#its still summer for a month and some change but the school year is starting

[ra-vio]

Summer is ending

[metalhoops]

Steddie Week Day 4:

Familiar / Hurt/Comfort / Here Come the Tears by Judas Priest

Eddie and Steve had never been close before the world went to hell. They’d known of each other, as everyone knows everyone in small town, middle America. They’d gone to the same school, smoked behind the same abandoned buildings and knew all the best places to make the worst decisions, but they hadn’t done it together. They were disparate figures, drifting around each other’s edges. That all changed in 1986 when through fate or chance the two boys had been flung together. 

By the summer of 1988, they’d grown into and around each other like vines beneath forest foliage. They’d become inseparable, familiar. Steve showed up outside the garage at closing time, the Beamer tearing down the gravel path, leaving a trail of dust in its wake. When Robin and the kids weren’t around, Steve drove fast, throwing caution to the wind. No one else knew that about him. Eddie did. 

He didn’t know what to do with all of the pieces of Steve that were uniquely his. He felt the illogical urge to write them down, catalogue each one as though designing a character for a new campaign. He wanted a record of each minute detail of Steve. 

“Your yuppie boyfriend’s tearin’ up the drive again, Manson,” Eddie's boss, Frankie, hollered from his spot behind the service desk. 

In the year he’d worked at the garage, he’d never seen the guy move from behind his desk, yet his hands were always grease-stained. Eddie hated his boss, but the job paid well enough. He was saving up to high tail it out of Hawkins, where nicknames like ‘The Freak’, and Frankie’s newest addition ‘Manson’, as in that Manson, the one with the cult in the 60s, weren’t so widespread. 

“I was off twenty minutes ago, Frankenstein. You want him to stop kickin’ up dust you could just let me off on time,” Eddie grumbled, grabbing a spare rag and trying to scrub the worst of the grease and engine gunk from his hands and overalls.  

“You think that carburettor was going to replace itself? You wanna finish on time? Work faster,” Frankie noted, punctuating his point by kicking his feet across the desk. Charming. 

Eddie made his way to the car, drummed his knuckles against the passenger door and waited as Steve leaned over to push it open, his precious seats covered haphazardly with one of Eddie’s ruined bandannas. This was their habit, how the two worked. Steve was wearing sunglasses, which usually meant he was fighting off a migraine. They’d been more frequent in recent months. Eddie blamed the hot weather. 

“How was your day?” Steve asked, starting the car.

Eddie flopped into the passenger seat and groaned. He let his body lay slack and boneless as the leather seats cradled him and the cool air from the A.C. took his breath away.

“That good, huh?” 

“Everyone’s cars decided to break down on the hottest day of the year and Frankenstein’s still giving me shit about being a cult leader. I think the dude used to hold out hope for you since you were the town's golden boy, but now he thinks there’s some kind of Stepford wife thing going on.” 

Steve snorted as he turned onto the familiar street leading to The Harringtons’ house. 

“I saw Dustin today. The kid wanted me to remind you, you’re picking the twerps up on Monday,” Steve informed, drumming his fingers against the steering wheel. The guy had no sense of rhythm, but Eddie never had the heart to tell him. 

“Remind me why you can’t,” Eddie muttered as Steve’s house came into view. 

“Because I work late and you get off by two.” 

“I thought you said my van was a ‘death trap’. I could always take your car,” Eddie proposed with a devilish smirk. 

That car was Steve’s baby. Not even he was allowed to drive it, save that one night in Indianapolis when Steve was drunk and Robin broke her wrist. They’d spent five hours together in the emergency room. It’d brought back all the wrong kind of memories for Steve and Eddie could tell. 

Steve and Eddie talked about everything except Eddie’s stay in hospital and defining the liminal space between platonic and romantic, their relationship had been drifting for the past six months.  

“In your dreams, Munson. You staying at mine tonight?” Steve asked, pulling up and walking around to open Eddie’s door for him. 

He always made excuses about Eddie getting engine oil all over the passenger door, but he thought Steve liked playing chivalrous in the same way he liked playing up his less-than-stellar reputation.  

Steve kept asking him to spend the night. Eddie had his own drawer in Steve’s room. He couldn’t help but feel like he was asking him to move in. Eddie kept turning him down, not because he didn’t want to, but because he didn’t want to spend the rest of his life in Hawkins, even if it was with Steve. He’d tried to convince himself he’d be able to do it, so they could get out of their goddamn stalemate and get on with the rest of their lives. Yet, Hawkins had always been inhospitable for the likes of people like him and the person Steve was becoming.

“If you’re cookin,” Eddie agreed, unbuttoning his overalls.

By the time Steve found his keys, Eddie had managed to strip the sweat-slicked clothes from his body and dumped them unceremoniously on the front stoop. The good thing about rich people’s houses? No neighbours for miles. 

They followed the same old routines. Eddie made his way upstairs to shower while Steve started prepping for dinner. Once Eddie didn’t smell like the inside of a boys' locker room, he returned to find Steve spaced out in the kitchen. 

Eddie’s heart was a hummingbird in flight. Steve’s body was stock still, his eyes a thousand miles away. 

“Steve,” Eddie breathed, signalling his approach. 

He tried to focus on the kitchen. This wasn’t two years ago. Vecna was dead. 

He laced his fingers into the crook of Steve’s elbow and finally caught the boy’s attention, the pot on the stove having boiled dry. 

“Migraine?” Eddie asked as Steve’s eyes snapped shut, frown lines marring the landscape of his forehead. 

“Yeah,” Steve confirmed through gritted teeth as Eddie guided him to the couch, switching off the lights on the way.

“Looks like you’re going to have to put up with the Munson special then, eggs on toast,” He breathed, sitting down beside Steve and guiding his head into his lap. 

He’d sat through a couple of Steve’s migraines. Sometimes they were fast and painless as a sun shower, other times he’d spend hours disorientated and puking up his guts. There wasn’t much Eddie could do for him, but sit there and be with him for it. In sickness and in health, all that crap. Eddie wasn’t sure when he’d become close enough to Steve that he’d sit through anything with him, but he knew now he would. 

“Stevie, you know when I get outta this hellhole, I’m taking you with me, right?” Eddie breathed, feeling the sudden need for candour. 

Sometime in the space between getting to know Steve and getting to love Steve, they’d crossed the line from familiar to familial.

Steve’s face nudged against Eddie’s palm, his forehead beaded with sweat. 

“I’d like that,” he confirmed. 

“We’d have to take Robin with us, though,” Steve added after a beat, causing Eddie to let out a breathy chuckle and dip down to press their foreheads together.  

“Fine by me, long as you’re there.” 

[ellabehavior]

You’re on your own kid ~ Rafe Cameron ☼

Summary: Rafe and you have been best friends since you were young. However, now that he got his new girlfriend you suddenly realized that you could possibly like him more than simply as a friend.

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Fem!Reader

Warnings: anxiety, mentions of drinking

A/N: Its been a while yall, but i’m back!! I hope y’all enjoy :)! ( i hateee this but i hope y’all love)

angst to soft!

-

Summer went away,

You’ve been best friends with Rafe since as long as you can remember, but last summer was the summer where everything changed.

The summer before your first year of college.

School was back up and you were also starting to look at Rafe with a different eye. He was taller, tanner, smarter, he’s growing up.

Still the yearning stays.

Everytime you’d pass Rafe in the hallway hed give you a short smile but never really acknowledge you.

You missed last summer when you guys would hang out everyday, tell eachothers every little secret, and have the best deep conversations at 2am.

You knew at this moment that things might never be the same again.

I play it cool with the best of them.

For the first time in months Rafe contacted you, he invited you to go to a party with a lot of people from your school.

When you arrived, that’s when you seen him with her.

He had his arm around her neck and her long blonde hair rested on his lower arm.

I wait patiently, he’s gonna notice me.

“It’s ok, It’s ok” You whisper quietly while gaining the courage to go up and talk to Rafe.

As you walk up to him he gives you a half-hug due to the blonde on his right.

“Hey Y/N i haven’t seen you in a while.” He grins.

“Yeahhh, I guess i’ve been busy yknow with all the test and s-” Immediately you get cut off by a high pitched voice.

“Rafeyyy cmon let’s go play some games this is boring.” She says with a pout.

“Mkay babe. Bye Y/n” The boy said walking away without a glance at you.

It’s ok we’re the best of friends, anyways…

About a week after the party Rafe finally calls to check up on you.

“Hey y/n.” He drowsily says .

“Rafe? It’s 1:00am what are you calling me for?” You voice concerningly

“I just miss my bestie that’s all” He laughs.

I hear it in your voice,

You're smoking with your boys.

I touch my phone as if it's your face.

“Rafe are you high right now?” You almost shout.

“Yes, Maybe, No.” He giggles.

“Rafe do you need me to come get you?”

You rush to grab your keys and your wallet to go pick Rafe up.

“No i’m here with my girlfriend.” He says.

You stop in your tracks, immediately getting a sick feeling in your stomach as soon as those words come out from his mouth.

“Oh Okay, we’ll I’ll talk to you some other time okay?” You suggest.

And with that he hangs up the phone without a goodbye.

I didn't choose this town,

I dream of getting out.

There's just one who could make me stay,

All my days.

As a kid you and Rafe would always talk about how when you guys were 25 you’d move to London together, and to this day that’s still your biggest dream.

You hate this place, it’s full of people who will be rude to you just based off of how you grew up.

Surprisingly Rafe is now dating one of those girls, Lily.

From sprinkler splashes to fireplace ashes

I waited ages to see you there

I search the party of better bodies

Just to learn that you never cared

You promised yourself after last time you would never go to another college party, but here you find yourself at one that Rafe invited you to.

You would be lying if you said you’re here because you wanted to party, you’re waiting to see him.

You see Lily off in the crowd dancing, She’s perfect. You understand why Rafe would pick her. Her hair flows perfectly in the wind, her makeup is never less than flawless, and even though you want to tell yourself that she’s ugly, she’s one of the prettiest girls you’ve ever seen.

As you study Lily you see Rafe come up from behind her and hug her.

You're on your own, kid

You always have been

The whole night Rafe didn’t even bat a single eye at you, so you left.

I see the great escape

So long, Daisy May

I picked the petals, he loves me not

Something different bloomed

Writing in my room

I play my songs in the parking lot

I'll run away

You tried to distance yourself ever since the party, finally realizing this crush is starting to form into something you don’t need right now.

It’s been exactly 2 weeks since you’ve gone no contact with Rafe and if there were 20 stages of grief, you’ve been through 30.

All you want to do is call him, text him, or tell yourself that maybe he’s just using Lily as a distraction because he really likes you.

“Why is it never me.”

From sprinkler splashes to fireplace ashes

I called a taxi to take me there

I search the party of better bodies

Just to learn that my dreams aren't rare

It’s a cycle.

Another party, Another slap in the face.

You can see the other girls also looking at Lily wishing they could be with Rafe.

The realization kills you to know that it’ll probably never be you in that spot with all these options he has.

You're on your own, kid,

You always have been.

It’s a drunken night, and you’ll definitely regret this.

“Rafeyyy babyyy” you slur.

“Y/N? Why are you calling me in the middle of the night?” You can tell he is worried in his tone.

“I don’t like her. She’s rude, you deserve better.”

There is a long pause and then you hear someone speak, “He’s never liked you babe. You’re nothing compared to me, and you know that.”

The phone hung up.

From sprinkler splashes to fireplace ashes

I gave my blood, sweat, and tears for this

I hosted parties and starved my body

Like I'd be saved by a perfect kiss

It’s been hard to do anything since the altercation.

Eating, Getting up, Going to class, Socializing, and pretty much everything feels like a chore.

You’ve tried so hard to get his attention yet he never seemed to care.

And of course as a mean girl, Lily decided to tell everyone about what you said to Rafe. Of course he apologized for what she said, and for what happened but that didn’t stop the whole school for coming at you for a whole week.

The jokes weren't funny, I took the money

My friends from home don't know what to say

I looked around in a blood-soaked gown

And I saw something they can't take away

You received a text message late at night, usual for Rafe.

Rafe: Hey, i’m so sorry for what Lily caused. You’re my best friend and I realized nothing is worth loosing that, me and her are over now after a long talk.. Can we please hang out? I miss you.

Fuck. This is what you’ve been longing for all these months and it finally is here.

You: Yeah sure, Sleepover? my place tmmrw? ;)

Rafe: Ofc. I miss you. Cya.

Cause there were pages turned with the bridges burned

Everything you lose is a step you take

So make the friendship bracelets

Take the moment and taste it

You've got no reason to be afraid

The anxiety levels are high waiting for Rafe to come over, it’s been so long since you’ve had a real conversation through all this time of him being with Lily.

You start to wonder if he still likes Starwars, or if his favorite dancing song is 22 by Taylor Swift.

You then hear a knock on the door.

You're on your own, kid

“Hey!! Can I come in” he says.

“Of course.”

Then the catching up, the apology’s, and the stories start up.

It’s just like last summer.

Yeah, you can face this

While Rafe is telling one of his stories, you start to feel a pit of anxiety in your stomach because you know what you have to do.

You’ve gotten ready for this moment, practiced it in the mirror about 50 times to make sure your facial expressions, or your tone doesn’t sound too weird.

You're on your own, kid

“Rafe.” You stop him mid conversation.

“Yes?” he says with a quirk of his eyebrows.

“All these months i’ve been so distant but really all I wanted was to be near you, since last summer you’ve been the only thing on my mind and maybe you don’t feel the same way but-“

He cuts you off with a kiss to your lips.

“I’ve been waiting since the 8th grade for you to say that” He says as he pulls away.

“So all that practicing in the mirror was for nothing?” you giggle.

“Guess so.”

You always have been

[hugmeimtouchdeprived]

Ghost! Johnny "Soap" MacTavish x fem!reader - Chapter 2

Chapter 2!!! I'm busy with school and assignments and looking for a summer job and starting my final thesis, but I write when I have time and energy to do so😊

Let's ignore the fact that I posted this a few hours ago, but deleted it because I came up with something that I really wanted to change so I'm posting it again now

Content warning: Talk of possible stalking and breaking in (not really what's happening, but it's mentioned?), mention of blood.

Original drabble | Prologue | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2

“Come on, what else could it be?”

“I’m not being haunted, Donna,” you groan, rubbing the bridge of your nose between two fingers. You glance around the small café, fairly empty of other patrons at this time of the day. The two of you sit next to the large windows, watching as people walk and drive by. It’s a weekday, middle of the day, so most people are likely still at school or work.

Donna is an old family friend. Used to be your neighbour when you were a kid and would often babysit you if your parents couldn’t find another babysitter. The two of you grew close until she got married and moved to the states briefly, before returning with her wife. It’s rare the two of you get time to see each other, but it’s always nice when you do.

You swear she hasn’t changed a bit since you were a kid. She’s in her early 50s, you’d guess, and still just as full of energy as she was all those years ago. Her wife is a bit of a mystery to you, but you know she travels a lot for work.

And that Donna loves her more than anything.

“What else could it be?” Donna repeats for the hundredth time. “You’re being followed by something; we both know it,” she insists. Donna has always been fairly enthusiastic, or at least interested in, the afterlife and ghosts and whatnot. You, not so much. Sure, it is intriguing, what happens after death and all the different views on the subject, if ghosts and spirits exist. Intriguing, but not very believable in your mind.

“You know, there was that terrorist attack in that tunnel a few months ago. A lot of people died there, I heard there was a soldier that passed, too,” she continues, her tone more serious now.

Donna always seems to know things. Sure, the attack, its casualties, have been public knowledge, at least some part of it. But Donna always seems to have more information than even the news do. You always joke she must have someone on the inside of all these things. “Something like that,” she’d respond.

You told her about everything as a joke, to try and ease your own nerves. She ended up taking it way more seriously than you would have anticipated. Maybe you should have predicted that, in hindsight, but at least she doesn’t seem to think you’ve lost your mind.

And sure, you promised yourself you wouldn’t talk about it to anyone, that you’d just go on with your merry life and ignore it, assume it’s a figment of your imagination. But you trust Donna, you wouldn’t be surprised if she knows you better than your parents do. Probably better than you do, if you’re being honest. And things really are getting out of hand with your ghostly friend. Roommate, squatter, stalker, whatever. You’re not sure what to call him, but it’s all too real to really keep ignoring it.

He’s in your goddamn home, your sanctuary, your safe space. Where you haven’t yet allowed even some of your friends to visit, you’re not sure if your coworkers even really know where you live. And this- this thing has invaded it, made himself right at home. Begging, yelling at him to leave you alone, to leave your home at once. The train station and the bookstore were manageable, at least. This? No. No way. This is your home, your apartment. It’s yours! You live alone and you quite like that, thank you very much.

You swear you see the shadow shake and shift, as if trying to hold in his laughter. He does seem to give you more space after that, though; instead of standing right next to or behind you, he stands in doorways, corners of rooms. That’s something, you guess.

And that’s the other thing. He’s so human, you often mistake him for an actual person standing in the corner of your room. It’s like having an extra clingy roommate, following you around the apartment. At least you can shower and change your clothes in peace. (That’s what you think. He’s not snooping or being creepy, of course not! He’s just lonely, needs the comfort of being with someone.)

It’s almost freaky how used to it you’ve gotten. It has been, what, a few months? You know by now that he, whoever he is, isn’t going to be leaving anytime soon.

The shadow in the corner of your eye no longer freaks you out nearly as much. You still don’t know who he is, or was, why he’s here and with you of all people, but you accept it. Not that you’d have a choice in the matter, anyway.

You watch movies with him. You see him next to you on your couch, almost feel his weight on the cushions, as if sitting next to a real, living person. Somehow, you can just tell when you’ve picked something he likes. The air around you feels different, more relaxed. He looks like he’s leaning forward in his seat, sitting on the edge of the couch when the movie gets exciting or interesting. You hear him laugh, not even the airy sound it was before, but an almost proper one.

He audibly groans if you pick something he doesn’t like. Might even throw a pillow on the floor or keeps turning the tv off. You’ll either scold him and keep attempting to turn it back on until he gets bored and gives up, or you’ll give up first and put on something he might like more. Problem is, you’re both stubborn beings, and might “argue” over the movie for a long time.

During horror movies you find yourself leaning towards him, looking for that feeling of safety he provides. It always takes you a moment to realize you can’t curl into his side, with his arm around you, like you would if he was physically there.

As more time goes by, you see more of him. He becomes more refined, quite literally. Going from a shadow in the corner of your eye, disappearing the moment you try to look at it, to what you’re sure is a human man. You can’t exactly see the details of his features, his face, but there are some things that are certain.

He's tall. Taller than you, at least. Muscular, too, by the looks of it, and wearing some sort of gear. Military, maybe? Donna did mention hearing of some soldier who died in those tunnels some months ago. Or maybe you’re being haunted by some terrorist who has taken a liking to you. You sincerely hope it’s the first one, though.

