#kind of sad all this as katie exits very soon

[bobbie-robron]

Now, close your eyes and imagine us here in two years. (Part 1)

Robert takes Katie to a field, a field where Robert hopes to build a home for them. It is at this time he proposes to Katie and she enthusiastically says yes! Gifs will be posted separately (these two are just a tease).

08-May-2005

[sundimus]

Request for Awp! 23. Whispering “I love you” between kisses. + 34. “I know, love, I know.” / Katie /// Time in the Entity’s realm passes by slowly. Or, rather, it doesn’t seem to pass at all. Everyone here is essentially in limbo, a never-ending hellish purgatory that repeats and repeats and repeats. No one knows how long they’ve been here - years pass without any changes to a person’s physical appearance here. Everyone and everything stays the same, other than the Entity’s need to celebrate the holidays occasionally, and the new survivors and killers who get dragged here as well. Death is not an escape, yet no one ever dies. In Laurie’s opinion, things could be worse.

If anything, things have gotten better since she first entered the fog. Having been here longer than most, she’s grown close to her fellow survivors. Back in Haddonfield she never had as many friends as she does now. She was too introverted and shy - Annie and Linda were the ones who came to her first after all - and she was content with her life as a babysitter who never partied but got good grades. But after the horrifying events of the last Halloween she spent with ignorant innocence, a fire had lit inside of her that refuses to let her die, even in a place where death is the only constant. But no one truly dies here. It’s just a rinse and repeat cycle of violence and dimming - but never diminishing - hope. Seeing new people come to the campfire gives her a bittersweet feeling still. Sadness that they have now met the same fate as her and will never leave, but slight happiness at the small change of pace. It becomes insignificant once everyone gets used to the newcomer and they come yet another rusted cog in the Entity’s machine, but at the moment everyone appreciates the distraction while they can. Plus, a new survivor comes with a new killer, and she finds that the more killers who come the less and less chance she has of facing her brother in a trial. There’s also the less chance that she has to enter a trial herself in general, which is always good in and of itself. She would much rather stay at the campfire with her companions. Even so, she still worries about her friends who do enter a trial. The latest ones who got dragged by the mist had been Quentin, Kate, Claudette, and Jake. She’s not as close with Claudette and Jake as she is with Quentin and Kate, but she hopes that all of them come back to the campfire having survived the trial. That would be the best case scenario, everyone escaping, but it’s a lot more rare than she’d care to admit. Kate had taken a med-kit with her when she left. Laurie hopes that’s enough. “Thinking about Kate again, huh?” She snaps her head up to see Zarina, who smiles back and plops down ungraciously next to her. “Ah, my knees,” she groans. “I gotta stretch more.” “I’m sure you’re fine,” Laurie says, turning her attention back to the campfire. To her left she can see Feng sprawled across the laps of her girlfriends Meg and Nea. She smiles softly as she watches Nea mess with Feng’s hands teasingly as Meg politely talks to them about something. Probably about Claudette. Those two by themselves have had the longest lasting relationship here - though Dwight and Jake’s could easily rival it. She hears Zarina start to hum a familiar tune next to her, and she gives her a side-eyed look that has no bite to it. “Really? Huntress’ lullaby? Out of all the songs you know, you pick that one?” “Hey, she was the last killer I went against! Her song has a habit of getting stuck in your head, you know.” Laurie thinks about all the times she’s caught herself singing the song when she was busy doing a generator or patching someone’s wounds and finds herself reluctantly agreeing. “I know, I know. But Kate’s songs are better.” Zarina nudges her. “Are you sure you aren’t being biased just because you love her?” Laurie tries to ignore the blush creeping on her face. “I’m not! Everyone would agree that she’s the best singer and songwriter here.” “You’re not wrong about that, though Nea would probably disagree with you about the singing part. Kate is also the only professional singer here. Maybe the Entity treated us by giving us a survivor who knows how to sing - and who even brought a guitar along here. Life can get so dreary without music.” Laurie lowers her voice. “Even Nea knows she can’t sing - she only does it to bother us.” Zarina stifles a laugh. “Don’t let her hear you say that. She wouldn’t hesitate to push Feng off of her just to fight someone.” “Feng would probably join her.” “Ah, love,” Zarina sighs. Laurie notices how her eyes glanced at Élodie when saying it, but she doesn’t comment on it. She’s not the type to push herself into other people’s business. Zarina turns back to her and offers another smile, this one reassuring. “Try not to worry about Kate too much, okay? She’ll be back before you know it. And who knows, maybe she’ll want to sing for us after she gets a nap in.” Laurie looks down again, still feeling worry in her chest but she lets out a breath. “Alright. Kate probably wouldn’t want me to be too worried anyway.” “I’m sure she’d appreciate the thought. Though, she’d probably appreciate anything you do, since she likes you. A lot.” “I sure hope she does otherwise this whole “dating” thing we’re doing is going to be very awkward.” Zarina laughs and pats her back, letting the conversation die naturally. The trial should be ending soon. It’s been going on for quite some time, and Laurie’s thoughts wander back to Kate, just like they seem to always do lately. She doesn’t know how or when they got so close. She remembers Kate walking to the campfire the same day that the Clown started showing up, and Kate had been everything back then that she still is today. Kind, outgoing, thoughtful, optimistic... traits that Laurie shares but not to the same extent. Where she is the glimmer of light before night that gives dawn its name, Kate is the entire sun engulfing the sky in all her glory. She gives hope, and hope brings life, and life is everything. Laurie doesn’t know how she manages to stay so positive, but she’s grateful for it. The Entity feeds on hope. Those who fall into despair are never seen again. People like Kate who keep everyone’s spirits up are literal lifesavers more so than pleasant company. Laurie tries not to think about it too much. She scratches the palm of her hand and puts all of her attention into the flames dancing a few feet in front of her. -.x.-.x.-.x.- “ - and then Claudette picked me up off the ground and we both sprinted to the exit. It’s been a while since I’ve felt adrenaline pump through my body like that.” Kate tells her story with a wave of her hand but no exaggeration to her words. She’s in a particularly good mood - common for those who have successfully escaped a trial. Even more so for those who managed to escape being hooked once. She grins slightly and answers a question Laurie didn’t have the chance to ask. “Quentin and Jake didn’t make it. Jake sort of sacrificed himself to save Claudette, and poor Quentin ended up getting yanked off a generator twice.” Twice? “He’s not getting enough sleep again.” “Yeah, but I think it’s because he’s been a bit preoccupied with something. Rumor has it that he has a crush on someone.” Laurie blinks. “Quentin does? With who?” Kate shrugs. “No one knows for sure. That’s what it’s a rumor. Either way, today was an unlucky day for him. I’m just glad he’s resting right now like he deserves.” “I hope he sleeps long enough before his next trial. It’s dangerous to get distracted in the middle of one.” Kate smirks and scoots closer to her. “You mean like the time you blew a gen when I kissed you on the cheek?” Laurie smiles at the memory. The killer had found them, of course, but it was worth it hearing Kate’s loud giggle at what must’ve been a look of shock on her face. “I couldn’t been so mad at you for that, you know.” Kate pokes her cheek. “But you weren’t!” “No. No, I wasn’t.” “Because...” Kate prompts, moving her finger to wrap an arm around her girlfriend’s shoulder instead. Laurie stares at her in turn, not completely taking the bait but not rejecting it either. “Because I’m cute, and you could never be mad at me?” Kate finishes for her, tone smug and sweet at the same time. Laurie almost wants to disagree out of spite, but huffs a laugh instead, choosing to indulge her. “Okay, fine. Because you’re cute.” Kate smiles widely, leaning forward and kissing her as reward. Laurie responds in kind, wrapping her arms around her back to hold her in place. She sighs silently, happily, leaning into the touch. She feels grateful that, despite the constant pain and deaths and hurt she has to endure in this place, she’ll still able to have moments of reprieve like this. Tenderness, and comfort, and affection. Love. As she’s always thought - it could be worse. But it isn’t, and if there’s anything to feel joy about anymore, it’s this. Sitting here by a tent, a bunch of camaraderie and laughter in the background, and kissing her girlfriend, her songbird, without needing to worry about anything else. At least for a little bit. If she had to be honest, she never thought she’d heal enough to love another girl. She had loved Annie with her entire soul, and her death was nothing short of tragic and traumatic - taken by the hands of her brother. She didn’t want to love another person, not when he was still alive: a threat to everyone she cares about. He had taken everything from her, and would do so over and over again until he finally took her life. She didn’t want to potentially subject anyone else to Michael’s wrath. But the Entity’s realm is different. Kate is different. Everything is different. Laurie had grown close to her, and her love had blossomed naturally. Unexpected, surprising, a little scary, but she welcomed it. She had nothing left to lose here, and Michael could never truly take the lives of those she loves anymore, and that gives her a strange sense of peace that she hadn’t felt in years. It was relieving and freeing, and kissing Kate felt like an embodiment of those two emotions she never knew had been suppressed from her. “I love you,” she whispers against her lips like a sad prayer. She kisses her again, mumbling her words even more. “I love you.” Annie would be happy for her. She knows this. She’s breathing it. “I know, love,” Kate responds. Her voice is hushed and serious, her fingers ghosting the back of her neck. “I know.” Laurie melts into the fog.

