is still happy. Happy reading!

Ao3

It takes him by surprise when he gets the question, as it’s something he never thought Michael would ever be a fan of. Not because it’s wrong, immoral, strange or anything like that. He just didn’t expect it. Because, you know, it’s... Plants. Green things with foliage and sometimes flowers in all different shapes and sizes. Michael is rough, wild curly hair, motor oil, science and sass. Plants don't seem like something he would enjoy or care about. But here he is, down in Michael’s bunker where plants really shouldn’t thrive. But they are. Thriving, that is. Growing wild and beautiful in what is seemingly organized chaos around Michael’s science equipment and feats of mechanical engineering.

“This is what you want me to watch for you? Plants?” he asks incredulously as he looks around.

“Yeah? Something wrong with plants?”

He can hear the defensiveness in Michael’s tone of voice, and he flinches minutely. “That’s not what I meant, Guerin. I’m just surprised. I didn’t know you had them, especially down here.”

“There's nothing wrong with keeping plants down here you know.”

“I know that,” Alex says, his own tone becoming more defensive. “I’m surprised you have plants, I didn’t know that would interest you. That’s all.”

“I can have hobbies you know,” Michael replies, looking like he’s already regretting asking Alex to water them while he’s gone for a week.

Alex just looks at him, eyebrows lifting at the way Michael is acting, wondering if they can ever be close again without bickering. Michael seems to realize it too, as his posture relaxes with a deep sigh. He’s visibly calming himself down, and Alex can’t help but admire how easily he does it. Especially since he knows it isn’t easy at all for Michael, so used to keeping the charade that keeps him and his family safe up at all times.

“Sorry. I’m being defensive for no damn reason over here.” Michael sighs again, impossibly deeper this time. Like sighing takes deep stress away from him. Maybe it does, for all Alex knows. “My mom kept plants, and could grow them with her powers. I… I wanted to try it too.”

“You’re doing a great job,” Alex says, smiling at him. It’s tentative, but honest. Real. “And I’m sorry too, I was honestly just surprised, I didn’t mean to make you feel bad about it.”

“It’s okay.” Michael smiles in return. “So. You think you could be up for it?”

“Yeah, I’ll watch over them. No promises they’ll be alive when you get back though.”

“Nah, you’re Alex Manes. You can do anything.”

The smile on Alex’s face turns wry, probably a bit unsure. It’s not true, in so many ways. But he appreciates what Michael is trying to do. The confidence he’s trying to instill in the face of a task Alex has never had before. Michael knows how uneasy he is when it comes to situations like this. But he’ll power through like he always does. Especially for Michael. And it’s plants. It can’t be that hard.

-----

He quickly finds that he’s wrong. So damned wrong. He has no idea how Michael created a thriving garden in the dark bunker but it quickly becomes apparent that Alex cannot do the same thing. He can water them and trim them if needed but three days into Michael’s week away from Roswell and they’re starting to droop. Sad, missing Michael, drooping. The worst part is he knows how they feel. And his life has officially turned even weirder now that he’s sympathizing with plants. But he can’t help but feel for them, as the flowers lose a little of their shine the longer Michael is away, how the leaves aren’t quite as green. Their person isn’t there anymore. Maybe they’ve given up on Michael coming back.

Kind of like Alex has. Oh, he knows Michael is coming back to town, he’s only in Albuquerque for a week with Isobel. But as the days grow longer the plants still turn sadder.

If he can’t do this one thing for Michael, how can he ever hope to get him back. In the way he wants, in the way it matters. Back in his arms, his life, preferably one day his, or even their, house. After Maria, after Forrest, after his dad.

Realizing he wanted Michael officially back, out, proud and completely took a long time. The knowledge of it not so hard, the need and want harder. They’ve wasted time, so much damn time. And here he is, surrounded by green and yellow and blue, things so important to Michael because his mom was supposedly good at it. And Alex is having the hardest time keeping them alive and well. It’s making him feel like his dad, trapping aliens behind glass walls and torturing them for kicks.

He just wants to do this right. Then maybe, just maybe, he can find the courage within to tell Michael his hopes. But it’s not looking too good. He’s tried everything, watering, giving them lots of light, talking to them, hanging out in the bunker in case it’ll help. But so far it’s not working and the plants just droop more by the hour. Michael coming home is still three days away, they’ll end up being dead if he can’t fix this. And he fears whatever progress they’ve made will die with them.

He’s out of options though, he doesn't know what to try next. He’s not an alien, he doesn’t have powers nor gifts with anything besides guns and computers. Neither which will be handy here. He looks around desperate to find something that can help.

He doesn’t expect to spot a guitar. The same guitar he tried gifting to Michael which failed desperately. The same guitar he regifted him later, after Maria, after Forrest. When death of loved ones and broken hearts weren’t between them. When they could actually call each other friends. Regardless if that friendship was still fraught with tension, a will they or won’t they that still weighs heavily on them. Even when they try to push past it and just be.

But the guitar means much to them. Music in general means much to them. Maybe it’ll help.

He picks it up gently, taking it out of its case with great care before running his hand over it and smiles. The strings have just been changed, Michael has been taking good care of it. Something eases inside of him when he sees that, though he doesn’t quite understand why. The guitar isn’t a symbol of their relationship, Michael making sure the guitar is in tip top shape doesn’t really mean anything. It just means he likes playing. It still brings a tingle to the pit of his stomach which he crushes swiftly and surely. There’s no point in useless hope.

He brings it over to the chair by Michael’s drawing board and sits down, settling it gently on his legs and making sure no pressure is on his prosthesis as he sits with the guitar. He takes a few deep breaths before he strums. Of course the guitar is finely tuned.

He still checks everything before softly starting to play. He’s played Wonderwall a thousand times, he’s sick as hell of it but he still plays it first every time he picks up a guitar. Old habits are hard to break. He plays bits of the melody to warm up, humming alongside it as he does. Five minutes in, he’s relaxed, he’s more settled, he feels good.

He drifts from Wonderwall, eyes closing as he moves over to various songs from Breaking Benjamin, stripped down versions of My Chemical Romance, seamlessly switching to Blink 182, Placebo, Snow Patrol and The Strokes. He loses himself in A Perfect Circle, in Third Eye Blind and The Cranberries, resurfacing after he’s hit Linkin Park, Gavin Degraw, Panic! At the Disco and the odd Spice Girls song just to switch it up.

He lets the last note fall as he breathes out, smiling at the peace he feels just from the instrument in his hands, his voice slightly raspy from singing and the contentment of being wanted and free in Michael’s space. He smiles to himself, taking another deep breath as he opens his eyes again, looking at his watch to find that almost three hours has passed since he started playing. He’s not surprised though, music has always been the place he felt the most free, the most able to be himself.

He takes another deep breath, briefly closing his eyes again as he centers himself before he looks up at the plants. They look the same, but no worse either, so he figures he’s done all he can for the day. He decides to go home for the night, he’ll come back tomorrow and continue trying his best to keep them alive. He doesn’t want to fail now.

———

The shock comes when he gets down the ladder the next evening after a gruelling day at the base. He comes down expecting the plants to be their usual droopy selves but instead he finds them perked up, their foliage nice and green, the flowers shining and pretty. He almost calls out Michael’s name to check if he’s there, but he knows he’s not, having talked to him just an hour earlier. He’s still in Albuquerque, still there for a couple days with Isobel and the newly arrived Max. Just three aliens in the big city, he’d joked, Max hissing at him to keep his voice down in the background while Isobel laughed. They deserve the time away to just be siblings, after everything. But the thrill of Michael calling him still sits in his brain, making him smile.

But there’s still the mystery of the plants. Happier plants. Plants who don’t look like they’re on the brink of giving up. And the only thing he did differently was playing guitar and singing. Maybe that’s how Michael keeps them happy. He decides not to mistrust his instincts the way he usually does and after checking the soil and making sure everything else is okay he gets out the guitar again. He still starts with Wonderwall, still hates it, still can’t break the habit. But he moves along faster than yesterday, switching to other songs of Oasis, moving along to Death Cab for Cutie, The White Stripes, Stereophonics and HIM, before jumping over to Shinedown, Muse, Journey and Creed. He plays for hours like yesterday, loves every minute of it, and feels more relaxed when he opens his eyes again at the end and sees the plants visibly better in front of his eyes.

He laughs to himself, a laugh filled with more desperation and relief than he wants to admit. But it’s okay. Maybe he can do this.

———

He spends hours down in the bunker the next two days, playing everything and anything he has in his repertoire, rediscovering the love he has for the music he grew up with and feeling the thrill of just his hands, his voice and the guitar, surrounded by Michael’s space, Michael’s plants, Michael’s mechanics. He’s surrounded in every way by Michael Guerin, and his own wants, hopes and dreams for the man and what he longs for them to become. He’s spent years away from Roswell and Michael before but now, after one week of him gone, after one week of his voice in his ears as they talk and laugh on the phone until Isobel or Max drags him away, he misses him. Misses everything that they were, everything that they are, everything that they’re heading for. And Alex knows where they’re headed, now. Knows where he wants them to head.

He’s there when he hears Michael’s truck, still playing guitar, strumming along on notes shaping up to be another song, the melody forming underneath his fingers as words form in his head. He doesn’t stop playing, but instead listens as the truck stops and Michael gets out, as his heavy steps move towards the bunker and down the ladder. He opens his eyes as Michael stops, watches him with a smile forming as Michael stares at him and the plants in awe.

“Damn Alex, I’d have stayed home if I knew listening to you play was on the menu.”

Alex snorts, stopping his strumming and placing the guitar back in the case before he gets up on his feet. “It was the only thing I could think of to keep them alive. We had a few dicey days before I started playing, and apparently they liked it.”

“You’re a good player, Alex, no wonder they liked it.”

Alex smiles, taking a step closer to Michael. “Maybe. I’m just glad I got to be here, it’s been fun.”

Michael tilts his head in that inquisitive way of his, but Alex just shakes his head. His revelations and discoveries are too heavy for this moment, he’ll get to them eventually. Michael nods, understanding without needing words that this is something to be left for now. They’re good at that, easy, silent communication. Too bad they kind of suck at the harder communication, but that’s all fixable.

“Hey. Thanks for doing this.”

“Any time, Michael.” Alex looks down for a second. “I’m happy you trusted me with this.”

“I had no doubts you could do it. The doubts were all yours.”

Alex can’t deny that’s true. But here, in the bunker, surrounded by plants and Michael smiling at him in his carefree and relaxed way, Alex feels another doubt snap. And before he lets himself second guess it, he steps forward and cradles Michael’s face in his hands. He sees the look of shock, but also the hope that blooms in Michael’s eyes and pulls him softly towards him in case Michael pulls back. But he doesn’t have to worry, Michael pushes forward as easily as Alex pulls and their lips meet softly. It’s a sweet kiss, a familiar one, but no less exciting with no small amount of fireworks firing in the pit of Alex’s belly as Michael puts his arms around his waist and pulls him closer still. It’s everything Alex wanted, everything he needs, the appreciation and love for Michael flaring as their first kiss in a long time keeps on going.

It turns from sweet to needy, to wanting, to unbelievably hot quickly, but that’s always the way it is with them. They can’t help but want each other in all ways. They both break apart at the same time, moving away from the kiss but not from each other, leaning their foreheads together as they smile and laugh at each other, their happiness bubbling between them. It’s never a question if both of them want it, they already know that. Maybe this time they can have it too.

“So,” Michael says after a while. “My plants decided to try and die on you and you got them back by singing and playing to them? How’s you figure that out?”

“Well.” Alex sneaks another kiss just because he can, a thrill going through him as Michael hums in a happy tone. “I figured you sang to them. You know, since your guitar was down here.”

Michael pulls back and gives him a puzzled look. “Alex, I live in an old airstream in the middle of a junkyard. I keep it down here so it won’t be stolen.”

“Oh,” Alex says. “I didn’t even think of that.”

“I’m glad you didn’t.” Michael kisses him again. “I’m glad you can afford not to.”

“Guerin-”

“No, Alex. Your life has been shitty enough, be happy you don’t have to worry about that too.”

“How about...” Alex pauses, gathering his courage. “How about you keep it at my place? It’ll be safe there too.”

“Oh yeah?” The smile Michael gives him is blinding, beautiful. Happy. “You wouldn’t mind having me in your space?”

Alex smiles in return. He leans in, kissing Michael dirty and hot, the way both of them want it. ”I definitely wouldn’t. I’ll even take the plants, if you want to.”

He smiles wider as Michael laughs, head thrown back with unruly curls bouncing as he does. They need to talk, figure them out and take it day by day. But he’s so gorgeous, and Alex wants to keep him forever. Him and the green things who are perking up even more in Michael’s presence. And here he thought they were bonding.

“The guitar first. The plants we can talk about down the line,” Michael replies when he finally stops laughing. He tilts his head forward, looking at Alex through long lashes. Alex feels the same want bubbling in his stomach as always. He wants Michael in his bed, in his kitchen, in his living room. He wants him close, he wants them to be good. Together. They have a long way to go still, but it feels like a beginning. It feels like hope.

“I’d like that.”

[athys-obelia]

character/s: claude de alger obelia, diana of siodonna, felix robane

synopsis: it's...uhm....an empress!diana x concubine!claude crackfic 😭😭

warning/s: uhh a sprinkle of politics, the robane duchy is now siodonnan and not obelian screw canon, diana is lowkey mean to rogrog

a/n: i'm so sorry this is so bad

part one

felix's foot taps against the tiles of the empress' room impatiently. "you stayed up finalising the agreement all night, your majesty, perhaps some rest is due?"

diana spares him glance, turning sideways from her position on her bed. "what was his name again?"

  "pardon?"

  "the painter," she elaborates, pointing towards the painting on the ceiling above the bed. "i keep...i don't know, i keep finding new things the more i look at it."

  "is that so?"

the painting itself, a coronation gift from felix, depicts the goddess diana reaching out to the children of the world and vice versa. "if you look at the sky closely - remember our old siodonann classes?- 'for the people' is hidden in the stars. isn't that cool?"

the knight squints at the painting. "oh, i see it! i wonder why it's in old siodonann, though?"

  "i would guess it's because the imperial family wasn't worshipped in the old days," diana explains, "for example - right now, in some parts of the empire, my late father - bless him - and i may actually have shrines because people believe the imperial family's descent is from the gods. when the kingdom was just formed, though, kings and queens weren't allowed to ride alone in carriages as they greeted their subjects- they needed to have a slave with them at all times, who kept on repeating 'you are human' to them. 'you are human', 'we are all the same in the eyes of the true gods."

the sound of the army of maids behind the door is enough to pull felix out of his trance. "er...horatius calvus, your majesty."

  "hm?"

  "the artist, that's his name."

  "ah." diana turns to the painting once more, eyes staring at the goddess' hair that melted into the night sky. "would you be able to get in contact with him? i'd like to commission a piece."

felix bows gracefully. "as your majesty commands. oh, and - for the obelian delegates' farewell celebration tonight...has your majesty decided on an escort?"

she groans, falling back on the bed. "i've had so much free time lately, the harem is all i think about!"

  "very funny, ma'am. then...shall i prepare the usual?"

diana shakes her head. "i'll visit viscaria palace later and see for myself. the obelians brought some concubines with them as presents, it's be nice to weed through the bunch."

felix's eyes nearly pop out. "you're visiting the harem?! your majesty! did you find someone you like??"

she chucks a pillow at him before he can continue. "you weren't loud enough just now, fe, i don't think all of siodonna heard you."

  "...apologies, ma'am."

three years ago, when she had only just come into power, diana remembers being afraid of the large, gold doors between her and the council room. she remembers pausing before entering, regaining her breath, preparing her mind. projecting an image.

if there is one thing she has learnt, though, it's that only fools can be afraid of their own property. their assets. the larger-than-life doors swing at her command, allow or deny entrance with solely her permission. confidence comes easy when you act like you own the place - nevermind the fact that she did own most places.

but i have no reason to be afraid.

the obelian delegates stand at her arrival and bow like good little lords should before an empress. one of the more prominent ones stands to address her as soon as the meeting commences.

  "blessings and glory upon the sun of the great siodonnan empire," he says.

diana raises an amused eyebrow. this game, hm? "is that an obelian greeting, duke? how interesting. here, one would usually wish 'a long life to the protector of the siodonnan people'. that's all i am, after all - how could i be the sun?"

duke alpheus sputters. "er...i failed to acquaint myself with siodonnan culture appropriately, my apologies, your majesty. i shall do better next time."

how arrogant. still, she smiles, "i must confess, duke alpheus - i am slightly susceptible to praise, so i'll let you off this time."

  "thank you, ma'am."

  "although making the assumption that there will be a next time at all was quite courageous of you." diana signals the guards, who open the door to let the final participant of the meeting inside. "however -courage and bravery are traits best suited for kings and queens, duke. not lords."

the obelian delegates pale as they watch their - former - emperor, wrists bound, enter the hall with an entourage of knights.

diana glances at the newcomer. "although i suppose even for an emperor, too much of a bravado may cost a war."

anastacius de alger obelia glowers at her.

she frowns at the knights. "how come such a precious friend of mine is tied up like this? is this how we siodonnans treat our guests?"

felix bows deeply. "i apologise, ma'am - he was resisting far too much."

  "whatever the case. get a seat set up right here, beside me - after all," diana smiles at the fuming obelian, "we were dining together just a few months ago, weren't we?"