And then there’s the very obvious gunshot wound to his temple, oozing blood down the side of his face and neck. It drips down his chin and vanishes before hitting the floor. It’s more visible in darkness, or in the light of the moon and stars. You do your best to ignore it, there’ll be time to ask about it later. Surely not a subject he’d be very open to discuss or reminisce over.

At some point, it starts to feel nice to have some company over, even if it means you get little to no privacy. His presence makes you feel safer, in a way. You’re not sure if he could do much if someone was to break into your apartment or harass you at work or while running errands, or if he even would do anything to help you, but it still feels almost like having a guard dog. A dog that no one else can even see, unless he wants to be seen.

That’s what you think, at least. You see him because he wants you to. There’s not much concrete evidence of how ghosts really work, so you’re mostly going on what you’ve read about the subject and different cultures, and your own gut instinct.

You know your ghost can talk, too. A little bit, at least, not quite full sentences. You’ve heard what you swear was a laugh, a groan, mumbled words. He’s getting stronger, and you’re certain he will answer your questions, eventually. You’ll be patient.

One evening, you ask for his name while getting ready for bed in the bathroom. You see his hulking figure behind you in the mirror, dark shadow almost looking like he’s leaning against the wall. Not that you were expecting any response, but it’s still disappointing to not get one. The bar of soap at your sink gets tossed to the floor. “It was just a question, you know. No need to start throwing stuff around if you don’t want to answer,” you mumble as you pick it up. It’s back on the floor as soon as you turn your back to toss your clothes in the laundry basket.

You wake up feeling cold that night. Glancing at the clock, it’s barely past midnight. You close your eyes, wanting to go back to sleep; having an early morning tomorrow, you want to at least try to get a proper night of sleep.

Something’s wrong, though. It takes you a while to realize what exactly that is. It’s cold, unusually so even under your thick duvet. A weight behind you in bed as you lie on her side. An arm around your waist, weighing you down. Someone’s cold, hard chest pressed against your back.

This is a dream. A fucking nightmare. It must be.

Feeling the weight shift behind you, a cold breath of air at the back of your neck, wakes you up rather quickly. The panic settles in slow, creeping up as you process the situation, eyes wide open.

You squeeze your eyes shut, considering your options. You could tear that arm off you and make a run for it. Scream as you go, get the attention of your neighbours; the middle-aged lady whose name you haven’t bothered to learn, who is always so quick to blame you for any and every sound she hears. Or you could just go back to sleep, ignore your problems until the morning, or until the person behind you decides to do something. Just- just ignore it until then.

Or you could turn around and see who it is.

What if they’re not even asleep? Watching, waiting for you to react?

You try to rationalize it, you always do. Always have a plan, always prepared for anything.

Not this, though.

How the hell could anyone ever be prepared for waking up to something like this?

You try to move, to slide out of bed, moving so slow the person behind you wouldn’t notice if they’re truly asleep. Their grip only tightens around your waist, stilling your movement. You hold your breath.

What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck?!

What’s a person supposed to do here, in a situation like this? You’ve heard enough horror stories – stories from real life, real people, not mere fiction – about how these things usually end. A woman living alone, someone forcing entry to their home after weeks, or even months of stalking them, getting to know their schedule, their workplace, their life. Every option, every possible action you could take has its risks, and your mind in running a million miles per hour.

You decide to turn, the pure fear getting to you. Fear of simply not knowing who this person is, why or how they’re here, in your home. In your bed.

You turn, moving slowly and carefully again, to face whoever is in the bed with you. Your heart pounds in your chest, the fear and anxiety or what or who you’ll see terrifying you to your very core.

There’s nothing there. In the dark room, you only see the moonlight peeking through the blinds, not doing much to light your room.

There’s nothing there.

Your eyes close and you take a deep breath, telling yourself it was some fucked up dream that just felt too real. You have been stressed out lately, more so than usual, so it's not that out of the question that it would start affecting you in different ways.

You promptly choose to ignore the still cold to the touch indentation on the mattress beside you.

You don’t even notice the now familiar eyes watching you from the corner of your bedroom.

Thank you so much for reading! Likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated!🌷

Also, I've been very busy and stressed recently, mostly with uni and assignments and starting my final thesis. I've found writing this to be sort of relaxing, like a way to get my mind off of things when it gets too much and my brain turns to mush. :)

[gyusrose]

➵ the five lovers -> ot5

⚠︎ fluff, angst

✎ non-idol! au

summary: being alone now, makes you reflect on how much you took for granted your love life.

ot5 x fem.reader

wc: 1 .5k

“so uh we kiss now?”

Taehyun was probably the one person you knew better than yourself, you spent more time with him than your own parents. growing up together had its advantages, he always had your back no matter what. even when he got ridiculously popular during late middle school-early freshman year, he never forgot about you, how could you not fall? you had trouble figuring out if he was flirting or just being friendly, you seriously couldn’t tell. that was until a summer night before sophomore year..

“i really like you, a lot, not as a friend but you know?”

you almost screamed at that moment, thankful to know that it wasn’t one-sided.

unfortunately as the weeks and months went on, you noticed how much you didn’t act like a couple. yes surely you’ve kissed, but nothing more than a peck and would only hold hands occasionally. nothing changed from your friendship to your ‘romantic relationship’ just the title.

Taehyun noticed as well, that’s when during January he decided to have a talk with you regarding what y’all really where. you both decided to stay off as friends instead since it clearly wasn’t meant to be more than that. you hold nothing but brotherly love towards him still. you were sure of that when you saw him get a girlfriend and felt nothing but happiness for him and so did he when you did.

“you’ve never done this before?”

Yeonjun was a heck of an experience. he was the school’s basketball captain which also meant he had girls at his feet, swooning over him, yet he saw you. it wasn’t out of nowhere of course. over the summer you definitely grew into your face a bit and had a puberty bloom so going into junior year, you were pretty popular as well. destiny put the two of you in the same physics class and it started from there. he sat next to you and somehow always made a conversation with you, it escalated week by week, next thing you know he’s asking you out on a date. obviously you say yes.

he was your first REAL relationship. he made experience everything (if you know what i mean) although you’ve been worried about losing your virginity and feeling ashamed of it, Yeonjun made it as special as it could’ve been. y’all dated for the whole year. since he was a year older than you, he graduated high school. the two of you really wanted to keep dating ‘long distance’ but we all know how that’s pretty much a slow breakup. it didn’t help the fact that he went so far away. he was also surrounded by college girls, even if he denied it, you knew there was definitely a couple of kisses stolen from his friend’s instagram stories. it didn’t take much for the both of you to end it keeping in ‘good terms’.

“you sure you hate me?“

Beomgyu was the last person you’d taught you’d even think about dating. after taking a year to focus on yourself, the moment you got to college you were met with a crazy long-haired boy, bumping into you. he didn’t even say sorry or anything which was already enough to dislike him.

later you found out he was in a rock band, how ‘surprising’. you found this out when your roommate invited you to go with her to one of their gigs since her boyfriend was the lead singer she had extra tickets. you, not knowing he would be there, agreed since you needed to have some fun. your excitement was drained when you saw him playing the electric guitar and he was good, which made you more annoyed.

your roommate invited you to parties and he was always there, he noticed you the first time, after noticing your coldness, he kept bugging you day after day, trying to make you laugh once. the way he pushed your buttons made it almost impossible to not answer back. it became a love-hate friendship in a way? more hate than love. you clearly don’t despise him but you don’t like him at the same time. it wasn’t until during an argument, to shut you up, he smashed his lips into yours and you didn’t hate it? needless to say you both started dating shortly after.

unfortunately you can never enjoy things too much since he got signed with a company and decided to focus on his career and dropping out of university, in no way were you going to try long distance again so the only choice was to break up. you listen to his band’s music from time to time when you’re sad.

“my sister has good taste in friends”

HueningKai was perfect for you. one summer during junior year of college, your roommate , Lea, invited you to a vacation with her family, since you weren’t doing anything during the summer so why not? that’s where you met him. Lea’s younger brother wasn’t…bad looking. you didn’t start immediately dating, in fact y’all started off as friends, very good friends. both of you had a lot in common, some things you never seen someone also like. after the vacation you hung out at their home most of the time.

the both of you didn’t feel any romantic feelings until that one night. it was his 20th birthday and you two somehow ended up ‘accidentally kissing’. you guess you were just really excited for him and ended up kissing him. from there it kind of became awkward. you didn’t know if you should bring it up or just forget about it and pretend it didn’t happen. eventually he brought it up which ended up in a confession. you hesitantly accepted , you liked him but not to such point.

you loved him. yes you did. being with him for two years, making it your longest relationship, he made you love him, so much. he had this other part of him, the crazy one, which you adapted to love. he was like beomgyu but way softer.

this can’t be a happy ending right ? of course not. you got a job opportunity outside of the city and you would be dumb to not take it. once again you went through another break up. we decided to stay as friends and hang out form time to time, meaning once a year.

“i really like you”

Soobin was the love of your life. after three years of being single, you were craving love, wanting someone to be with and just love you, yeah you had your friends but it wasn’t the same. your best friend and coworker noticed this and decided to have a night out and go to the club, you didn’t budge and agreed since you actually needed it, at least to get laid.

you met this jaw dropping handsome guy, which didn’t seems like a club type of person since he looked really reserved wi to himself so for the first time, you started the conversation, thankfully he wasn’t creeped out or anything and continued ending up in exchanging phone numbers. soon you found out who he was, the son of one of the richest man in the country. you were surprised since Soobin was very humble and down-to-earth. you didn’t treat him differently though, knowing he’d probably hate that.

y’all started to go out to different places except his house since he mentioned how his dad was. after a couple of months he asked you out which you obviously said yes to, unknown to his dad but unfortunately he eventually found out and was against it since you weren’t “high class” . Soobin rebelled against this and still found a way to meet up with you one way or another. until one night.

he came with his head down dried tears down his cheeks. you were very confused, his next words explained everything though.

his dad had arranged a marriage with another woman.

your heart crumbled. his dad was too powerful to say no to you understood, but you still spent the next few days sobbing into your pillow. the marriage happened way too soon as well, it was all over the news, now making it impossible to watch television.

you can never have a happily ever after can’t you?

[spar-kie]

Do You Have The Time?

A Thorough Dissection of What Past Aevium Means For You

So I've been reading through @/jazz-kitty's rejuv playthrough (not actually tagging them bc this will contain spoilers for shit they've not gotten to but if you're reading this Jazz, keep up the good work! It's super fun to read through your playthrough :>), and I've realized we got some concrete dates (in a fashion), meaning that, we might be able to figure out when Storm 9 happens, within a couple months! As well as some other details.

Anyways even if you don't want to hear my rambling about dates, there's gonna be something I really want to share underneath the cut, I'll put some big bold header text so you know where to scroll to.

Now, it all starts here, with Melia's Mimikyu, which we are there to see caught, giving us a concrete date, October 10th, 198X.

Now you may be asking yourself, but Sparkie, the screenshot says 1984? That's because my buddy Nym, who is on the dev team, stated that to its memory, the year is calculated based off your system date. Meaning that the year will change depending on the year you play Rejuv in. However, Jazz's post that I got this from does mention in the tags how the rest of Melia's pokemon are caught from 1981-1983. I had an old save file kicking around that was near Blacksteeple, and checking "Emma's" Pokemon in that I can also say that these dates are variable based off system time. Being 198X-3 through 198X-1. For simplicity's sake we're going to be based off of System Time being the year 2024, mostly because shit like 198X-1 is hard to read. But just keep in mind that as Rejuv is set in 202X these dates have about a 10 year range they can vary by, this will come back later, take note of this.

I want to establish before we go forward, you can also see how this works for yourself rather easily, if you go into the past and catch a pokemon, the date it's caught at will be your system time, minus 40 years. This, combined with some plot elements such as Melia's birthday being after she catches this Mimikyu confirms that the past segments take place exactly 40 years before present day, with the Time Crystals not sending you back or forth to a specific time and date, but rather a set amount of time forward and back (in this case 40 years).

Anyways, this also lets us know that Storm-9 happened a little over 39 years ago as of the game's start, and at some point during the game's time span we will hit the 40 year anniversary. I always thought it was 50 years before the game's start, I don't remember if I got that from somewhere in game or it's just one of them things I got in my head, but between the wiki and a reply from Zumi on one of my tweets it's actually 40. If anyone has the same misconception I had, I hope that clears it up.

But through what we can gleam in game, we can actually tell (roughly) when Storm-9 happens! Judging by the fact we can still visit the past at the end of the .karma files, Storm-9 has not hit the past yet. It's going to happen very soon, but it's not there yet. Thankfully, we have a very concrete date on when that would be, December 25th, 2024, as the Xen Raid is just one day later. Meaning, that as of December 25th, 1984, the Aevium region is still fine. This combined with the fact that there is a note on the door of the house occupied by the A-Gang near Hyoshi City that says they'll be out until the Summer means that they are going to be at school until late May, early June, assuming it runs at similar time frames to a school in the U.S.. Meaning that, at some point, most likely in Early 1985, but possibly for about a week in Late 1984, is when Storm 9 hits. You could extrapolate more (i.e. no teachers/other students in the academy during the Interceptor's Nightmare Realm means people might've been on break, meaning it was Late 1984 and the gang was just hanging out at the academy) but as that's explicitly stated to be not entirely accurate to how that day actually was, I'm not going to do that.

HI IF YOU JUST WANT THE FUNNY INFORMATION SCROLL HERE

Anyways, now that you've heard me ramble about dates like your history teacher, we get to the fun part! That being I get to tell you about the A gang! That being we know the protag choices are 17-18 years old, and given that we know Storm 9 happened in either very Late 1984 or Early 1985, we can assume that the A-Gang were those ages during Storm-9. Meaning their birth years could range between 1966-1968, placing them firmly in Gen X, meaning they are chronologically old enough to be some of the people reading this's parents!

But that's not all, do you remember how I stated that Rejuv took place in 202X, meaning it could be any year of the 2020s? And thus, the past segments take place in any year 40 years before that, in the 1980s? If we were to say, put the year Rejuv takes place in in 2020, then that would mean the A Gang would be born in the years 1962-1964.

The general consensus on baby boomers is that they were born between 1946-1964.

The A Gang could, conceivably, be baby boomers.

Have a nice night everyone.

[jo-harrington]

Corroded Coffin Fest - Day 7 - Celebrate Good Times, C'mon

Summary: Eddie Munson is being a party pooper.

Word Count: 930

Rating: T

Warnings/Themes: Friendship fluffiness, some angst, hurt/comfort, it’s supposed to be a celebration but I’m a sad little asshole so here we are, FOI References, Ronnie Ecker, I don't know...are they in character? Probably not and I don't care.

Check Out the Main Post for @corrodedcoffinfest here! Even if you didn’t start on Day 1, you can still join!

Tagging: @the-unforgivenn at her request.

You can find my masterlist here.

Please do not interact if you are not 18+.

Enjoy!

"A decade later and you're still out here digging holes."

Eddie bristled as Ronnie's voice hit his ear, but ignored it and continued to poke at the ground.

He felt her drop to the ground beside him and rest her chin on her knees, silently watching his repeated motions.

It was graduation day, and even though Eddie hadn't been able to walk across the stage himself, he and Wayne had still gone with Granny to cheer for Ronnie.

And Dougie, of course.

But mainly Ronnie.

Eddie had been caught up in the excitement of the day, hung around with Ronnie and the rest of the class of '84 until it was time for him to take his seat. He ignored all of the curious glances of his now-former classmates who apparently thought that they'd seen the last of Eddie Munson, and instead fucked around with his friends for, what seemed to be, one last time.

It wasn't, they still had the whole summer.

Ronnie and Dougie teased him over the fact that he was so non-conformist that he probably wouldn't even wear a cap and gown when he graduated the following year. Or that he'd light his diploma on fire a la Hendrix.

"Don't give me any ideas," he'd joked right back.

It was a fun morning, felt like the disappointment of the past few months hadn't even happened...and damn if he hadn't been the loudest one in that crowd cheering for his friends.

But by the time they got back to Forest Hills for a little barbecue to celebrate, reality really hit Eddie. And the regrets snuck up on him yet again.

That'd been happening a lot lately, even after he'd gotten over that initial funk.

Never in his life had he really regretted anything he was or did, but now it had become a part of him, a stain on his soul...because he'd hurt the people he cared for most in the world.

He'd just meant to step around to the back of the trailer to have a smoke and get back into the party mindset, but then he'd heard a bunch of laughter as Jeff's dad and Wayne struggled to get the grill going. Then another car pulled up--some other neighbors stopping for a drink and a congrats.

And he just couldn't bring himself to get back there.

"You're missing out on burgers," Ronnie finally piped up again when she got sick of watching him torture an earthworm for several consecutive minutes. "You know, we got sesame seed buns because they're you're favorite."

"Hmm."

She huffed and nudged his shoulder, then dropped her voice to emulate his.

"Gee thanks Ronnie, they are my favorite, sorry I'm being a shithead, I'll come back to the party now." He fought the smile that threatened to make its way onto his face. She cleared her throat and stared at him expectantly, but when no answer came, she slapped her knees and stood. "Alright, more for me then."

"It sucks," he finally spoke up.

"What does?"

"Change."

Ronnie snorted and kicked his sneakered foot with her own, "no shit."

"I always lived in dad's stupid shadow," Eddie continued, "and people judged me because of the things he did. Now...they judge me because of the things I've done."

"Wow, Eddie Munson has to face the consequences of his actions, what a lovely life lesson for you."

It was Eddie's turn to get to his feet, ready to abandon this conversation altogether.

"Burgers you said?" he asked avoidantly, turning on his heel to walk away.

"Eddie! Ed!" She grabbed his arm and stopped him; he schooled his features to not show any emotion, but Ronnie saw all of the pain and fear in his eyes. She knew it as well as her own. "It sucks, and I know you're feeling all...pessimistic and shitty right now, and you're stuck here while everyone else gets to move on. It sucks.

"But you get something that a lot of people don't get: a second chance. You get to redo senior year, maybe get some better grades--"

"Impossible, I won't have you to copy homework off of."

"--make things up to Wayne. You already started making things better with me and the guys. Maybe Corroded Coffin will be even better with Gareth? And you'll actually get to make a name for yourselves."

It was a mixture of emotions that he just didn't know how to handle, the sweet hope and the bitter regret. But the more he listened, the more the hope shined through, until he was hiding a smile in his hair.

"You really think so?" he asked, a little bashfully.

"I know so," she punched him in the shoulder. "You guys are gonna be stars. And I'm gonna be jealous up at NYU, where I will be a weird kid from the midwest who knows nothing and no one...actually...on second thought, I might have to stay."

"Oh no you don't!" Eddie knew she was joking but he laughed regardless. "You got yourself out of this shithole, don't be tempted by mediocre promises at fame Veronica."