[miraclesnail]

1000 Ways and I Can Name One

Series summary: A thousand ways to tell the Stoll brothers apart and I can name you one. Travis and Connor centric oneshots featuring characters from PJO/HOO. Chapter 31: Miranda - Smiles

Work Summary: Bold. Brazen. Boisterous. Brash. That’s who Miranda is. She kinda has to be like that when bloodthirsty monsters lurk every corner, haunt her every waking thought, cause her to be somewhat of an okay killer by the age of 9. She also likes to think the monsters are the reason why her dad is scared of her, but she knows better. That part was sorta on her.(A 16k one-shot of how Miranda finds Camp Half Blood based entirely on my own wish fulfillment.)

AO3 Link

FFN Link

My thoughts: ... I realized now... I hate, hate, HATE, HATE editing long works. It’s so tiring. But it’s finished. It’s been almost 5 months but it’s finished :D The entire work is under the ‘keep reading’ but guys, it’s 16k long and Tumblr missed up the formatting. Please let me know what you think though!

Miranda — Words

Miranda’s earliest memory is when she was three and it was of her dad.

Of dad grinning with his genuine, crooked smile and a finger on his lips, shushing her as they wait for Clara to come home and fall for their prank. 

Of dad smiling and helping her spell her name, letter by letter. 

Of dad saying, “it means worthy of admiration,” as he ruffled her hair.

Of dad laughing and pointing at the T.V. as they watch Spongebob together. 

Of dad laughing as their homemade cookies had salt added to it rather than sugar. 

Of dad laughing as they played charade and she tried to imitate what an elephant sounds like. 

Of dad taking the little heart-shaped blocks she made with her powers and hanging them up next to her drawings.

Of dad telling her it’s okay to be a little different, that she’s smart, that she’s unique, that she’s so, so, so, so very talented. 

Of dad hugging her and telling her, “It’s okay. The house is safe. No scary monster will get in while I’m here. Just because you started seeing the monsters when the Gardner’s move into our neighborhood doesn't mean they’re haunted. That’s not a really nice thing to say, especially to our future friends.”

Her earliest memory is of her dad and it’s of him being happy. 

  Then when she was four she met Katie, the girl who moved into their neighborhood last year. Katie is a year older than her, but so much shyer and so easily frightened. 

The playground was where they first talked, Miranda remembered. 

Right by swings where Katie clung to the chains. Two girls were surrounding her, tugging on Katie’s ponytail and mocking her backpack and shoving her by the shoulders. 

Always do the right thing, her dad always says. Don’t ignore bullying . 

So she walked up to the bullies and hit one in the arm and kicked the other in the shin. They both ran away crying, screaming they will tell on her. 

Now that did worry her a bit even as Katie clung to her and proclaimed her undying loyalty and friendship. (Little, red flowers pop up at their feet.)

Will dad be mad? Will she be scolded? Did she do the wrong thing? But dad just laughed and said not to worry. She did the right thing. He’s proud of her. 

He’s proud of her!

“But, maybe, before going to fists, you should try using your words first, yes?” he said with a chuckle, ruffling her hair with a hand.

  When she was five, Mrs. Violet, their next-door neighbor, died. 

‘Mauled by a bear. Body in pieces. Chunks all over the floor. Not a quick death. How scary. How sad.’

The bigger words buzzed over her head as she tried to understand them with her limited vocabulary. She asked her dad to tell her what the words mean, but he just picked her up and held her close, saying not to listen. 

So she listened and didn’t listen anymore. 

“This isn’t your fault,” he whispered and that’s weird. She didn’t think it was her fault either. But does that mean it could be? Should she be thinking about what she did? But dad said it wasn’t so it couldn’t be.

  She was six when her father’s love started to crumble. 

Another neighbor died. This time, no bodies. Just blood splatters on the wall. She’s old enough to understand some of the whispers now. She’s old enough to see the furtive glares the adults sent her way as she and dad stood behind the yellow police tape at Mr. Dingleberry's house.

She held onto her dad’s hands, tugging on it until he looked away from the blaring sirens to her. 

“Is it my fault?” she asked.

Dad bent to his knees to be eye level with her and smiled, but it’s weird. Ingenuine. His eyes don't crinkle the way they always do when he’s really happy.

“It’s not your fault, Randi.” 

His words didn’t sound as strong as it did last year.

  She’s seven when Dad stopped being proud of her. 

Monsters existed. She understood that now. They’re real. She saw them with her own eyes with Katie. One-eyed monsters. Many-toothed monsters. Dog-like monsters. Fire-breathing monsters. Seal-like monsters. 

They’re real. 

And they’re dangerous

Dad said they couldn't come into the house. They’re safe as long as they’re indoors with the lights on and the doors locked. 

And she believed him. 

Well, when Miranda was seven a monster tried to eat her and Katie at a friend’s birthday party. 

It broke inside the house, snapping the door in its hand like it’s nothing. It snapped her friend’s dad’s, Mr. Lotte, neck like it was nothing too. 