  "three months ago, to be precise," anastacius spits out, "after which you decided to switch tides and invade us like a coward."

she watches one of the knights set down a fancy chair to the left of hers, reaching out to untie the bindings on anastacius' wrist. diana frowns suddenly, waving over felix, "ah, is this the leash my brother used when he tamed his dragon?"

the former emperor flinches, staring down at it. "someone here tamed a dragon?" a light pink dusts his cheeks - did he really touch the actual leash of a dragon?

felix shakes his head with a small smirk. "this is the leash her majesty the late dowager empress used, ma'am. for her dog."

  "-ah, right, i remember now! all the ones marked with this little purple line are used for tying down senseless animals, aren't they?"

  "yes, your majesty." felix returns to his spot behind her, clear amusement swimming in his grey eyes as he watches the obelians try and maintain their composure.

diana gently lets the leash loose, a hand on the stunned anastacius' shoulder to lightly push him into the seat. "you aren't wrong - i did betray your hospitality, didn't i?"

roger alpheus winces at the sudden authority in her tone as the knights pass out a document to each of the obelian lords.

  "obelia's greeting and offer for peace was kind to me, so i must return this generosity. your country is now part of the siodonnan empire, so we should be parting on a good note. will a little present suffice?"

a brunette diana remembers to be a count speaks up, "...a gift, your majesty?"

felix moves closer to the table, watching the detailed map of siodonna carved into its centre. as he raises his hand, almost as if it were a chess piece, a small island moves to the left. its color flickers between a siodonnan purple and the obelian teal.

diana sighs. "i was planning on the island of delphine, since it not only contains a relatively large gold mine, but also much tourist attraction."

oh, she can see the stars in alpheus' eyes already. "thank you, your ma-"

  "but." he shrivels under her piercing gaze, "but, obelia doesn't need gold, does it? what you need is better foreign relations. and what better way to form an alliance..."

she eyes the map, and with a flick of felix's wrist, a small stretch of land connecting two continents switches from its original purple to a hue of blue.

diana looks up now, meeting even anastacius' shocked eyes. he eyes her suspiciously, "do you really-?"

she nods. "...consider it a gift from your sovereign. it is enough, yes?"

  "i- uh," duke alpheus blinks twice, "the isthmus of erven is...an adequate present, yes, your majesty. the people of obelia shall thrive due to your generosity."

  "it is not generosity, duke. your people are my subjects now. however, i hope you realise the isthmus isn't obelian property for obvious reasons. there is no trust between us. despite this, what i will allow is some access." diana stands, watching the foreign nobles mirror the action. "the terms and conditions of our relationship from this point onwards are in the papers before you and are, obviously, subject to change. feel free to approach me with concerns, should you have any."

  "you were firmer than i'd expected with the obelians, your majesty," felix comments.

diana recoils as his eyes light up at the sight of viscaria palace. "remember when i visited obelia for anastacius' coronation? i was only seventeen, but two years into my studies as heir - and they were all over duke renauld's son! poor cousin ronnie couldn't stop apologising."

felix snorts. "the renaulds wouldn't have dared challenge your majesty's claim, not while the late empress dowager was behind you."

  "ha! that's right, everyone was scared of mama." she grins fondly, "papa most of all."

the knight nods, murmuring a prayer.

  "i want them gone as soon as possible," diana admits, "but there's much to settle before that. i need to fix up anastacius before we can let him back, the second prince is still...what was his name, again?"

  "claude de alger obelia, ma'am."

she winces. "yes, he's an impo-"

a commotion sounds from within viscaria. felix raises an eyebrow at the shouts echoing from the beautiful building, a hand already atop his sheathed sword. "ma'am, stay back, i'll have a look- your majesty! where are you going-?!"

navigating through the decorated halls, diana halts before the entrance of the garden. the argument is between two men she doesn't recognise, as the older concubines gather to the side, amusing twinkling in their eyes.

  "attention!" felix roars, "her imperial majesty, empress diana celeste!"

the two freeze in fear.

  "disrupting my peace. how dare you?" diana demands.

one of them, dressed too finely for someone she hadn't even seen yet, steps forward. "your majesty, my name is xerre, i was only-"

she raises a hand, effectively shutting him up. tone softening, diana turns to the group crowding around the desert table. "lex?"

the group shuffles to let a young, silver haired young man forward. lex bows gracefully, laugh lines around his eyes crinkling. "yes, my lady?"

  "do you know what happened here?"

lex nods. "the monthly salary was being distributed, your majesty, and xerre - being a present from the kingdom of masur - had some trouble believing his amount was the same as a former obelian slave's. verhan stepped in to argue that your majesty was the one to decide this, and they began fighting."

  "shall i prepare for his voyage back to masur, majesty?" felix asks, as the rest of the concubines roll their eyes at his antics.

diana studies the masurian concubine, beckoning him closer. "it is common knowledge i do not generally accept gifted concubines from territories out of my own."

she watches his adam's apple rise and fall, tracing a nail over the well defined jawline. xerre shivers.

  "however, your king is new to his throne, and his queen one of my dearest friends. do you realise how our alliance will look were i to send you back?"

he nods cautiously.

  "i do not wish to withdraw support from someone i consider a brother, xerre. especially when he is engaged in armed conflict on two fronts."

  "i- i am prepared for any punishment your majesty deems appropriate."

diana sighs softly. "i would send you to work for me in the capitol, but the rules state every concubine entering must reside here for a certain amount of time. until then, bear with it. this palace, and a life of luxury, is only meant for my favorites. clear?"

  "yes, your majesty."

  "my apologies, ma'am," felix says once the crowd disperses, his head hanging. "i should've prepared for your arrival with more care."

she waves off the apology, heading to the guest hall to take a look at the new obelian  concubines.

  "vera leaves for her son's wedding for a week and we've already had an incident. honestly, felix."

  "...who's vera?"

diana pauses at the unfamiliar voice. her gaze falls on the figure sitting on the window seat, entirely immersed in the book in his hands. she blinks, stunned, watching the colourful window's filtered light paint the brilliant blonde of his hair.

felix is the first to address him, scoffing, "i believe your majesty's beauty has enchanted one of the gods - who else would dare address the empress of our nation so casually?"

diana chuckles, watching as the man stands, intrigued. she stays silent, breath hitched, as he towers over her, studying her with a curiosity that rivals hers from a moment ago. and only when he finally lowers himself to a knee does his hair part, and diana flushes at the red tinting his ears.

  "greetings to her imperial majesty, may the gods grant the protector of the siodonnan people a life long and blessed."

she offers him her hand. "rise. and tell me your name."

a beat of silence passes as he stares at her outstretched hand before hesitantly accepting. "claude, your majesty."

  "claude," diana tries, finding it rolls of her tongue deliciously.

he raises an eyebrow as she regards him. "your majesty...?"

diana smiles, her hand moving to touch the various jewellery adorning his fingers. gently, she slides off the gold ring off of his ring finger. "you must have a good reason to be donning an unauthorized magical item in my palace."

he doesn't answer, head lowered.

her hand lets go of his, raising to grip the blonde's jaw. diana tilts up his face, meeting his gaze. the dull grey eyes from before have vanished, replaced by glittering blues.

she inhales sharply. "you're...the obelian pr...the second prince of obelia."

he nods.

diana turns, more puzzled than angry. "why is he in my harem?"

  "... didn't your majesty wish for it?" felix tilts his head in confusion.

  "what? no?"

the knight frowns. "but i was so sure...your majesty said you didn't have an heir because you wanted a concubine as beautiful as me...when we took over the imperial palace, as the army swore their allegiance...your majesty said the prince was the prettiest you’ve ever seen?"

  "i- felix, i was kidding!"

  "...oh."

she turns to the prince then, "and you! you're a prince! how come you just went along with this??"

  "well...it was the most peaceful part of the palace..."

diana gapes at the two men, before finally sighing in defeat. "you're telling me i was scouring the lands for you, while you were right...?" she raises a hand to massage her temple, "...gods grant me patience."

felix cautiously steps forward, "your majesty...i understand this is shocking, but... tonight's escort..."

she glances up at the obelian prince. "allow them all to retire. i've found the perfect escort."

a/n: hmmm this was a bit empty claudiana wise, wasn't it? their development is coming though, i had to give empress!diana an intro :) also !! the situation may seem a bit confusing rn, but next chapter will clear things up! or you can just ask me for clarification <3

💕 felix is dying to find a concubine diana likes bc he really really really wants to be an uncle

💕 in siodonna, emperors/empresses are referred to by their first(diana) + middle name(celeste) and not a last name bc they technically can't belong to a house, they belong to the empire. but the middle name is important bc you have to ask for it (from someone you love and respect usually), you're never just born with one (so you could ask a parent / friend / mentor yada yada and they give you a name they believe fits best)

[lilyharvord]

The Chain (Part 11)

Hello Darlings, it’s been a long time coming, but here is the next part of The Chain. (: Please know that there is a little bit of forcing in this chapter to make things work, but its called a plot hole, not a plot no (((: Also, she is nice and long for you guys since it has been sometime since she got some TLC. 

I’ve got two words for you all: Time Travel.

Main concept: Two love struck idiots get sent back to a pretty UGH time period in their lives (that required me to reread all the books again) and have to hide the fact that they know everything. Stupidity ensues.

Enjoy

Find the rest of the fic here: Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 / Part 7 / Part 8 / Part 9 / Part 10

tag list:  @delilahlbard, @king-maven-calore, @thatoddgirl777, @elliekratzzz, @evangelineartemiasamos, @evangeline-of-montfort, @scxrletguardsdawn, @freaky-freiday, @petergrantkavinsky, @kuwei, @whatsup-gorls, @katiemoore,  @redqueenetwork, @tranquil-dusk (I’m trying to add you but for some reason it wont @... the same problem happens with @thatoddgirl777 and I have no idea how to fix it)

(/Mare/)

The barge glides through the murky water of the river and beyond the polished silver railing I rest my hand on, the shore of the Stilts rolls by like a faded oil painting. Ahead of me, hanging over the water, is an old tree Bree once dared me to crawl out on. The branches skim the water like skeletal fingers. I curl my own fingers around the railing in response to the memory of Bree’s laugh. I hope I get to hear it again, echoing in my parent’s town home. 

           The footsteps behind me are too light to be Cal. Even with all the work he has done to learn subterfuge, he is still a large human being. He’ll never be very good at sneaking up on anyone. I force an inhale when warm air washes over my side though. 

           Maven rests his forearms on the railing to watch the Stilts with me, his jaw tight and his eyes dark. I didn’t see him earlier today before we cast off, and I made sure he had no reason to speak with me now. I left nothing in those cells when I rescued Farley, not even a dusting of blood for Elara to use against me. Whatever he has come to discuss, it will define every point from now until the end.

           “Have you heard of the chess move known as the King’s Snare?” His voice is softer than I thought it would be, given how hard the planes of his face are.

           I glance at him warily, chewing on a response. I don’t want to talk to him about chess. I know he’s a master of it, that in all the years they played, Cal never beat him. Cal, the future general and war strategist who could throw together a plan in minutes with nothing but a handful of Reds, Ardents, and Silvers, never beat the boy before me. I don’t know why I think I have a hope of beat him or Elara.

           “No. I don’t play chess.” I murmur letting the wind shift the loose hairs hanging by my cheeks. It plays in his curls too, tussling them like a loving hand.

           The corner of his lips quirk up in a ghost of a smile before he turns to face me. He doesn’t flinch from my gaze, but that smile does fall. Pressing off the railing to stand at his full height, he tilts his head to the side as if in thought. “It’s a complex maneuver, and requires turns upon turns of preparation. It is the only strategy you can play once you initiate it. In each step, you make it appear as if you are losing. You let your opponent think they have won, and in the final step of preparation, you let your queen be taken and your king be cornered in a check mate.”

He shrugs before looking back onto the bank. His eyes sweep along the shacks on their tottering stilts. “Then, you take the opposing king with the only piece you have left. A pawn.”

           I raise a brow at it before saying, “sounds complicated. I don’t have the patience for playing the long game, and I especially don’t like playing with people’s lives like they are pieces in my game.”

           A fire lights in his eyes as he drags them over me, his expression hardening again. “I’m not so sure that’s the truth.”

           His words are a warning in and of themselves. Squaring my shoulders to him and stabbing my nails into my palms, I purse my lips in a line to swallow my retort. We stand in a stalemate for a moment before he reaches a finger out to let a strand of my hair curl around it. His expression crumbles for just a moment before that mask slides up and hides the wounded boy underneath.

           “Let’s not play this game Mare.” He bows his head and his lips almost ghost over my brow. I turn my head to the side to avoid the touch.

           “I just told you I’m not playing games.”

           His chuckle is humorless. With a quick step he closes the space between us completely and I have to crane my neck to meet his eye. 

           “You’re still useful to me and mother, but Cal has overstayed his welcome by a few years. His whole life actually, if I’m being perfectly honest.”

           No more dancing around it then, we are going full in with the truth. I twist my lips to the side, letting my sneer finally grace my features. “If you think for one second I’m going to let you two get away with what you did a second time, you’re wrong.”

           “Even if it means you lose everything you have coming?” He asks me that as if he actually cares. It makes me reel back while he smiles like a wolf. “We know Mare, and while it’s adorable watching you attempt to play against us, you played your final card last night.”

           My lightning dances on my fingertips. What I wouldn’t give for Tyton’s brain lightning, so that I could turn Maven’s insides into jelly and leave him on this deck before going after Elara. I should have ended all of this weeks ago. I could have, I know that for a fact. 

           “I haven’t played any of my cards yet.” I warm Maven with a raised chin. I let the mask of Mareena disappear and I let him see Mare Barrow, the girl who bested two kings, the woman who has seen more than enough front lines, and who was born in a storm on top of a mountain. She has been broken and put back together so many times that she knows every piece of herself better than she ever did before. She thrives in storms and turns them to her will like this boy turns words to his.

           “You haven’t seen anything Maven. Don’t for one second think you have cornered me.” My lips curl into a small smile as I look him over with a critical eye. “Besides, while you’re playing chess, I am playing another game entirely.”

           A muscle in his jaw flutters when I speak, and his eyes darken further.

           Pressing to my toes, I let my next words caress his lips like a kiss. “And if you two do know everything, I’m surprised you haven’t removed any and all letter openers from my reach while we’ve been together.”

           His face pales in a flush, and the air around us climbs in temperature so quickly beads of sweat begin to prickle on my brow. Ignoring the monster I’ve obviously poked awake, I set my hand on his chest right above his pounding heart and drop my eyes to his lips before looking back up to meet those icy blue eyes.

           “And as for your mother, I think I killed her too quickly the first time.”

           His tongue darts across his teeth for a second before disappearing as his lips pull back in a sneer. There is a flash of something akin to uncertainty in his eyes though. A thrill rushes through me. She didn’t tell him that part, and she might have even kept his own death from him. Interesting.

           Sliding back away from him and dropping my hand, I take in his flittering emotions he desperately tries to keep under control. I can’t image what is passing through his mind. If Elara didn’t tell him about their deaths, what else has she kept from him? It might be worth it to poke a little more and find out.

           Even as the thought of prying him open and exposing his hollow insides thrills me, I can’t help thinking of how he spent hours near my bedside after Samson had turned me inside out and left me a bleeding corpse. Nor can I ignore that once upon a time, a part of him had loved me.

           “Oh Maven,” I breathe, my chest aching once more as I look him over. “You could have been something wonderful if you had been anyone else’s.”

           His inhale is sharp, and the heat around us vanishes as he sucks it in to fuel the furnace of his emotions. The next words that leave me are as much a truth as they are a weapon that I use against him.

           “I might have loved you too, you know. I might have been happy with you.”

           His entire body goes taut like a rubber band pulled too tight. I can’t imagine what those words have done to him, I know what they do to me. They relive the ache and chase away the cold bite from the autumn breeze that cuts through my loose shirt. I have known for years that he would never truly leave me, that I will always love him in a strange way. But seeing all of this, and discovering that even when I might have had a chance to save him, there was no chance so long as Elara loved him too.

           “The game is beginning. Line up your pieces if you want to play chess.” I murmur to him before stepping around him and heading for the viewing deck. I pause long enough to glance at him over my shoulder though and say, “but just know, it’s hard to beat an opponent that knows every move you will make.”

(/Cal/)

           Mare finds me between meetings. Her dark hair is swept up in an elaborate hairstyle she picks at nervously, drawing strands out to frame her face. Glancing over my shoulder at the remainder of the council as they pass, I pause before her long enough to say colorlessly, “Is something wrong Lady Titanos?”

           The few sets of eyes that watch us look away with shrugs. Their ears are probably still tuned in, but as far as they are concerned, she is probably looking for Maven and happened to find me first.

           “Farley made contact. The Hexaprin Theater just like before.”

           She’s been gone most of the day with Maven, making appearances and smiling like the dutiful princess she is. I’m not sure how Farley could have possibly made contact with her during all of that, but it’s a relief she didn’t contact Maven first. Meanwhile, I’ve been locked up in Whitefire. My father has hardly let me out of his sight, which I suppose should be understandable. The attempt on my life shook him to his core. Even though I push back, insisting they wouldn’t try again, he refuses to let me leave the castle walls. I don’t know how I will get out to join Mare in this endeavor like she wants with the Sentinels that trail me almost everywhere I go. I guess it now truly understand how Mare felt during her time with us. I don’t blame her for constantly being irritable now. 

Still, my brow rises as the name of the theater. I know it well. When I was younger Julian used to take me to plays and tried to pique my interest in the art form. I had squirmed in my seat the whole time, eager to get out of the dark space and run outside. He gave up once I turned ten, realizing I didn’t have much love for the arts. I knew it saddened him, that he had hoped I shared the same soft spot for them that my mother did. 