"Full name," she winced. "I guess I went too far."

They shared a laugh, and then Ronnie pulled him into a hug.

"Can I have my best friend back?" She whispered into his ear. "Bad jokes and fart noises and the walrus impressions with straws for tusks? This party is really missing out without him."

He laughed and squeezed her tightly.

"No more sad sackery. Only the finest farts for you on your big day, Ecker."

[jungle-angel]

Putting It All Together (Rhett Abbott x Reader)

Rhett sighed in frustration as he tried to fit the little rails together. It would have been a hell of alot easier if he and Royal could've just built it in the woodshed, sparing them from an unholy headache.

"You need some help?" you chirped.

"I need a drink," Rhett chuckled.

You laughed too, wondering if today had been the right day to put the crib together. Your boys were only three months away from being born but already you could see the changes that were happening around the ranch. The leaves had begun to fall while you and Rhett had found need to switch out the summer sheets and quilts even though August was nearing its end. It wouldn't be long before Amy started preschool at the outdoor-forest school where you taught and Hannah wouldn't be too far behind her.

The heavy clunking of boots coming up the stairs and the gravely groan that followed, signaled the arrival of your father-in-law. "Jeebus fuck," he remarked. "You two still workin on that thing?"

"It wasn't even our idea Dad," Rhett answered.

Royal thought for a moment. "Gimme one minute," he said.

You and Rhett each gave each other a look, wondering what hair-brained scheme your father-in-law was plotting at that very moment. You and Rhett both kept working at trying to put the crib together for at least another hour until Royal and Cecelia were heard coming back down from the attic.

"Hey," Royal said, poking his head in the door. "C'mere."

Rhett helped you up first, taking care to make sure you took things slow and didn't hurt yourself. Out into the hall and down the stairs you went, into the living room where you were greeted by the sight of your mother-in-law and your girls.

"SURPRISE!!!!!" Amy and Hannah both shouted.

You and Rhett were astonished to find that Royal and Cecelia had brought down an older looking crib that had been made from old, knotty pine logs but still smelled of the fresh cut wood from which it had been made.

"Oh my God, Roy where did you find this?!" you asked excitedly.

"Kept it up in the attic for years," Royal answered. "It was Rhett's when he was a baby. I gave away the one we used for Perry to the church. My dad helped me build this one."

One look at Rhett's face and you thought he would cry. It was things like these that had mean the world to him, especially coming from his father.

"Dad thank you," Rhett croaked.

"Don't think anything of it son," Royal told him, drawing him into a tight hug. "You and (y/n) have done so much to take care of Amy. It's time some of us started paying it forward."

Royal and Rhett hauled the heavy crib up to Rhett's room, carefully placing it at the foot of the bed. It was hard to believe that thirty some odd years ago, it held a tiny little baby that had grown into your husband and would soon hold your two little boys.

[redgoldsparks]

February Reading and Reviews by Maia Kobabe

I post my reviews throughout the month on Storygraph and Goodreads, and do roundups here and on patreon. Reviews below the cut.

Ruthless Vows by Rebecca Ross read by Alex Wingfield and Rebecca Norfolk

This book started a little slowly for me, as I waited for Roman to regain his memories and for Iris to get back to reporting at the front. Luckily, the magical typewriters once again play a major role in this story as they did in the first one; Roman and Iris's letters are the emotional heart of this series. I also love how it fore fronts the importance of journalists during wartime. Iris's bravery and constant willingness to move towards danger and the unknown in service of sharing the truth makes her a very compelling character. Unfortunately, the magical divine conflict behind the war just didn't compel me very strongly in this book. I think the gods were introduced too slowly into the narrative, and that a lack of a human motivation behind the war simplified the conflict in a way that sucked some of the tension from the text. If you are looking for a solid romance with a strong epistolary element and the aesthetic of wartime setting, this series delivers; if instead you want a complicated, devastating, deeply emotional story of young people surviving a real historical war, pick up Code Name Verity or Rose Under Fire.

Mamo by Sas Milledge

Jo has lived in her small seaside hometown her whole life, and loves it there. But then things start to go wrong- curses, bad luck, mysterious illnesses. She seeks out the town witch and finds a teen girl about her own age, named Orla, who Jo has never met before. It turns out Orla has just returned to town after the death of her grandmother, the previous witch. She wasn't buried properly and her bones are scattered around the town, stirring up bad energy, disturbing the local fae and trolls. Jo and Orla set out of lay the old witch properly to rest, but there's more going on than either of them realize. This is a fairly short but well told tale, queer and magical, and with a little bittersweet edge.

Look on the Bright Side by Lily Williams and Karen Schneemann 

This is a very charming follow up to Go With The Flow, taking place over the friend group's following high school year. Brit, who was diagnosed with endometriosis at the end of the previous book, had a surgery to remove it over the summer. When she goes back to school, she finds her affection caught between two different boys. Christine has finally admitted to herself that she likes Abby as more than a friend... but telling Abby that is another matter. Abby is still working on her campaign of menstrual justice on campus, while Sasha struggles to balance her homework, sports, and time with her boyfriend. The girls learn, grow, make mistakes, and support each other.

Gathering Moss written and read by Robin Wall Kimmerer

It took me a little longer to get into this one than Braiding Sweetgrass, mainly because I had much less personal knowledge of mosses than the larger types of plants which Kimmerer wrote about in Sweetgrass. It doesn't help that mosses do not have common names, so are referred to mainly by scientific names, and I was rarely able to picture them well in my head. However, by about a third of the way through I had fallen into the miniature world of mosses and the striking and insightful ways Kimmerer links them to all other organisms in their ecosystems. I loved learning how mosses, like tardigrades, with which they probably co-evolved, can survive desiccation and be revived by water even after all seeming signs of life have disappeared. I was intrigued by the story of a moss species which changes its gender over its lifespan, starting out producing only female reproductive stalks in its early days, shifting producing a mix of male and female stalks as it matures, and then producing solely male stalks as the patch reaches peak density. I was frustrated by stories of the illegal moss harvesting which is stripping Oregon rain forests bare. And I was once again completely charmed by the beauty and generosity of Kimmerer's writing and worldview. She's a bestseller for a reason; I highly recommend everyone pick up at least one of her books at some point.

The High Desert by James Spooner 

James' white mother and his black father divorced when he was in elementary school, and he moved around a lot. For high school, he moved with his mom to Apple Valley, a barren small town in the desert an hour inland from Los Angeles. Already a skater, James encountered punk music just went he needed it most: as an isolated and angry teen in a racist town with little to no underground scene or counterculture. The music, and later, the politics, of punk raised James in the semi-absence of parents and role models. This memoir, chronically roughly a year, is an unflinchingly honest look at the cruelty, creativity, friendship, and solidarity of teens. It has the density and scratchy texture of a 90s zine without ever sacrificing clarity. I was very impressed by how clearly and in what detail Spooner was able to recreate his high school angst and activist awaking in this coming of age tale. Punk wasn't the music that found me, but I still remember the high of finding a new favorite band or song that felt as if it spoke right to my teen soul. This book is a testament to the power of music to reach into the dark and pull someone out into the light.

Falling Back in Love With Being Human written and read by Kai Cheng Thom 

Short and sweet, this book is half confession, half spell book. Each chapter is written as a letter- to trans women, to activists, to sex workers, to johns, to those contemplating suicide, to TERFs, to children's book writers- each followed with a little action or ritual. I listened to it as an audiobook and loved hearing the letters in the author's voice, but I can also see how reading it in print and lingering over each letter one at a time would be wonderful too.

The Great Beyond by Lea Murawiec translated by Aleshia Jensen 

Manel Naher is an anti-social and idiosyncratic young woman living an endless city in which everyone advertises their own names on street signs, sandwich boards, at social events, on business cards, and by simply shouting them at strangers. This may not sound so different from our own world except that it's driven by an even more intense desperation: if one's name is not known, and one's presence fades fully from people's minds, and the forgotten person will literally die. Manel wants nothing more than to escape the city into the wilds beyond it, but her presence is so low she suffers a near fatal heart attack and is scared into a fearful scramble to gain enough fame to live. Her attempts to claw her way into people's memories is surprisingly successful, and in the process of becoming one of the 1% she leaves behind everything and everyone she loved. Never before have I read a comic that felt so much like literary spec-fic. The concepts are fascinating and the cartooning knocked me off my feet. A visual masterpiece I'll be thinking about for a long time to come.

The Spectred Isle by KJ Charles read by Ruairi Carter

Saul Lazenby is a disgraced archeologist who served time for a war crime during the recent WWI. Back in England, disowned by his family, he struggled to support himself. The only job he is able to secure is as a personal assistant to a batty old major who believes in fairy stories and keeps sending Saul off to various parts of London to investigate supposedly occult sites. Saul knows it's all fake but he keeps investigating anyway... and then a tree bursts in flames in front of him. And a mysterious gentleman keeps showing up at the same sites of sacred groves or ancient wells which Saul's been sent to look at. That gentleman is Richard Glide, who just happens to be the heir to one of the oldest arcane families in England. And he can't tell if Saul is causing the spiritual problems that keep occurring around him or if it's all an unlikely coincidence. This historical romance is a fun and quick read, shorter than most of the KJ Charles books I've read before. Be warned, the end sets up a sequel which has not, and may not, ever actually come out- but I still enjoyed this one on it's own.

Red at the Bone by Jacqueline Woodson 

A gorgeous, nonlinear novel about three generations of a Black family living in New York between roughly the early 1990s to the mid 2000s. The chapters rotate between multiple POVs, covering moments of change, tension, or reflection for the family. The opening scene is the evening of a debut party for sixteen year old Melody, who wears the dress her own mother was supposed to wear at her debut... except that she was already pregnant. From that moment, the narrative spins back time to how each character arrived there: Iris, a teen who refused to give up her baby but also refused to settle into motherhood; Aubrey, a young man in love with a girl who was already leaving him; Iris's mother Sabe, a daughter of a survivor of the Tulsa massacre, a women who stores her money in gold bars hidden around the house; Iris's father Po'boy, who as a young man ran races, and as an old man holds more love for his family that his body can carry. The character work here is so strong- I was immediately swept away into the cares, worries, secrets, and longings of the family. I read the whole book in one day, but I'll be thinking about it for a long time.

We Are The Land: A Native History of California by Damon B Akins and William J Bauer Jr 

It took me a long time to read this book, as it was challenging to read a history of genocide while also seeing genocide in my phone every single day. But I'm ultimately very glad that I finished it. This is a well researched, approachable, indigenous-authored history of the native people in the land now called California. I enjoyed how place specific this book is. I felt much more connected to the history recognizing nearly every place name, and once the book got passed around the year 1900 I started to also recognize names of organizations that still exist and activists who I'm familiar with. I have a much better understanding of the patchwork creation of and the broken promises of the reservations, land allotments, and rancherias. I was happy whenever the book mentioned Pomo master basket weavers Elsie Allen and Mable McKay, who my mom has been telling me about for years, or Greg Sarris, Santa Rosa based chairman of the Graton Rancheria and author. I have a better understanding of this land where I have lived and worked all my life after reading this book.

Zodiac: A Graphic Novel by Ai Weiwei, Elettra Stamboulis and Gianluca Costantini

I've been following Ai Weiwei's work since about 2010, and was absolutely delighted to learn he was releasing a comic memoir. I managed to snag a signed copy though the Comix Experience Graphic Novel of the Month Club and I will treasure it. This book is organized into 12 chapters, each themed around one animal from the zodiac. It weaves together slice of life moments from Ai Weiwei's day to day life, stories of his father (the revolutionary poet Ai Qing), memories of Ai's time as an art student in New York, his incarceration, time spent with his mother, his partner, and his son, conversations with artist friends and some of his international exhibitions. It is not a tight narrative; it wanders, it indulges in myths and fairy tales, it is open ended and I enjoyed it so much. It was written along with Elettra Stamboulis, and draw in a delicate lose line art style by Gianluca Costantini. A few of the lines from the end of the book haven't left my head since I read them: "Freedom of speech and human rights are not given to anybody for free. They always come through fighting and struggle" (101); "Any artist who isn't an activist is a dead artist" (165) and "... the purpose of art, which is to fight for freedom."(166)

Witchy Vol 2 by Ariel Salmat Ries 

This volume was just as beautifully drawn as book 1; the cartooning is masterful, but I don't have a very good sense of where the larger plot is going. This book was mostly a long side quest in which Nyneve learned how to make a broom under an exiled gay broom making master. I enjoyed this! However it didn't particularly seem to move the story forward. I will keep reading, but the sense of drama and urgency from the beginning of the first book is slightly missing here.

No Gods, No Monsters by Cadwell Turnbull read by Dion Graham  

What a ride! I went into this book knowing almost nothing, and I think that was the right way to go so I shall not summarize the plot. This is the first book of a series; it's ambitious, it's weird, it's got a very large and extremely diverse cast; it is such a fresh and original take on a contemporary sci-fi in which the world realizes that monsters, gods, and magic have existed all along. I worried a little in the first third that the book maybe had too many POV characters, most of whom seemed very unconnected from each other except by geographical proximity to either Cambridge, Mass, or the island of St Thomas. However by the end almost all of the characters had been at least tenuously linked by plot events in a way that really worked for me. The book also has trans, nonbinary, asexual, queer, and poly characters whose identities are only revealed slowly, and usually after you've known the character for a while. I am very impressed by the scope of this story and definitely plan to continue with the series.

Arrive In My Hands by Trinidad Escobar 

Sensual, at times tender, at times haunting, this beautiful little book is a collection of lesbian erotic comics from a poet artist at the top of her field. I am definitely biased, having been friends with the author for years, but I also deeply admire this work. The women, witches, and creatures in these stories yearn for pleasure and for freedom; they chase both through oceans, forests, broken suburban towns, and through dreams. The book is perfectly sized to hold close to your heart.

Bird by Bird by Annie Lamott read by Susan Bennett

I've been hearing about this book for years as a writing guide, but it is almost equally a memoir or collection of anecdotes about the writing life. Parts of it worked for me and other parts didn't. The author has a very different type of brain than I have, and the chapters on working through the anxiety, neurosis, and depression she suffered from when trying to write didn't really speak to me at all. I also did not enjoy the handful of flippant jokes about killing yourself when the writing isn't going well. However. There are also some genuinely really moving pieces about writing books as gifts to loved ones, especially loved ones who are soon to leave us. I thought a lot of the advice in the middle about focusing on details, on recording memories, on research, and on character development was really solid, and I want to keep some of it in mind when I start developing my next book. There was also a set of lines in the introduction, about how writers are able to participate in public life while also working from home and without leaving the house which hit the nail on the head of why I entered this career!

Recitatif by Toni Morrison read by Bahni Turpin with an intro written and read by Zadie Smith

I've been wanting to try another Toni Morrison, since the only one I had previously read in high school went completely over my head at age 15. Recitatif is Morrison's only short story, and this audiobook version is read by the wonderful Bahni Turpin (who you might recognize from Angie Thomas or Akwaeke Emezi's audiobooks). Also included in an excellent essay written and read by Zadie Smith. This comes first in the audio, but if you are new to the story as I was, skip the essay and listen to the story first! Then go back and listen to the essay afterwards. This way the cleverness and impact of the story can hit you fully. It is so smart, so well crafted, and such a master class in writing that both reveals and conceals so much about the complicated relationship of two damaged women.

Delicious in Dungeon vol 1 by Ryoko Kui 

I can immediately see why so many people are charmed by this world and these characters! This is the start of a really fun D&D infused adventure story, with a small group of down on their luck adventures deciding to cut their adventuring costs by eating the monsters they kill in the dungeon. The man behind this idea, Laos, is also searching for a missing sister who may or may not have already been eaten by a dragon. I already have books 2 and 3 on hold; I haven't been so captured by a manga series since starting Witch Hat Atelier.

Delicious in Dungeon vol 2 by Ryoko Kui

I devoured this book as quickly as book one. Our adventure party gets a bit deeper into the dungeon and begin to have more meaningful interactions with the beings who dwell there, including an Orc family just trying to get by, golems which grow vegetables on their backs, and living paintings which might reveal more of the buried castle's history.

Delicious in Dungeon vol 3 by Ryoko Kui

A flashback reveals more of the school friendship of Marcelle and Falin; a deep underground lake leads to many encounters with watery monsters of various types. I continue to have a very fun time with this series!

Bunt by Ngozi Ukazu and Mad Rupert

Molly grew up in Peachtree, Georgia, in her lesbian moms' hardware store, in the shadow of the town's prestigious and expensive art college, PICA. Every since she can remember, she's wanted to attend PICA- despite the fact that her best friend dropped out last year and says the school chews people up and spits them out. But Molly got a full ride scholarship, so her first semester should be a breeze, right? No! Because when she shows up to orientation, no one can find her scholarship or even her registration. It turns Molly will have to pay for her first year after all; she takes out some dodgy loans and scours the financial aid booklets for any other scholarship she can apply for. It turns out, if she can scrape up a full team of softball players... and they compete against other college teams in the same division... and they win at least one game over the course of the semester... the whole team gets a free tuition! Is it possible to win one game with a bunch of big-ego, burned-out, athletically-challenged artists? I loved the energy of this story, with many well-informed digs at art school culture and hypocrisy. The team has great chemistry and the art style is full of action, physical humor, and delightfully expressive cartooning.

[avelnfear]

Chapter One

Masterlist

Danny studied the room, trying to keep their breathing steady. It was a simple room with no furnishings done completely in black, although the floor was black marble and the walls were black wood. A simple black door stood in one wall. There really wasn’t enough in the room to help with their anxiety, so they took to pacing the room. Danny started out on the ground until that simply wasn’t enough, slowly transitioning to floating then to zooming from one side of the room to the other.

As he paced, Danny’s mind drifted, his tail curled and uncurled behind him. He thought back to when he’d first met Jazz, and the instant connection they’d both felt. No one could have imagined how that one meeting would lead to all of this. Danny’d already been tossed around a few towns while waiting to be adopted, some of his paperwork turning up missing or filled out in symbols that didn’t mean anything, and he’d already learned that his voice didn’t always like people by the time he met Jazz. Through the pity of some attendants, he knew some sign and was decently proficient with writing and reading.

Jazz had only been nine, meaning Danny was about seven since no one was really sure when his birthday was. The two of them had quickly become inseparable, maybe because of the short gap between their ages. Over the next eleven years, things had moved fairly quickly, starting with the addition of Tucker and Sam into their little group. The addition should have added a level of separation to the group, but they’d only grown closer. The group got together shortly before Tucker’s seventh birthday.

They’d all learned a lot by separating into groups to do things. Danny and Sam went into gymnastics together, Jazz got lessons on survival and first aid and a couple in hunting, and Tucker learned to be self-sufficient and very good at computers. They all taught each other everything that they could. The four of them also took various martial art and sign language classes, again sharing insight and the like. Maddie thought her kids wanted diverse interests, so she’d signed them up for dance classes as well.