His body hit the floor limp with his head at a weird angle. His vacant eyes stared at her. Miranda couldn’t remember much of what she saw after that. Her tears blurred everything to just unrecognizable shapes, unreliable distances, and untruthful reality. 

But she recalled everything she heard with crystal clarity. Char’s high-pitched scream, Mrs. Lotte’s choked inhale, a chair falling, the ground rumbling, a man’s voice — one she doesn’t know — chuckling, “Yeah, they’re demigods alright.”

Mrs. Lotte ushered Katie and Char to her, stepping between them and the monster. She’s holding a kitchen knife. She’s pressing a phone into her hands. She’s talking to them — her — “Miranda, you’re the only one calm enough. Call 911. Take Katie and Char with you. And run . I’ll be right behind you.”

Run. I’ll be right behind you.

Miranda thinks this was probably the last time she trusted an adult.

But Miranda did run, dialing 911 and taking Char’s hand in hers as Katie ran beside her. Char resisted, clawing and digging her nails into her wrist. 

“We can’t leave my mommy and daddy! Let me go. Let me go right now!” 

“She’ll be right behind us,” Miranda remembered saying as she stared straight ahead, desperately looking for the exit, with the phone pressed to her ear. 

‘She’ll be right behind us.’ 

You didn’t even check to see if Mrs. Lotte was following us. 

Right when Miranda spotted the backdoor,  Char jabbed her elbow into her stomach. 

“Stop fighting!” Miranda yelled, struggling harder to hold onto Char, to hold onto the phone still connecting to the emergency services, and to open the backdoor with her elbow. 

It opened easily enough. But that was because she didn't open it. 

A monster did. 

Katie screamed for her to get back a second too late as the monster grabbed her by the wrist holding the phone. Miranda pushed Char away, scrambling to grab anything to hit the monster with. A table. A lamp. Katie’s outreached hand. But the monster lifted her into the air, squeezing and squeezing and squeezing until Miranda felt something snapped. 

The rumbling beneath her became unignorable, shaking harder and harder. Deep below, she heard just the barest of pipes breaking. The framed photos on the wall fell and shattered. The polished hardwood creaked and splintered.

Katie cried for her to be let go as she hit the monster’s legs with her tiny fists. The rumbling grew louder and louder. The hand lets go of her and Miranda dropped into a puddle of sewer water. 

The monster — later she would know was a cyclops — struggled in a binding of wood, screeching and spewing words of hate as the wood constricted all together and crushed its organs. Katie gasping is what made Miranda looked up. Katie was … horrified, stepping back and shaking her head in disbelief. She’s mumbling apologies, trembling all over. 

Looking back, she wasted those few seconds staring at Katie. It could have been used better. She could have done better.

Char ran back to her mother as soon as she was free. 

Miranda didn’t hear a scream. Maybe Char died quickly then. 

“What… what is this?”

Miranda’s head shot towards the voice. The first monster, the one that snapped Mr. Lotte’s neck, stood by the doorway with a knife stained in blood. 

She can see the growing fury in that single eye as it stomped towards them, screeching, “ What did you do?!”

Katie squealed, backpedaling and raising a hand. “G-Go away!”

The same wood sprouted from the ground and wrapped around the monster’s chest, neck, arms, and legs. 

Miranda waited. For the same thing to happen. For the monster to meet the same fate as it’s brethren. For the wood to tighten and crush the monster. But that didn’t happen.

Miranda glanced at Katie, who’s hesitating, who’s hand is quivering, who’s pleading for the monster to stop fighting and give up, who’s crying, who’s begging even harder for the monster to not make her kill him too, who’s face hardened in resignation at what must be done.

She remembered thinking… she hated seeing that face on that normally kind face. 

The tears dried as Miranda walked to the monster, ignored Katie’s cry for her to step back, touched the wood, hesitated for a second, — but remembering Katie’s stricken face made the decision easy — closed her eyes, and focused. 

Her dad and Katie’s came to pick them up five minutes after the deed was done.

The police came fifteen minutes later. 

Miranda stared at the house speared through the middle by a pine tree and at the monster (“A serial killer,” a passing policeman said) she speared through the chest carried out in a bag. 

She didn’t want to ask but asked anyway, “Is this my fault?” Could I have done more? Could I have saved them?

Her dad didn’t answer.

He just watched the bodies of her friend’s parents be carried outside in the bags. 

Miranda wanted to ask again, but when her dad started weeping she didn’t. 

Maybe if she hadn’t cried… maybe if she hadn’t listened to Mrs. Lotte… maybe if she had just fought first… 

Then Katie wouldn't have feared her powers and a family wouldn’t be gone.

  She’s eight when her father stops smiling at her.

Ever since that day, they saw a lot more monsters. Katie still couldn’t control her powers all too well, frequently popping up pine trees while she slept. But Miranda didn’t mind. She could practice her powers a lot more freely now, no longer bound by the small blocks her father would buy for her. No, the trees Katie made were humongous and full of wood she could manipulate once she scraped away the bark. 

Into a sword. Into a spear. Into a hook. Into a bat. Into a shield. Into a bracelet. Into a cuff-style bracelet. Into a spiral-style bracelet. Into a Wonder Woman-style bracelet. Ohhh! She likes that. 

Katie watched her do it all with a pout, legs swinging from the bench Miranda made. “I want your control, Randi.” 

Miranda smiled and leaned against Katie’s arm, fingers tapping on the book in her lap. “I can’t do any of this without you. You can grow anything. My powers only work if I have wood.”

“What’s the point of power if you don’t have control?” Katie scowled. 

“And what’s the point of control without power?” Miranda shrugged. “Even with all the control in the world, what does it matter if I can’t — he’s coming.”

Miranda flattened the bench into a board, muttering a quick sorry when Katie squeaked, before the backdoor slammed open. Katie caught on though and grass grew over the board, effectively hiding their activities for the past hour. 

Miranda steeled her heart as she watched her dad run to them. Come on, Randi. You've done this a dozen times now. 

She condensed the wood she was toying with earlier into the smallest size she could and shoved it inside her pocket. 

“Miranda, what were you doing?” dad said, eyes narrowed in suspicion. 

And with practiced ease, Miranda smiled and held the plant encyclopedia up. “Trying to find flowers again. Why?”

And just like the dozen of times she done this, it didn't fool her dad. “Don’t lie to me. You were using your powers again, weren’t you? How many times do I have to tell you? Don’t play with your powers!” dad scolded, scowling. 

Miranda stomped down the shame and raised her chin. “ We weren’t using our powers.” Technically not a lie. Katie wasn’t.

Dad stared at her for a second more, sighing and ruffling her hair. “Look, Miranda, I need you to understand it’s dangerous to use them so freely. Stop it already.” 

Miranda watched him head back to the house, making sure he’s inside before pulling the wood out and practicing the speed at which she can change the bracelet into a spear. 

  She’s nine when her father stops looking her in the eye.

The monsters were becoming bolder and bolder. Before a single pebble slingshotted inches from the monster’s neck was enough to scare them off. But now it took snaring them in bear traps and pitfalls to make them go away.

Another thing she learned was that some monsters could teleport. (Which, if you ask her, is highly, highly unfair. She wanted teleportation powers too.)