My chest tightens at the thought of my uncle. I got him out of Archeon earlier than before, helping him and Sara smuggle away in the dead of night after he got Farley and Kilorn out of the cells. I sent him to Montfort with instructions to speak with Dane Davidson as soon as possible. To try and get him in contact with Guard. There’s no telling if they made it. I can only hope they managed to cross the border.

“It’ll be tough for me to get out.”

“This will only work if you come with me.” Mare insists, her eyes darting past my elbow to the doors of the council chamber. I know who she’s looking for, but she won’t find him.

“He’s seeing to something with his mother.” I instruct, even as I glance around just to be certain. Only a servant passes in a flutter of skirts. She curtsies to me and Mare before hurrying along, obviously loath to be around us any longer than necessary.

“The bloodbase.” Mare’s voice drops to a worried waver as she sets her hand on her pocket. I know she has the book hidden in the pocket of her jacket, the one Julian gifted her with the name of every Ardent he found within Norta’s borders. She sleeps with it under her pillow, her fingers curled around the faded cover as if Maven will creep into her room at night and steal it away.

Shaking my head, I grab her elbow and pull her into an alcove when I hear the sound of more steps approaching. I squeeze into the space between the pillars with her until our bodies almost have to become one to fit. Her hands rest on my chest as she evens out her breathing, recognizing a hiding place when she sees it.

A group of nobles pass us, Osanos and Iral judging by the colors of their clothes. I purse my lips and wait until they leave the hall to look back down at her and whisper. “I took care of it. I printed out all their names and wiped them from the database. They’re safe.”

“Unless Maven is already going after them.” Mare mutters bitterly.

“He hasn’t. I checked last known whereabouts too. Everyone is accounted for.”

“People lie on those stupid records Cal.”

“Not when you’re the first person in years to click on the page.” I let my lips curl into a knowing smile. She can think I’m stupid and hardheaded all she wants, but I do know my way around my own world. “There is a clicker at the bottom of each record to indicate the last time it was opened. I am the first one to look at them in years. You can’t lie to that program.”

           She expels a breath, before look up at me through her lashes. “You’re too stubborn for your own good. We’re meddling too much now.”

           “At this point, does it really matter?” I ask, repeating words I spoke to Julian in the dead of night when he questioned my decision to send him to Ascendent.

           Her lips draw into a tight line that pales her already painted lips. “No.” She agrees before sliding out of the alcove so I can follow her.

           When we step into the light, I watch the shifting sunbeams as they cut across her face. She crosses her arms before looking down the hallway and saying, “We need to get into the afternoon showing. Can you do that?”

           I grimace thinking about my father and the hawk like eyes he has kept on me recently. “It’ll be difficult, but nothing I can’t handle.”

           “Do you want to rehearse with me?” She teases, eyes lighting with laughter when she notices how I chew on my lower lip.

           “I think I’ll tell my father that I’ve decided Evangeline can take a long walk off a short pier and that I much prefer you and I plan to make heirs with you as soon as we enter than theater box.”

           Her eye widen and a blush paints her cheeks. It’s so ferocious the makeup almost can’t hide it. It makes me chuckle before reaching a hand out to cup her jaw and stroke a thumb along that warm puddle of red staining her skin. “Kidding love. Although I think that he’ll be so surprised and horrified that he lets me go just to see if I’m serious.”

           “Mess up my nice skirts Tiberias and I will take your hands for it.” She snorts before pulling away and throwing a smirk over her shoulder. “Get us tickets to the show and be there with me. Also, it might be a good idea to assign Walsh to a... different part of Whitefire.”

           I grimace, remembering the last time I saw her foaming at the mouth while I tried to close her throat to keep the poison from spreading. I sent her for Mare, trusted her with the secret that I met a Red girl in the Stilts and cared. Regardless of what Mare might have thought of me before when that moment passed, I did care. A part of me had been horrified to watch the light leave Walsh’s eyes.

           “I’ll make sure of it.” I whisper.

(/Mare/)

           The theater darkens, and I sink back into my chair, keeping an eye on the Sentinels standing in the doorway. They are here to protect Cal. Allowances had to be made so that he could leave Whitefire, but its an allowance that may cost us our meeting with Farley. There are more of them than before, but they’re simply a hinderance, one that will have to be dealt with at some point very soon.

           Honestly, Maven and Elara trying to kill him has simply become an annoyance now. If they hadn’t, it would be so much easier to sneak around with Cal.

           “They have to go.” I murmur, letting my eyes flint to them as I edge a little closer to the railing of the box and glance over it into the crowd below.

           With a quick nod, Cal leans back in his seat. Before Maven gave the secretary that came with us a mischievous smile and quick order to get rid of our tail. Cal can do no such thing without raising suspicion. It’s already gotten out that I am the one that shouted his name and stopped the bleeding during the Sun Shooting long enough for Sara Skonos to get to him and save him. But Cal spread a faster rumor behind it, his words burning like wildfire through the High Houses, erasing the rumor I know Elara started about us. My shout hadn’t been in fear according to his account, it had sounded like nerves. Maybe I’d lost Maven in the crowd and gotten overwhelmed by the proceedings, and when I had seen Cal I called to him for help. Because of that, I had been close enough to stop the bleeding when the gun went off.

           I had been shocked at the lie he told with an abandon to his father and the court, and how well he crafted it on a moment’s notice. Perhaps he needed to stop spending so much time around Dane. I had noticed that crafty man spending a suspicious amount of time trying to craft Cal into a better Statesman in the recent years.

           “Sentinel Osanos, if you could take the others into the antechamber.” He nods over his shoulder to the small sitting room attached to the box. “I doubt you and the others have any interest in this show and your presence is unfortunately ruining Lady Mareena’s first impressions of it too.”

           “I have my orders, sir.” The Sentinel warns, his eyes darting between the two of us.

           “I can handle anything that comes.” Cal lets his lips quirk into an arrogant smile. I haven’t seen it in a long time, but it’s one of the few soldiers masks in his arsenal. It still makes my stomach flutter. “Besides, Lady Mareena has proven herself quite capable of saving my life if need be.”

           Osanos debates it for a very long second as the murmurs below us quiet and the curtain rustles with the start of the performance. During that second, my heart pounds. I don’t dare look up at the grating above out heads where I know Will Whistle will appear.

           “Of course, Your Highness.” The Sentinel bows his head and then nods to bring the others with him into the room. The door clicks shut, and the lock engages. I grab Cal’s hand and squeeze it in silent praise, before glancing at him side on.

           “Impressive.”

           His smile falls as he looks away from the door and forward again. “We’ll have to be silent. We’re lucky my father didn’t send an Eagrie with us.”

           Unfolding from his position in the chair to relax further, he turns his hand over to lace his fingers with mine. The touch sends waves of reassurance through me. Now we just have to keep him hidden long enough that Will doesn’t recognize him and gets us to Farley. After that, I’m not quite sure what we will do.

           “Farley won’t let you on the Undertrain without a fight.” I murmur, glancing at our joined hands. He sweeps his thumb along my skin in a soothing motion even as his eyes stay forward on the stage as it comes to life.

Gentle touches in the dark, so very like how our relationship started. It almost makes me snicker. I suppose things never really did change between us.

He doesn’t reply to my comment, but I know he’s thinking about it all the same. His palm heats with his frustration, but he doesn’t show it on his face.

I let my eyes wander to the stage where I finally get a look at the play I never watched before. Brightly colored costumes dance across the stage and I tilt my head to look at them, trying to understand the story. “We never went to any of the plays in Ascendent.” I murmur to him.

There were plenty of playhouses, and I know for a fact Julian got us tickets to one he loved. We never got the chance to go, but now I wish we had.

“I’ve never been a fan of theater.” He chuckles and finally turns to look at me. He traded his finer regalia for a more toned down jacket and black shirt today. With the aid of the darkness, I can almost imagine we are in Ascendent, that it’s just another weekend and we decided to do something we’ve never done.

“Then when you annoy me, I am going to drag you to shows when we get back and tie you to a chair so you can’t leave.” I say with a smirk.

The ceiling panel above our heads slides away, and his eyes dart up at the same time as mine. We’re both accustomed to how the Guard functions. The sudden disappearance of the tile doesn’t surprise him like it did Maven.

“Show time.” I whisper to him before dropping his hand and stepping on the seat of my chair. Grasping the edge of the hole I haul myself up into the darkness. When I glance down to help him though, he is already half-way into the crawl space with me. The panel slides into place as soon as Cal vanishes in the shadows. I wait half a second for Will to sound an alarm to notice that I don’t have the right prince with me.

He does no such thing, simply speaks into the darkness the same words he did before. “Be quick and quiet. I’ll take you from here.”

I reach for Cal’s wrist in the dark and grip it tightly with a reassuring squeeze. Will turns and begins to climb through the space, not waiting for us to follow.

“Watch your head,” I instruct as I skirt the edge of the ceiling panel. “It gets low in a few places.”

Cal grunts in understanding but follows at a pace that surprises me. It was a tight squeeze for Maven, so I don’t really know how Cal manages but he does. I’m sure he has Farley’s work with him to thank for that. He crawled through enough sewer tunnels and drains with us while we were at the Notch after all. I’m sure while I was locked away with Maven he was doing the same thing too.

The sounds of the play overhead mask our movements as we drop down ladders and steps and through little trapdoors. Cal only smacks his head once, and I flip around to grab his head to check for blood when he curses soundly in the dark. I grimace when I feel the nasty knot already taking shape on his forehead near his hairline. That will have to be explained away when we get back, but we really truly don’t have time to assess it too much. Will sets grueling pace, and Cal practically shoves me forward when the Whistle almost disappears around a turn.  

It takes only minutes for us to drop into the access tunnels that connect to the Undertrain platform. The damp chill of the space presses through my thin jacket and pants, reminding me of the march we did into Archeon to save Cal and everyone from the Lakelander invasion. Cal drops lightly down behind me though, and instantly the space warms and the memory fades. It’s still too dark to see his features clearly which is only to our advantage. I can’t have Will trying to stop us now.

That cover does not last long though. The platform is haunted by a lone torch, and when Will turns around with a sharp smile, ready to bask in our surprise, his eyes widen as he takes in Cal behind me. I set my hand on Cal’s chest in response, trying to push him back into the shadows while I light my hand with lightning.

Will never gets a chance to act though, the furious screech of the Undertrain as it rushes into the station shakes the walls and announces Farley’s arrival. As it coasts to a stop in front of us, Will spins to the doors and waves his arms while trying to shout over the screeching of the brakes to give a signal to not stop. The train grinds to a halt though, and the doors still open to spill more light onto the platform.

Farley unfolds from the chair like a spring let loose. Her hand flies to the gun at her hip, and I spin to face her with my lightning at the same time. Even with my ears ringing from the sound of the brakes engaging, I can hear the click of her turning the safety off as she draws the gun.

“Farley—” I try to shout, but Cal beats me to speaking, his voice a dangerous warning echoing in the tunnel as he glares Farley down.

“Diana, stop.”

He would have gotten the same reaction if he burned her alive. Farley’s eyes widen at the usage of her birthname, and her fingers wavers on the trigger long enough for me to speak.

“He’s with us.” I urge as I drop my hand, but I don’t dismiss the lightning bouncing between my fingers like webbing. It’s my own warning to her. She knows what I can do, and like her, I don’t miss anymore.

Her laugh is unexpected, and I almost jump at the sharp bite of it. She keeps the gun raised, but her fingers slides from the trigger to rest alongside the barrel. It’s the only sign she is still listening to us. “The little prince was right. He’s whispered his way into your head.”

“The only ones whispering into anyone’s heads is Maven and Elara .” Cal speaks quietly, his eyes scanning the track and the platform for any more Scarlet Guard operatives. There are none to be seen though.

Farley tilts her head to the side, her eyes narrowing to diamond colored slits. Her jaw tightens, but she doesn’t pull the trigger or even move her finger in the direction of it.

I expel a slow sigh of relief and take a step forward. I can feel the burn of electricity in the train, screaming like an upset toddler to be released. Gritting my teeth against the heachache forming because of it, I murmur, “you trusted me to get you out of that cell, trust me in this Farley. Hear us out.”

Her eyes moves past my shoulder to Cal who staggers his stance to move in either direction if he has to avoid her bullet. Her jaw ticks, and the electricity reaches an all time high pitch that stands my hairs on end. I haven’t felt anything like it weeks, not since the shield during Queenstrial exploded around me and tried to contain me.

“Make your decision, the Undertrain won’t wait.” I grimace as I reach up to press my fingers to my temple where the ache is strongest. If she notices my use of the train’s name, she doesn’t say anything.

Cal takes a step forward, stealing ground, only for Farley train that gun on him again and rest her finger on the trigger. 

“Not another step, Your Highness.” She squeezes gently, putting enough pressure on that trigger that even the slightest movment on her part will fire the gun. I side step to put myself in front of Cal should she overestimate her abilities, but Cal simply pushes me to the side again.

With quick movements he unclasps the bracelets around his wrists and holds them up to the light for Farley to see. “Incentive,” he murmurs before tossing them in her direction. She lowers the gun to catch them one handed, almost dropping them due to their weight. I inch forward, my hand extended for them in surprise. I trust Cal to make a tactical decision, but he just threw his own tactical advantage five feet away from him.

The metal bands glint dully in the odd florescent lights of the Undertrain, but Farley glances down at them, unimpressed. With a quirked brow she raises the gun again, although its much more hesitant this time.

“I’m nothing without them.” Cal instructs while he sweeps his arms out from his sides as if to accentuate his point. “Keep them until we finish talking if it pleases you. But we do have to talk.”

“I know.” Farley reasons, her eyes narrowing before darting between the two of us. Even if I didn’t know her as well as I do, I could see the distrust and unease in her eyes. I can’t imagine what Maven has told her, but I know that he hasn’t spoken to her since before the Sun Shooting. It is our only advantage right now, that and the fact that Julian and I were the ones to get her and Kilorn out of the cells below the palace. It doesn’t hurt either that by the time we got down to the cells, the king was more concerned with his son almost dying than the rebels trapped in the cell before him. There had been no time for the interrogation that I know almost cost Farley her arm. She got off easy, too easy, because of us.

Whatever battle she is fighting with herself ends, and she steps to the side to let us pass.

(////)

Narcery is more disheveled than I remember. Perhaps it’s because I’ve already seen most of it repaired and turned into a decent city again years from now. Or maybe it’s because I’ve truly forgotten how downtrodden the world was before we began to right it. Either way, it’s hard not to grimace as we slink through the streets toward the café Farley stomps toward.

The Reds in the doorwards gasp and whisper as Cal passes, and I reach down to grip his hand. None of them are New Blood that I know of, but if someone gets it in their head to finish was Farley started, they won’t make it more than two steps.

He gives me a reassuring squeeze as we pass through the crumbling doorway of the café and into the dimly lit space. In his little booth, Kilorn practically almost leaps to his feet, his eyes wide while his hand flies to the gun on his belt.

“Stand down.” Farley orders smoothly, earning a frown from my friend. He doesn’t immediately listen, but his fingers eventually relax and drop back to his side. I release the tension in my shoulders in response. The air in the room shifts with the change in heat and static that Cal and I bring, but the ice in Kilorn’s gaze might as well be tangible too.

“And why haven’t we shot him?” He asks Farley as she drops into the booth.

With a wave of her hand, she dismisses him and glares in our direction. Cal’s bracelets clink against the dusty table as she sets them out in the open. With a tilt of her head, her expression relaxes and the nasty scar cutting through her lip softens. It never ceases to amaze me how young she really was when this all started. We were all still just children, playing games we never should have.

“They want to speak,” she says, her eyes dropping to our entwined hands. “And I have to admit I am curious what excuse Mare will give to explain blowing our entire operation to pieces.”

“We hardly blew it to pieces, you were almost completely successful.” Cal huffs behind me, and I dig my elbow into his side in response. No use pissing off Farley, or enticing her to pull that gun out again. We both know she will too.

Glaring at Cal for his comment, I address the other two sitting in the booth. “Maven gave you Cal’s name, but he was not the original target.”

“No,” Farley agrees, “he wasn’t.”

“It was Ptolemus Samos.” I turn my eyes back to her, and am rewards with a quirked brow, the only sign she is surprised by my knowledge. Kilorn is not as good at hiding his emotions. His brows dart up towards his hair line as he shakes his head in disbelief.

“You missed that meeting, the one where he gave us the original names! He told us that he never told you them... you can’t possibly have known—”

“I know because I’ve already been through that shooting before. You don’t get Ptolemus that time either.” I step forward and leave Cal behind me, safely in the line of my body. If Farley wants to shoot him at any point in time, she’ll have to shoot me first. “The Sun Shooting was a disaster that time, and it was a disaster this time.”

Kilorn blinks at me, confusion sweeping over his face now. Farley is simply more skeptical, and rightfully so. I didn’t exactly explain anything, just created more questions and puzzling conclusions for her.

“What are you getting at Barrow?” She murmurs as her eyes dart to the broken window behind me. I don’t dare look at who might be there. If its Shade, I will never be able to leave these ruins.

“You have to promise to listen to us, to let us explain as quickly as possible.” Cal speaks for me and the heat that rolls off of him washes over me as he steps closer, soothing tense muscles I bunch in preparation to run. His hand presses into my lower back only a second later. “We don’t have much time.”

Farley’s eyes narrow even further as she takes in how we stand next to each other, and how we remain close enough to protect the other at all times. Even if Maven told her that I was slowly teetering toward Cal, our body language suggests a deeper relationship and understanding of each other than could ever be established in a few weeks. Not to mention Cal knew her name, her real name. There’s no way in hell he could have found that out on his own.

“Who are you?” She asks quietly after a moment, earning a worried glance from Kilorn.