From the outside looking in, it looked like they were preparing for something, gearing up for some massive undertaking that no one could figure out. From the inside looking in, they knew they were preparing for something, but they didn’t know what. Eventually, something changed. The four of them abruptly quit their extra classes the summer before the younger ones’ freshman year. Coincidentally, this was about a month before the completion of the Fenton Portal, an invention designed to break through the dimensional barrier and open a doorway to the Ghost Zone.

Then the portal was completed, and Danny died. His story should have ended there, but he had somehow come back. The next few months had shown the four exactly what they had been preparing for as their town was suddenly open to visitors from the Ghost Zone. The years had flown by in a flurry of fights and training, discovery and working, and trying to keep their grades up. Jack and Maddie had thrown themselves into ghost hunting, not really noticing when Jazz graduated early with Danny following closely behind. 

In the mess of building up for the crowning ceremony, the Fenton Siblings hadn’t really kept tabs on the Fenton Parents, so Danny simply prayed they hadn’t made any questionable inventions while they were distracted. There were hardly any words spoken at FentonWorks as both sides were in a flurry of preparation for various things. Still, Danny had hoped that his parents would have at least thought to check up on their schooling.

Now, on the day of the crowning ceremony, Danny just couldn’t keep still. Clockwork had been its usual cryptic self about why the crowning ceremony was taking place separately from the coronation despite the words meaning basically the same thing in English. That had made Danny very stressed until Pandora and Dora had explained that the crowning ceremony was just to crown him as King until the coronation when he was given the Throne because the Realms wouldn’t last until the preparations could be made to have a proper coronation. 

Danny tried to stop his pacing. He knew that this was a stressful event, knew he usually got out stress through movement, knew that he wasn’t even harming the floor, and knew that they’d already made every possible preparation. However, the pacing session had started to feel different, heavy, in a way that he didn’t really like. It reminded Danny of those times when he was alone at night, that a choking sense that something was missing would drown him, like an unseen tsunami. This sense had only been mixed with several different types of anticipation, and it was hanging heavily in the air around him, making it hard to breathe without completely restricting his breath.

They pondered all of this, thoughts racing as they kept pacing. Flashes of playful growls, brief impressions of blue, and a feeling that was at once peace and loss flickered in and out of focus, dancing in and around the thoughts in their head and the strange pressure flooding their senses. Danny drifted through their thoughts, losing their sense of time as they did, until the sound of their name broke them from their trance.

Looking up, they saw their people standing in the doorway. The familiar sight brought comfort to Danny, and they found themself looking over their friends to double check that everything was okay. Sam chuckled as she noticed what they were doing, popping a hip as if posing for the inspection. Tucker merely smiled, and Jazz shook her head bemusedly.

Sam wore a little bit fancier clothing than usual, a black cropped tank, short black skirt with an ectoplasm green grid on it, dark purple leggings, and black combat boots. Her black bob was cut jaggedly and left to hang around her face. Her bracelets and choker matched, both looking like chains with black capsules in the center of some of the links, hanging from the choker was a red duck candle charm. 

Tucker wore his usual army green cargo pants with extra pockets, brown combat boots, muted mustard long sleeve shirt, and red beret. His red duck candle pin was pinned to the end of his beret. He wore bubble bracelets with the same black capsules as Sam in them. His black half circle glasses were set on his face over a black face mask.

Jazz had needed to dress up a little for her part in the ceremony, so she was wearing a black jumpsuit decorated with teal chain and vines and the rare pair of ectoplasm green eyes. The suit was tucked into black combat boots that had teal lines framing the structure. A short cap hung from her shoulders, Danny’s symbol done in ectoplasm green on the back. At the bottom corner was a red duck candle pin.

Danny had also been told to dress for the occasion, wearing a similar jumpsuit to Jazz except his was decorated with ectoplasm green eyes as the main feature along with silver snowflakes and his neckline was higher, turning it into a turtleneck of sorts. Over this was a cape made to brush the floor whether he walked on it or floated over it, but if he started flying in earnest then it would shrink to the walking size. The inside of the cape was a perfect night sky, like someone had ripped a patch of the sky in order to make it, except for the inside of the hood which was red. The outside of the cape was a black that rivaled the space between the stars in depth. The pin keeping the cape attached was a silver pin in the shape of a crown, the gems in said crown being shaped like stars.

“Is it time?” Danny’s voice was quiet, yet it carried across the room to the three that were still at the door. Sam smiled at him and Tucker gave him a thumbs up as they shifted to let Jazz into the room.

“Yeah little bro, it’s time.” Jazz’s voice seemed very loud in comparison to Danny’s, but there was no mistaking the kind tone it held, matching the expression on her face.

Danny heaved in a deep breath. Sam’s smile turned reassuring as Tucker let his eyes speak his reassurances as they watched Danny approach. Danny felt himself relax as he met with his friends. They assumed the formation, Sam and Tucker in the front, Jazz behind them, and Danny at the rear as they walked out the door. As much as he was relaxing, the strange anticipation-panic-missing was building. 

Since they were already in the Clocktower where the crowning ceremony was to take place, it didn’t take very long to arrive before Clockwork, coincidentally taking just enough time to let the anticipation-panic-missing build while still remaining bearable. Sam and Tucker split off to stand before Clockwork a couple steps off to the side and forward, mirroring each other. Jazz walked in front of him until they were three quarters of the way to Clockwork. There, she turned sideways as he passed, bowing slightly in his direction. As he moved past her, she fell into step behind his left side. Danny stopped before Clockwork, head held high and face carefully blank.

Amusement and pride flickered in Clockwork’s red eyes like a bonfire as it gazed upon him, but its face was otherwise devoid of emotion. “We few are gathered here today to witness a momentous occasion, The Crowning of a King. Historically, every King has treated their Crowning differently. Today is a day that will change nothing yet stand out as a herald of great change. The High King of All Ghosts is a title that goes hand in hand with several others. Including titles received from predecessors, it is my honor to bestow upon you, Phantom, some titles of your own. However, before we get to that, it appears I will say a few more words. What has gone before shall now come again, when the pieces shall finally find their place. All is as it should be. Now,” Clockwork lifts its hands, the Crown appearing between the hands without touching them. “I bestow upon you the titles of The Balance, Endless One, and the Unbound Star. Let these people and this Crown bear witness.” Here, it lowered its hands until the Crown rested on Danny’s head. “With this Ring,” The Ring appears, floating before the finger it will rest on. “And all these people as witnesses, I name you The Balance, Endless One, and the Unbound Star.” 

The Ring slipped onto Danny’s finger, and his glow intensified, growing brighter and brighter as his power surged due to the titles. His eyes were glowing so green that they were gold. Black ice grew around, dimming the glow and acting like a second skin while still obscuring his form. Danny had the weird sense of being able to see what was happening as though from outside of his body.

Clockwork stepped back. “And thus the Crowning is complete.” As one the four people in the room bowed, thumping their fists on the left side of their chests twice. “All hail the High King of All Ghosts!” Clockwork called out.

Once again in unison, Clockwork, Jazz, Sam, and Tucker called out, “The King is Dead! Long Live the King!” Over and over the words rang out, and as they did, Danny felt something build up, flowing out from and into his core. Suddenly, he could feel the Infinite Realms and everything in them in their entirety. He knew something was happening around him, but he couldn’t process it as he felt each and every one of his subjects as they felt the effects of his Crowning.

All too suddenly for Danny’s very overwhelmed brain, his vision went black, but it didn’t stay that way for long as memories began rushing by. Danny didn’t understand what was happening, but it soon clicked that these were his memories from other lives playing on loop. There were only two lives, but they were vastly different. One ended in peace after a long while, and the other ended abruptly after a very short time.

Danny watched as the memories started yet again. Suddenly, with the force of a train, a thought struck him. Jason was who was missing from his life yet causing such a big impact. Maybe the impact was so big precisely because they hadn’t met yet. A tiny voice whispered shortly after that first thought that he’d never found his biological family either.

These two thoughts seemed to trigger a change because he was no longer watching the memories, but living them again. When he’d lived through all his lives again, catching up to his most recent Crowning, Danny snapped back to awareness. The black ice that had been holding him broke off with a resounding crack, revealing that nothing had changed appearance wise despite what some might have thought with the light show earlier. If memory repeated itself, the changes to his appearance would come at the coronation.

Looking around, he was alone in the room, but that was expected since it had probably been a few days since the ceremony. Tucker, Jazz, and Sam had set up one of the adjacent rooms to be a comfortable resting place while they waited for him to stabilize after the massive surge in power that the ceremony brought him. They hadn’t told him which room it was though, but he had a simple fix for that.

Reaching out with Danny’s new-old senses, they easily located their people, quickly and silently moving through the wall. Appearing behind their people, they smirked mischievously. “So.” They started, watching as the room’s occupants jumped.

“Holy dragon plushies, don’t do that, Danny!” Jazz gasped, pushing a hand into her chest as if trying to calm her heart.

“Empty gum wrappers!! Warning would be nice!” Tucker barked out as he pulled himself back into the bean bag he’d fallen out of at the sudden appearance of Danny.

“Pink lacy frills!” Sam gasped, going pale before swiftly recovering. “Ancients, Danny! That wasn’t very nice.”

Danny chuckled for a few seconds, thoroughly enjoying his people’s reactions. “I found out two things. One, the curse on Amity Park that doesn’t allow anyone to swear is a legitimate curse, not a wish from Desiree. As long as you consider yourself from Amity Park, then you can’t swear, regardless of whether or not you were born there or you leave. If Amity Park shaped you at all, you get the fun of developing your own swear language.” His people were now all staring at him, waiting for the second thing he’d figured out. “Secondly, I’m the one who first made Candy Cores in both forms, Khuzbu and Khuzba.”

“Wow!” Tucker said in awe. “Wait a minute, how did you get all of that from one simple ceremony?”

“Well…”

Tags: @blacksea21090 @chrysanthemum9484 @samgirl98 @may-rbi @justwannaseesomebrozawa @serasvictoria02 @treepainting 

[averagewriter-inthedark]

Heart of the Ocean 💙 | Teen Wolf Miniseries Part 2

Takes place in between 3A & 3B of Teen Wolf

Teen Wolf Masterlist | read part 1 here

Characters & Pairings: Hale/McCall Pack x vampire!reader (female/platonic), eventual Peter Hale x reader (romantic), reader x male!oc ( past romance) & reader x supernatural!reader (platonic). Characters in this imagine: Scott McCall, Stiles Stilinski, Lydia Martin, Allison Argent, Isaac Lahey, Derek Hale, Peter Hale, Chris Argent, Alan Deaton.

Content Warnings: light angst, profanity, references of historical event disaster, mentions of death, blood, and murder | female!reader (she/her) | ws: 6.4k

Requested 📨 yes/no (rules for requests)

Premise: with the riddle solved the pack now have to face the truth their English teacher is not who they thought she was. To find out who’s responsible for the chaos in Beacon Hills they have no choice but to confront Y/n about her identity and nature. Even if it could cost them their lives.

——————————

*tick* *tick* *tick*

Scott’s eyes were on the clock, flickering over to Stiles who wore an expression similar to his. Filled with unease and wondering if what they were about to do was a mistake. The minutes were ticking away as the school day approached its end. Glancing to Allison and Lydia in the front of the classroom he could see in their neck and shoulders how tense they were, Allison nervously chewing on the tip of her pen. All throughout the lecture none could stay focused. Not when the person teaching had a harrowing secret they were about to confront.

How would she react? Better yet, how were they going to even breach the subject.

Scott could see them fucking everything up in the blink of the eye. He couldn’t help but recall Peter’s warning from the night before. “Vampires can be hostile creatures—especially if they haven’t fed for a while. They can go maybe….weeks without drinking blood before they start to lose their control. Considering Loretta—or should I say, Y/n, has been in Beacon Hills a few months I can only assume she is getting her blood by some other means than preying on its citizens. Still, approach her with caution if you decide to confront her. If I was a 130 year old vampire who was a wealthy socialite that survived one of the most famous shipwrecks in history and was being hunted by my creator…well let’s just say I wouldn’t let you leave still breathing.”

The more the seconds ticked by the more Scott was regretting the plan. After much debate the pack wanted to get to the bottom of everything quickly and that meant confronting Miss. Andrews at school. Which was very unnerving. Discovering she was a vampire only made her more intimidating after already establishing herself as someone who came off as unapproachable. Though they had few interactions, Scott found Miss. Andrews to possess an aura that reads, ‘better to wonder in silence rather than search for answers.’ Appearing no older than the age of thirty, sometimes she’d say words or phrases that made her seem much older.

Thankfully their English section was the last period of the day. Isaac wasn’t in the class but he had Miss. Andrews that morning and kept his eyes out for the necklace, however, he was unable to tell if the woman was wearing it.

The Heart of the Ocean.

What led them to her.

If she was wearing the necklace it had to have been beneath her high collared shirt that was paired with a black blazer and dress pants. Now knowing what they know, they realized Miss. Andrews always wore clothing that was sophisticated and concealed her neck area. Whether it be a turtleneck or a collared shirt, they wondered why they hadn’t found it odd before. California was hot even in the early months of the year—especially in April as they approached summer.

Peter’s words echoed in Scott’s mind, “Vampires are cold-blooded creatures. The warm weather has little effect on them and though the glimmer acts as a camouflage to other supernatural creatures it doesn’t change their nature. They’ll be cold to the touch. Faster than the speed of sound. Stronger the older they are. And some even have little gifts that separate them from others.”

“Gifts?”

“Abilities. Very rare among their kind but those who possess them are more enhanced in every aspect than others. I’ve heard stories about one who can read minds. An old…acquaintance, of mine said he once encountered a vampire who could compel anyone to do anything for them. Let’s hope neither your killer or his little creation have any talents. Otherwise your odds of coming out of this in one piece are going to be very low.”

The hairs stood on the back of Scott’s neck when Loretta…Y/n… passed him as she walked in between the aisle of desks. It was like his senses were trying to warn him despite his others unable to detect she was not human.

“What people fail to understand about Romeo and Juliet…” Loretta moves between Lydia and Allison, missing how both girls tense up. “Is that it is not a romance despite having a prominent theme of love thorough out the play. To be considered a romance it must have what you would call, ‘a happily ever after,’…” Turning to face the class, Loretta leans her back against the desk with her arms crossed over her chest. Scott almost perches up, straining his ears to see if he could pick up movement around her neck.

Her eyes scan across the room, lingering on Scott and Stiles when they quickly look away, “Specifically for the protagonist—or protagonists in this setting. Romeo and Juliet die at the end of the play, therefore there is no happy ending. Yes, their families end up putting past their differences due to the loss of their loved ones. But the protagonists did not get to ride off into the sunset and live out their lives in peace. So the more appropriate term for the play would be a tragedy. A genre focused on human suffering and sorrowful events that happen to the protagonist. And as we have learned these past weeks, Shakespeare was known for his tragedies. Romeo and Juliet is just one of his many—Macbeth, Othello, Julius Caesar to name a few.”

There were only two minutes remaining in the class. Scott tapped his pen against the book anxiously, eyes back on the clock as Siltes sent him another look. Isaac’s scent soon filled his nostrils, indicating he was outside the door. And glancing over her shoulder, Allison gave a slight nod of, ‘it’s gonna be okay,’ to try and ease his nerves.

“Tragedies can be inspired by an array of things,” Loretta moved her arms so her hands were clasped in front of her. Again, Scott couldn’t help but listen for the rustling of jewelry. All he got was a usually steady pacing of her heart. If that even was her heart.

“Personal lives and historical events.” Lydia and Alice glance at each other as do Scott and Stiles. “They dive into the catharsis of their audience. Bringing pleasure through pain because we as humans—,” the teens share another look, “cannot help but find a sense of enjoyment in seeing the main character fail. Witness their downfall. Does that say something about us in how we view others?” The question was rhetoric, Loretta watching the students think in silence before shrugging. “That is for you to decide.”

*ring* *ring* *ring*

In a hurry students gather their belongings and make their way out the door. For the four teenagers planning to stay they are slow in their movements.

“Don’t forget tomorrow’s quiz is on Act five,” Loretta shouted lightly, pushing off from the desk only to walk around it. “Then we will begin our unit on Poe so be sure to have your textbooks with you.” As Loretta starts to erase the chalkboard the teens draw to the back door of the class to make it look like they're leaving but really they stop once Isaac enters. Then with a nod, “let’s do this,” they make their way back into the classroom.

Reaching the front row of the desks, the sound of Stiles bumping into a chair catches the woman’s attention, turning to face the group with perplexed eyes making them freeze like deer in headlights.

“Well hello,” Loretta places the eraser down, surprised to see five of her students behind her. “Wasn’t expecting you all to stay after the period ended. Everything alright?” She connects eyes with all, sensing their distress.

Scott is the first to speak, “We’re sorry to bother you when you’re busy, Miss. Andrews,” he felt his heart pick when he nearly addressed her by her real name. “We were just wondering if you could help us with something.”

“Is it about tomorrow’s quiz?” Loretta is calm, collected, and shows no signs of nervousness. “Because unfortunately if that’s the case I can’t—.”

“It’s about our history project,” Allison cuts in, causing the boys to give her a look that read ‘what are you doing?’ She gives a smile when Loretta tilts her head.

“Are you asking me to read over your report? Check for any grammatical errors? That I can do for you if you have a rough draft.”

“No,” Lydia rubs her neck, watching Loretta take a piece of chalk in her hand while bidding a glance at her lesson plans on the desk. Lydia licks her bottom lip, “more like we would like some advice if we have the facts right on it.” Loretta makes a sound between a laugh and scoff.

“I think you’re better suited asking your history teacher,” she raises her brow at them. Her heartbeat is steady against Scott’s ears, the werewolf catching Isaac’s eyes to see he heard the same. “I’m afraid my knowledge on whatever the topic of your project is will be limited compared to your teacher.”

“Actually,” Scott swallows, “We think you’re the best person there is to help us.”

Lorretta makes another sound, smirking lightly like the teens were humoring her, “Oh really?” Chalk in hand she faces the board to begin writing Friday’s plan. “Why is that?”

“Because it’s about Titanic.”

Instantly they watch her hand stop mid air, clutching the chalk in a grip they’re afraid it was going to snap in half. In fact, it did break in half. Not even two seconds after the words leave Scott’s mouth, however, her hand remains in the air. A slight tremor replacing the chalk as it clunks to the tile floor.

Silence fills the room as all time stops. Loretta was paralyzed where she stood. Back facing the group where they couldn’t see her face. But considering she was frozen like a statue, it wasn’t difficult to assume she had the same expression they did when they saw her picture the night before.