Did it worry her? Yeah, a little bit. But she couldn't let Katie know that. 

Miranda had a theory about the monsters and why they started showing up the day Katie moved into their neighborhood. Katie’s powers were probably acting like a blow horn, drawing every monster to her. 

But was she ever going to tell Katie this unproven theory of hers? No. Never. Katie wasn’t doing this on purpose and besides who knows what the guilt would make Katie’s already unstable powers do?

So her solution for now was just to covertly train Katie how to control her powers. 

But she should have realized, if the monsters were drawn to Katie’s powers, then there’s no reason for them not to be drawn to hers too if she flexed them enough.  

Like now. 

As they’re eating dinner. 

A dog, the size of a school bus, burst through the kitchen window and took part of the wall with it. 

Glass shards scattered all over the floor. The dog (no, too big to be a dog. Wolf? No, wolves don’t break into homes like this) shook the glass off its coat, unscathed. 

It stared at her and she at it.

Something buzzed in her blood. Maybe fear. Maybe confidence. Maybe the gummy bear she found wedged in the couch and still ate like a dummy. Whatever it is, she didn’t hesitate turning the wood bracelet encasing her wrist into a spear. 

It’s hard not to think back to two years ago. To the parents who fought the monsters in her place and died for it. To three years, four years ago, those neighbors that died because of them. Not this time. This time she’ll take the monster down before anyone could die. 

She took a step towards the monster, but her father snapped at her to run away.

“I’ll handle this,” he growled, pulling the shotgun hanging on the wall down.  

Miranda didn’t argue, but she didn’t run away either. 

She desperately wanted to believe her dad got this. She desperately wanted to believe her dad will be okay. She desperately wanted to believe her all-knowing dad will be right again. But — torn to pieces, someone was screaming, not a quick death, I’ll be right behind you , all her fault — adults were liars. Adults weren’t reliable.

But he's your dad. Don’t you trust him? 

“Miranda, get out of here now!” 

Dad fired the gun. The monster leaped forward, high into the air. A single paw knocked the gun right out of his hands and onto the ground. One stomp of the same paw and the gun was in pieces. 

It felt too cliche to say her heart froze. More like it fell in realization. Adults really couldn’t be trusted. 

“Dad,” she said, inching forward as tears started to well but she rubbed the heel of her hands into the sockets. Don’t cry. Don’t ever cry again. 

“Miranda, stay back!” 

Only she can do something. 

“Call 911.”

Do something, Miranda. 

“Run!”

If you don’t… if you don’t, do something

“Hide!”

Then your dad is going to die. 

And that will be your fault. 

“Miranda, listen to me and run!”

Come on. 

Her eyes cleared. 

Do something. 

The tears dried. 

Do something. 

She could see everything clearly. The monster leering over her dad. The open maw, seconds away from snapping over her dad’s head. The gleam of its teeth. The size of the monster. The red of its eyes, bright and gleaming. 

Focus.  

Aim. 

Breathe.

Throw.

It pierced true through the eye. 

The monster’s shrieked, a sound she’ll never forget. It made her hesitate, but then she remembered the scream of a father crushed to death, a mother’s scream of rage as she gave up her life to protect them, her friend’s scream of grief over her parents, and Katie’s scream of terror, of concern when that monster broke her tiny wrist all those years ago. 

There was no sympathy as she shifted the bracelet on her other wrist into a spear and threw again, piercing through the open maw to the back of the throat. The monster screeched and thrashed, disappearing back out into the night from the hole it made.

Miranda stared out into the darkness (it teleported… so unfair.) before turning to her dad, happy that he’s okay, happy that the monster is gone, happy that no one got hurt, happy that she’s strong enough to fight off the monsters. 

But the way dad looked at her, scrambling back rather than embracing her, face’s frightened rather than relieved. 

She thinks this is the moment that the slow crumbling became a fast disintegration. 

  She’s ten when her dad stopped caring.

He stopped asking her to not use her power, giving her free reign to do whatever she wants. 

Miranda handled most of the monsters that come their way now with Katie by her side to grow more trees. 

Some of the monsters have really tough skin. Some of them have powers like her. All of them are really smart. The few minutes the monsters had before she killed them were spent cursing her in the English and Greek language. Really creative stuff, if you asked her. 

The monsters were clearly smart enough to talk and know what their mistakes were. Unfortunately, they’re not smart enough to take her seriously. She wondered if she would be dead by now if the monsters stopped seeing a little girl. 

“Miranda, you need to stop with the monster hunting,” Auntie Ceres begged of her, wiping the blood — not her blood, never her blood — from her cheeks with a hand towel. “What happens if you get hurt?”

“I’m way too strong for that,” Miranda said with a victory sign and a bright smile, “But on the off chance I do get hurt, as long as you and dad and Katie don’t, then I’m fine with that.” 

It always made Ceres cry whenever she said that. 

“Brian, make her stop! She’s your daughter for Pete’s sake!”  Ceres would turn to her dad and Miranda wanted to tell Auntie that dad won’t do anything, haven’t done anything for months now. But she lets Auntie say it in the end, wondering if this time it would be different. 

As always, dad just looked away. 

  She’s eleven when her dad gave up.

“I don’t want to stay with Clara for the weekend,” she begged, voice high-pitched but no tears leaking. The tears never came since that day when she was 9. “Please don’t make me.”

But her dad just simply packed her belongings to go to her ex-stepmom without ever looking at her. 

“I have joint custody, Miranda. There’s nothing I can do.” 

“You didn’t even fight in the courts!” she wailed, for the first time in a long time feeling despair, “You just give her whatever she wants! She doesn’t care about me! All she cares about is the child support you’ll give her. We both know she’ll abuse it. Please, dad. Don’t make me go.”

And again, again, again, again, just like he has been doing for months now , dad just turned his back on her. 

  Then when she was twelve, she ran away. 

The day when Katie was supposed to come back from camp whatchamacallit, she got out of Clara’s home and took the bus to the Gardner’s house. 

She can’t wait for Katie to tell her everything about the camp! The lava wall, the pegasi, the crafting building. Oh god the crafting building! 

She saw the car sitting in the driveway and the excitement increased tenfold. Katie was back! Grinning with evil thoughts, Miranda climbed up the tree that’s beside Katie’s window. She shimmied the always unlocked window open and rolled inside, intending to scare her friend. But Katie isn’t in her room. Maybe she’s downstairs still. 

With care, Miranda tiptoed her way down, still intent on scaring Katie but the only voices she heard were Mr. Gardner, soon to be her step-dad, and her dad’s but no Katie’s. 

Is she not back yet?

Miranda thrummed with excitement. She could go with them to pick Katie up then! 

With just as quiet footsteps, she went to where her dad is talking with Mr. Gardner. If she couldn't scare Katie, then she would just scare dad and his fiance. 

But her dad’s voice, more labored than she had ever heard before, spoke.

“I don’t know what to do. Every second I’m with Miranda, I feel like I’m going crazy. ”

She froze in the shadow, socks peeking just centimeters from the doorway. 

He’s probably talking about another Miranda, she reasoned. There’s lots of people with her name. 