My lips curl into a slow smile as I take in her uncertainty. I can’t remember the last time Farley was on the backfoot. She has always been so headstrong and driven, but she reels back now, like a horse seeing a snake under its hooves. “We’ve all met before, and known each other for years.”

“Bullshit.” She says, pushing to her feet and advancing on me. Cal’s fingers curl around my arm to pull me behind him. I stand my ground though and raise my chin as she stand over me.

“How’s your dad? The Colonel? Has that eye healed up yet?” I ask with a quirked brow. Her breathing fluctuates at the mention of him while she stops dead in her tracks. Her eyes dart to Cal as if to assess how much he reacts to my words. He does nothing but glance down at me and drop my arm, catching on to what I’m doing. Farley won’t be bought over with a cute story like what we told Julian and Sara. She will need cold hard evidence, painful evidence if need be.

“It’s kind of cute that you decided your code name would be lamb, since his is ram.” I tilt my head to the side, earning an strangled inhale as she backpaddles. “Even more so given how infuriating he can be for you.”

Her whole face goes red, and tips of her ears tinge pink immediately. Kilorn opens his mouth to say something, thinks better of it, and closes it again. I don’t blame him, the fury in Farley’s eyes is enough to burn me to the ground.

With her lips pressed into a firm line, she presses her shoulders back to stand to her full height. “Are you Command?” She asks stiffly, her eyes roaming over me and settling on Cal when he barks out a dry laugh.

I elbow him again and shoot a glare, but he laughs at my expression. Turning his amusement on Farley, he says, “no. I’m not even on the list of people they would open a position for.”

“We know those in Command though.” I shoot a single spark into Cal’s arm to shut him up, making him snap back and rub the spot.

“I don’t believe you. Its not possible.” Farley growls setting her hand on her gun.

“I would appreciate you not drawing that gun Diana.” Cal warns his amusement dying as fast as my comfort with the situation.

“Who told you my name.”

“I know it from previous experience.”

“Don’t see how that’s possible.” Kilorn grumbles before rising from the booth as well. His eyes dart between the two of us, and as he starts to form his own opinon the curiosity in his eyes bleeds away into brittle resentment.

“Like I said, we’ve known each other for years.” I push past my locked jaw. This is starting to look next to impossible but if we have any hope of saving ourselves from the disaster to come, then we have to get them to listen to us.

“To be more clear, we will know each other for years someday.” I correct my previous statement quietly, letting the words hang in the too heavy air for a few seconds. Farley quirks a brow, realization crossing her features as she starts to put things together. She’s always been quick as a whip, and that works to our advantage.

Right when I think she’s about to say something though, she laughs. Kilorn blinks at her, taking a hesitant step away. I doubt he’s ever heard the sound, but I know it well. It still cracks on the edges the same way it does in the future. Honestly, it always sounds like she never laughs, even though I know for a fact she does that more than anything someday.

“Barrow, I have seen what you can do. And while it turned everything I knew about the world upside down… you cannot expect me to also factor some form of time travel into this whole mess.” She shakes her head, and dismisses me with a wave. Still laughing to herself she sinks down into the booth, and takes to fiddling with Cal’s bracelets. There is a hint of uncertainty behind her eyes though, and I know exactly who and what she is thinking about.

“There are hundreds—thousands like me Farley. You haven’t met all of them yet, but there are abilities far stranger than mine. My brother’s for instance.”

Her expression pulls tight for a heartbeat before she smoothers the emotion. I pull on that line though, and step forward, pointedly ignoring Kilorn who is still gapping like a fish and trying to come to the same conclusion as Farley. “I know he’s alive, and that he’s here with you. He jumps, appearing in different places in seconds. I make lightning. There will be a New Town girl who becomes our friend that can kill you with a thought and silence Silvers in the same way. There are three other Reds just like me in Montfort. There is a girl who can bathe everyone in a bubble of silence so no one outside of it can hear you. Another woman can remember every single thing she reads or that is said to her. Another older woman can change her face to be whoever you need her to be.” My heart squeezes at the memory of all the Ardents I rescued and then sent to their deaths. I promised them safety, security, and then pulled all of that away from them. All because one man told me I had to do it. “Is it so hard to believe then that there is someone years from now who can send people back in time?”

Those diamond eyes snap to me and look me over before Farley’s lips twist into a half sneer. “Your brother is dead Barrow, he was executed for—”

“Farley, please.” I whisper, coming to stand over her. Even sitting she is almost as tall as me, but I channel every ounce of military prowess she tried to teach me as I glare down at her. “If I walk out of this room, I will find him in less than an hour, and you will feel incredibly stupid when I do.”

Her lips pale as she pushes them together, tighter than ever before. Her eyes dance to Cal beyond me again, who has thankfully kept his mouth shut this whole time and has decided to simply sit on the edge of a table to watch us.

“He came with me.” I soften my tone and slowly sink down into the seat opposite her. Her eyes follow me like a rabbit would a wolf. Her fingers are cold when I take them, even with how warm it is in the room. She doesn’t pull away though, and I wonder if somewhere, her future self recognizes my touch. “I need you to trust us. I know how hard that is with everything that has happened, but Farley you have to.”

“Do we win?” She asks the question so quietly, I almost miss it while I’m speaking. Every muscle in body tenses against the truth that wants to escape though. I glance at Cal, wondering if he heard the same thing as me. He simply looks down at his boots, unable to offer any aid.

Swallowing past the rock in my throat, I look down at the table top. It’s dusty and cracked in some places. But it has no answers either. We have already done so much to destroy the path we were supposed to be on, what was one more change? “Yes,” I whisper and her eyes flash bright and wide.

“But we pay may terrible prices for it.” The last part almost doesn’t make it out. Shade’s death tries to claw that statement to ribbons, Archeon burning, and all the people we lost in the Harbor Bay siege and the final Archeon siege weigh heavy against my chest. The silence stretches to the breaking point around us as those memories consume me. I wish I could take back those words, swallow them and refrain from admitting to what I’m sure she suspects. She must read the memories as they pass across my face because her expression softens a hint.

“Its war Barrow,” the Farley I know so well comes to the surface when she switches her grip to grab my hands instead. “I never expected to win for free.”

She narrows her eyes at Cal then, who simply gives her a tight nod she doesn’t return. “I still don’t like you.” She announces a second later. “And I hope I never do.”

“You give me a hard time for years, I promise you that much.” He teases, some of the light returning to his eyes. I crack a weak smile at their banter, even though I ache at the reminder of the future relationship they share. Farley never does let him off the hook, and every chance she has to remind him of his past, she does. I don’t blame her though, she never lets herself get too congenial with anyone.

“We trust him… just like that?” Kilorn tries to burn a hole between Cal’s eyes with his glare. He doesn’t succeed, especially when Cal smirks at him and leans forward to rest his elbows on his knees. He’s the picture of ease, and I know that drives Kilorn insane.

“Relax Kilorn,” I tease, and then beckon Cal over to me. “He knows that if he steps out of line I won’t hesitate to put him back in his place.”

Farley glances between the two of us before saying, “So the second prince wasn’t lying. You two are…”

“In this together.” Cal finishes for her. His eyes narrow at what Maven might have inferred even as he looks down at me for confirmation.

“We don’t have time to get into details,” I add, making room for him in the booth as I lean forward to start drawing a map of Archeon in the dust on the table. “Maven and his mother know what we know. Which means they have been pulling the strings and trying to sabotage any advantage we have. They will not hesitate to wipe the Scarlet Guard off the map this time around.”

“I don’t understand.” Kilorn grumbles and crosses his arms tightly across his chest. “I thought we trusted that prince?”

“Maven is the one we have to worry about.” I finish drawing the bridge and narrow my eyes at the crude drawing. “He was always going to betray us.”

“How?” Farley sneers, obviously not happy with me inferring that she made a mistake in judgement. Maven was her recruit after all. “He’s given us names, information.”

“All fed to him by his mother, who is counting on us tomorrow night staging a coup and failing so that she can murder the king and remove you and any true Scarlet Guard opposition.” I murmur and watch as Farley’s fury melts into horrible understanding. My stomach drops but Cal speaks before I can.

“He’s already spoken with you and made the plan.” His voice is cold, even while the space around us starts to burn with the heat he releases. My own lightning wants to be unleashed as well. It takes more effort than I like to reign it in. I was wrong. He did speak with her, about more than just me and Cal. 

“He said Barrow would try to come to me and change my mind, that I had to know she was in collusion with you and planned to stand by your side when the time came. That she would ultimately betray me.” Farley breathes, her eyes widening. “He said that the coup was the only way we would win, remove you two in one swoop.”

“He and Elara were counting you believing him wholly and me not bringing Cal.” I growl, and swipe my hand through the map on the table to erase it. The plan is useless at this point. Maven already took it and molded it to his needs. I should have never spoken to him on the barge, maybe I should have just continued to pretend I was some stupid girl that didn’t know how to play the game. I may have destroyed any hope we had of beating him and Elara now.

“They also aren’t counting on us having any other plan. Or my support.” Cal murmurs before drawing his own map in the dirt. The angle is far different from what I drew. “They don’t know that I know the future or that I am with you all. They think Mare is the only one.” His finger moves through the dust and Kilorn finally edges closer to see what he draws.

“So we play into their hands.” He murmurs as he glances at me for my support.

“What?” I wheeze as I watch him draw the same offensive we instigated last time. “Cal, if we do that—”

“Then it all goes the way it did before, with the added benefit that when you get captured this time, we can stop Elara. We know what’s coming and we can plan for it.” Cal finishes drawing his map before drawing a second more detailed map of the Whitefire next to it. “This time, we won’t be alone in that room.”

I struggle to keep up with his thought process, trying to determine exactly how he plans to make this work. The only way Farley and the other Scarlet Guard members will make it into that room is in shackles like me. Elara will slaughter us all like pigs then. 

“The tunnels run under Whitefire right?” He asks Farley who hesitates for a second before nodding tersely. He etches a few makeshifts ones into the picture and then sits back to say, “when I take Mare captive for treason, you and a small unit will move through the tunnels and get to the throne room. From there, you wait for a signal Mare and I will give. When that happens, we take Elara and Maven.”

“Bold.” Farley murmurs as she glances over the plan. “And suicidal. We’ll never make it in.”

“You will if I don’t station anyone at a specific entrance. Name it, and I will keep the regiments away from it.” Cal waves his hand over the picture and glances forlornly in my direction. “If it fails, we still go to the Bowl of Bones, but this time we’ll know what to expect.”

My heart pounds in my chest as the memory of the too thin sand shifting beneath my feet almost overtakes me. Even though it is years behind me and days ahead of me, the heat of Cal’s fire trying to catch on the sand still burns my cheeks and my stomach twists at the echoing sound of the bar punching through Arven’s chest.

“In the meantime, you need to evacuate Tuck.” I whisper forcing the bile down as I look up at Farley. She blanches at the command, but I narrow my eyes to silence her. “Elara has seen in my mind. She knows about Tuck, she knows about a number of other Scarlet Guard strongholds like Narcery too. Did you not find it strange that Maven was not afraid to travel to a supposed heavily radiated place?”

She opens her mouth to argue with me, only to shut it like a trap and narrow her eyes. The thought never occurred to her, and I understand why. He probably got on the Undertrain and immediately started spilling honey and poison in her ear until she couldn’t even hear herself think. I can’t blame her for anything, he did the same to me, and I lapped at it like a starving child.

“Where will we go?” Kilorn whispers anxiously, his eyes darting to the street outside, as if a regiment might come marching down it right now. I don’t blame him. My friend is brave, always has been and always will be, but a Silver regiment is no laughing matter to him yet.

Cal stiffens next to me and says, “Irabella is the only safe haven. Mare was never there, but I was.”

“Why—”

“I doesn’t matter.” I interrupt Kilorn, and lean forward to speak again. “You just have to trust us. Tell the Colonel you have reason to believe Tuck and a number of other bases have been compromised. That an informate you have high up in the palace you trust explicitly told you that. The Notch is not safe either.”

Farley’s eyes widen, and it is then I realize that the mention of that safe haven is what finally secures her trust. The Notch was her hiding hole. Not one her father came up with. Command might not have even known about it. If what Cal and I said was true, and we were her allies in the future, she may have taken us there at some point. I wish I would have been smart enough to start with the mention of it. We could have saved time.

“And you need to start finding the others like me.” I whisper, as I pull the book out of my jacket pocket and set it on the table. The cover gleams against the dusty surface of the table, and I almost can’t pull my fingers off of it. The fates of so many reside inside of it. Cameron’s furious expression flashes through my mind as I ordered her taken onto the Blackrun. I will not force her into anything this time though. I only hope I don’t have to rescue her from a prison though.

I slide the book to Farley and trail my fingers off the cover as I whisper, “Maven and Elara might already be on the hunt for the Ardents in here, but I circled the names of the people that we rescued together. He will target them first if he is going after them, so you have to beat him to it.”

She picks up the book gingerly before looking between us and saying, “you mentioned the Bowl of Bones.”

Cal smiles wearily but leans back with the poise of a general to say, “we won’t have to worry about it. We’re going to avoid that point all together.”

Farley’s fears are not soothed by Cal’s confidence, and I can almost see the spikes she wants to drive through his eyes. At least she nods though, agreeing with him for the time being. I can’t even begin to express the relief that courses through me as she puts the book in her own pocket and nods once more.

“Then we will go with your signal.”

[itsclydebitches]

YYH Recaps: Episode 4 “Requirements for Lovers”

Hello, everyone! It's been quite a while, huh? Ah, the endless cycle of wanting to write and yet, astoundingly, not writing. I know it well.

Good ol' writer's block has skedaddled for a time though, so let's make good use of that and dive into Episode Four: "Requirements for Lovers." 

Ohhh, YYH getting spicy with its titles 😏

Actually wait, I shouldn't be making dumb jokes just yet. First I want to acknowledge a slight change to future recaps: YYH, RWBY, and anything else I might try my hand at. Namely, a lack of pictures moving forward. A few weeks ago — months? I honestly can't keep track — tumblr implemented a new limitation where no post can have more than ten images in it. It's a move that, while I'm sure has its justifications, makes sharing analyses of visually-based media all the more difficult. I'll be doing my best moving forward to describe scenes as needed, as well as combining connected images together to stretch out my limit, but I'm not going to pretend that it'll be the same as getting the visual play-by-play we’re used to. 

Tumblr certainly is a website, huh?  

Anyway, we open on Yusuke once again lamenting the difficulty of hatching a spirit beast that doesn't immediately devour him from the head down. On the one hand this is an admittedly easy way to reset the story over the course of this arc — the storytelling equivalent of waking your character up each morning — yet I cannot deny that if I were undergoing a resurrection test, it would consume my every thought too. Can't really blame Yusuke for endlessly bringing the conflict up when the conflict is this deadly.

Well, deadly for a ghost, anyway.

Specifically, he's worried about how embarrassing it would be to get eaten by something that came out of an egg this tiny. I'm torn between reminding a fictional character that things grow — a pissed off chicken could kick my ass and it started out in an egg too — and just shaking my head over the absurdity of worrying about embarrassment when, you know, you would cease to exist. It's not even a matter of, "What if I die and then I'm embarrassed about it in the afterlife :( " Yusuke is already IN the afterlife. He's got nowhere to go but oblivion!

Luckily, Botan takes a more practical approach to these worries, pointing out that he'll be just fine provided he does some good deeds. Yusuke starts a rant about how do-gooders are only ever out for themselves.

Yusuke, you dumb-dumb, you're a do-gooder now. What was all that help for Kuwabara, hmm? As said, these early episodes exist in a semi-reset loop, where Yusuke needs to stew in his main character flaws for a while before any real growth starts to stick. Those flaws being, primarily, "I'm a pessimist" and "also I hate myself."

Case in point, Botan accuses him of always seeing the glass as half empty. Which, while true enough (outside of his confidence in fighting, anyway), by now we've got a pretty good sense of where Yusuke developed this attitude. He affirms this by talking about how Koenma's got him by the balls, "just another idiot abusing his power!" With an alcoholic mother and those teachers from last episode, it's no wonder Yusuke thinks this way. Mr. Takenaka's interest and Keiko's care aren't enough to combat the rest of Yusuke's experience, not when Takenaka is an outlier and Keiko is Yusuke's peer. Her desire to keep him on the right track reads only as an inevitability at best (the downside of having a perfect childhood friend), or a legitimate annoyance at worst. Or, as we'll continue to see in this episode, a way for them to flirt.

Is it any wonder Yusuke would sneer at Koenma's offer then, expecting the worst? The fact that Yusuke is still undergoing the challenge at all, no matter what he says, speaks volumes to me.

However, Botan is less than comfortable with his criticisms. She panics a bit at Yusuke insulting the (junior) ruler of the underworld so blithely. That, and the fact that he's carelessly tossing his egg around.

(Yes we’re using precious picture space for memes are you SURPRISED?) 

Anyway, Botan isn't just concerned for the sake of concern. She cautions Yusuke against speaking too freely because there may be investigators checking in on his progress. No sooner does he ask what those investigators look like than one appears.

Thunder! Lighting! An energy so intense that Yusuke is briefly blinded! It is, as he says, quite the entrance. What kind of being could possibly be at the heart of such an astounding show?

Why, this teeny-tiny cutie, of course.

Remember, few appearances in YYH coincide with the character's true self. Would you ever assume this is the all-powerful investigator who holds Yusuke's future in her hands? Of course not. That's the point.

The investigator introduces herself as Sayaka and immediately demonstrates that she has no more patience for Yusuke's attitude than Botan does. "These damn kids," he mutters and my brain briefly blue screens because Yusuke. You're fourteen.