Scott takes a hesitant step closer, tone cautions as he mutters, “Y/n.” Her low gasp fills his ears, physically reacting to the name. Behind him the others tense, Isaac consciously moving closer to Scott as Stiles pushes the girls back. They all wait for her next move.

“Y/n—.”

Slowly her hand comes down, head dipping slightly, “How do you know?” The question sounded like Y/n knew this day would come. That in a town where supernatural beings resided she was bound to be discovered but hoped it would be some time before she did.

The teens couldn’t hold back the shudder when Y/n faced them. Her eyes lacked any color. Pitch black like onyx and void of friendlessness. It made them wonder if she was wearing contacts or the glimmer had seeped away to show what her real eyes were. They prayed for the former, for Peter had mentioned when a vampire was hungry their eyes would darken.

Her jaw clenched and Scott instantly straightened to prepare for any sudden attack. She was stronger than him—he knew just from Peter’s warnings. While he had Isaac and Allison armed with a silver dagger, they were no match for a 130 year old vampire who could move faster than they could blink. And if she had abilities….they were straight fucked.

Instead Y/n’s voice went low, repeating her question, “How. Do. You. Know.”

Scott gulped, finding his voice, “Stiles,” with his hand out he motioned for riddle. Stiles fumbles through the front pocket of his backpack, finding the paper and passing it over as Y/n stares the entire time. Carefully the alpha drops the riddle onto the desk, using his fingers to slide it towards her and watches as she picks it up. They are silent the entire time Y/n reads the written words, her mouth tightening as though she recognized the handwriting the moment her eyes met the first line.

Her eyes then close when she finishes the final verse. “He’s found me,” she doesn’t need their confirmation, “it’s been him all along.” Him all along referencing the murders. “I should’ve known.” Her eyes open and lock on Scott, “When did he leave you this?”

“Last night.”

“Where.”

“U-uh Derek Hale’s loft.”

“Hale,” Y/n whispers, the name familiar on her tongue. “Thalia’s son.”

“You know them?” Stiles was flabbergasted. “Y-you know what they are.”

“Of course I do,” Y/n sounded offended, causing the teen to wince. “I’ve been alive 130 years. I knew of the Hale pack when Thalia's grandparents were the leaders.” There’s a pause as her gaze moves to Scott, “And I know Scott is an Alpha. Isaac is a beta. Allison is a hunter—part of the renowned Argent family,” there was a hint of distaste behind Y/n’s tone causing Allison to stiffen. Y/n rests her eyes on the redhead before ending with Siles, “and Lydia is a banshee. But you are the only human, Mr. Stilinski. Which might I say is quite the surprise.”

Stiles scratches his neck, “R-really?”

“Yes. Usually humans don’t last long with supernaturals. Would’ve thought you’d be a beta by now—seeing that your best friend is an alpha.” Seeing his friends become uncomfortable with the assumption, Scott switches the subject.

“Next week is the anniversary of Titanic sinking,” her expression instantly changed. “You were there.”

“I was,” it came no louder than a whisper, a distant look within her eye indicating Titanic was still a painful memory for the woman. “And you know then—from this,” she holds up the riddle, “What I am? What I do?”

Each of them nod, “we do.” They still couldn’t wrap their heads around it. That their English teacher, of all people, was an immortal who was aboard Titanic.

“And you’re not running for the hills,” she hums, not sure whether to find them idiotic or courageous. “How interesting.”

“Well when you live in a town like Beacon Hills…you try to get used to it,” Stiles shrugs, a little terrified when Y/n’s expression reads that of, ‘you think you’ve seen it all? You have no idea what else is out there.’

“This is how we found you….” Lydia removes the printed article with the picture of Y/n wearing the necklace. Handing it to the woman, Lydia sees her face soften, eyes lingering on the pictures of her with Theodore and Benjamin.

“Forgot this existed honestly,” Y/n mutters, finger brushing over the image. “It’s the only picture we ever took as a family. And this one,” she points to the one of only her, “this was the first and last time I had a portrait done.” A hand comes up to her neck area, all eyes following the movement where they watch her remove the Heart of the Ocean from beneath the material. It was more exquisite in person than they imagined. A stunning blue diamond in the shape of a heart surrounded by white diamonds and all along the chain.

No wonder she kept it hidden. Anyone would’ve been drawn by the beauty of the jewelry if they were to see it. Then of course there was the tiny fact it was worth 350 million dollars and the link to her past.

Y/n lets out a pained chuckle, “I’m impressed you managed to piece it together. So quickly might I add.” Her finger runs along the surface of the diamond, “but then again, Heart of the Ocean is not something you hear everyday.”

“It’s the source of your glimmer, isn’t it?”

Y/n narrows her eyes at Scott’s question, “How do you know about the glimmer?”

Stiles is the one to answer, “Derek’s uncle seems to know everything about supernatural creatures. He was the one who figured out you and your creator were vampires. Then he explained how you were able to pass as human—why they wouldn’t be able to pick up on your scent.”

“He said vampires will sometimes wear enchanted jewelry,” Allison’s gaze went back to the necklace, flicking back to Y/n who had straightened her posture, “That Druid’s can make it so you’re not affected by the sun and give off a human scent. He suspected the Heart of the Ocean was it for you.”

Once again Y/n appeared impressed, “well he was right. Which is unfortunate for me,” she mutters almost annoyed, eyes going back to reread the riddle. Scott leans more against the desk.

“We need to know who is doing this, Y/n—Loretta, if that’s what you prefer,” he corrects when her hand flexes. “And why. He gave us this riddle to find you and now that we have we have no idea what’s gonna happen next. Do you have any clue why he’s doing this?”

Y/n let out a loud exhale—prompting Scott to remember it was for show since vampires didn’t need to breathe. Having to put up the facade of being human for so long likely had the mannerisms come naturea. The riddle drops onto the table. “His name is Sebastian Lavigne. Don’t bother trying to find him on the records of passengers aboard that night—,” Stiles’ hand pauses as he jots down the name. “Sebastian didn’t have a ticket. He was a stowaway who snuck aboard when the ship docked in France. Disguised himself as a crew member so he wouldn’t get caught.” She paused to sigh again, “Quite frankly I’m not even sure if that’s his real name—he’s likely going by another alias.”

“Kinda like you?”

Y/n made a face at Stiles’s question, but answered nonetheless. “If you haven’t noticed, Mr. Stilinski, I do not age. If we stay in a place too long people start to suspect, therefore we have to move consistently and with that comes an identity change. But I always knew him by Sebastian though to the public he went by a different name. And so did I,” she glances at photos of her. “I couldn’t go by my real name after Titanic because of who my family was and everyone thought I was dead. Then of course the fact I was now a blood-sucking creature.

“Sebastian is a deceitful man. And this riddle—,” a finger aggressively hits the paper a few times, “is just one of his many games. He knows exactly where I am and only did this to mess with you. Probably because he knows you’re onto him. He wanted you to figure out what he was. Leading you to me…it was to warn me he’s coming.”

Lydia tenses, feeling a wave of dread course through her, “why is wanting to find you?” Y/n crosses her arms over her chest, glaring at the floor.

“Because he’s angry I left him. That I broke away from him. Vampires are usually nomadic—hardly ever join up together. Kinda like how werewolves have packs to make them stronger, well….a group of vampires would decimate anything that stood in their way. Sebastian’s a man who desires power,” Y/n rubs her hand on her forearm. “And together we were powerful—especially with our gifts.”

“Gifts?” Scott’s heart skipped, thinking of Peter’s warning. “You both have gifts?”

“Yes,” Y/n didn’t sound proud of it. “Sebastian can compel you to do anything—you’ve heard of him,” Y/n’s shoulders slumped at their reaction.

Stiles flexes his hand, unease in his voice, “Peter told us about a vampire like that. Said he knew someone who encountered them. Is he the only one who can?” Y/n’s nod of confirmation only increases their anxiety.

“As far as I know, yes he is. His gift is powerful, but it only works close range. Meaning in order to be affected you have to be directly in front of him. Sebastian has to stare into one’s eyes to compel them,” Y/n glances to her feet again, “but once he does they have no choice but to do what he says. And combined with mine…..” she shudders, making them frown. “No one could stand a chance against us.”

“What can you do?” Allison asks, a little unsure if she even wanted to know.

“Make you see anything I want. Whether it be tapping into your memory or my own, I can conjure illusions. Illusions derived from your greatest fear causing you to become incapacitated,” everyone’s demeanor became that of concern. “As you can imagine it came in handy when traveling with Sebastian—especially against our enemies,” Y/n comes around the desk so she’s closer to the group, “or more like his enemies since it was always him who had to instigate conflict.”

Lydia’s eyes draw in suspicion, “Why’d you leave him?” It was the question everyone wanted the answer to. And Y/n didn’t appear happy to answer it.

“He’d been keeping things from me. During my time with Sebastian he liked to isolate me—keep me from interacting with others of our kind. He didn’t want me to know I could feed without preying on humans. Or about glimmer which is why I spent most of my days locked in doors and only came out at night. He kept me from my son,” her lips tightened, “I understood why at the time…but then I found out his motives.”

The air thickened in the classroom.

“Things that could have made my fate turn out different than what it was,” her voice turned cold, eyes darkening even more. “Yes, he pulled me from the water that night…but he didn’t have to turn me into this to save me. There was another way and he chose to turn me for what I was worth to him. So when I found out decades later the truth—that he had turned me for his own selfish gain. Robbing me of the life I could have had with my son and family…”

Y/n’s hand moves to the jewelry on her neck, “I found the closest Druid I could find and had them enchant this. That way he’d lose my scent and be unable to track me.” Her hand comes back down with a sigh, “But somehow he always manages to be a step ahead of things.”

“How long ago did you escape him?” Scott wonders aloud.

“Forty years ago.”

Stiles’s jaw drops, “He’s been hunting you for four decades?”

“Likely so. With me he was more powerful. With me he was more rich,” Y/n explained, tone bitter with each word. “Shortly after we returned to New York he compelled me into robbing my own home. The amount we stole still hasn’t run dry—at least not for me,” a tinge of a smirk indicated Y/n left him with nothing when she escaped. “So I wouldn’t put it past him for devoting this many years to find me. But it’s not to get me into his good graces, no, he wants to punish me. And the best way to punish me is to play games like this,” lightning fast her hand grasps the riddle and crutches it between her fingers. “To cause chaos and hurt innocent people because he knows how much I hated it when we did. The murders. Leaving you this riddle. He won’t stop even after he’s got what he wants.”

Scott’s shoulders drop slightly, “And what does he want?”

“To kill me. Scott,” Y/n’s words send a shiver along his body. “I’ve made a life of myself without him—one where I try everyday to make up for the things I did with him. Preying on humans. Torturing the minds of those Sebastian hated. He wants me to feel that shame and regret before he finishes the job. Because that’s what he does, however, now that he’s brought you all into his game there’s not going to be an end until he’s satisfied. Once he’s through with me you will become his prime source of entertainment. Or, he’ll see you as a benefit and want to corrupt you. Just like he did to me.”

Silence fills the room as the teens take in the new information. All deep in thought wondering what to do or say next. The reality of Sebastian’s cruel nature and games proves beyond their expertise. They weren’t sure exactly how to go about it. Finding Y/n was the first step, but from what she’s told them it would not be enough.

He’ll still kill. He might even target them next—especially if they refuse whatever offer he could be planning. Y/n didn’t have to go into detail that Scott’s status as a True Alpha with a pack of unlikely allies would be something Sebastian would want to control.

And with his gift of compelling….

“We need to know what he looks like,” Scott’s the first to speak. Determination fills his gaze, “He’s got the advantage right now—a-and if he’s glimmered like you then he’s probably been passing as human.” He turns to Y/n, pleading with her for help. “You said you can show illusions. Ones that can be from your memory—can you show one with him?” The sound she responds with is one of defeat.

“He compelled me, shortly after he turned me, to erase his image from my memory because he was paranoid about us running into vampires who could read minds or Druids who could make me tap into my subconscious.” Everyone deflated at the news, but then Y/n perked up causing them to do the same. “But….he when did, he only said, ‘from this moment on.’”

Scott took a step closer, eyes full of hope, “What does that mean?”

“It means I can show you,” Y/n’s voice is low and tainted with slight dread. “I can show you the night he turned me. The night Titanic sank.”

Later that evening the pack gathered at Deaton’s clinic. It was just after sunset, around 8pm and some were starting to become impatient.

“Is she coming?” Peter grunted from where he stood leaning against a wall. “Or was this all a distraction.”

“She’s gonna be here,” Scott insisted, eyes narrowed slightly. Truth be told he was starting to worry. Y/n had promised she’d be at the clinic by nightfall but had yet to show.

“Well the clock is ticking,” Stiles fiddled with his fingers nervously.

Allison looks at the man beside her, who was checking to see if his gun was loaded with the proper bullets. “You know you didn’t have to come, dad.” Chris raises a brow, putting the safety on and placing the weapon back in its holster.

“And leave you and your friends alone with a gifted vampire who’s the reasons a psychotic one is causing hell around town? Not a chance.”

“Have you ever hunted one before?” Her voice drops to a whisper, though it doesn’t do much for those with enhanced hearing. Derek, Peter, Scott, and Isaac heard the question loud and clear.

Chris shakes his head, “No. They’re rare and not many are in America—but your great-grandfather came into contact with one in the fifties. Left us with what to do if we ever dealt with one.”

Allison gives her father a look of warning, “You can’t hurt her, dad.”

“If she gives me a reason to, I will.”

“She won’t,” she presses, aware Scott and Derek had their eyes on them. The former looked anxious.

“You don’t know how unpredictable and manipulative vampires are, Allison. None of you do.”

“She’s been in Beacon Hills for months. We asked her how she gets her blood and she said she’s been taking bags from the ER—not feeding on the town’s people,” the teen pleads, surprised with herself for defending Y/n so easily. Maybe it was the fact the vampire had been robbed of her life that made Allison sympathize. Or because she could feel the anger and fury Y/n had for her creator that she believed Y/n would stop at nothing to take him down. “And she hasn’t given any reason for us to believe she’s been working with Sebastian. She hates him, dad.” Chris doesn’t appear convinced.

“She was with him for sixty years—.”

“And she’s been without him for forty,” Allison cuts him off, promptly ending the argument. Another minute passes before all freeze at the sound of Deaton’s door chime ringing. Motioning with a hand, the doctor enters the lobby where he is met with a woman wearing a tan trench coat and boots. She spun around when she heard him approach, allowing Deaton to see the stunning jewelry around her neck. Instantly he felt the magic running through it.

“You’re the Druid,” were the first words from her mouth. “Scott told me about you.” Deaton offers a small smile.

“You must be Y/n,” when she visibly reacted to the name he apologized, “I’m sorry, would you prefer to be called—.” Her hand lifts to stop him.

“No, no. It’s fine—I’m just getting used to hearing that name again. It’s been so long since anyone other than ....” She trails off, not wanting to say his name. Deaton understands with a light nod, moving to open the gate.

“You don’t have to explain. Please, come in.”

“Did Scott inform you what to prepare?” She asks as she passes, receiving a nod from the man.

“Yes. I’m quite familiar with its effects—but I made sure to not make it too strong.” Leading Y/n into the back room, she stills at the sight of those she didn’t recognize, namely the man beside Allison and the two leaning against the wall. Everyone straightens when she arrives and her eyes go straight to Scott.

“You didn’t say we’d have guests.” Her tone is weary, making Scott move closer to show her it was okay.

“That’s Derek Hale and his uncle Peter,” a finger points to the two, glaring when he notices Peter’s eyes linger on Y/n’s figure. While he couldn’t blame him given Y/n’s striking beauty there were more important matters at the moment. “He’s the one who helped us figure out what you were.” He hears the woman make a sound similar to ‘hmph’, causing Peter to smirk and give a mock wave. Scott rolls his eyes, motioning to Chris, “And that’s Allison’s father, Chris Argent.”

Y/n’s expression tightens, appearing slightly uncomfortable with the lineup. Four werewolves, two hunters, a Druid, and a banshee? Vampires were strong creatures but even they could become intimidated. “Quite the party we have going on then.”

Stiles clears his throat to appease the tension, “uh what took you so long?” The question snaps Y/n out of the intense staring contest going on between her, Peter, and Chris. She removes her gloves to place them in her pocket.

“Well considering I’ve been out of practice I needed a pick me up to ensure my power would be at its best,” lips curl up, almost menacing which has Chris inch his hand closer to the holster. She sees the gesture and raises a brow in challenge, “Don’t worry, hunter. I didn’t sink my teeth into anything other than a donation bag.” She pays no mind to his glare, instead removing the Heart of the Ocean from her neck.

When Y/n does this a new smell enters the room right as the unusual steady pacing of her heart stops beating. The aroma is overbearing with vanilla and lavender—even for those without an enhanced sense of smell. For the werewolves, they perked up as they had never smelled anything so delightful.

“You smell that?” Y/n closes her eyes as she drops the necklace into the other pocket.

“Yeah.” Scott takes another waff of the scent, turning to her only to draw back in surprise when she opens her eyes to reveal deep red eyes replacing the color they once were. The lights from above almost made them glow. “Woah.” From behind Scott the others react to the changes of Y/n’s appearance.

Stiles and Isaac had to do a double take to make sure what he was seeing was real. Lydia and Allison shared a glance, both shuddering when Y/n made eye contact with them. Chris straightens his posture again, only amusing the vampire and Peter appears rather intrigued.

“Vampires have to lure their prey somehow,” She starts to explain. “It’s stronger for you wolves, but even you who are not are drawn by it. Makes you want to get closer, huh?” Y/n steps away, moving towards Deaton who reappears after going to the back closet to retrieve an object resembling a goblet.

“I can’t hear your heart anymore,” Scott’s tone is laced with confusion at the sudden decrease of heartbeats in the room.

“You never did. It was an illusion from the glimmer—so any creature I come into contact with would think I’m human. My heart stopped the night I turned,” the smirk she wore fell to a tight frown, “it won’t ever beat again.”

An eerie silence fills the room, her words lingering in the air. No doubt causing suspicion now that they were aware Y/n could lie and they would have no way of knowing. She could’ve been lying about everything honestly. Now they were left to wonder if any of what she said before was true.

But why would she lie? She’s made it awfully clear of her resentment for Sebastian.

The attention goes to Y/n as she removes the scalpel from Deaton’s tray and raises it to her palm. “W-what—what are you doing?” Stiles nearly gags when the skin breaks and a dark liquid like blood flows from the wound. It spills into the goblet, where a smell that could only be described as death replaces the once vanilla aroma. Deaton begins stirring the substance with a spoon while Y/n explains.

“As I’ve mentioned…” The cut disappeared without a trace not a second after Y/n lifted her hand away from the goblet. “I haven't used my power in ages—and while I fed earlier it may not be enough for it to be at its full potential. So to do this I need to remove any mental barriers from your mind.”