“She’s battle-crazy. She has unnatural strength. She doesn’t show sympathy for what she does whenever she kills those animals. She doesn’t even cry! What child doesn’t cry?”

A coworker. He got to be talking about a coworker. Not her. It can’t be about her. 

He can’t be talking about her. 

Dad knows why she doesn’t cry. Dad knows she can cry.

She just can’t cry as much as she wanted, because crying blurred her vision. She can’t see what’s coming if there’s tears in her eyes. She can’t defend Katie if there’s tears in her eyes. She can’t protect anyone if there’s tears in her eyes. 

Dad knows this. 

… Right? 

She told him, didn’t she? 

“It’s like she’s a sociopath! If I didn’t know the Greek Gods existed, I would have thought the devil possessed my little girl. Wait, if Greek Gods are real then the Christian God must be real too right? Oh lord, what if a devil is possessing Miranda?”

Sociopath.

Devil.

“Maybe you can send her to camp with Katie? They’re bound to have experience with this.”

Mr. Gardner didn’t defend her. Does he think she’s a devil too? A monster? Does Katie think so too? Does Ceres? 

“I’m thinking about that. But Jesus Christ, she doesn’t want to leave my side ever. She made such a big fuss even when she had to go to Ceres’s.”

But she had a reason. That was before Katie left to rein her powers in, back when the monsters would come everyday. Katie can’t fight. Katie can’t protect Mr. Gardner and her dad. And Katie doesn’t know the monsters are drawn to them because her powers flickered uncontrollably. 

She had a reason. 

“You already said the camp was understaffed and underpaid. I can’t give someone like Miranda to them.”

Someone like her… 

She wondered if this is how it feels to drown. 

“She scares me. I’m scared of my own daughter.”

She wondered if the shattering she hears is her heart breaking. 

Even still, her eyes remained dry. 

Maybe her dad is right. Maybe she is a monster.

Miranda took a breath — it’s shaky. Come on, Miranda. Keep it together —  and stepped around the corner, coughing once as she stared at her socked feet, not daring to look up at their faces. She heard two gasps. Dad’s voice is frantic as he said, “Miranda! W-what are you doing here? You’re supposed to be at your mother’s!”

She doesn’t bother to answer. 

“If I change, will you love me again?” she asked. 

“Wh-what? Miranda, sweetheart, look. Whatever you heard was, um. It wasn’t about you. It was my co-worker at… at… uh… my… volunte — look, this wasn’t about you!”

“If I change, will you love me again?” she asks again, throat clogging but the tears that dad so adamantly thinks makes her human refuse to come. 

“Miranda, I— you— of course, I love you. How about we just talk about what you heard just now and —”

They’re not answering her, but she’s smart enough, observant enough, seen enough over the years to know that was a lie. 

It all started that night she killed the hellhound. 

She scares me.

She squeezed her eyes shut, willed the tears to come, but nothing.

Sociopath, devil.

Her father’s face, scared and terrified, — of her — kept popping up. 

Someone like her.

Miranda turned around and ran. Voices yelled after her but she didn't listen. Didn’t stop. Didn’t look back. And just ran.

  She’s twelve when she runs away from home. 

And she’s twelve plus a couple weeks older when she meets Lee. 

  Miranda (12) - Travis (13) - Connor (12) 

April

Pre The Sea of Monsters

“So.”

“So.”

“This is it?”

“This is it.”

Miranda stares at the old overarching sign, rickety and swaying in the wind, possibly seconds from toppling over. 

Camp Half Blood. 

She doesn’t know what she expected, but underpaid and underfunded definitely seems to fit the bill. Even so… 

“Just so you know if anything sounds sketchy or cult-like, I’m out of here,” she warns. 

But Lee just gives a blinding smile and says, “You’ll love the place. Come on, I’ll show you around.” 

Miranda walks up the hill after Lee, up to where that humongous pine tree is. He’s still talking in that peppy tone of his, relaxed and unguarded. It sounds genuine nut she’s careful to keep him in her sight at all times. Maybe three-fourths of the way up, she hears screaming and she thinks the worse — torture camp, slave camp, Aeron, army, battalion, crazy cult people.

It makes her stop and shifts her bracelet into a sword, backing away. 

But then another person screams and after a second listen, she realizes they don’t sound fearful. If anything they sound — 

“I got it! I got it! I GOT IT! Ack!”

“Travis, you idiot! I’m over here!”

“AH! Lee, look out! The volleyball—”

A volleyball is hurtling towards them at remarkable speed, towards Blondie who has his back turned, towards Blondie who’s facing her because she had to pull her sword out. He’s not going to turn around in time to dodge. So Miranda takes a running leap and whacks the ball back to the volleyball court at the base of the hill. 

It, unfortunately, hits a boy right on the face and now there is new, different, not as benevolent screaming as the boy hunches over with others gathering around him.

Miranda winces as she drops back to her two feet, shifting the sword back into a bracelet behind her back.

Whoops. 

  “No. She didn’t. She couldn’t have.”

“Yes! She did!”

Miranda laughs — it feels so strange to laugh genuinely — and leans back on the infirmary chair. “Katie really did that?” 

“Yeah, except she just barely grazed my shoulder with her suitcase,” the boy, (“I’m Travis,” he had introduced with a crooked grin as he bleeds on the volleyball courts), says with his head high. His identical twin, Connor, (“they’re not twins FYI,” Malcolms says) readjusts the bag of ice cubes over his brother’s nose. 

Connor thwacks Travis’s on the forehead with a newspaper. “I didn’t need you to protect me then. I could have taken that suitcase.”

“Everytime someone new comes in, we get hurt,” Travis continues to say, “This is all too big of a coincidence. First, Will with his ear-piercing whistle that nearly made me deaf. Then Katie with her suitcase. Malcolm and his backpack. And now Miranda with a volleyball. Maybe we’re bad luck. This never happens when Luke was the uh… This never happens with anyone else,” Travis stammers towards the end, eyes darting to her and Malcolm then to Connor. Miranda piques at that. Luke? Luke sounds familiar. 

Connor snorts, but eyes fond. “You’re the bad luck. I haven’t gotten hurt yet.” 

“Maybe it is a curse,” Malcolm, a small guy with round glasses sitting next to her, says. He pushes his glasses up to the bridge of his nose. “We should have Chiron check it out.”

A curse. 

Maybe Chiron can check her out and see if there’s any curses on her too. 

Connor readjusts the ice pack and Travis squeaks, pushing Connor’s hand away to hold the pack himself. 

Guilt coils in Miranda’s stomach when Travis grumbles lowly, you’re pressing too hard . 

“I really am sorry,” she apologizes again for maybe the fiftieth time 

“It’s fine,” Travis says with a thumbs up.

“It was an accident,” Connor follows. 

“Still…” Miranda mumbles, tinkling with her bracelet.

Travis’s eyes crinkle the way her dad’s used to back when he smiled all the time at her. “Don’t worry. Don’t worry. I had worse.”

“It’s true,” Connor says with the same smile Travis has, though the worry on his face seems to say something different. Or maybe that’s just how Connor looks 24/7. A perpetually worried brother. Kinda like Katie. She misses Katie. “Annabeth broke his arm once during judo practice.” 