Plus, Sayaka and Botan clearly have some sort of eternal youth situation going on, so there's that too.

Sayaka is, in a word, fantastic. She pulls no punches with Yusuke, teleporting away from him with what can only be described as a shit-eating smile, all while refusing to tell him what exactly she's investigating. “I’m sorry, but that’s a secret!” However, Keiko is clearly at the forefront of her interest. She refers to her as Yusuke's "girlfriend."

Botan is more than happy to point Keiko out — because of course they're still following her around! — and pulls a Et tu, Brute? on Yususke, leading Sayaka right to her. Like most of the Underworld, Sayaka is rather shocked that the pretty, popular, scholarly girl is supposedly into the delinquent. It's the power of childhood friendship, you fools! Specifically, Sayaka references the "positive markings" that Keiko has accumulated, but the audience already knows by now that such markings are suspect at best. Yusuke himself is proof of that. So if his terrible marks don't preclude him from being a young kid's savior, should we really view Keiko's as proof of superiority?

I mean, Keiko is fantastic, but that's not really the point here.

Starting her own investigation into Yusuke's life, Sayaka begins with one hell of a bombshell: "There's no point in doing [the resurrection] if the people closest to you don't care." WOW. Not only is that a harsh assessment, it's one I don't think I can personally get behind. The offer to restore Yusuke to life is built on the acknowledgment that their system is flawed (even if there's no work to change or dismantle that system): they thought he was worthless, his sacrificial death seems to have proven them wrong, and now they want further evidence, in the form of this trial, that Yusuke is a good person at heart. The whole point of this challenge is to give him a second chance, with testimonies like Mr. Takenaka's emphasizing that Yusuke has always been capable of more, so long as he applies himself. This, as we'll see throughout the series, applies to relationships too. The Yusuke with one friend he play-fights with, a distant mother, and a school worth of kids who are terrified of his very name is not the future Yusuke they expect him to become, so... why base his resurrection on what he's already (not) accomplished? Granted, the show is very unclear about what, if anything, Sayaka will do if she decides that Yusuke doesn't have a life worth going back to (even if I have my own theory discussed at the end), but the fact that this is suddenly a factor at all seems grossly unfair, not entirely unlike Kuwabara's rigged promise. We as the audience know that people love Yusuke. Yusuke himself is beginning to acknowledge that. But if this fourteen year old delinquent truly had no one that wanted him back from the dead... isn't that all the more reason to allow a resurrection and give him the chance to build a life where he would be missed? 

This stupid shonen got me thinking too much istg. 

Yusuke, ever the self-deprecating pessimist, bypasses all of the above thoughts and jumps straight to, "It's clear if [Keiko] had any sense she'd want me gone." I'd find that attitude incredibly sad if I wasn't distracted by how cute Botan and Sayaka are, sitting on the oar together. The spirit girls who fly together, thrive together! 

Botan starts teasing Yusuke about having a crush, which just feeds his temper and Sayaka's confusion. Deciding that she needs to gather more info, they follow along for an average day of school because these earlier episodes are, apparently, ghost-stalk Keiko hours. 

We see her reading aloud in class from Heart of Darkness (not the easiest book for some middle schoolers), scoring a point during volleyball practice, refusing to let one girl cheat off her homework, but happily helping another who runs up with a question. So she's pretty, athletic, and academically successful, the trifecta for any good love interest. Sayaka is impressed not just with her "nearly perfect" scores, but also the maturity that Keiko demonstrates, such as maintaining her morals about cheating while remaining compassionate. 

Actually, I really love the contrast this provides for us, the viewer. Meaning, Keiko is shown to be at her least mature when in Yusuke's presence. Not that her responses aren't justified, but watching her dramatically snatch gum from his mouth, slap him across the face, or pull crazed expressions as she yells at him is a far cry from this calm, poised, soft-spoken Keiko. It's a way to visually show us that she's comfortable in his presence, despite the suspect humor attached. Not that the Keiko we see at school is faking or anything — she is legitimately that kind and articulate — but we see that being with Yusuke allows her to relax in a way she doesn't with others. School!Keiko is, as Sayaka says, pretty much perfect, 24/7. Yusuke's Keiko is a little rougher around the edges, in a way that implies a multifaceted personality shining through. 

However, the only conclusion our trio draws is that, given Keiko's accomplishments, any attraction must be one-sided.

Poor Yusuke lol. 

In a plot move that is so ridiculously contrived, just as Yusuke is grappling with the accusation that Keiko couldn't possibly like him back, a "handsome boy" arrives to ask Keiko out. He says that he couldn't bear it when she stopped reading Heart of Darkness because he's fallen in love with her voice. "Will you be my girlfriend?" 

Please excuse me while I lose my shit over how ridiculous this is. I legitimately straight up cackled when I watched this scene. 

Luckily for Mr. Absurd, Keiko takes him seriously — and lets him down easy. She says she can't be his girlfriend and when he presses the "Why?", asking if she already likes someone else, Keiko confirms that she does. This is done through a shot of her feet. Not a POV shot given the angle, but close enough that it feels like we're stepping into Keiko's shoes (haha), shyly staring down at the floor in embarrassment and regret. 

Rejection complete? The guy screams. 

I mean he screams. 

I mean this nobody we're never gonna see again unhinges his jaw and lets out an unholy shriek the likes of which makes me shriek in utter GLEE. 

It's insane. It's wonderful. I'm going to use one of my coveted image spots to show you his face: 

Look at that and tell me this show isn't amazing. 

Okay, I'm focusing again. As Keiko runs off Botan and Sayaka start dragging Yusuke, teasing him about how Keiko chose him over that "charming handsome boy." 

...Please scroll up and look at that image again. I find YYH's definition of "charming" and "handsome" to be hilariously wrong. 

Yusuke, as per usual, throws himself into damage control, claiming that Keiko didn't say who she liked, so really it could be anyone. They're not buying it. “'I like Keiko' is written all over your face!” Botan crows. Meanwhile, Sayaka is scribbling in her little investigator's journal that feelings on both side are severely misunderstood. "Suggest serious counseling." 

Fantastic idea, Sayaka. I'd personally suggest counseling for the whole dying/best friend getting resurrected thing... but relationship woes work too! 

We cut to later when school is out and Keiko has gone over to Yusuke's. To say that Atsuko has done a poor job of keeping the house clean lately would be a serious understatement. 

Keiko points out the old food and broken glass specifically, cluing us in that this isn't just a messy environment, but a dangerous one as well. This is proven when she accidentally knocks a stack of books over and a used bowl falls onto Yusuke's face. What's interesting is that Keiko says that things are "back to normal" now, though I'm not sure if that's in reference to the state of the house, or just the note Atsuko left behind, asking Keiko to take care of Yusuke while she's out. I'm inclined towards thinking it's just the note, partly because of Keiko's shock when she first arrives, because the house wasn't shown to be in this state prior to Yusuke's death (first image above), and because the note is accompanied by a great voiceover that makes Atsuko sound quite sloshed when she left. That's what's normal, the drinking and carefree attitude, not the state of her home. If we buy that reading, it allows for another fantastic look into Atsuko's mental state. If she's already an alcoholic, the trauma of her son's death and the following revelation that he's coming back might make her struggle in other ways. Like finding cleaning to be an impossible task. 

She's depressed. It doesn't excuse the state she's left Yusuke in and, as previously acknowledged, YYH is definitely not a show interested in this nuance, but I still find it fun to take what little we've gotten and run with it. 

However, Keiko is firmly on team "WTF Atsuko." She hurries to make sure Yusuke wasn't hurt by the falling bowl, bemoans him being "covered in garbage," and says that leaving him in this state should be considered a felony. Knowing it's far beyond her power to fix Atsuko's failings, Keiko swears to come here after school every day until Yusuke regains his body. It's as she's cleaning him of the dust that's gathered that Keiko becomes entranced with Yusuke’s features. Particularly his lips. The soft lighting returns, their theme song swells, and Keiko gets thiiiis close to kissing Yusuke for the first time. 

Which is a little weird, right? I mean, we know why Yusuke is freaking out. Beyond the embarrassment of a middle schooler receiving his first kiss while two ghost girls eagerly watch on, he's made a hobby of denouncing his interest in Keiko to anyone who will listen. But for the average viewer — for Keiko herself — don't we care the he's, you know, dead? Or if not technically dead, very unconscious? Don't get me wrong, I fully understand the appeal of this situation in a generalized, cultural sense (with the side disclaimer that I'm reading a Japanese product through an American lens). Sleeping Beauty exists for a reason and there's definitely an element of that here: a gender-reversed setup where Keiko’s kills may break the "curse" of Yusuke's untimely death. Even his in-between state of being mirrors the "death like sleep" of the fairy tale. But when you strip away those Disney-esque thoughts, we're left with a girl about to kiss an unresponsive body, not as a common gesture of care (the parent who kisses their child while they sleep), but as a first time, romantic milestone. 

It's a little weird lol. 

But embrace the romance! As well as its inevitable interruption. Just as Keiko is about to land a peck, the neighborhood watch committee announces a heat and fire warning, startling Keiko out of her thoughts about Yusuke's "beautiful face." (There's another gender reversal for ya.) She gasps at her almost-action, conveniently remembers that her mom wanted her to do some shopping, and hightails it out of there before embarrassment can really kill them both. 

So she runs off for food... in a sweater? The outfit is cute and all, but I wonder what the animators were thinking, putting Keiko in a puffy pullover during an episode all about a heat wave. 

It's about at this point that the plot goes from cute romance to absolutely buck wild. The fires the neighborhood watch committee mentioned are not, in fact, due to the overwhelming heat, but an arsonist that's going around tossing molotov cocktails through open windows. Why is he doing such a thing? I don't know. Arsonists be doing arson, I guess. The important bit is that Yusuke's place is his next target, considering that Atsuko forgot to lock the windows when she went out. Within seconds all that garbage is set ablaze, quite obviously putting Yusuke's resurrection chances at an all time low. 

"Wake up, stupid!" he shouts at his unconscious body. Mood, Yusuke. That's me every morning. 

So this is a full scale emergency now and everyone is scrambling trying to think of something to do. Yusuke comes up with the idea to possess himself like he did Kuwabara — nice attempt at a loophole there — but since it would technically count as his resurrection, no dice. Botan decides to go get Kuwabara himself, even though he's too far away to do anything. It's still worth a shot. Sayaka, meanwhile, watches all this unfold with a somewhat clinical detachment. She's not quite indifferent and she's definitely not cruel... she’s just not as emotionally invested in this as the other two. Which not only re-emphasizes her purpose here, as an observer judging Yusuke, but also highlights the bond Botan is forming with him. As mentioned before in regards to her hanging out with Yusuke rather than ferrying souls, Botan is well past someone assisting Yusuke simply because it's a part of her job. He's her friend. 

We get some shots of the growing fire which includes a hazy texture to the animation I quite like and then we cut to Keiko several blocks away, shopping bag in hand. Word of the new fire spreads, with one bystander mentioning that it's the twelfth today. 

"This is eerie.” 

“Yeah, I can’t help feeling we’re under attack.”

That's because you are! Someone stop that man! 

Sadly, I don't think the arsonist is mentioned again, let alone captured. We'll just have to relegate that to my incredibly niche fic wishlist. 

Keiko also overhears that the latest fire is on fourth avenue, which of course is where Yusuke lives. Recognizing that he might be in trouble, she takes off at a run. 

Meanwhile, Botan finds Kuwabara practicing his kicks against a Yusuke dummy. Amazing resemblance, right? 

Watching for the purpose of recapping, I'm picking up on a lot of details in the animation I quite enjoy. I don't think anyone would claim that YYH, at this point in time, has the most impressive or flashy animation (the fight scenes later are another matter entirely), but there's a clear love for the product that shines through. The scared expression on Kuwabara's dummy. His unexpectedly dainty kick, complete with pointed toes. Botan's more translucent coloring to emphasize her supernatural status compared to Kuwabara. There are a lot of nice touches despite the overall simplicity. 

Plus, you can't forget the lovely irony of Kuwabara fighting a defenseless "Yusuke" while the real guy actually lies defenseless amidst a fire. We already know that despite his tough talk, Kuwabara would be horrified to learn that his friend rival had died (again) in such a manner. 

Capitalizing on that transparency, Botan runs a hand through Kuwabara's back to catch his attention. He gets his "tickle feeling" and instinctively looks around towards Yusuke's house, seeing the smoke. "Something tells me I should go that way." Gotta love a guy who drops everything to chase a vague, supernaturally induced hunch. 

As Kuwabara leaves we cut back to Keiko arriving at the house, staring in horror at the blaze. We get an audio flashback to her talk with Yusuke where she promised to take care of his body until he got back. So she tries to run in, only for a couple of the onlookers to snag her, quite correctly keeping her from undergoing a suicide mission. We learn later that Keiko absolutely would have died without Yusuke's sacrifice, so her "You cowards!" is born more of emotion than justified accusations. It's not cowardly to look at the raging inferno in a small apartment and realize that recklessly running in will only result in two dead teens, not one. 

I mean, the flames are already right there, licking the door. Even if Keiko somehow managed to avoid burns, the smoke alone would do her in. Still, Keiko tries to mitigate the damage by dumping a bucket of water over her head. As a kid I remember thinking this was the smartest thing ever. Utterly inspired. Keep that in the back of your mind, kid Clyde, for future reference. As an adult... I have no idea whether this would actually help or not lol. Any firefighters doubling as YYH fans? 

Recklessness and iffy precautions aside, I can't express how much I appreciate the story giving Keiko things to do. Yusuke recognizes that she's the only one with the maturity and open-mindedness to believe in his resurrection. She's the one picking up Atsuko's slack regarding his day-to-day needs. She never hesitates for a moment, heroically throwing herself into this blaze for Yusuke's benefit. Yeah, a lot of that still falls into the emotional/domestic sphere — what we expect of the love interest in a 90s anime — but too often action stories don't have a clue what to do with their non-action characters, not even when it comes to just supporting the fighters. They're simply... there. Keiko, however, isn't window dressing. Whether it's helping Botan survive an upcoming, supernatural plague, or cheering the team on at the Dark Tournament, Keiko is an important part of the story, despite lacking the fighting prowess of the rest of the cast. 

Just as important, this episode establishes a core equality between her and Yusuke. We just watched Keiko reject a (presumably) accomplished guy for him, telling the audience that these surface differences — academics, power levels, popularity, looks — don't matter to them. Yusuke is not Keiko's lesser just because he doesn't have the same scores in Sayaka's book and Keiko won't become Yusuke's lesser just because she doesn't have spiritual power like he does. The only important thing here is that they love each other and they're both willing to sacrifice everything for the other. In the span of about ten minutes, Keiko nearly gives up her life for Yusuke and, in turn, Yusuke gives up his resurrection for her. The level of care they show towards one another is balanced, despite those differences. 

They’re a good ship, y'all. Even if this recapping's got me noticing Yusuke/Kuwabara potential lol. 

To get back to the plot, a drenched Keiko charges into the fire, yelling Yusuke's name for the drama of it because we all know he can't respond. Despite the audience (hopefully) recognizing Keiko and Yusuke's equality, that memo hasn't reached Yusuke yet. "You're a lot more important to this world than I am!" he yells, hammering home that despite everything — knowing he instinctively saved a child, watching his loved ones grieve for him, helping Kuwabara just because he can — Yusuke still, deep down, believes that he doesn't deserve to come back; that he doesn't measure up to those around him. The self-sacrificial nature this insecurity produces shocks Sayaka. She points out that if Keiko doesn't save his body, he's not coming back. "What's the point of being alive if Keiko has to get killed for it?" 

Keiko means more to Yusuke than the rest of his living existence. Jot that down in your notebook, Sayaka! 

Kuwabara arrives and runs into one of his friends who informs him that Keiko just went inside. “Yusuke’s girl? The one we saved from those thugs?”

BOY does that tell us a lot about their rivalry! I mean yeah, we've already established several times over that Kuwabara — just like Yusuke himself — is not the cruel street thug he'd like to present himself as. If these characters actually wanted to hurt each other outside of a martial arts challenge, don't you think Kuwabara would capitalize on the "Yusuke's girl" bit? Everyone seems to know that they have feelings for each other, but Kuwabara never once wields that as ammunition against Yusuke. There are no taunts about him not being good enough. Or rather, I should clarify there are no serious taunts — Kuwabara is well known for his teasing. There's also no attempt to steal Keiko out from under him, the common treatment of the love interest as a "prize" that many stories fall into. Indeed, later this episode YYH will deconstruct this a bit. Yusuke sees Kuwabara grab Keiko's hand and yells that he better not be getting "fresh" with her. But it's purely Yusuke's worries shining through. The audience gets a crystal clear picture of the situation and knows, categorically, that Kuwabara has only the most innocent of intentions in holding Keiko's hand. 

(Well, running from the police isn't innocent, but...) 

I keep getting sidetracked. Plot! Keiko makes it to Yusuke's room and finds that he is already on fire. She then proceeds to try and put it out by patting it with her hands. I take back what I said about Keiko's smarts in this scene. Now we know where that supposed recklessness comes from though. Apparently they're both immune to fire! Nothing to worry about here, folks. 

JK she's actually in danger, despite the animation choices. By this point everyone, including Keiko, realizes that there's no way out: the fire has blocked the door. Sayaka then reveals that there is one way to save her. If Yusuke throws his egg into the fire, the energy of the spirit beast will release and guide her to safety. The catch? Hatch the egg early and it won't complete its intended function of guiding him back to his body. This beast is gonna guide one person and that is it. 