“And we have to drink your blood for it to work,” Peter rolls his eyes at how ironic it sounds, “how fitting.”

Y/n narrows her eyes at the man, “If you’re worried about it becoming a vampire you need not to worry. There’s no venom—that only comes from a bite. Sound familiar?” The air becomes thick and Scott moves between the two when Peter's eyes flash blue.

“What’s it going to do, Y/n?”

The vampire takes the goblet from Deaton, passing it to the teenager first, “Open your mind. To do so my blood is mixed with decade old sap from the Nematon and a rare form of wolfsbane. You’ll feel some discomfort,” she points out when all the wolves instantly become hesitant at the mention of wolfsbane, “but it won’t kill you. I need your mental state to be vulnerable. Ignore the smell—I know it’s revolting but it’ll taste like dry, bitter wine.”

Scott stares at the goblet before taking it in his hands. Inside the contents was a dark liquid with a smell that made him want to gag. He couldn’t help but ask Deaton, “You’re sure about this?”

“I’ve never worked with this before but I know someone who has. It’s potent but short lasting and won’t affect you once it’s out of your system in a few hours.” Deaton gives a look of assurance, “You might feel a pressure in your head that’s like a headache.”

Y/n adds on to the vet, “that’s so show your mental walls are dropping. But like your emissary said it’s temporary. Allowing me enough time to show you my memories in the form of illusions. But I must warn you all,” she pauses to glance at each of them. “My illusions are like vivid dreams. Where it feels real. Your body will remain paralyzed here, but your mind will be somewhere else. Not only will you see what I have to show you,” Y/n’s entire demeanor becomes serious once more. “You’ll be able to hear everything. Feel everything. The sun's rays. The cool breeze. The freezing waters…..It will be as though you’re experiencing it in real time.”

There’s a pause, letting the reality sink in on what the vampire was implying. “My question is….are all of you wishing to see what I have to show you? Now is the time to step out if you’re having second thoughts.” When no one objects, despite all looking relatively nervous, Y/n clasps her hands in front her. “Well, Scott, start us off.”

“We all have to drink it?” Stiles cringes when he’s passed the cup, Scott letting out a gag after the taste hits his tongue. Y/n smirks as she nods.

“Unless you would like to sit this out, Stiles, then yes.” Groaning, the teen plugs his nose and takes a swig before handing it to Isaac. Even after taking several gulps of water the awful taste of iron and wood remained.

One by one each person took their turn of downing the potion, with Deaton as the last one to do so. Within seconds it took effect, the most notable sign being the headache forming. Then a light feeling started to swirl all along their body. Like they were on cloud 9.

“Is this what it’s supposed to feel like?” Derek moaned, squinting when the light suddenly started to become brighter.

“You’ll get used to it in a moment,” Y/n’s closes her eyes, taking a deep breath despite not needing one. It was mostly to calm her nerves as she allowed the memory dug deep within her mind to surface. A moment later the warmth of the sun hit her skin. The smell of fresh paint and sea salt filling her nose. And the sound of a ship's whistle and people shouting echoed in her ears.

The others gasped, making Y/n open her eyes where she found them all, mouth agape and eyes bulging as though they couldn’t believe what they were seeing, staring at whatever was behind her. And when she turned around, Y/n’s lips curled up into a sad smile.

Seeing the ship of dreams again after decades filled her with an emotion she couldn’t describe—she couldn’t imagine what the pack were thinking. Probably wondering if it was a dream and they’d wake up any second. The memory was as clear as the day it was made—everything around them was exactly like it was that bright sunny Wednesday afternoon.

It was like they traveled back in time to April 10th, 1912.

[rjzimmerman]

Excerpt from this story from National Geographic:

Immigrants tend to migrate to neighborhoods that meet their cultural and linguistic needs, but the exodus of climate migrants to Buffalo wasn’t solely due to that established community. Months before Maria struck, the city’s mayor declared Buffalo a “climate refuge city,” noting that Buffalo has, “… a tremendous opportunity as our climate changes.”

Since then, the city has launched a relocation guide advertising the advantages to living in Buffalo, including how its average July temperature is a comfortable 71˚F. Anticipating a possible population uptick, the city revised zoning codes in 2017 to encourage development in existing city corridors and began upgrading its dated sewage infrastructure.

And Buffalo isn’t alone. Planners in cities such as Cleveland, Ohio; Ann Arbor, Michigan; Duluth, Minnesota; and elsewhere are beginning to map out what a future with thousands more residents could—and should—look like. 

The question of ‘climate havens’—places where extreme weather events are rare and which tend to be located in the northern regions of the U.S. close to bodies of freshwater—has gained currency in recent years, as deadly wildfires, record heat, and damaging hurricanes increasingly affect day-to-day life in the southern and western parts of the country. 

Last year, 675,000 people in the U.S. were displaced from their homes by disasters, second only to Colombia among all 35 countries in the Americas, according to the Internal Displacement Monitoring Center.

One academic has gone as far as labeling Buffalo and Duluth “climate proof” communities.

Many of these communities were once economically dependent on manufacturing, and are potentially well-placed to meet the needs of an influx of climate migrants: When factories started closed in the 1970s and residents moved elsewhere in search of work, they left behind homes and city spaces that today can be repurposed.

Cleveland, on the southern shore of Lake Erie, has around 30,000 vacant lots. Detroit, which has lost nearly two-thirds of its population since its industrial heyday in the 1950s, has more than 30 square miles of empty land inside its city limits. Duluth already has the infrastructure to accommodate tens of thousands more residents.

“We need to model various land use and development scenarios for population growth at the neighborhood, city-wide, county-wide, and regional scales,” says Terry Schwarz, director of the Cleveland Urban Design Initiative. “But at this point, we’re only getting started.”

While available land may be an advantage for some, other cities are examining how to modernize existing housing stock by fortifying them against cold in winter and heat in summer. 

“Thinking through ways of reinvigorating the urban core is going to be central to having a more climate-resilient region,” says Nicholas Rajkovich of the University at Buffalo’s School of Architecture and Planning.

[clumsiestgiantess]

Chapter twelve of the Other-world Universe; Alexis returns after four years of time away. How much has changed? (tw various hints of abuse)(disaster is afoot)

[Who all this was for]

For the rest of the summer, I focused my attention on other important things, mainly getting into college.  Next school year would be my senior year, and I’d already narrowed down my top picks.  The summer dragged on, but I was more determined than ever to avoid the other-world.  For once, I did not give in to temptation and visit it for anything. I kept myself busy with various small summer projects instead.

Of these, my favorite was a silly little shark plushie I tried to make myself.  Its proportions were very squished and it bulged a bit at the front, but I thought it looked awfully cute.  However, I began to lose interest even in the little projects.  I was almost relieved when school started up again.  High school easily distracted me more than any of my summer plans had.  Though every once and a while I would catch myself wondering about the other-world — whether Erica was doing alright.  I’d always disregard those thoughts once I began longing to return.  They often disappeared as quickly as they emerged.  Once I remembered how I’d left, there really was no reason to go back.  Erica was probably fine.  She finally had a life completely separate from me, and any harm I might cause.

School was.. well, school.  Tough, but nothing I couldn’t do with enough practice.  Before I knew it, volleyball season had returned and things started looking up.  I actually enjoyed my new routine.  It was certainly a lot less stressful dealing with only one world instead of two.  By the end of the year I’d been accepted into one of the colleges I had looked at over summer break.  Time flew after that.  A bucket list formed of things I wanted to do before I left home, and I constantly strived to complete everything on it.  I was anxious but content, and dare I say happy.  Before I knew it, graduation day had arrived.  Suddenly, I could barely recall the other-world anymore.  After a large graduation party, and weeks of preparing and packing, I officially left home.  Adult life was more difficult than it was made out to be, but I managed.  I mean, technically I was still in school.  

I tried to even out the stress of assignments and due dates with a steady relationship.  There was this nagging ache I'd feel from time to time whenever I got bored or lonely that needed to be filled.  However, none of the guys I'd ever dated felt quite right.  Something was missing.  I had no clue what it could be.  Some of the relationships I’d been in had come pretty close to perfect, yet that small ache was never quite satisfied.  So in the end, I never stuck around.

It was the week before Thanksgiving, three years after my high school graduation, when I got an unexpected call from my dad.  He and Liam were cleaning out the house and trashing a bunch of unnecessary things.  They’d even rented a dumpster and everything.  Dad asked me if I could come over during my break and help them move the heavier things out.  Of course, I agreed.  I was happy to go back home, I had lots of good memories there, and thanks to the holiday, my grandparents were there too — the whole family.  

Everyone celebrated the small family reunion upon my return.  My first day home, I stayed up late talking with my brother and reminiscing.  The next day, after sleeping in late for the first time that month, I got to work.  All morning I was preoccupied with moving an old sitting room setup.  The furniture was heavier than it looked.  I was barely able to drag everything into the dumpster in the driveway before throwing in the towel and stopping for lunch.  

My next task was removing a flimsy ping pong table from the storage room in the basement.  As tired as I was, the ping pong table was made of old plastic, so it wouldn’t be very hard for me to lift.  While I walked downstairs with my father, he gestured vaguely to the main room of the basement.  “We’ll probably be dumping the playtable too.  I got Liam to clean all the crap off of it so we can trash it.”  He shook his head, “I don’t think that thing’s been touched in years.”  Just then, my grandmother yelled down to Dad.  She was having trouble with the automatic coffee machine, trying to figure out how to make tea with it.  “I’ll be back when I can,” he sighed, “This might be a while.”  He disappeared upstairs, leaving me in the basement alone.  

The table, having been mentioned, suddenly appeared in the forefront of my mind.  It was like visiting old ruins, forgotten by the world — a piece of my childhood I’d forced out of my mind, back from the dead.  As if in a trance, I walked slowly over to its edge.  It was completely empty.  The city and everything else I remembered was gone.  Of course it’s all missing; I’ve been away for years.  Still, its blank surface was unnerving to me.  It didn’t help that I could still feel the strange static sensation that had first drawn me to it.  That feels like a lifetime ago.

I glanced at the stairs, then back to the table uncertainly.  The age-old question returned from the depths of my mind.  Should I go back?  It’s been so long, but I probably shouldn’t risk it, right?  I hesitated for only a moment.  A strangely familiar feeling overcame me, and I was in the other-world again.  It was uncanny how little things had changed there.  The valley I always appeared in still seemed completely untouched.  Well, it’s only been four years.  What did I expect?  Honestly, I expected it not to work.  I had doubts that I’d actually been to this place, but this world is very clearly still here, as real as it ever was.  

My nostalgia trip which started at home continued into the other-world.  I meandered through the old mountain range and followed its edge down to the subdivisions and the city.  So much had happened since I was last there.  I was only eighteen when I left.  I'm twenty-two now, closer to twenty-three. Yet, the familiarity of the other-world brought me right back to older days.  Memories I'd long since suppressed came back to me in a sudden rush.  

Purposefully, I’d tried my hardest to forget what happened on my last day, but once I passed by the hidden lake, the weight of what I'd recognized was too much for me to dismiss.  I hurt so many people here.  Why do I want to come back again?  Now I remembered why I left.  I'm too dangerous for this world; I don't belong here.  I'll just check to see if the city still looks like how I remember it, then I'll leave.  I'll ask Dad to throw away the table today so this world can't tempt me anymore.

Sure of my decision, I walked on without a single glance back. However, when I neared the beginning of civilization, I stopped dead in my tracks.  I gagged on the heavy scent of gasoline in the air as I gazed out over the little houses.  The whole neighborhood was shredded, like the aftermath of a tornado or hurricane.  Many of the houses were completely destroyed, and upon closer observation, even the ones left completely unscathed had long been abandoned.  Many of the peoples’ possessions were still left in their houses.  They hadn’t even had time to bring everything with them.

Looking out at the horizon, I saw even from a distance that a similar devastation had taken place in the city too.  One of the signature pronged buildings had collapsed, damaging the skyline.  What happened here!?  “Oh no,” I gasped aloud, “Did this happen because the table was cleaned off?”  It can’t be, I realized, or everything would be completely gone.  The table and this world are not the same.  Some of these houses aren’t even damaged; that isn’t the reason.  I was utterly baffled.  The amount of mass destruction was terrifying to see.

So if this wreckage wasn’t caused by the table, then what happened?  I looked around, distraught.  “Hello?” I called, “ Is anyone here?”  I had turned back from invisibility; there was really no need for secrecy anymore.  In all honesty, I would rather catch someone shrieking in fear of me than finding no one at all.  “Hello?” I called again.  Still there was no response.  Stepping through the wreckage, I slowly made it to the city, stopping every few feet to call out again.  Each time I was met with silence.  As far as I could tell, there wasn’t a single person left.  A single living person, that is. An unnerving amount of damaged and shredded corpses were scattered about the ground almost everywhere, sending chills down my arms.

The silent tension grew as I walked the abandoned streets.  I used to have to be intangible just to be nearby.  Now I can walk right through. I meandered up and down rows of empty buildings and roads, an unnerving static humm in the air.  There wasn't a single soul in sight.  Where did everyone go?  I don't understand, how could everyone just disappear? There has to be someone left! In my rapidly upsetting state, I returned to invisibility.  I wasn’t quite sure why, other than some vague gut feeling.

After walking through the abandoned city streets for some time, I began to feel a strange connection.  As if I subconsciously knew I needed to be there somewhere.  I invisibly stalked the ruined streets until I came to the place I was drawn to.  I'd never been in that part of the city before.  It was always too crowded for me to ever get close, but with everyone gone it became an eerie and desolate wasteland.  

Shouts echoed through empty halls and a door suddenly swung open behind me.  People!  I turned in excitement.  A rough looking gang burst through the open doorway, and I was instantly disappointed.  There were about five or six men filing roughly down the stairs; each one carrying an impressive array of weapons with them.  They had everything from simple crowbars and home-made weapons to rifles and pistols.  One even hauled a machine gun on his back.  Why was I taken here?  Who are these people?  Where's everyone else?

One final man marched out of the building.  I recognized him instantly.  John, Erica's awful ex-lover whom I'd thankfully never officially met.  He was holding some kind of metal dog chain, the other end of which was still inside the building.  I was instantly repelled by the sight of him.  I hate this man.  Out of all the people I could have found, why him?  Why did HE survive whatever apocalypse happened while I was gone?  

I watched him saunter down the stairs, and as the men flanked him on either side, I realized he was the leader of this post-apocalyptic gang.  John yanked on the chain he'd been dragging, and I readily expected some scary breed of dog to come rushing out.  However, that was not the case.  I watched in sheer horror as an even more familiar face was yanked into the open, gagged and bound.  

Erica was practically thrown down the stairway outside, landing in a heap in front of the other gang members, all of whom began to laugh cruelly.  What in the actual fucking hell!?  Every so often I would get nightmares of Erica or the destruction I’d caused.  She would always be yelling at me, my own size, hunting me down to hurt me for what I’d done to her — face blurry with the years of forgetting.  Sometimes I would be trapped in a dark room, other times I’d be running through the forest by the lake.  If I hadn’t woken in fright by then, I would eventually come across the crushed corpses, and then I’d wake up.  It was so horribly surreal to find her in such an awful situation when she’d been my tormentor for so long.

The chain and Erica were roughly tied to a streetlamp just outside the door.  That pole in particular was caked in dried blood.  "So much for your escape plans, little girl," John remarked coldly, prompting more laughter from the other men.  "Did you really think you could get away from me that easily?"  He was leaning in close to Erica's face, forcing her to look at him with an iron grip on her throat.  Suddenly, she lashed out and kicked him square in the groin.  John fell backwards in pain and called out to the others.  "Fuck!  Give her hell!"  Every man raised their weapon.  Those who had short range weapons surrounded her, and those with guns took aim.

"NO!"  In a split second, I leapt forward, reaching out in front of Erica to defend her.  Though she’d been torturing me in dreams for years, I knew that it was only in my head.  I couldn’t stand by and watch her get hurt.  I rushed blindly into the side of the building, sending everything crashing down around me.  Thankfully, Erica was spared the brute of the avalanche I'd created, having been shielded from its force by my hands.  Some of the men were not as lucky.  A good half of them had been buried under the rubble, including John.  From the corner of my eye I watched his shocked expression as clouds of dust billowed around him.  The last I’d seen of him was that very face being torn apart by debris before a wall of cinder brick collapsed on top of him.

To the remaining men, I appeared as if from the air — a towering shadow of an angry behemoth, obscured by the cloud of rising dust off the crushed rubble.  They all looked up at me in fear, and for once I was delighted by it.  "YOU'RE ALL DEAD!" I screamed, reaching for them.  A few tried to fight back, but most of them just ran.  Someone even shot at me, but the bullets barely stung more than a bug bite would.

I killed them all easily.  Too easily.  Each thug was crushed unrecognizably between muscle and rubble.  In sheer anger, I picked up a couple men and hurled them at the side of a building.  Another, the final escapee, I tore apart in fury; like you would tear apart a bad drawing or unwelcome notice.

After the last man had been finished off, I screamed aggressively out into the barren streets.  The thugs' punishment had been too quick, I had nothing left to inflict my wrath upon now besides warped corpses.  All my anger over Erica’s captors, as well as my actions in this world and their awful consequences, spilled out into a blind rage.

Instead of searching for more bodies, I took out my anger on another building.  It toppled to the ground in a groaning broken sound that only further fueled my wild adrenaline-filled rampage.  I kicked and clawed, beating it down mercilessly until I was bloody and bruised.  My chest heaved with heavy breaths as I finally began to feel the pain lashing out.  Legs going numb, I fell to my knees in the center of the destruction. My anger subsided just as quickly as it emerged.

Easing out of my fog, I remembered who it was for.  I turned, unsure.  Erica was still chained to the streetlamp, fighting desperately against her bindings.  I rushed to her side and she went completely still, eyes going wide.  Reaching out, I carefully took the chains between my thumb and index finger, crushing them until they snapped.  The metal fell onto the concrete with a dull thud.  Instantly, Erica struggled to undo the rest of her bindings.  As she freed herself, I surveyed the damage I'd done, recognizing that I'd proven yet again how destructive and horrible I could be.

I heard more chains fall to the ground, and I carefully lay myself down to look Erica in the eyes.  It had been so long, and she looked awful.  Bloody, bruised; as messed up as I was, she looked inherently worse.  The moment she was free, I began an apology.  This was by far my worst episode yet.  At least the other times I’d hurt people I'd done so by accident.  Not that it mattered to her. 

"I'm so sorry, I-'' she didn't let me finish.  Erica raced forward and grasped my open hand, desperately sobbing into it.  I realized shortly afterwards that this was her attempt at a hug.  My massive size made things a bit more complicated, but I delicately scooped her up and held her to my chest.  Erica continued to cry; I could feel her clinging tightly to me.  An angry burning feeling rose in my throat, and I pressed my eyes shut to keep tears from seeping out.  For what seemed like an eternity, we sat together.  Both of us were locked in an embrace that neither of us wanted to let go of.