“That definitely hurt a lot more than a broken nose. On the plus side Annabeth felt so guilty, she did all my chores for me for a full month. So chin up. You’re not the worst thing to ever happen.” Travis laughs. 

Miranda’s heart aches. Not the worst thing to them maybe. But to her dad…  

It must have shown on her face because Travis says softly, “Hey. Seriously. This is nothing.”

She nods but makes a mental note to herself. Get a better poker face.

The door to the infirmary opens and a new boy, no older than 12 at most, comes racing in. He looks like Lee’s little brother with his blond hair and blue eyes and sun-kissed skin.  

“I found the hymn for bloody noses! Travis, hold still.”

“NO! Wait, wait, wait, Will. I don’t want to—”

Will didn’t listen, going ahead to move the ice bag into Connor’s waiting hands. Placing his hands on the bridge of Travis’s nose, Will closes his eyes and chants. 

Miranda watches, mesmerized, at the way Will’s hands glow a soft gold, the way no one is bothered or excited at this display of power, and the way Will so very calmly just let his power be known in front of a complete stranger. (But you kinda did the same in that cult and lo and behold, look what happened.)

Travis squeals and pushes Will’s hand away, but it seems Will’s trick done its job. The nose is no longer bleeding, though Travis doesn’t seem any better with the tears pricking his eyes.

“That stung!”

Will’s face droops and Miranda swears that expression rivals that of a sad puppy. “Oh. I'm sorry. Maybe I mispronounced a word ...”

“Will, I’m done being your test subject,” Travis whines, wincing and rubbing his nose, “If you’re going to practice your powers, do it on Lee or Karen. They’ll both be happy to help.” 

Will offers an apologetic shrug. “They don’t get hurt nearly enough for me to practice. You, on the other hand, get hurt every other day. Plus, you’re right here and Karen is in California.”

“The curse,” Malcolm mutters under his breath. 

Travis pouts, turning to his brother and nudging him in the ribs. “Defend me, Connor.”

And in a show of utmost support, Connor smirks and slings an arm over Will’s shoulder. “Hey, if it heals you then I’m not complaining. Oh, I know! Think of it as an incentive to stop getting hurt.”

“It’s not like I’m doing it on purpose! Quick, someone Iris-Message Annabeth and have her defend me.”

Connor tosses the ice bag into the restroom on the other side of the room with pinpoint accuracy, the bag landing in the sink. He checks Travis’s nose before clasping his hands together and smiling. “Now that Travis is all good, it’s time for the tour. Welcome to Camp Half Blood, Miranda! Or as what I like to call it around these parts, the Gods’ dumping grounds. And you, Miranda Gardiner, are a demigod.”

  Travis and Connor lead her around the camp and give her a tour.   

The amazing lava-sprouting rock wall she read about months ago. She’s part god. The cool pegasi and their stalls. She’s a god’s child. The magical, food-popping pavilion. A child that was dumped on her father’s doorsteps . The infirmary. A cursed child. The cabins. Her real mother abandoned her. Cabin 11 which she will be staying in. Nobody loves her. Her new bed. She misses Katie. Her nightstand. She misses her dad. Her chest box. 

What’s the point of life with her dad hating her?

“Miranda!” 

“Yes?!” she exclaims, just stopping herself in time from colliding her head with (Travis, Connor?).

One of the brothers is staring at her with worry. The other is also staring at her with worry. She wishes her dad would stare at her like that too. 

She forces the smile and asks again, “Yes?”

“You’re doing okay?” one asks. 

And Miranda flashes a grin. “Never better. So what’s next?”

The one who asks her frowns a little but breaks eye contact with her to nod his head at the bed. “This will be your bed. Our policy for beds is first come, first serve.”

“Before, the policy was ‘oldest and wisest get the bed’” the other brother snorts, “We would have to sleep on the floor whenever the summer people came. It was so unfair. Anyway this bed is yours. And this chest box is yours too. It has a lock.” 

“But the lock doesn’t really work,” says the other with a shrug. “Don’t keep anything valuable in there.” 

“No problem,” Miranda says as she slinks on top of the bare mattress, sighing as she sinks into the springs. This is a thousand times better than the hard benches of New York City. “I don’t have anything valuable with me.” 

“You don’t have anything?” her counselor asks with a frown.

“Nope!” she answers, looking at the bed frame above hers. She wonders if it’s made of wood. She wonders if she can manipulate this.

“Not even a backpack?” says the other.

“Nah-dah. When I ran away, I took nothing. I just hitched onto a train and rode it wherever it took me.” 

Travis and Connor share a look before they go to the cabin’s closet and take out a couple clothes and a comforter, holding it out for her. She stares at the offering between them and up at their honest faces. 

It’s just like Lee said, huh?

Free food. Free clothes. Free bed. And all she has to do is just go to the classes Chiron holds and do a few chores. It sounds too good to be true. 

It is too good to be true. 

She guesses it’s time to put a stop to this grand fairy tale before she gets too attached. 

“What’s the catch?” she says, smiling and standing back up. 

“The what?” 

“The catch. The price. What do you want from me?” she bites out, a hand sliding to hold a bracelet with the tips of her fingers. 

“We don’t want anything from—”

“I know what’s going on,” she says. “You’re fighting against somebody, right? And in return for all these commodities, you want me to fight them for you. Well, I’m telling you right off the bat I don’t want to fight. Nah-dah. Zilch. Will not do. Do not pass go. Do not collect 200. So if you want to kick me out, go ahead.”

“Oh that.” Like this is a joking manner, they both kind of chuckle. “We only want willing people to fight. It’s bad for morale to force people to fight. And we have Annabeth and Clarisse. Combined they’re like an army.”

“So don’t worry about the fighting! It should be over before you even knew it.”

Miranda’s eyes narrow, but she doesn’t sense any ill will from them. The brothers offer the bedding and clothes again and she takes them into her own hands.

“Okay, I’ll hold you to it,” she says, not really believing them. 

They’re going to lie to her just like dad and Mia did.

  After selecting a couple towels and socks and tucking them into the chest box, Travis and Connor introduce her to the other residents. 

Malcolm, a taciturn bookworm who is giving off major ‘I am a genius at everything’ vibe.

Clarisse, totally a future gym buddy once Miranda breaks past her grumpy exterior. 

Will, camp’s rising healer with the biggest heart and possibly the sweetest personality who doesn’t take shit from anybody and oh my god why is he a yearrounder? What parent could turn this child away?

Silena, a nice, sweet girl who she will undoubtedly become friends with because of the connection this girl has with the pegasi stalls but there’s something about her… something wrong about her…  

Beckendorf, a kind, genius mechanic that seems to have some kind of feud going on with the Stolls if the glare is anything to judge by.

Lee, an instrument enthusiast.

Chiron, the otherworldly supervisor.

And Mr. D. An actual god.

He doesn’t seem like a god, but what does she know? 

  The daily routine is like this: wake up at 6, eat breakfast at 7, school lessons at 8, recess at 10, lessons again at 11, lunch at 12, then training at 2. 