Cue Yusuke's near immediate decision to sacrifice his life for Keiko's. Granted, it's not precisely one life for another. Yusuke's resurrection was always contingent upon the beast not devouring him whole — something Koenma claims would have happened at the end of the episode — meaning that it's not technically a fair trade. Yusuke might have sacrificed Keiko's life for his own... only to fail to get that life back anyway. (There's a tragedy for ya.) To say nothing of how Yusuke is currently dead and has been for at least a couple of days, whereas Keiko very much is not. There's some sort of philosophical discussion there about potential being pit against current reality. 

BUT that's not the point! The emotional point is that he sacrificed his life for hers — the potential of his resurrection, the potential of that life he might have led — all technicalities aside. And I, for one, think that's very neat of him. 

A blue light shines as the egg's energy is released, providing a lovely contrast to the fire surrounding them. A path forms to the door and Keiko, recognizing Yusuke's presence, follows it. "We'll make it, Yusuke," Keiko says, which is one hell of a sucker-punch now that we know she's just carrying a corpse. Unbeknownst to Keiko, Yusuke is very much not making it. That's the only reason why she is. 

Kuwabara appears to help them the rest of the way which is also a pretty awesome thing considering that, from everyone else's perspective, the fire is still raging and blocking the door. Despite his spiritual awareness, Kuwabara gives no indication that he noticed this strange light, or Yusuke's hand in the rescue. Which basically means he lunged into a bunch of deadly fire for Keiko and doesn't question how in the world he isn't burned. 

Keiko's hands are fine, Kuwabara's whole body is fine... fire immunity must run in the friend group! 

Yusuke has another rare moment of vulnerability — "They're both okay" — and I cackle happily at the "both" because see. You love Kuwabara too, Yusuke! All this bluster about hating him and finding him annoying. The second he rushed into that fire you were crawling up the walls. 

Except then that happiness gives way to something that sounds a little more shocked. Devastated. "Well, I sure am... relieved..." Kudos to Cook's voice acting. You can hear the exact moment Yusuke realizes what he's done. Not that he regrets it, but the consequences are finally sinking in. He's relieved that they're safe, yes, but now he's never going to be able to rejoin them. 

As Yusuke has an(other) existential crisis, Kuwabara peels back the blanket Keiko had wrapped Yusuke in, revealing his face. “What are you doing with Yusuke’s body?! Are you some type of sick grave robber?” he shouts. God I love when a story actually keeps track of who knows what. Kuwabara, for all his recent involvement in the plot, doesn't actually know what's going on. From his perspective Yusuke died, he made a scene at the wake, he saved "his girl" from a bunch of thugs, lost a huge chunk of time only to wake up with her randomly hugging him (then slapping him), participated in a bet with his awful teacher and had a couple weird, Yusuke related dreams while studying, and has felt the presence of ghosts perhaps a little more frequently than usual. Now he's trying to help save Keiko from a fire only for her to reveal she risked her own life for Yusuke's body. Of course he's freaking out! What's she doing with that? 

What's utterly fantastic though is that Kuwabara takes all of five seconds to process this and then enters immediate Ride or Die mode for Keiko. She's been hoarding Yusuke's body for undetermined reasons? Well, who is he to judge? The important thing here is that people are arrested for keeping bodies, so they've gotta skedaddle before the firefighters show up. 

Hence, hand-holding and avoiding arrest. 

As Yusuke starts threatening Kuwabara not to get "fresh" with her, Botan sadly reminds him that he no longer has a say in who Keiko does or does not fall in love with. The switch in tone is jarring. Whereas before Botan would have teased him mercilessly for the crush, now she knows that nothing can come of that — and it would be cruel not to remind Yusuke of that too. 

"Oh no. I didn't think..." Yusuke whispers, further establishing that he knew the risks of using his egg, but hadn't allowed them to sink in yet. Now they have. 

He gives a fake little laugh with, "Just when it was getting good" and I cry at the development in the span of just four episodes. Despite what I said at the beginning about the show resetting each week, there has been a lot of change thus far. Yusuke wants to live now! He wants to be there for Keiko! He looks down on his tiny family and screams at the unfairness of it all! They're talking about how they can't wait for him to come back and now that's never gonna happen!!

It hurts, friends. It hurts a whole lot. 

During this conversation between Keiko, Atsuko, and Kuwabara, we see that a couple of hours have passed (it's nighttime now, the fire is out) and Atsuko is apologizing for putting them all in danger like that. And by that I mean yes, she does technically apologize with an "I'm sorry" and everything, but it's also a one sentence apology pit against... well, near death for the three people standing (and sitting) before her. Atsuko seems just as concerned by Keiko losing her hair as she does Keiko nearly burning to death and she kneels by Yusuke's wheelchair, baby-talking to him about how he forgives her, right? I love Atsuko, she's great, but objectively speaking she is not a good mother. Not right now, anyway. 

Oh yeah, and just to reiterate that: Keiko's hands are fine after patting down Yusuke's on-fire body, but her hair, which I'm pretty sure never catches, has to be cut short. Ah, anime logic. Funny thing is, YYH isn't the only story to take the love interest and give her a cool, short cut thanks to a traumatic event. Anyone read Ranma 1/2? 

During this conversation we also learn that, sometime between the fire and now, Keiko filled Kuwabara in on everything that's happening with Yusuke. Makes sense. He kneels beside the wheelchair, joining the others in telling Yusuke that they'll wait patiently for his return. Yusuke, above them, continues yelling about how they're waiting on a dead man. 

“It can’t be helped. He made this decision on his own." 

Except it can, in fact, be helped!

Just as all hope is truly lost, Koenma appears and announces that Yusuke will be returned to life. Why? Because sacrificing his egg for Keiko is a better indicator of his worth than the egg itself could have been. Despite feeding on his negative outlook and heading towards biting Yusuke's head off — something the animation backs up by showing us teeth during the fire

— Yusuke's act demonstrates a tendency towards being a "decent human being" that is "so rare." Wow. That's depressing. Still, yay that Yusuke has those qualities! And this, to my mind, helps explain Sayaka's presence. Koenma recognized that judging Yusuke couldn't be left to the egg alone and indeed, Sayaka took note of his worth before he ever threw the egg into the fire. First it was questioning why someone as amazing as Keiko would go for him, then it was solidified through the shock of Yusuke announcing that coming back to life was meaningless if she wasn't in it. Even if Keiko had somehow, miraculously escaped the fire before Yusuke's sacrifice, I bet Sayaka's report would have tipped him in resurrection's favor anyway. 

Everyone is, of course, overjoyed and my heart swells at the intense gratitude Yusuke displays. My favorite part though is when Koenma cryptically says that “Your added experience with death could make you very useful" (a nod towards future events that goes right over Yusuke's head) and his response to this is a yelled, "YOU THINK I'M USEFUL?" This poor kid. The God of everything ever is chucking out revelations left and right, about resurrections and spirit beasts, but the only thing that really penetrates is the realization that someone thinks he's useful. Talk about relatable. 

You know, I've been thinking about why this moment works so well. I mean, there are a lot of other stories where undermining the consequences our hero faces — either with humor, or by erasing them completely — can feel like the audience was cheated. I think YYH dodged that with a couple of crucial factors. First, Yusuke's consequence isn't something new that he's now avoided, it's just a permanent extension of something he was already dealing with. We did get to watch him inhabit the space between life and death, grappling with whether he'd ever be able to return. The story didn't deny us that growth, it just confirmed something we all instinctively knew: this tale won't end here with Yusuke permanently going to some afterlife. Second, the Deus ex Machina fix doesn't happen too soon. Yeah, it's only a couple of minutes in a single episode, but we (and Yusuke) still get to sit with that outcome for a while, soaking it in before its removal. Finally, there's no doubt that Yusuke earned this reprieve. Koenma's timing might be sudden and (if you're not genre savvy) unexpected, but looking back at the series as a whole thus far, we're able to agree absolutely that Yusuke deserves this. Far from feeling like we were cheated, this solution invites just as much celebration as we're seeing on screen, for the simple reason that we can buy into Koenma's reasoning. We know now that Yusuke is a good person. We saw him selflessly sacrifice his future for Keiko. We agree that he deserves a second chance. 

Thus, the episode ends with Yusuke flying up to fill the screen in his joy, a far better, final shot than Harry Potter and The Prison of Azkaban managed 😰

And that's it for Episode 4, folks! See you later for Episode 5 💕

[suresha]

In  all  the  years  I  have  been  RPing  his  majesty  the  ph/araoh,  I  can  say  with  certainty  that  A/tem  is  flat  out  unattracted  to  ‘sweet’  people.  Those  sweet  ‘yes’  men  and  women  who  fall  all  over  his  good  looks  /  du/eling  prowess  get  nothing  out  of  him  save  for  a  wince  /  ‘do  not  want’.  That  isn’t  to  say  he  wants  someone  who  treats  him  badly.  That  isn’t  the  case  at  all,  but  most  of  the  time,  the  cutesy  stuff  makes  him  want  to  hurl.  Like  stop.  This  guy  was  once  the  most  bad  ass  phar/aoh  and  IS  the  bamf  of  card  games.  The  reason  he  and  K/aiba  work  so  well  together  is  because  they  share  the  same  competitive  spirit.  A  vast  majority  of  my  ships  with  A/tem  are  with  questionable  people  because  A/tem,  as  Y/ami,  was  questionable  himself.  Did  not  /  WOULD  NOT  hesitate  to  kill  a  bitch.  He  probably  wouldn’t  kill  anyone  now  that  he  has  most  of  his  memories  in  tact.  That  and  he  realizes  times  have  changed.  Killing  is  wrong.  HOWEVER...

Please  don’t  think  he  doesn’t  enjoy  watching  someone  suffer  when  they  deserve  it  because  absolutely.  Without  a  doubt.  Wouldn’t  blink  twice  if  your  arm  was  cut  off  if  he  knows  you  did  something  awful  to  deserve  it.  Because  he  aligns  himself  as  ‘lawful  good’  and  for  the  most  part,  that’s  1000%  true.  His  sense  of  justice  is  VERY  strong.  Gone  are  his  days  of  ACTING  on  it;  that  is  to  say,  he’s  not  going  to  channel  his  old  ways  to  send  someone  to  the  Shad/ow  R/ealm  but  hum...  suppose  he  has  a  boyfriend  who  has  a  talent  for  making  people  suffer.  He  might  just  look  the  other  way  while  his  BF  does  the  work  he  only  wishes  he  could  do  himself.  He  doesn’t  ENJOY  killing  /  watching  people  get  hurt,  but  at  the  same  time,  he  doesn’t  hate  it.

A/tem  is  a  product  of  his  time.  WEAKNESS  ISN’T  TOLERATED.  Strong  men  and  (  occasionally  )  women  ---  in  every  sense  of  the  word  ---  might  get  his  attention.  Prove  yourself  and  you’ll  keep  it.  A/tem  has  a  lot  of  issues  post  series,  most  notably  anxiety,  paranoia  and  of  course,  PTSD.  So  it’s  difficult  to  get  close  to  him  anyway.  But  he  thrives  much  better  in  relationships  where  there’s  probably  a  moral  grey  area.  With  his  main  Kaibar,  its  the  obsession.  With  Bes,  its  the  fact  that  Bes  is  a  ferocious  god  /  hellhound  who  rips  people’s  throats.  His  former  waifu  was  so  strong,  she  could  level  armies  with  one  punch  so  I  mean,  you  see  the  pattern  here?  And  Nicky,  his  priest,  does  questionable  things  himself.  A  sweetheart,  but  a  little  rough  around  the  edges.  His  mages?  ALL  questionable.  So  what  I’m  saying  is  being  cute  won’t  earn  the  pha/raoh’s  attentions  at  all.  You  can  be  sexy  as  hell,  but  if  you  can’t  reel  him  in  by  being  interesting,  you  have  ZERO  chance  at  being  anything  more  than  a  chew  toy.  (  As  a  side  note,  if  you  can  beat  him  at  d/uel  m/onsters,  that’ll  earn  you  a  date  but  i  doubt  you’ll  beat  him. x)  )

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

Humans are Space Orcs, “You Survive We Thrive

Things are heating up with Krill’s mini plot line. Sorry I posted a little late today :) Hope you like it

“So, what do you think?”

….

“This is… disturbing, most disturbing.” 

“That poor?”

The psychologist, a sturdy little vrul, steel grey in color, with red-tinted orange eyes looked up from where he was examining the projected data rolling in lines of minutely scripted characters through the air to vanish. 

He had no issue with his divided attention, continuing to read the scrolling data as he spoke with the official, “That bad, I have never read a psychological evaluation this….  Strange….”

“Psychological degradation.”

The doctor shook his head, “That is what seems strange about it. There WAS no psychological degradation. His intelligence quotient remains high enough that the test cannot accurately represent it in numbers. He not only succeeded in all our tests, but often broke them from the inside going out. He shows extreme scores on logical thinking, and procedural memory, but the strange part is his creative problem solving has skyrocketed enough to break the test. There is no degradation, but his scores and IMPROVING. I even created a matrix for emotional intelligence, not a perfect test, but  think accurate enough, and he scores extremely well on that.”

There was  a pause between the two of them.

“Did you think to test him against the human? See if maybe the changes could be explained by that?”

The psychologist looked on miffed, almost insulted, “Of course I took that into account. That was one of the first things I did.” He switched the projected information, “The human’s scores are….. Well they are erratic at best and downright confusing at worst. Let me explain. You see this here, as far as intelligence goes, he's about as smart as the average beta, which gives him a little over average for humans. I mean you would hope that he is, but there is nothing special. His spatial intelligence is…. Well its excellent, far beyond excellent. And the same can be said about creative problem solving. Emotional intelligence is higher than the doctors both show the same in procedural memory, however a relating to semantic memory the doctor far outstrips the human. Numerical intelligence does not seem to be the human’s strong suit. In fact, I don’t think I have ever seen someone score that low before. I would say the same for episodic memory, accept worse. The human seems to think that he can remember things well, but it seems that he actually cannot.” “What does that have to do with anything.”

“Well you know how I said that the human’s intelligence scores put him at the low end of beta…..”

“Yes.”

“Well in aggregate, putting all his scores together, he would count as an alpha.”

The official stood back in surprise, “How? How can that be possible.”

“I am not entirely sure at this moment, but…. It is quite fascinating… I was thinking about going to talk to the human face to face, see if I can’t figure out this mystery.”

The official nervously shifted in place, “You should be careful, psychologist, you are starting to sound like the doctor did before he went off his rocker.”

“Has he gone off his rocker though?” The psychologist retorted.

“I mean yes, of course he has.” 

“The tests say he hasn’t.”

The official harrumphed, “Well, aren't you also saying earlier that he had shown extreme increases on the aggression quotient as well as that for emotional response.”

“yes , but that hasn’t affected his other scores.”

The official sighed but then nodded, “Very well, but be careful, and don’t spend too much time with the human. He has proven to be dangerous, and may have an affect on you.”

“You worry far to much, it took the doctor months to be affected by him, and he had already showed signs of instability before that. I will be fine.”

***

“Dr…..Dr….. try to pay attention please.”

Krill lifted his head in annoyance pulling himself from a contemplation of all the stupid things the humans had probably been doing while he was gone, “I have answered all of your question. I have no idea why you would still be interested.

“We have plenty more questions.”

“No you have the same question but phrased slightly differently every time.” Krill sighed and glowered at the illuminated blue walls.

“Why are you so angry, doctor.”

He turned to look at them, “I am angry because I realize there are things about humans that I prefer over my own species sometimes.”

There was a pause.

“And what might that be?”

“Well, for one humans generally accept an answer after the tenth time I have given it. Not to mention that….. Well…. There are a lot of things.”

“Go on, we are listening.”

Krill sighed his shoulders sagging. He tried to control the human body language, but was finding it difficult, “OUr species has spent decades surviving, but isn’t the measure of a successful species one that can flourish. Our population has been stable for the past thousand years, and it has functioned the same way during that time. We don’t try to get better, we make it to, yeah that's ok and then we quit. Humans don’t just Survive, they TRIBE they are always trying to get better, to improve upon what they have. Where illness is a reason for death because we are no longer useful, they created technology to make life come to them. It has been less than a decade, and humans already live all across the galaxy. Their population has reached an all time eruption, and there is no reason it cannot get bigger. And here we are piddling along on our single planet, in upwards of ten cities doing the same thing we have done for generations.”  

“The point of our species is survival.”

“We have proven to be good at that, why not go on from survival and into…… thriving.”

“The Universe is not meant for us. We are not as durable as others. Our planet is all we have.”

Krill shook his head growing more excitedly agitated, “that is where you are wrong, the bigger universe is out there for us. I have proven it. I have visited and stayed on death worlds for weeks at a time. Do you want to know the secret?”

The other Vrul looked a bit surprised, but intrigued. Looking on at Krill like he was insane.

“The secret is sociability. I survived because I had humans to help me. WIth their help I have been able to go anywhere and survive in any place. If we learn from them, we have a chance to live like they do.”

“And how is that?”

“Free.”

***

Commander Vir floated in near darkness a soft blue light illuminating him from all sides. He couldn't have said which was was up or which was was down. The only color he saw was blue, and aside from his own body there was nothing else, so he floated, rotating slowly his hands held out to his sides his legs relaxed and resting easily in the air. If he closed his eyes, he could almost imagine the warm heaviness of a space suit, and his breath against the glass, a thin barrier between him and space.

Images of his first spacewalk ran through his mind with the fiery light of a star rising behind a strange alien world. 

There was a sort of soft rumbling that broke him from his thoughts, and he spun in mid-air to find a vrul float into the room. It seemed as if he was upside down though…. Or well he couldn't have said which one of them was upside down considering space didn’t seem to have a right side up or upside down.