Eventually I could feel Erica's grip loosening, and I carefully placed her back on solid ground, giving her a moment to gain her balance and stand.  "I missed you so much," Erica whispered hoarsely.  "I didn't think you were coming back."  She'd missed me?  She wanted me back?  Of course, I realized, my slight torture of controlling minds to make her life better was likely a paradise compared to whatever hell she's gone through without me.  

"You're ok," I told her softly, "You're alright.  They can't hurt you now."  I whispered sweet nothings to her as she crawled back into my outstretched palm, just like the day I'd left her.  I stood ever so slowly, cupping her close.  "Don't leave," Erica begged quietly, half asleep.  Her drowsiness worried me; it was very unnatural, likely brought about by drugs or whatnot, but she needed the rest either way.  "I won't leave you," I assured her.  Erica nodded drowsily, then passed out, her body falling limply across my palm.

The sight of Erica's forlorn form laying in my hand forced forwards the tears I'd been trying to hold back.  My eyes began to water, and tears slid silently down my cheeks, but I managed to cast them away with a swipe of my free hand.  How did this happen?  What's going on!?  The city is destroyed, abandoned, and overrun.  Where is everyone else? Is this really all that’s left? It can’t be.

I was sure Erica would answer my questions eventually, so I headed to the cliffside where the mansion once stood.  Erica's house had been completely demolished in whatever event had taken the rest of the houses there. Despite my being gone for years, the now barren mountainside still felt like home.  I watched my step where I walked; it was a force of habit, though many of the buildings around me had long been torn apart.  

When I reached the cliffside, I carefully placed Erica down on a rubble-free part of the lawn.  I dug through the remains of her old house and found a blanket that was only a little worse for wear.  I shook it out and draped it over her sleeping form.  An echo of a memory flashed before my eyes like deja-vu.

My heartstrings were pulled taunt as I watched Erica laying on the cliffside where her house, that I'd bought her, lay in ruins.  She looked different now.  Older, for sure, and her hair had grown out from her favorite neck-short cut, but she also looked a lot more worn down.  It was fairly obvious why, but at the same time, it made no sense.  Why would she go back to seeing John?  How could he get away with doing something like this?  However, judging by the ruined state of the landscape around me, I assumed that laws were likely a lot more lenient in the apocalyptic aftermath of whatever disaster had struck the other-world.  I badly wanted Erica to wake up and talk to me, so she could help me understand what had happened.  

Solemnly, I stood at the cliff's edge, watching valiantly over Erica’s sleeping form.  Was she always this small?  My hand hovered briefly over her for a moment before she shifted in her sleep and I quickly backed off. I remembered the people of the other-world were little, but she was only a bit taller than my pinky finger. 

Not knowing when exactly Erica would wake up, I took the chance I had to rush into my world and grab some food. I haphazardly threw together a quick sandwich and grabbed a few things for the road.  Both my father and grandmother were in the kitchen at the time, confused at my rushed gathering of supplies, but I was in too much of a hurry to come up with a decent excuse.  I only worked faster to avoid any more attention and returned to the basement.  I had no idea when I would be back, so I left dealing with my family for later.  

Gathered items and shrinking box in hand, I quickly returned to the other-world, only to find myself right in front of Erica's mansion.  I almost walked right into the rock face. Oh shit, I can go to more places than the field?  I guess I’ve never tried.  That would’ve been useful to know before I left.

Thankfully, Erica hadn't moved since my pit stop, so I settled into a more reasonable pace and shrank a few items for her to have whenever she woke up.  Her unnatural drowsiness kept bugging me, though.  For the next few hours I spent waiting for Erica to wake, I frequently checked her pulse and breathing, just in case.  What I would've done if either had stopped I don't know, but thankfully it never came to that.  With nothing else to do, I addressed my own wounds.  Most of which I'd given myself in anger.  The bullet holes were actually quite painful.  I knew I should get the metal out of my skin, and I had preemptively grabbed a first-aid kit from the basement.  I removed the tweezers from the small box and set to work.  

It was hard going; the metal pieces were miniscule, and I could barely latch onto them with the tweezers.  Once the bullets were all finally removed, I was left with raw gaping holes in my skin where they'd hit.  I sucked in a pained breath of air and began to bandage them up.  Taking a tiny bottle of rubbing alcohol from the kit, I stepped away from the cliffside to pour it over my cuts before I finished wrapping them. While I was at it, I poured some water over my hands to wash off the blood and grime from the city.

When I returned, I saw Erica’s little form sitting up on the cliffside and I ran over in an instant.  I was starting to get worried she might not wake up.  She stood shocked at my sudden appearance.  "Alexis?"  Her eyes shone hopefully for a brief moment, then they dulled.  "This has to be a dream," Erica whispered, "You left," she stated, pointing at me, "I know you did."  After looking me over, she shook her head and sighed longingly.  "God, you're so gorgeous this time.  This is torture; I know you're not real," she grumbled.  "I'll probably be chained to the wall somewhere when I wake up."  Did she just call me gorgeous?  And how often does she get chained to a wall!?  I stared down at Erica, who was pacing back and forth across the cliff edge in front of me, ranting about the likelihood of everything being a fever dream.

"But," I interjected, slightly confused, "I am real.  Erica, I'm back.  I know I shouldn't be, but I'm here.  What happened?  Where is everyone?"  She only laughed and brushed me off with a dismissive wave.  "Yeah, like you don't already know," Erica chuckled sarcastically.  "I'm sure the real Alexis wouldn't give two shits about this place.  She's off in her own world — probably forgot about me."  Saying this, Erica stopped pacing and her expression fell.  She turned from me, and I suddenly felt very melancholy about disappearing for so long.  How do I get her to listen to me?  Usually in movies someone needs to feel pain before they know they're not dreaming.  I won't hurt her, but maybe…

Tentatively leaning over the cliffside, I reached out and brushed her arm gently with the pad of my finger.  I couldn’t think of much else I could try, but maybe that would be enough to snap her out of it.  At my touch, Erica stiffened and slowly turned to me, eyes widening with recognition.  She dazedly reached out with her free hand and gently placed it over mine, still hovering by her side.  Finally, she seemed to realize that our meeting wasn't her imagination.  

"Is this..?  Are you..?"  Try as she might, she couldn't finish a sentence without choking up.  I was filled with ecstatic joy now that she recognized me.  A smile spread lopsided across my face.  "I'm here.  It's me," I assured her.  She grasped my hand in a fierce wave of emotion before stumbling backwards out of my grasp.  "But.. how?  Why?  You're here!  You're actually here, holy shit!" she yelled, overjoyed.  "You asshole," Erica chided suddenly, "Where the hell have you been?  I waited weeks, months even, and you didn't come back.  Then the world went to shit and I thought: 'for sure she'll show up to fix this', but you didn't!"  

Now she had her arms crossed, glaring up at me.  "My house was destroyed, I barely escaped with my life.  I went to John, I- fuck, I don't know why.  I shouldn't have, but I didn't know he'd gone batshit insane!  I-  he.."  Erica quieted, thinking back to who knows what.  Eventually, she held up her wrists in silent explanation.  They were rubbed raw where the chains had been, and I shuddered at the sight.  "Where were you?  I needed you!"  

I looked down at her indignantly.  Although I did feel sorry for her, I couldn't help it.  "You told me to leave and never come back!  I was traumatized by what I'd done, and I swore I would never return to this world again!" I explained in exasperation.  "I'm only here now by coincidence, and I have to leave in a week to go back to school.  I came here to say my final goodbyes before my way here gets destroyed, only to find everything in ruins, and people dead in the street!"

Erica was taken aback by this.  Her arms fell limply at her sides and her angry expression melted away.  "But you can't leave," she said solemnly, "I- I know I told you not to come back, but I didn't think you'd actually listen.  You- You never actually really left before, just distanced yourself for a while."  Erica tilted her head back to gaze up at me meaningfully.  “I honestly thought you would still come around to check up on me, and try to help out like you always do to make up for things.  You actually leaving..  That is what I told you to do, but I guess it.. it isn’t what I wanted.  It isn’t what I meant!  I just wanted you to leave me alone for a while!  I- I didn’t want you to leave for forever!  You were supposed to come back for me.”

Erica was quiet for a while, then gasped.  "That fight in the city, did that-?  That actually happened, didn't it?  He.. he’s dead?"  I nodded slowly.  Erica stilled, undoubtedly realizing the full extent of what I'd seen and what had happened.  Her face flushed and she looked away, ashamed.  I doubted she'd have wanted me to find her so helpless like that.  She was even forced to wear an awful outfit the thugs from the city had given her; if you could even call it that.  There was significantly more bear skin than fabric, but she had no other option.  Her actual clothes were likely lost to the rubble of the mansion. 

A long, heavy silence filled the air.  My mind was still reeling from the fact that she'd been waiting for me all this time.  I was so sure she never wanted to see me again.  "I remember.. in the city.." Erica whispered, barely audible.  "You said you wouldn't leave me."

I could practically feel my heart shatter at her words.  For so long I'd been trying my hardest to forget about Erica, and all along she was right here waiting for me.  To stay would mean undoing all of the progress I made moving on in life; to grow up and forget this fantasy.  But leaving would prevent any chance for me to start something new.  I wanted so badly to have Erica’s trust.  I’d broken it too many times, but now she truly needed it.

As Erica gazed up at me with gut-wrenching uncertainty, I could feel something steel up inside my chest.  Some primal, protective urge clawed its way through my mind with chilling determination.  Whatever happened to her while I was gone will not happen again.  Not on my watch.  Leaning over the cliffside, I carefully inched a finger closer until it brushed lightly against her cheek.   "Never,” I said earnestly, “I will never leave you again."  My words resounded in the soft quiet between us.  "I'll only ever go if you ask."  

Erica nodded, tearing up.  I bent down even further, resting my chin on the ground in front of her.  Hesitantly, Erica stepped closer and brought my head even lower, pressing her forehead to mine.  I held my breath as chills wrung down my spine.  We've never been this close before.  I closed my eyes; I've only ever dreamed of a moment like this, back when I had good dreams about her.  Relief swept through me in a shuddering gasp, and suddenly I was in tears.  I guess I’d never realized how much I missed being there.

I can't really lie to myself, though; I didn't miss this world nearly as much as I missed her.  "Oh god, don't cry," Erica laughed halfheartedly, "Then I'll start crying too."  I smiled as she brushed a tear off my cheek, lifting my head slightly to see her.  I couldn't help it, I blushed rose pink.  We held each other's gaze for a moment, then I sighed.  "I'm just happy to be back."  Erica nodded, and I slowly pulled away, propping up my head on my arms, smiling blissfully.  Then I caught a glimpse of the ruined mansion.  

I bolted upright.  Suddenly, all my questions came racing back to me.  "What happened here?  Where is everyone?" I asked.  “I was so worried; I came back and everything’s dead.”  Erica blinked in confusion, her smile slowly disappearing in thought.  Damn it, I didn't mean to upset her.  "You know what, nevermind.  I-  You don't have to tell me now.  Let's celebrate my return; I brought snacks!"  

"You really don't know?" Erica asked, interrupting me.  She studied me closely.  "I guess people might want to keep this a secret," she mumbled, motioning for me to come back down.  I knelt in front of her over the cliffside so we were eye to eye.  Erica fidgeted nervously with her hands, flinching as she touched the raw circles of skin on her wrists.  "Well, there's no easy way to say this, but..  I think your people have been abducting us for science…  And before you say 'that's impossible'," she added hastily just before I could say it, "I've seen it happen.  That's where everyone went.  I think.  Hopefully some of us escaped."

I was struck speechless.  Why?  How?  Did they know the secret to this world?  Obviously not, or whoever it is would be mind-controlling everyone to their will.  "You have to help us," Erica insisted suddenly, "I know you don't care about my world or anyone besides me, but..  Are you really just going to stand by and watch everything burn?"

"What?" I asked in disbelief, "I-  Why do you think that?  I care about your world!"  "Then help us,” she spat back, “If you care so much."  "I will," I said matter-of-factly.  "Great.  When the hazmat giants come back through their portal you can tell them to fuck off."  "What makes you think they'll listen to me?  Clearly they aren't very reasonable."  "You're one of them," Erica said, exasperated, "They have to listen to you."  

I sighed and sank to the ground below, trying to process everything that happened while I was gone.  I lay back on the face of the cliff.  It’s only been four years, yet it seems like a lifetime ago.  How did my world even find this one?  What are they planning to do with everyone they took?  Maybe Erica misunderstood, and the people who used to live here are just hiding somewhere.  Why haven’t I heard about anyone finding this place on the news?  It must be some top-secret government project.  Otherwise, I’m pretty sure I would’ve heard about the discovery of a tiny world.

Looking out over the wreckage of neighborhoods, I could now see the slight hints of people my own size.  Footprints in the ground and divots made by machinery suddenly became glaringly obvious.  The overpowering stench of gasoline also made a bit more sense. It was too powerful for anything other-worldian, but about average for something my own scale.

“So,” Erica prompted, “you’ll get rid of them?”  I nodded, “I’ll talk to them, find out what’s going on.”  “But you’ll get rid of them, right?” I glanced up at the top of the cliff, a few inches above me.  Erica was standing there, peering down at me while trying to keep away from the edge.  “Yeah, I’ll try.  I don’t know how well they’ll react to some random person from their own world telling them to get out, though.”  Erica shrugged, “Worth a shot.”  I nodded in agreement.  The sun was slowly sinking; it wasn’t getting dark quite yet, but it was low enough to tell the day was coming to an end.  I pulled some of the snacks out of the pile of my things on the ground nearby.  “Here, eat something,” I told Erica, handing her some of the shrunken food.  I stood to go collect wood for a fire, since the lights in the house were clearly damaged beyond repair.  

Before I could take more than a step away from the cliff, Erica called out after me.  “Wait!  Where are you going?”  She sounded so concerned; did she think I was leaving to my own world?  "I'm just going to get firewood, I'll be right back."  Erica glanced around uneasily, as if she were expecting some apparition to appear in the growing shadows and steal her off.  "Do you have to?"  I gave her a small knowing smile, I had promised not to leave her.  "Would you rather come with me?" I asked, offering her my hand.  Erica hesitated briefly, then nodded and climbed on.  

Despite having been gone for years, she seemed rather comfortable with me.  I knew it likely had something to do with events I wasn’t there to witness, though.  Erica brought the blanket with her, and settled in a cozy little heap in the palm of my hand, tucked against my cupped fingers.  I couldn't help but smile slightly at the feeling.  Whatever the reason, I'm glad she's safe.  For once it actually paid off to come back to this place.  

There was plenty of easily accessible wood lying around thanks to all the destroyed houses, so it wasn't long before I'd gathered what I needed.  Soon, a raging campfire was steadily burning on the cliffside.  We ate dinner together and caught up on eachothers' lives.  I didn't get much of an update on Erica's life; she didn't want to say much, which I completely understood.  The only thing I noticed was that Erica had a scar over her left eye.  I hadn't noticed it earlier, as I was a bit distracted by everything going on.  That definitely wasn't there before I left.  I didn't ask about it, though.  I was afraid it might bring up some awful memory of John and the looters.  In the end, I mostly just blabbered on about everything that had happened to me since the last day we were together, four years ago.  Afterwards, we watched the sun dip below the horizon.  The ruined skyline glaring at me from afar.  

I should help them, right?  My world shouldn't be messing with this one; that's not really a fair fight.  Then again, that's a little ironic coming from me.  I glanced down at Erica.  She was tucked away into a sleeping bag she'd pulled from the rubble earlier, staring blankly skyward in thought.  Our little bonfire had died down to a few smoldering wooden planks.  

"Look at that!" Erica whispered suddenly, pointing at the cloudless night sky.  "You never see shit like that around here.  The city's usually too bright."  I bent my head back to see what she meant.  The stars shone so vividly without the light of suburban houses or the city to compete with.  They flickered brightly in the vast black sky; it was as if you could reach out and grab one.  I was in for a small surprise when I noticed that some of the stars were wild colors, not just the normal whites and blues.  I’d spent so long in the other-world when I was younger, how had I never noticed that?  "It's beautiful," I nodded, "but we should get some sleep.  We have a long day ahead of us tomorrow."  "You mean you have a long day ahead of you," Erica corrected me.  "I'm not going anywhere near the hazmat giants, they could kill me way too easily.  But then again, so can you."

I flinched; it was upsetting to think about.  Even if I did eventually get Erica to fully trust me, there would always be a drastically uneven divide in power between us.  Erica watched as I slowly hunched back down the cliffside, looking slightly guilty for ruining the mood.  I'd tried to change my height to match hers a few times years ago.  I’d created a small object for me to wear — similarly to how I the boxes I'd made in the past — which was supposed to make me their size when I wore it.  However, when I tried it on, nothing happened.  I guessed whatever influence I had on the other-world only worked with objects, not living things. How is it that I can become invisible, walk through walls, manipulate minds, and generate infinite money, but can't make one simple bracelet to shrink me to their size?  It's unfair, really. 

I turned to face Erica, "I would never-"  "I know," Erica said, cutting me off.  She turned over on her side, facing away from me.  "I was just saying you could.  You wouldn't.  I.. I don’t think you will...  Nevermind, just-  Let's get some sleep."  Sighing, I drifted down to the bottom of the cliff and sat with my thoughts for a while, just short of miserable.

[geralts-yenn]

~ 💖 ASK GAME 💖 ~

I got tagged by the lovely @littlefreya - thank you dear! Loved your answers ❤

📷 What’s set as your phone’s lockscreen? A winter landscape in pastel colors

🍫 Cheese or chocolate? I can't eat either of them, but if I could, I think I'd choose cheese over chocolate

✨ Do you have any nicknames? No, in high school some friends tried to make "Nini" a thing but I was not a fan

🎵 Last song you listened to? Teardrop - Massive Attack

✏️ Have you ever written fanfiction? Started writing 18 months ago - changed my life

😏 Are you on discord? 24/7

 💛 Do you have any piercings? Had ear piercings, would love to have more, but I'm allergic

🐰 What do you think says the most about a person? I always watch out how people treat animals. Also, if someone is rude to retail workers or staff, it's a red flag.

🍪 If you were a cookie, what kind would you be? lol, idk, an oreo? dark and hard on the outside with a soft core

🐶 Are you more of a dog person or a cat person? Both! I always had cats and thought I'd always be a cat person. But then we got the most precious little baby puppy and I absolutely adore her. She's not a puppy anymore but never stopped being the cutest little baby 😍

🎧 Headphones or earbuds? Both 😁 Headphones for sports and when the family is too loud, earbuds for at work when I still need to pay attention to others

🌼 What’s the last thing you said out loud? "Damn, dog, it's just a vacuum cleaner, it won't eat you!"