She’s fine with archery. She’s fine with hitting dummies. She’s fine with even just running mindlessly for an hour. What she won’t do is fight against a person. 

She refuses to. 

Fighting a living being… having to anticipate movements… having to make active decisions… there’s no guarantee she won’t use her powers out of reflex. She knows she has great control but in the heat of battle, her reflexes, her instincts, her want to win the competition, Miranda scares she’ll reveal her powers by mistake. 

And besides, it’s her powers that made dad scared of her, it’s her powers that drew that freaky cult to her. It’s her powers that ruined every good thing she has in life. She can’t let it ruin this too. 

Chiron obliged, stating that he will respect her wishes and nearly everyone is okay with her decisions except for Clarisse. But Clarisse always picks a fight with everybody so Miranda doesn’t let it bother her. Travis says not to let it get to her. Someone dear to Clarisse left and the daughter of Ares has never been great at coping.

  With the comfort that her needs will be met and a lessen need to stay vigilant, it seems like the nightmares come back with a vengeance.

Of dad tossing her outside, face cold and empty as he orders her to leave and never come back. Of dad laughing in her face as she begs for him to take her back ( “I’ll change! I promise, I’ll change!”)

Of Katie turning her back on her. Of Katie looking at her with disgust. Of Katie looking at her with fear. Of Katie wrapping her in her vines and choking the life out of her, face giddily with relief as —

Good thing she always wakes up before it goes too far. 

Miranda wakes up and lays there in the soft warmth and cushion of her new bed, listening to the crickets and the tic tic of the clock and someone’s soft snoring and someone’s restless turning and tossing. 

Guess she isn’t the only one having a bad dream. 

Miranda turns to the side to find either Travis or Connor, one of them, whimpers and whines in the dark. Just as she wonders about waking him up, they did it by themselves. 

She listens to his ragged gasps, watches him move his blanket away and climbs the stairs, listens to him asking his brother if he could sleep in his bed, and hears a body shuffling to the side to make room. 

She smiles bitterly into her pillow. Dad used to let her snuggle in bed with him after a nightmare too despite Clara’s protest she’s getting too old for that. 

It all stopped though the day Char’s parents died. 

  She’s never alone. There’s always someone with her. Mostly Travis and Connor, but sometimes they’re busy and Will would be her companion for an hour or two. 

She doesn’t mind. Will can be surprisingly fun to listen to as he talks about the hymnals and his aspirations and what he’s working on learning today. It’s just that there are only so many things to do at Camp and without fail, consistently actually, the brothers leave her at Will’s hands at 4 pm. 

She tries not to let it bother her, especially since she declared she wants nothing to do with the fights, but, man… she really needs to get a better poker face because the 7th time the brothers pass her on to Will, Will says, “Do you want to see what they’re doing?” 

She scrutinizes his honest, good-natured face, finds no lies, and nods. 

Will leads her to the forest, signaling for her to hide behind a tree and to be silent. 

“They’re training,” Will whispers as they crouch behind the tree.

Miranda watches the brothers fall into a fighting stance in a clearing that seems well-used if the wide patch of dirt is anything to go by. They fight first with a sword, then a sword and a shield, then a knife, a spear, nunchucks, bare-handed. 

She still can’t tell them apart yet without help but there’s always one clear winner judging by the dirt stains. 

“Good match. Good match. But Travis I think you’re still having trouble actually striking, you know, the only way you can win for sure. Running and dodging only prolongs the battle,” Connor says as with a knee grinding between Travis’s shoulder blades and arms pulled back by the wrist. 

Travis huffs with his cheek pressed to the dirt, trying to throw Connor off and failing. “I’m trying .”

“You always hesitate,” Connor lectures, “The enemy won’t hesitate.”

“I know . I’m not stupid ,” Travis whines, hips buckling but Connor remains unphased as ever. “It’s just… just…arghhh, get off! I get it. You won again.”

“Just what?” Connor asks, getting off Travis and helping him stand. 

Travis stands with a red face, patting his dirt-stained camp shirt. “It’s just…you know what happened with Mrs. Elliot that one time. I’m scared of going too far again. One time was enough. One time was way too much. I can never look at milk again without being reminded of that incident.”

“Oh.” Connor frowns, rolling his shoulders. “Do you want me to stop eating cereal then?”

The way Travis smirks… crooked and mischievous and so obviously done to move the subject forward… Dad used to do that all the time back when she doubted the righteousness of her powers. “Nah. I know how much you love your cereal. You’ll probably go through withdrawal without your daily gallon of milk and honey nut cheerios.”

Connor pouts and nudges Travis in the arm. “You should talk. You eat your weight in strawberries every morning, you ass.” 

Their conversation devolves into ribs and jabs at each other's diets. It sounds like they both need a nutritionist to set their diet straight. Watching them bickers though… it makes her yearn for her dad again and she can’t be having that. 

“Come on, Will,” she says, backstepping. “Let’s go.”

Just before she turns around she sees Connor’s face softening, voice becoming far more gentler. “Don’t worry about going too far. Let me do all the fighting and you just watch my back.” 

  On day 14, the conversation finally happened. She’s surprised it took this long. 

They’re all children of gods. They all should have some kind of skill. Travis and Connor pick up on languages really quickly. Malcolm is a master crafter. Clarisse has a solid grip on all weaponry. Will is obvious with his penchant for healing. And Katie, Katie with her remarkable power, Katie with her flashy power, Katie, a sure sign she’s a daughter of Demeter. (Does this mean her mom is Demeter too? Since she can control wood?)

“What about you? What’s your power?” One of the brothers asks, “Please tell me you aren’t like Katie and can make freaky deeky trees grow.”

Miranda grasps her bracelet in a hand and smiles. “Me? I don’t have any powers.”

The one who asked her frowns, like he doesn't believe her, like he thinks she’s lying, but that's nothing new in her life. 

“Not even passive ones?” the other asks, “I don’t have a lot of active powers like Travis but we share the passive ones.”

Miranda frowns. “Passive? Active?”

He goes on to explain, “Passive as in it’s on all the time and doesn’t take energy. Like I can understand most languages. Percy can talk with horses. Malcolm can do any kind of craft. I guess active powers would be like what Katie and Will have.”

Miranda stares at her socked feet for a few seconds, debating what to say. They’re like her and Katie. They shouldn’t mind. right? But Aeron and Mia were like her and look what happened to them. 

“No,” she says, fiddling with her bracelet. “I don’t have any active powers.”

  Life’s a goddamn joke for allowing this to happen exactly one hour after that conversation about powers. 

She doesn’t quite understand what is going on with the barrier. All she knows is that the massive pine tree is dying and that is somehow correlated with the monsters getting through. 

Beckendorf, Connor, Travis, and Clarisse normally handle it. Usually, in tag teams too. It’s amazing to watch them fight and take down the monsters. The way they don’t even talk and somehow work in cohesion reveals the years they been working together. It’s so cool. 

And so very infuriating to have to sit back and do nothing. It makes her hands itch in a way it never has before. Those four are strong and Miranda has no reason to worry. But she has been the main protector of her neighborhood for years. See a monster, kill the monster. It’s a conditioned response. And one that’s proving a hard habit to kick apparently. 