He struggled for a few seconds rotating to face the Vrul.

Despite being the captain of a spaceship, he didn’t actually spend much of his time in zero Gs, though that was a fact he would forever be salty about.

“Commander.” The Vrul acknowledged  floating closer as Adam finally righted himself.

“I am afraid you have me at a bit of a disadvantage…. Who are you?”

The Vrul stopped his orange-red eyes glowing strangely in the blue light, “I am the psychologist.”

“Ah, let me guess, you wanted to see what about a human makes your species so vulnerable to change?”

“Precisely, smarter than your tests suggested.”

Adam frowned, “You know that seems to be a thing with you Vrul. Every time I meet a new one of you, I spend most of my time getting insulted, and yet there isn’t really much I can do, since you guys don’t say anything that isn’t true.”

“And the doctor does not?”

“Not anymore.”

“Why is that.”

Adam, in boredom, began rotating backwards feet thrown up into the air, watching the Vrul as he slowly spun in a circle, “Hmm…. I think…. I think the answer is because we socialized him.”

Spinning back around, the commander would have said that the Vrul seemed surprised. Generally those emotions were easier to read on Krill, but he supposed that was part of the reason why he said what he said.

“That is… an interesting theory, human.”

“Not really a theory. A theory implies that it cannot be tested. I would suggest it’s more a hypothesis.”

The vrul looked at him in a contemplative manner, “Go on, I am interested to hear what you have to say on the subject.”

Adam was a little surprised, “Vrul were kind of known for being stuck up pricks who thought they were smarter than everyone else, but he supposed that this might just help krill out of his current predicament.”

“Well you have talked about the doctor changing a lot, and I have this theory that every one of those changes have to do with his adaptability living in a pack.” The Vrul waited for him to continue, so he did, “You say something about how Krill is more emotional now, right? Well, emotions are adaptable to humans. Aggression allows people to keep their place in the hierarchy. We have trouble listening to krill like we should, so he gets mad at us, as a way to show us  he SHOULD be respected. You might have discussed his use of human facial expressions or body language, well, body language is EXTREMELY important to properly communicating with a human, if he didn’t adopt those habits than he wouldn’t be able to communicate with us effectively. You guys talk about how he moves wrong, well that's part to do with body language and part to do with how quickly humans move. He can’t keep up with us if he floats.”

The psychologist looked Adam over with a critical eye, “Have you been thinking about this?”

Adam shrugged, “Not really, it just makes sense. And I argue that it PROVES that your species is more adaptive than you originally thought. Krill isn’t broken, he has…. Well micro-evolved. I guess.”

The psychologist looked on with interest, “And…. what do you care about him.”

Adam snorted, “Look. Once you make friends with a human, or a group of humans your as good as family, sometimes better than. We have a saying on earth, the blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb. It means that the people you choose can sometimes be more important than the people you didn’t. Well we adopted Krill into our pack, he's as good as family to me, and I will do ANYTHING to keep him safe.”

WIth a slight shift of his body, the Vrul floated back.

Adam floated forward, “And when I say ANYTHING, I mean it.”

“But he's not even your species.”

Adam shook his head, “Doesn't matter, the human bonding instinct is so powerful that we routinely bond with inanimate objects. I bought a cactus (a plant) during my time in the airforce academy. I named him melvin, he’s still alive and lives at my parents house. We are great friends. I know a guy who won a stuffed pig at a carnival, and now it goes with him everywhere. My sister always buys the most mangled shaped food because it makes her sad to think that no one will buy it….. She's sad…. For vegetables.”

The Vrul had floated back even further.

“So when I say that we can bond with inanimate objects, imagine how we feel about Krill. Not only my good friend, but our doctor and our surgeon. He saved my life on multiple occasions which also means I owe him a debt of honor like the Drev see honor. I can’t let him go until I repay him, and even then I don’t plan on it.” 

“What are you trying to say?”

“I am saying that I WILL get y friend back, no matter what I have to do.” 

[soukokuwu]

PM!DAZAI OSAMU

WHAT YOU WOULD GIVE

》 fluff, i tried (dazai x reader)

》 word count: 1.9k

》 another prompt from my sweet anon, thank you for the abundance of ideas i love it!

“there is thrill and desire”

Intriguing.

That’s the one word he would use to describe you. No one else had managed to capture his eye— or at least not from within the Port Mafia organisation. He did not think in the slightest that he wanted anything to do with romance in this life, until he got to interact with you.

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

Another mundane day, and yet another mundane job. This was such a small-scale organisation, did Mori really have to send him to deal with it? But orders were orders, so Dazai complied, no matter how unwillingly. And what was with the orders not to kill? Since when did Mori care about sparing any lives?

A recon mission, Mori had called it.

So here he was, standing outside the office of the organisation. Dazai’s deadpan expression was plastered on as always. But it looked even more unimpressed that day. For an organisation that was supposedly enough of a threat to push the Port Mafia into action, one would’ve thought they would at least have a decent security system. But no— there were no guards, and Dazai didn’t even spot any kind of cameras anywhere.

What a cocky organisation.

Swiftly pulling a bobby pin out from his coat pocket, Dazai easily picked the lock and let himself in. According to his information, no one would be here today— it was the boss’ birthday and everyone would be away celebrating. How... wholesome. And pointless. No matter how hard Dazai thought, he would never be able to justify giving everyone a day off just because of a stupid birthday.

What a weird organisation. But fairly predictable.

But just as Dazai was thinking he would have an easy field day, he stopped in his tracks as he caught sight of you. The front door snapped shut, leaving the two of you in private in the dimly lit office.

You were a beauty in his eyes— how come there was no mention of anyone like you in his files? He had gone through the list of all the employees in the organisation and he definitely did not remember seeing your face. If he did, he would most definitely remember it. Dazai didn’t feel fazed at all though, but he was curious— your gaze was fixed on him, an intense look in those determined eyes of yours. It was almost like you were... examining him.

For you, on the other hand, it was not surprising at all to find the man in front of you. The boss did predict that much, and he was rarely ever wrong. Only the thing was, usually you would have backup. This time, the boss let you handle it alone. He must’ve thought the mafia would send some lowly grunt, but the man in front of you didn’t seem so. In fact, he looked like the very incarnate of death. Nothing about him seemed decent. He had bandages all over his body, even over his right eye. You got curious as well, but you had to protect company information. You didn’t have time to chit chat.

Dazai stood his ground as you approached him cautiously. It was a peculiar thing— he looked as intimidating as they came, and yet you didn’t feel afraid. Call it a gut feeling, but as you reached out to him, you expected nothing to come out of it. And true to that, when you gently laid your hand on his shoulder, all you got in return was his unamused glare.

“You— you don’t feel anything?”

The man before you was now a little more interested. “Is this the first time your ability didn’t work?” A smirk played on his lips.

Now he felt thrilled for the mission.

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

It had been a month since then, and he was still as taken by you as the first day you met. It delighted him to see how you worked, how your ability played out in your cases. He sometimes accompanied you to find your targets just for the sole sake of watching them crumble under your mercy. It was a strange relationship the two of you had. You were from opposing organisations, and you were each other’s targets, but yet here you were, breaking the rules.

The past month was filled with sneaking around, hiding out in alleys making out, and even keeping out of each other’s way if it involved your respective organisations. It was nothing short of thrilling— and the both of you thrived in it. And today was yet another day of being sneaky, with Dazai following you out to one of your minor assignments.

Dazai watched with brimming jubilance as he watched your target squirm under your control, begging for you to spare him with the promises of surrendering whatever information you wanted. How he admired the sight, and how proud he felt that you succeeded yet again. This was all going brilliant— not just your current task but you and Dazai’s relationship in general.

Except for one fact: you were still part of conflicting organisations, which meant complications. A thought made its way into Dazai’s mind: What were to happen if Mori were to find out? He clenched his fists. Dazai knew what would happen. It would just mean torture for you, and then maybe death. So until this case was over, the two of you had to do your best to keep things under wraps.

“What’s the brooding executive got on his mind?” you cooed as you approached him, a smug smile on your face.

Dazai snapped out of his thoughts, looking around, realising that the target was already gone. You must’ve gotten what you wanted out of him already. Very impressive. He cautiously walked out of the shadows, pulling you close to him by the waist. Your lips were hovering over each other’s, barely touching. Your eyes flitted up to meet his, capturing the lustful expression behind them. Dazai licked his lips. Today was the first time he’s managed to see you— touch you— in a week. He wasn’t being clingy, no, but he knew what he did feel was hunger.

“I’m not one for words, but I can show you what I’m thinking of,” Dazai murmured seductively in your ear before pulling his head back slightly to observe you. The faint blush on your cheeks and the fact he could feel your heartbeat quicken against his chest told him enough— you wanted it just as badly as he did. He leaned in to kiss you, but stopped just as your lips were about to touch. He chuckled slightly at your disappointed expression and the slight whimper that made it out of your delicate lips. “Not here, belladonna, we don’t want to get caught now, do we?”

A few hours later you were on his bed, wrapped up in his arms. He was gently caressing your cheeks. You felt so tired you wish you could just fall asleep right there. But you had a boss to report back to and Dazai probably had his own plans. He was most likely thinking the same too, because he reluctantly got up, reaching for his clothes.

“Maybe I’ll see you later for dinner?” you asked, lazily getting up and putting on your own clothes. You mentally slapped yourself for letting that slip out. You didn’t usually bother to filter your words, thanks to your ability, but for a moment you forgot Dazai was impervious to it. Way to go looking like a desperate idiot.

Dazai only chuckled, turning to face you, an eyebrow arched. It was so uncharacteristic of you to be making the first move, and usually he would be a little turned off by it, but strangely enough, he felt like it was some sort of achievement if it was coming from you. He smirked upon catching your embarrassed expression and followed you out to the living room where you poured yourself some coffee, deciding you needed some to wake yourself up before heading back to work. Just as Dazai was about to say something, impatient knocks came from his front door. Your eyes widened and you nearly dropped your coffee. When you realised that whoever was on the other side of the door wasn’t going to wait for Dazai to respond, you panicked.

You heard a click as the door started to open, and in a rush you ran to hide behind the other side of the door, hoping whoever was visiting wouldn’t notice you. As you were wondering who would be so rude as to barge in unannounced, you recognised him just from his ginger hair.

“Shitty Dazai, the boss has been looking for you since the morning, could you at least have the decency to pick up the fucking phone?”

Dazai, as amused he was seeing you curling up in the corner, just inches away from his mouthy partner, maintained his composure. “Ah, Chuuya, didn’t your parents teach you that going in to someone else’s house uninvited is very rude?”

Chuuya’s eyes widened ever so slightly, and Dazai, as sharp as ever, caught it the moment it happened.

With slight malice in his voice, Dazai continued on, “Oh that’s right— you don’t have any.”

The moment the words slipped out from Dazai’s mouth, Chuuya’s anger built up, the red aura signaling that he was about to do something violent. But Dazai wasn’t the least bit scared. Sure, Chuuya could easily turn his powers off in time and harm Dazai badly, but Dazai had a trick up his sleeve: you.

You spotted the redhead about to do something rash, and in the spur of the moment, you pinched a small sliver of his hair, and immediately the ginger calmed down, the anger in his eyes turning into unamusement. It was as though rationality returned to his mind.

“Tch, just hurry up and get ready for the meeting later. I don’t want to get another mouthful from the boss.”

With that, Chuuya left, never having seen you camping in the corner. As soon as the door closed again, you sighed in relief and slumped down to the floor. Needless to say, Dazai’s respect for your ability grew slightly. It was so useful— he made a mental note of the possibility to convert you into a Port Mafia member, then maybe Mori would spare you. But he knew now was not the time to think of such things. If he did want to, it would have to be in the future and as much as he was currently entranced by you, making plans was still something he reminded himself not to do.

Dazai slowly walked over to you and crouched down, tilting your chin up, his other hand reaching for yours. He was uncertain what it was that he was actually feeling— he had been disconnected from any positive emotion for as long as he could remember. And while he knew that this was far from what people claimed to be true love, he did know that his interest in you would not fade any time soon, and that no other lady could possibly ever measure up to you. Was this considered a positive emotion? Was this worth the trouble of finding out?

As he gazed at you, he had a thought come into his mind: he did want to know how your mind worked, how you thought of certain subjects, your views on various issues. He wanted to know how you planned out your day, how you spent your evenings, what you liked to eat and even your favourite colours. This was a very weird emotion to feel for someone like him, who barely ever shown any affection or interest for anyone at all. You were an exception to this— and maybe, just maybe, he owed it to himself to find out why.

“Curry for dinner at that place you like later?” Dazai offered, a playful smile on his face as he kissed the back of your hand and helped you up.

You blinked in disbelief, not knowing what to say. He was being unusually nice. You did not expect this. But you felt it would be rude if you questioned his motives. “I thought you didn’t like how spicy everything is there...”

Dazai chuckled, placing a quick peck on your cheek, then whispering in your ear, “But you do.”

And in that moment, the two of you felt a feeling grow inside of you, and neither of you could quite place what it was. But of one thing you both were sure— this feeling would not go away any time soon, and you both were oddly grateful for it.

“and now we start the journey”

[yeahinoticed]

Trimberly Pirate AU

There are Very Many ideas in my head. If you’re interested in them, take a look at my feeble attempt at fic writing below.

Perhaps they were fated to meet, or maybe it was simply chance. Either way, there was no turning back. Their story was an inevitability - its movements as sure as the tides themselves.

A Pirate AU wherein Trini is a notorious pirate captain, and Kimberly just wants to be free.

Read it on AO3 here!

She had never expected to be here. Though Zack’s plans were wild to be sure, she had to concede that more often than not, they worked. Still, she’d rather it was him in her place. But as great a strategist as he was, Zack was terrible at keeping his cool. His excitement was likely to get the better of him, and if it happened here, it would spell the end of their careers - and most probably their lives. They just couldn’t risk it. Trini fiddles with the gaudy looking brooch pinned to her lapel. It looks like any other - a brassy little trinket engraved with a crown, vibrant red gemstone studded proudly in its centre. They’d picked it up in Havana last year, not long after their first success. Trini had been adamantly against spending their newfound gold on such frivolous things, but Zack would insist it was a token of celebration, a small purchase he’d treasure forever. It was hard to say no to such blinding enthusiasm, so she’d simply rolled her eyes and turned away, which he’d obviously taken as approval. Trini thought he’d get bored of it and sell it at the next port for some other shiny thing, but true to his word he’d held on to it, and the cocky grin he’d worn when brandishing it at her this morning had her reconsidering their partnership. Nevertheless, it was becoming useful now, so she supposed she couldn’t really fault him. 

She’d always thought such things were kind of tacky. Blatant shows of wealth and title weren’t really her style. They make you stand out. And in her line of work, standing out makes things a whole lot harder. Yet here she is, clad head to toe in a flashy formal ensemble. The mustard coat, the breeches, the stockings, the dastardly wig and feathered hat - the whole lot. The frills of her shirt tickle her neck and hands, a constant irritation in the back of her mind even as she peers up at the garish manor before her. Rendered cream walls, framed by extravagant trimming reflect the bright midday sun so brightly that they almost glow. The dark gravel path up to the manor is edged with smooth stones, dividing it from verdant garden beds which are somehow both calculated and unruly at the same time. At the base of the path, two uniformed guards flank an ornamental wrought iron gate. Its bars twist intricately to resemble thorned roses, and its top edge is studded with spikes. They glare at her, suspicion evident in their faces, hands gripping their rifles ever so slightly harder - imperceptible to an untrained eye. She understands their wariness - while her linen garments give the impression of status, she isn’t their typical wearer - no woman is. Trini might be accustomed to the blade, but it was time to put her sharp tongue to use.

 “State your business ma’am”.

 “Isn’t it quite obvious, good sir?” she replies. The accent doesn’t come easily to her, and if the guards notice, they give no indication of it.

 The one who had spoken looks to his comrade, visibly apprehensive. It was a difficult situation for him. If he gave the wrong person trouble, he’d be out of a job before evening. Yet he couldn’t simply stand aside, for then he wouldn’t be doing his job at all. He hadn’t signed up for such dilemmas. He sighs. 

 “Your invitation?”.

 “This is all hardly necessary” Trini remarks as she slips the folded letter from her inner breast pocket. The guard scans it over, thumbing the seal that identifies its sender. When he scans it a second time, his eyebrow quirks.

 “Forgive me ma’am, but you don’t quite look like an ‘Oliver’ to me”. His partner scoffs at this, before clearing his throat and making to smooth the collar of his regimental red coat, directing his gaze somewhere in the distance. Trini replies without missing a beat.

 “My father was quite set on the name before I was even born. Though I do wish someone had talked him out of it, I don’t very well mind being named after my grandfather”.

 The guard squints at her, before his frown eases in thought. Her reasoning wasn’t completely out of the realm of possibility. 

 “Very well, Miss Bennett. I’m sure Governor Hart will be glad for your arrival. I apologise for the inconvenience. I do hope you enjoy the party.”

 At the guards nod, Trini makes her way through the gate. 

 “It’s quite alright, I get it all the time”. 

 ---

 As she steps into the main hall, Trini is struck by the atmosphere. A low chatter echoes off the stone floors, intermittently joined by the soft clanking of cutlery. She can still hear the familiar whispers of the ocean in the distance, beckoning her back sweetly. Around her, the guests are dressed much the same as she is. They converse with false smiles, many holding silver goblets filled with what she can only assume is a fine wine. A guard stands at the foot of the main stairs, rifle up against his shoulder. She passes another who stands at the entrance to the dining room. There were more than she thought there would be. How bothersome. She isn’t two steps into the room when the idle noises of the manor are joined by the gentle moan of a violin. A grand wooden dining table is set against the main window, adorned with an assortment of food, though she’s sure it normally resides front and centre. As tempting as it looks, it's not what Trini is here for. She lets out a quiet chuckle. Zack would’ve been right squiffy by the day's end, if he’d come along. The people in the room begin to pair up, swaying slowly to the violin’s song. While she’d prefer not to partake, she’s sure to arouse suspicion just standing here - and she’s not sure she could hold a real conversation without giving herself away. 