🙃 What’s a weird fact that you know? lol, that chickens DO have a navel. Had a heated argument with my Dad about that. Sweet memory ❤

🦉 Are you a morning person or a night owl? Is 3am morning or night?

🧸 Favorite place to nap? The hammock in my garden

🏳️‍🌈 Are you a member of the LGBTQIA+ community? I identify as pansexual heteroromantic

🦋 Describe yourself in three words. enthusiastic, awkward, introvert

👖 Jeans or sweatpants? Jeans

🥤 What’s your go-to Starbucks order? Believe it or not, I've never been to a Starbucks. But I drink my coffee black

🧡 A color you can’t stand? Every color has its own beauty

💎 What’s your most prized possession? My house?

☕ Coffee or tea? Both - lol, I'm really good at making decisions 😁

🦖 Favorite extinct animal? Ichthyosaurs - First fossil I've ever seen and combines my love for the ocean and dinosaurs

🌙 How long have you been on tumblr? A year and a month - yes, I'm a tumblr baby

🌴 Desert island item? A lighter

🐸 Describe your aesthetic. Ugh, these are really difficult! Industrial pastel?

🔮 What’s your dream job? Photographer!

💙 Relationship status? So very much in love - for almost 20 years now 😍

🌿 Describe your favorite outfit. Wide black shorts, sage green top, gray cardigan, barefoot (I need summer!)

🎤 Is there a song you know all the lyrics to? lol, is there a song I DON'T know the lyrics to?

🤎 What color is your hair? blonde

💌 Do you talk to yourself? I do right now 😁

💄 Do you wear makeup? If I feel like it, I love wearing makeup, but I'm also comfortable going out without makeup

🌸 Best compliment you ever received? "I wish there were more people like you"

💞 @ your favorite blog. @raccoon-eyed-rebel

No pressure tags: @ellethespaceunicorn @peyton-warren @gummydummy19 @mayloma @cardierreh15 @liveoncoffeeandflowersss @martha-oi @lostforparadise

[thatgeekyemo]

Hope Dangles On A String

peter parker x reader | 3.3k

summery: "So you're telling me you don't know about how Spider-Man killed Mysterio?" You can't have heard that right. Mysterio was dead?

You blinked. "What?"

prompt 5: "Could you hold my hand?", requested by iloveyou3000 on Wattpad

note: I wanna see who gets some references I made. Some are more tricky than the others. (Hint: I've already made one)Also, this was written before NWH came out :)

The library had become one of your favorite places since you came back. It was quiet, filled with knowledge, and always air conditioned.

The library at Midtown School of Science and Technology in particular was a place you spent most of your free time in nowadays. You always got to the school early in the morning and always stayed hours after the school day was over. Ever since The Blip, it had become your second home; it was the most familiar place you could go to. A place where you could re-adjust to the world you grew up in and catch up on the five years of history you missed.

Currently, there weren't many people in the library with you, since school wasn't set to start for another month. But the administration always left the doors open for the book club and Decathlon team. You weren't in either, but as long as you still followed the rules, you were always welcome.

The library was a safe place. No one ever bothered you, and you could always get what you wanted to get done done.

You were friends with the librarian. You even helped out every once in a while. Being surrounded by so much information and stories helped you feel at ease. Helped you feel like you weren't the only person with the loss of them. Like you weren't the only one out of the loop.

With a book open in front of you--about how the world dealt and built itself back up after half its population suddenly disappearing--you tried your hardest to understand how the world functioned when you were gone, having been one of the people that disappeared.

It was a hard thing to wrap your mind around, believing that you had been gone five whole years. Everything just seemed like a blink to you. One second, you were scared for your life, wondering if Iron Man and Spider-Man were ever going to come back from following that alien spaceship into the sky. The next, you found yourself on the floor in a bedroom that wasn't yours, but at the same time was. One second, you had been sitting in dead silence, the next, the air was filled with the ear splitting yell of a young girl, screaming at you like you were an intruder in your own home.

You were.

In what felt like a blink, an entire five years had passed on Earth. Had passed everywhere. People grieved. Then people moved on with their lives.

You, among hundreds of thousands of other people, had to find new homes. New jobs. It was hard to believe that you were thrust five years and two months into the future, when just a second ago, you had been in 2018.

But of course, you knew the entire world couldn't be playing a giant trick. That against all probability, it had actually happened. You had to believe it whether you wanted to or not. This was your life now.

Just as you were getting settled, some boxes in your new room still unpacked, your parents urged you to go on your science class' summer field trip. They, as well as you, had thought that maybe it could help you unwind from the stress of living in a familiar but unfamiliar world.

Instead, Mysterio and the Elementals had happened, and what was supposed to be a relaxing summer vacation turned into looking over your shoulder to make sure another danger wasn't creeping up out of thin air every waking moment.

You had broken down in the airport once it was all over. Once everyone was safe. It was all too much. You didn't understand how people could live their lives like it was normal. How they weren't affected like you were. Too many life changing and endangering events had happened in rapid succession and it was too much for you.

It was Peter who held you then like he always had. It was Peter who pulled you from your spiraling state by making you focus on his voice. It was Peter who held your hand and wouldn't let go until you were okay enough to pull away.

You could always count on him to get you out of a tough place and stick by your side for the entirety of it all. And he didn't ask for anything out of it. Just that you would do the same.

That was a promise you had made to him years ago.

There were two other people in the library with you, not including the librarian, who was in the back room. You took note of them the second they walked in. You didn't know their names, so you figured might have been kids that survived. It was easier for you to keep an eye on everything around you. It made you feel better. The two teens had identical books of their own open in front of them, so you had initially assumed they were in the school's book club. But as the time passed, they disregarded reading and resorted to their phones. It didn't matter to you what they were doing. As long as it didn't break your concentration, they could talk quietly and laugh amongst themselves all they wanted. You didn't bother them, they didn't bother you.

So when you caught them staring, you had tried to disregard it. You hadn't done nothing much other than read the book you had checked out. There was a list of things that made you uncomfortable, and people staring was on it. You could feel their eyes on you as you kept your own trained on the pages in your hands. You knew you hadn't looked bad when you left your house that morning--your clothes were clean, your hair was combed--yet there was something that continued to make you their point of interest. It set you on edge, how their whispering dropped so that even you couldn't hear the words in the silence of the library. You hadn't done anything wrong, so what made you so interesting?

You didn't like being the center of attention. Not more than you already were. People treated you like you were some kind of baby, since you returned. They pitied you. Saw you as someone who needed help. And while you were, you didn't need them butting in. You had your own support group. Your own ways of getting the help you needed. But no one knew. No one really cared. Not unless their 'acts of kindness' were visible for the public to see.

So why single you out now? In the seclusion of the library, where no one else was around?

You thought about leaving, just to get away from their prying eyes. You had noticed them get up and move to a table closer to yours, really not subtlety at all. But then just as you made the decision to pack up once you finished the chapter you were on, you realized that you could hear them. The reason because they moved closer or having raised their voices up for debate.

"But she's his best friend!"

"You can't seriously think she helped him do it, can you?"

"We don't have any proof she didn't!"

They seemed to be arguing. Loud enough for you to hear. Loud enough for you to figure out they were talking about you.

It made your skin crawl. The fact that you were the topic of their conversation, but you had no idea what they were talking about. The fact that they were blaming you for something. You hadn't committed a crime in your life. The closest you'd ever come was bearing witness to more than a few.

You unconsciously found yourself squeezing your fists tight enough that you felt your nails digging into the palms of your hands. Taking a deep breath, you came to the unsettling conclusion that they wouldn't stop unless you dealt with it.

For the first time, you turned your head to look at them. Taking a moment to try and further understand the situation, you watched them. They couldn't have been older than you, they looked around your age. One of two things that stood out from the picture was that the girl had dyed bright pink hair. The other was the bright red news headline that lit up her discarded phone screen.

The boy caught your eyes first, promptly shutting his mouth and a look of fear flickering on his face. His reaction made the girl stop and look over at you, her eyes narrowing instantly. Like you were some kind of suspect. And going off of what you heard them talk about, you might as well be.

Shakily, you stood up and walked over to their table, holding your arms close to your body. You opened your mouth to say something, but you hadn't really thought this through.

After a gulp, you found your voice. But you were starting to feel small under the girls stare. "Hi." You tested carefully, your voice quiet. "Do you- do you need me for something?"

Her eyes lit up like she was just given a gift. The boy just cowered in his seat, like he was ashamed. "Yes, actually!" Her voice was cheerful, but the smile on her face was fake. Her words had a sharp edge to them, and you were afraid that they were nearing to cut you. "You haven't heard the news?"

"Billie, don't." The boy whispered behind her, glancing up, but avoiding your gaze.

"Don't what?" You tried not to flinch as Billie stood up. You couldn't stop yourself from stepping back though. She was taller than you, and her proximity was too close. "What news?"

"About Spider-Man." she stated blankly like she was bored you didn't already know. She paused, and it looked like she was waiting for your reaction. "About Peter Parker."

"No?" You said slowly, confused to hear those names put together like that. You wanted to ask, but that wasn't the point. You wanted them to stop talking about you. If for some reason there was some news involving Peter and Spider-Man that he hadn't told you yet, you were sure to find out soon. And if you didn't, you could just look it up when you got home. "What does it have to do with me?"

"Billie." The boy warned again, but she just sent him a glare.

"Get your phone out."

"I don't--"

"Now!"

"Um," you started to stammer over your words, not understanding what was going on. "Excuse me? I-I don't really want to be recorded--"

"So you're telling me you don't know about how Spider-Man killed Mysterio?"

You can't have heard that right.

Mysterio was dead?

You blinked. "What?"

"Don't play dumb." She snapped, her brows furrowed in determination, making you flinch. The accusation unlike any you had ever heard. "Tell us the truth. Did you help Peter Parker murder Quentin Beck?"

The words hit you like a slap to the face. They didn't sound right. They didn't feel right.

Peter wasn't Spider-Man.

Was he?

And Spider-Man definitely wasn't a murderer.

That you knew for sure.

Did you?

Peter wasn't Spider-Man. He would have told you. And you knew for a fact that Peter wouldn't kill someone. Neither would Spider-Man. And he sure as hell wouldn't have killed another hero.

But that's not what Billie was saying. She was saying that Peter Parker was Spider-Man. That Peter killed Mysterio. Killed Quentin Beck. And that you knew--no. Not knew. Helped him do it.

A hundred things were clawing at your brain, wanting to be spoken all at once. It swarmed in your head, bombarding your thoughts. It was hard, but you managed piece together a single sentence. Albeit choppy. "I don't-- I have no idea what you're talking about." You breathed out shakily.

"It's a simple question: did you, or did you not?" Billie asked again, her voice more insistent this time. The boy fumbled with his phone as she stepped forward, forcing you back.

"No!" You said as firmly as you could, tripping over your feet. If it wasn't for the table you were sitting at to catch you, you would have fallen. "I didn't even-- I didn't even know!" Why couldn't she hear the truth in your voice?

All comfort you found in the library disappeared in an instant. The silence you adored felt deafening. The calm was suffocating.

"How am I supposed to believe you? You're his best friend! Everyone knows that! You had to know something." She spouted the accusations as easily as popping a bubble. "Ryan, are you getting this on camera? Every news outlet is looking for any known associates, and we need this proof!"

"Who- who the hell do you think you are?" You could feel your own voice breaking as you continued to back away until you felt the strap of your bag hanging off the back of the chair you were sitting in. You snatched up the book you were reading and almost missed shoving it in. "I told you I don't want to be recorded! Leave- leave me alone!"

You grabbed your things and ran for the door, but the words continued to follow you.

Spider-Man killed Mysterio?

Did you help Peter Parker murder Quentin Beck?

You heaved a breath, the feeling of it getting harder and harder to breathe quickly overcoming you.

You didn't understand.

What was going on?

The sunlight seemed too harsh as you nearly fell over yourself outside. You didn't stop though. Not until Billie and Ryan gave up on chasing you. Until you were far away from the library. And only then did you stop only to breath so you wouldn't collapse.

It looked like the world was frozen. Their eyes glued to the nearest screen available. Phones, shop televisions. Any screen on any one of the hundreds of skyscrapers surrounding you.

And they all read the same thing.

London Attack Revelations: Spider-Man responsible for Hero Mysterio's Death

THEDAILYBUGLE.NET EXCLUSIVE: Peter Parker revealed as the murderer behind the mask of the menace known as the 'Spider-Man'

Voices overlapped in your head. The people around you reacting. The different news stations relaying each other. Your own.

But what stood out the most was the shaky video on display directly across the street from you.

You didn't recognize the man, but you recognized the suit. This man was Mysterio. Beck. Beat up with blood on his face and surrounded by broken glass.

And the words came right from him mouth.

"Spider-Man's name is Peter Parker!"

You felt your senses dulling around you then. The only thing you could hear was the rapid beating of your own heart trying to keep you alive.

So many secrets. So many truths. Too many.

You felt yourself loosing your grip, but no one was there to stop you from falling.

Usually Peter did that.

But Peter wasn't there.

Peter was Spider-Man?

Peter was a murderer?

A loud roar from a gathering crowd was enough to get you moving, even though you felt--well, you didn't know how you felt.

Your feet moved without much thought. Bringing you to the one place where you thought you could be safe. Where you could lock the door and cover your ears and close your eyes and wish it would all go away. That you would wake up from this horrible nightmare.

Your feet moved, and you mindlessly made it back to your empty apartment.

It wasn't home. You home had been taken away from you. The walls were empty. The furniture brand new.

Your hands shook as you locked the door behind you. That's when you lost the sliver of control you had, sliding down against the front of the door in a gasp that let everything flood you.

Tears burned against your skin as they streamed down your face. Tears of confusion. Tears of hurt. Tears of anger. Tears of any reason you could possibly think of.

It was a lot to comprehend at once.

Too much.

A frantic knocking on your door made you flinch and let out a yelp. You scrambled away, barely standing yourself up when you heard a voice.

"Y/N?" It was Peter. "Are you-- are you in there?"

Oh God, it was Peter. Standing on the other side of your apartment door. Sounding the most scared you've ever heard him in his entire life.

You stayed silent.

"Y/N, please-please. I can hear you,"

And you could hear just how much he was pleading. How his voice was shaking with every syllable.

"Please let me in. I can-- I don't know what you've heard yet, but I can explain everything. But I really need you to let me in. You're all I have left and I know-- I know it's selfish, but, Y/N, you're my only hope."

You're breathing became heavier and it held like someone was squeezing your heart in their fist.

You couldn't leave him out there.

But in a quick motion, you reached forward and unlocked the door.

Once the locked clicked, the door opened and Peter stepped in faster than you could register, locking the door again behind him. "Y/N, I'm so sorry--"

You backed away from him. "Give me one reason why I shouldn't make you leave." You demanded, the words sounding more foreign than a different language as they left your mouth.

Peter's expression was heartbreaking. His hair darker and plastered to his face from sweat. His eyes glossed over with tears already threatening to spill. A look of hurt painted over his face like it was a damaged canvas.

"L-look, I know about everything that they're saying about me out there, and-and I know how it sounds. Y/N, I'm not asking you to like me right now or even trust me until you sort things out because I know this is too much so fast. And I'm so, so sorry. But I'm alone and I'm afraid and all I'm asking is could you please just hold my hand? Even if you can only do it for a little bit?"

Your eyes didn't leave Peter.

They couldn't.

You didn't see Spider-Man as you looked at him. You didn't see someone capable of killing someone in cold blood.

All you saw was the boy who held you when times got rough.

The boy who defended you from bullies even if it meant he would be going home with a black eye.

The boy who stayed up with you all hours of the night when you woke up from a bad dream.

The boy who cared about you more than he cared about himself.

The boy who held your hand through it all.

And here he was. In front of you. Asking you to do the same.

After all, you had promised.

Peter Parker wasn't a murderer. That, you were sure of. The odds could be stacked against him twenty times over and you still wouldn't believe it.

But everyone wasn't like you. The world believed it. And the world was after him.

You looked at the boy. Peter wasn't a murderer, but he was broken. Broken over and over so many times, that he's now unable to put himself back together all alone.

You looked at the boy who held your hand all those years, and was asking the simple thing of you: to hold his back.

You looked at Peter, and all you could see was someone who needed you the way you needed him. The boy who has always needed you the way you needed him.

And now more than ever.

You cleared your mind enough to focus on that one thing. If you had learned anything, is that you needed to take the road to recovery one step at a time. And you already know what the first step was. What you had to do.

You take his hand.

A fractured smile twitched on his lips as he held on tight, heavy with the fear that you might let go. But you already made up your mind, despite what you knew you were going to have to do. Knowing that when the time came, you would have to turn your back on the world. To protect Peter. Because he needed you like you needed him.

"I can do more than that."

[kitty-on-the-brink]

Dear world. Dear those who have the power to stop this. Dear people who could make a change but won’t

By the time you get this it will be too late

For days upon end this month fires have raged and burned, yet you say ‘it’s not that bad! The smoke is fine to breathe’, and you continue to heal the promises you made as you dig another oil line.

This week has started for me with a heat wave, sweat dribbling down my legs, and an itchy nose from all the polen. Storms have been raging on the evenings, and as much as I like storms -for they are very calming- I can’t help but think that the storm’s usually come after the summer, not right at the beginning. Or just before, even, in spring. But no, here are the storms and the heat waves in June.

It wasn’t this warm this time last year, or the year before, or the year before that. Or any year I can remember in fact. We had to switch out our winter duvets for the summer ones much sooner this year, and already I don’t want to have a blanket on my bed at all. I hate the sounds of the plug in fans whirring through the night; this country doesn’t come with air-con in the houses, just some fancy schools and offices for rich workers ran by richer people. I bet they have air-con in parliament, where they sit and discuss the rising temperatures, melting ice caps, and never seem to really do anything about it.

Did you know that just stop oil disrupted a flower festival last week? I wouldn’t choose that particular place myself, but it’s admirable work when the government won’t listen any other way, and the news will not report the legal non-disruptive work. And yet my friend, who was writing a book about climate change when we were eleven, still called them the morons. Funny that.

I feel guilty, every time I have a tuna sandwich or get driven down into town when I could have walked. I really shouldn’t. And yet rich people who could speak out and make a difference take half an hour trips on private jets and feel no remorse. It saves them time and convenience. And they eat rare caviar. Big oil and fossil fuel companies that destroy habitats and pump out atmosphere destroying gasses only care about the money they receive and not the impact that what they are doing has. They don’t care that a rare species of bird just went extinct. That a polar bear cub didn’t make it out of its first weeks after I near starved then drowned due to their not being enough ice or food around.

Dear people, while you sit back and watch this happen, just know that you will be dead before this get too bad, and I’ll be left to pick up your mess. I’d not want to go into politics. I want to act or dig up segments of the past and marvel over what happened. But I might just need to take a seat at that table to get things to go right.