 Trini glances around the room. Standing by one of the large windows is a woman in a silken, rose coloured dress. She’s strikingly beautiful, with her dark brown hair in an elegant updo. It catches the afternoon light in a way that steals Trini’s breath for a moment. She’s about to look away, find someone else, when the woman turns, meeting her eyes. After a pause, the stranger smiles faintly, tilting her head in silent questioning. Rats. With one deep breath, Trini slips back into her persona. It was time to dance. 

 ---

 Kimberly Hart has attended many a party in her twenty three years. Her father’s parties, his friends’ parties, his enemies’ parties. It was expected of her really. Don a pretty dress, be receptive (but not too receptive) to her potential suitors. Gossip idly with girls who have far too much time on her hands. She didn’t mind it, most of the time. She had to admit though, it could get a little boring. This was her father’s third ‘dance’ of the year and it was only February. He had to keep up appearances of course. How else would his peers know of Port Royal’s thriving trade if he did not celebrate it with fine wine and finer appearances. Even so, Kimberly could only tolerate the advances of so many men. Nobles, with promises of glamour and comfort back in the motherland. Merchant sailors who weave tales of wealth and adventure that seem just a little too crafted to be true. Naval captains who think their pride and ranking should have her swooning at their feet with nary another word. Every so often, there’d be one or two who would have her attention. Whose silk tongues and vibrant eyes would draw her in, if only momentarily. But she’d find soon enough that her biting wit was never appreciated for long, and the smooth talking would always give way to frustration. It seemed she was simply a prize to be won, a hill to be conquered. Bragging rights. Quite frankly, she was sick of it.

 And so, Kimberly finds herself standing by the front window of the dining room, eyes ensnared by the gentle ebb and flow of the waves upon the beach. Her mother used to tell her stories of the ocean - stories far grander, far more fascinating than those of her suitors. Stories of sleepless nights in raging storms. Of brilliant new lands and people and creatures. Of days spent in song and nights spent in stupor. She’d always wondered what it was like out there, beyond the confines of her father’s estate and everything it represented. Would she go? If given the chance? The thought is at the forefront of her mind when she feels the familiar pressure of a set of eyes, trying and failing to be inconspicuous. Turning quickly she seeks them out, finding a woman who seems just out of place. She’s wearing an embroidered suit, woven linen in a yellow far too green. The hair of her grey wig is pulled into a ponytail beneath her feathered tricorne. Her attire is interesting, yes, but Kimberly does not recognise her. She recognises most of her father’s guests. She feels her lips twitch upwards at the woman, holding her gaze from across the room. 

 Something flashes across her watcher’s face, gone too quickly to identify. The woman strides towards her, light on her feet. There's a vague slant to her hips, an unfamiliar swagger that Kimberly thinks might betray some unknown truth. What secrets were held in her small frame? She presents her hand, palm upturned. “May I have this dance?”.

 Kimberly takes her hand, finds it unexpectedly rough and calloused, but gentle. As if their union was a cue, the music picks up, the rest of the band joining the violin as its pace hastens. They begin to dance a casual rigaudon, Kimberly following the stranger’s lead. She waits for her partner to address her, watches her eyes flick about the room. They’ve stepped around each other three times before Kimberly breaks the silence.  “The strong silent type then?” 

 As if only just remembering where she was, the woman’s eyes snap towards her. Her brows knit together. “Pardon?”.

 This was unusual. Kimberly’s suitors would usually rush to fill silences, trying desperately to keep her eyes upon them. It seems her current partner barely cares for her existence. “You haven’t spoken a word to me since you asked me to dance”. She’s surprised at the venom that laces her words - it hadn’t been intentional.

 “I’m quite sorry madam”. With a turn, they dance in the reverse direction. “I was simply admiring the Governor’s manor. It’s quite beautiful. Have you been here before?” 

 Kimberly almost stops dancing. She searches the other woman’s face for any sign of jest, finding nothing but honesty and vague inattention. It was absurd to think a guest to this party would not know her name, though she supposes it could be possible. Her irritation fades quickly, replaced by a mounting curiosity. “My family is close to the Governor’s”, she lies. 

 Her partner’s only response is an idle hum. 

 With their next step, Kimberly’s eyebrow quirks. She pulls the woman into a twirl under her arm.  “And you are?” she inquires.

 Seemingly startled by the movement, the other woman stumbles slightly, before regaining her footing and resuming their dance. “Bennett. Oliver Bennett”, she replies firmly. Pulling Kimberly into a twirl of her own, she smirks. “Merchant extraordinaire”.

 Kimberly mulls the name over. Oliver Bennett. It sounded vaguely familiar, but any recognition she might have had was fleeting - as out of reach as a feather in the breeze. Though the woman had said it quite confidently, it had a strange sort of inflection. In fact, now that Kimberly thought about it, the woman’s accent was unfamiliar. It sounded vaguely English, but her words were more rounded, had a rich and intriguing depth to them, like they were dripping with such experience that it bled into their very sound. Kimberly’s stomach dips in a way she’s sure could be addicting. She returns her attention to Miss Bennett, only to find that her eyes are once again fixed elsewhere. She follows her gaze, finds it trained on the staircase in the entry hall. With a tilt of her head, Kimberly drapes an arm over her partner’s shoulder, pulling her closer with every step. “Extraordinaire, hmm?”.

 The woman drags her eyes back to Kimberly’s and holds them there for a long moment. Her smile turns upwards. “You sound surprised, Miss…”

 “Clarke”, Kimberly supplies, flinching internally. It had been the first name to enter her mind. She banishes the thoughts that surround it. Not now. “It's not every day I meet a woman merchant” she admits. “You’ve piqued my interest Miss Bennett”. 

 Though it seems the other woman’s attention is now firmly upon her, Kimberly makes no move to increase the distance between them again. This close, she can see the depths of colour within the other woman’s eyes, reflecting the light of the setting sun. They glint with unspoken secrets, not unlike the pieces of foreign jewelry often brought by traders upon the tide. Promises of a world much larger than anything Kimberly had experienced. 

 “Some would say my methods are...unconventional”. The merchant’s words bring her out of her reverie. They serve only to deepen her curiosity.

 “However do you mean?” Kimberly presses. 

 “Trade secrets, Miss Clarke - I can’t simply give them away”, she replies with a wink. “But I have to be smart you see”. Another twirl brings their faces impossibly close together, and she whispers her next words carefully. “There are pirates out there you know”. 

 Kimberly is about to press further, when the sharp ringing of the town bell cuts through the manor, signalling another day’s end. The music begins to fade, and the woman detaches and spins away from her with a sly smile, disappearing amongst the meandering throng of people moving from the dining room into the entrance hall. She scans the small crowd, but any traces of the woman’s yellow coat and devious grin are gone as swiftly as they had come. It's only once she turns back to the window that Kimberly notices how fast her heart is beating. 

[grantzarrr]

Blinded e.d

warnings: smut, tiny like a tiny bit of angst, lots of fluff

summary: ethan dolan has always loved y/n, but y/n have always been blinded, that is until ethan gets a girlfriend...will she still be blinded?

Monday October 12th, 2009

“Ethan, pass the ball!” Matt shouts as he watched his friend stop for a few minutes staring into what seems like space. but no, what Ethan was staring at wasn't just space, it was, Y/n Y/l/n. a young curly haired girl that drifted out into nature, being on her own was something she thrived off, that's what 9 year old Ethan thought was ‘awesome’ a girl his age not acting so girly, thats what drew him towards her the most. “e, whatcha looking at?” Matt asked, going towards Ethan, so curious. “ughh, this stupid girl again?” Matt groaned, simply not knowing why Ethan always looked and talked about her. that’s what got Ethan to snap out of his staring and thoughts, “what did you just say?” Ethan's voice now stern. “what’s the big deal about her, she's a girl she probably has cooties!” Matt scrunched his face up at the thought of her having cooties, by now Y/n heard Matt yelling about her having cooties, and wasn’t taking that at all, but she waited to see what Ethan would say, she always thought of them as friends so why not? “she does not have cooties, shes...not those type of girls.” Ethan defended, Y/n very pleased at what he had to say and continued picking her sunflowers. “oh yeah, then prove it.” Matt battled, “well-.” he had to stop himself right there. you see ethan had no proof that she didn’t have cooties, he couldn’t say ‘because he touched her’, he would be lying, he was to nervous to even say hi. “well what?” Matt smirked knowing he was right. “hey, buddy, yeah I definitely don’t have cooties, but you wanna know what I do have, power to tell you, you can lick my butt.” Y/n chimed in, sick and tried of hearing him run his big mouth. “yeah she doesn’t have cooties, so yeah lick my butt as well.” Ethan said as he grabbed Y/n hand and squeezed it tightly. Matt huffed and threw up the middle finger, something his big brother thought him, and walked away. Y/n turned to Ethan and said “thank you, Ethan for taking up for me.” Y/n smiled “no-no problem” Ethan stuttered, trying his best to hide his nerves, “c’mon, I have some more flowers to pick, that I think you’ll like.” Y/n said as she ran towards the school’s garden, Ethan right behind her, following every step. thus leading towards Y/n and Ethan becoming inseparable.

July 2020

“bro, what if she doesn’t like me.” Ethan sighs, telling Grayson his deepest fear “bro, if she doesn’t just move on find a new girl, you’ll be fine.” Grayson says calmly as if the situation was just that easy. “gray, you don’t understand, i'm in love with her, since 4th grade i’ve been in love with her, it isn’t that easy to just move on.” Ethan confesses “then tell her.”... that has been circling around Ethan’s mind for so long ‘just tell her’, ‘why don’t you just tell her’ ‘bro, say something to her’, but he can’t over the fear of her simply not liking him back er- loving him back. 

“y/n are you going to Tristan party Friday?” Ethan asked, this is the night he is gonna ask her out, he was so excited yet nervous. “of course, e, you know me better than anyone, you know i’m going.” of course Ethan knew she was going, he listened to her tell her ‘other’ friends, people that wasn’t Ethan. God, Y/n, why are you so in my head, you’re my friend. Ethan thought. but he couldn’t help it, he was gonna give her one more chance to notice so he made a plan.

perfect, now if everything goes as planned Ethan should lose his virginity to Y/n and Y/n should lose her’s to him, perfect. Ethan rethought this plan over and over in his head, fuck, imagine how tight she’ll be, how perfect she’ll taste, how perfect she’ll look when I'm fucking her in- “e!” Grayson interrupted his thoughts and plan to jerk off, “what.” Ethan groaned desperately trying to make this conversation go faster “I found a girl for you, and hopefully you can move on from Y/n.”...WHAT, no fuck you, I dont want another girl, I want Y/n nobody else. Ethan thought, but he didn’t wanna lash out on his brother and tell him, he’s a fucking idiot, in front of this sweet looking girl. so he pushed it aside. “uh hi-.” Ethan didn’t even get to finish his sentence because..“omg ethan, I love you so much, and I would be soooo happy if I was your girlfriend, and yeah fuck this bitch Y/n, I'm so much better, you’ll see, baby!” she screamed out, obviously just a raging fan instead of a lover of interest, but Ethan being the person he was, was not gonna be mean but when she said ‘fuck this bitch Y/n’ he lost it. “yo, watch what the fuck you say about her, there is no fucking way i’m gonna like you, if you dont fucking respect my best friend” Grayson gasped, not knowing his twin could lash out over...Y/n. maybe this was serious, maybe he wasn’t in love..he was obsessed? “whoa, Ethan you’re feisty, I love you even more.” she said, now latching on to him, seemingly loving this. “I don’t think I want you as my girlfriend or anything.” Ethan sighed “bro, think about it, you’ll have a new girl that you can get to love and you’ll be happy, just give her a week, and if you don’t get to like her, you can go back to Y/n.” Grayson said, trying to get him away from Y/n...but why, why was he trying so hard to keep him away from her? was he hiding something? was Y/n hiding something from Ethan, that Grayson know? why? “okay fine, but why are you trying to keep me away from Y/n?” Ethan asked, curiosity flowing through his mind “I don’t wanna see you hurt bro, what if, she doesn’t like you, I know you’ll be crushed, i’m protecting you.” well, shit, he does understand.

“Grayson, wheres e?” Y/n asked. “with his girlfriend, their suppose to be doing couple crafts or some.”... gone. girlfriend. couples crafts. wait what, girlfriend!? “he has girlfriend!?” she shouted “yeah, for about three days now.”...why didn’t he tell me, why did he hide it. she thought, then there's a blockage forming in her throat, was she about to cry, was she jealous, what is going on with her. she couldn’t take it so she just let it burst out, causing her tears, running down her face. “y/n what’s wrong, why are you crying.” Grayson holding on stopping her from falling to the ground. “ethan- sniffs- girl- cry’s friend.” full sobs stopping her form talking. “whoa, calm down, I thought you only saw Ethan as a bestfriend?” Grayson asked “well not until now.”...not until she realized how beautiful he was inside and out, how thoughtful he’ll be when she was feeling bad or when her birthday come or holidays. how gentle he’ll hold her, when she’s upset and telling her everything will be okay. oh how she loved him so, loved him so much more than just a friend, she wanted him to be her’s. “gray, I-I wanna be with him.” she croaked out, he took a deep breath, preparing himself for what he was about to say “y/n, look you can’t just say you want him when he has someone, when he have gave you so many chances, you just cant, all these years and you've only cared about you, how you were feeling then call Ethan to be your savior.” “I never noticed, I never thought once on how he felt.” oh, that sounds so bad “see, you fucking see, how you never once thought of his feelings, it’s like you’re so BLINDED on yourself you never think of anyone!” Grayson raising his voice, now fully angry at this. “no.” she sobbed “no, I do think of his feelings, I care about him and his feelings, I always have, I just never realized.”

“well yeah he does, okay, will did now he has Katy.” Grayson huffed 

Katy? Katy Mc’Grain? “does she have long blonde hair?” she asked, pleading it's not her. “yes, and has a butterfly tattoo on her left shoulder, why?” 

omg- it’s Katy Mc’Grain, Y/n ex friend from a year ago that sworn to hurt the thing that meant most to her. now what caused this is simply because Y/n forced her to go to rehab, addiction she struggled with Y/n thought she helped, that is until, the workers that took Katy in, call Y/n on the 3rd day at 4am that Katy had escaped and left a note for Y/n saying ‘you will not forget me, I will take out what means the most to you, just like you did to me’...and that's Ethan, and they went to a ‘couples craft’ holy shit, they gotta save e  

“gray, shit, we gotta go!” Y/n yelled “what, why?” 

“i’ll explain on the way there, let’s jus-.” she got cut off my the front door opening, it was Ethan, “Gray she wasn’t the one.” Ethan sighed “bro, I honestly think its Y/n, like no matter- Y/n?” He eyes widened, and as always his heartbeat started beating rapidly. “ethan, I love so much, even more than just a friend.” was this a joke? is she lying? “what?” is all Ethan can crack out “ethan i’ve realized that you are the one, it’s you, it's you that is always there, always helping me, and i’ve been so blinded and-.” he kissed her, something he’s been wanting to do since forever but never thought he would get too. as they pulled away it was just like breath had been token away, no one could speak, they just stared into each other eyes, goofy looking smiles on each other faces. this is the moment Ethan knew he wanted to make love to her, he looked at Grayson giving him, that, look. “well, i’ll leave you guys to it.” Grayson laughed, having a good feeling about this and leaving the house.  

“baby, let me make love to you.” Ethan whispered in her ear, Y/n withering under him, in nothing but underwear. Ethan started kissing her next softly, waiting on a answer. Y/n nodded profusely, wanting the aching in her legs to end. “gonna need words, princess.” Ethan chuckled at her eagerness. “yes, yes, Ethan please, need something.” 

“as you wish, my love.” 

Ethan kissed down her body slowly and softly, being a huge tease. once he finally reached the top of her laced panties, he kissed the top of the little bow and pulled them down her legs, “mm, so wet for me baby, I haven’t even done anything?” his ego getting huge, once they were off he started kissing her clit, going lower, lower, and lower. “"that's something for another time, I wanna feel you.” he stated 

“i’ll go slow, okay.” she nodded watching as he pulled his huge rock hard cock, out his boxers, Ethan noticed her eyes widened, and chuckled “don’t worry baby, I’ll go slow, I promise.” He was half in, Y/n eyes closed shut as he kissed along her neck, whispering small little nothing’s. 

he’s all the way now, still kissing her neck, trying to easy the pain “move please.” he heard softly, looking up at her, eyes wide. “you sure?” he asked “fuck, yes.” she moaned and that's what drove him to go, as his hips moved faster, her moans grew more and became louder.

for Ethan, jacking off was nothing compared to the tightness of her pussy, his fist could never be as tight, as wet, as perfect than her pussy. for Y/n her fingers, dildo or vibrator could come as close to Ethan’s dick, how big and thick he was, how good he could instantly find her g-spot, penetrated her so good.

“fuck, Ethan i'm gonna cum!” she shouted “right behind you, baby.”                            

“so, are we gonna go to Tristan’s party as an official couple?” Ethan asked, she giggled and nodded, snuggling closer to her boyfriend. “wait, so that means we’re dating now?”, “go to bed Ethan.”