She jinxes herself though because now there’s a shadow dog (“hellhound!” Will shrieks) standing before them on the volleyball field. They’re pack animals at some point in their life apparently as Miranda stares at the hellhound in front of her. Camp’s main fighters are each dealing with their own shadow dogs. Clarisse is taking on three and it seems she’s struggling. 

Don’t worry about Clarisse right now , Miranda thinks. Worry about Will and Silena first.

The three of them are by the Big House, their game of volleyball long forgotten as Miranda watches the hellhound break into a sprint towards them.

Miranda doesn’t sit in on their training session, instead spending the time climbing the rock wall but she thought this camp trains them how to fight. If Chiron is that good at teaching math and science, he must be great at teaching monster-killing techniques too, right?

But the way her two companions stare at the coming hellhound with wide eyes, the way they’re frozen in terror, the way they don’t even budge when Miranda yells for them to fucking move , it’s obvious the camp has a poor training regiment. Or maybe Will and Silena are new like her. Or maybe they’re slack off when it comes to the training sessions (the former seems more likely. Will is a crazy hard worker. She can’t imagine him skipping anything. )

Either way, the hellhound was coming towards them and Will is frozen, Silena too, and she couldn’t just not do anything. As easy as breathing, as easy as thinking, Miranda transforms her bracelet into a wooden spear. She pulls Will back from the snapping teeth and jabs the point into the eye, twisting and grinding it down into the socket.

The hellhound howls and backs away, remaining red eye glaring at her with an intelligence no wild animal has. It bares her teeth at her, some painted red with blood dripping from its destroyed eye. This one is a lot smaller than the ones she normally deals with. Maybe it’s an adolescent? 

It snarls, blood dripping in rivulets now.

Miranda squeezes her spear. 

This is it. This was the moment her father thought of her as a monster. If she continues this, the other will think she’s one too. 

But then if she hadn’t acted back then, her father would be dead. If she doesn't act now, Will will be dead. 

She’s hesitating too much. The demon snarls again and lunges towards her and Will. 

Years of fighting monsters help her evade the snapping maws, pushing Will off to the side. A claw just barely scratches her forearm though, but it itches and burns like it has been dunked in burning oil. 

“M-Miranda!” Will cries.

Hey, come on, Miranda. What is better? To have dead friends who won’t ever know your secrets? Or to have alive friends, safe and sound and able to live another day? Stop stalling. Stop playing around. Stop doubting and just finish this.

Miranda readjusts her grip on her weapon, shifting it into a pebble. The hellhound is charging towards her again. She meets it halfways, pulling off to the side at the last moment and angling her fist to be diagonal. 

Time it. Hellhounds aren’t that bright. Time it. Stay calm. You can do it. raises her fist with the pebble and waits, counting down the seconds. 

Right when the hellhound’s jaws are over her fist, right before it could snap its jaws close and take her arm, she shifts the pebble into a spear. The jaws snap and the spear embeds into the roof of the palate, clean through the snout. 

The hellhound shrieks are so, so familiar. 

Miranda pulls out the celestial weapon she received, a harvesting sickle, and brings it down into the thigh of the monster, the awful screams fading away as the monster poofs into literal gold dust.

 (Wow, Lee wasn’t kidding about that part either.)

The following silence is overwhelming. 

She doesn’t dare look at her two companions as she retrieves her bloodied spear, instead looking at the bloody mess that is her spear and the ground. 

“Well, now that’s over with. How about we continue our game of volleyball?” she says with that airiness of cheer she’s so used to drawing up.

Nobody responded like she expected. 

Someone is vomiting like she expected. 

Someone is walking towards her like she expected.

Any second now. They’re going to call her a monster and tell her to stop and go to therapy. Then when she evidently cannot be normal, cannot listen to orders, cannot sit by and just hide from the monsters that come, they will kick her out. 

Well.

It has been good while it lasted.

She’s going to miss them. 

Some of them had actually grown on her. 

A hand touches her arm. 

Yes. Any second now.

There’s a small inhale.

This was bound to happen. There’s no way she could ever hide it. 

Will is chanting and a cool sensation is flooding her arm, like pressing it against a cold pillow, soothing and soft and — wait.

Miranda steps back from the hand and stares at Will with his kind eyes, at the spear bloodied from the hellhound’s tissues, at the pile of dust, and at Silena who just now stops vomiting and is looking at her with the same look in Will’s eyes.

It’s not fear. 

She doesn’t understand what it is.

But she knows it’s not fear.

  “Show us again. We all want to see it again!” Travis exclaims, eyes twinkling in a way she wishes her dad would as well.

Let’s not think about him .

Miranda presses her palm on the trunk of the tree, bark scraped away so her fingertips rest on the wood itself. She doesn’t need to concentrate much to shift the wood into a sword perpendicular to the tree trunk. There’s a wave of gasps and admiration as she pulls the sword clean from the trunk of the tree to be passed around. 

Clarisse twirls it in her hands, impressed. Lee isn’t as impressed. He looks more pained than impressed. Maybe because she tried to crush his head with it when they first met. “Where did you learn to make something like that?” Lee asks as he examines the sword in his hands. 

Miranda takes the sword back. “There’s a lot of monsters in my neighborhood.” 

Lee’s face becomes more pained but before Miranda could dwell on it more, Clarisse shoves her way forward to stand directly in front of her. 

“That’s really impressive,” Clarisse says, eyes sparkling. “But how well can you fight with it? I’ve been looking for a new training partner after Annabeth left. All these wimps here sucks ass.”

Miranda smiles and brandishes her sword. “I say pretty well.”

In the end, her confidence isn’t unfounded. She’s equally matched with Clarisse. Her techniques and forms may be a little unorthodox but it garners the approval of Clarisse and henceforth she is now Clarisse’s new sparring buddy! 

The horn sounds for lunch and Miranda follows the others to the dining pavilion. Clarisse stays behind though, tossing a coin into a birdbath. (“She’s Iris-messaging someone. It’s a monster-free method of communication,” Malcolm explains.) The daughter of Ares talks to the fountain, saying how she “found a new sparring partner” and “she’s so much better than you” and “are you jealous, Annabeth?” all with a smug smile.

Miraculously, a voice flits up the bath, “I miss you too, Clarisse. Don’t worry. I’ll be back in a month and a half.”

Miranda stifles a grin as Clarisse’s face flushes and the daughter of Area screeches, “I DON’T MISS YOU AT ALL, CHASE. EAT SHIT.”

  Nothing good lasts for long. 

Happy times are soon banked by tragedy and sorrow. 

The euphoria brought on by getting the lead for the school play, learning about Clara and dad’s divorce, finding out about dad and Mr. Gardner’s wedding was all ruined when she found out dad can’t come to play or that Clara will have dual custody over her or that she isn’t loved. 

That last bit, discovering she wasn’t loved, definitely put a damper on her mood for a while, but she’s over it now. She got over it. She had to get over it because how can she think about something as trivial as having a dad scared of her when she has bigger things to worry about? Right now, it’s worrying about the monsters coming through the barrier. Back then it was surviving with no money, no food, and no shelter. 

That little time she spent on the run was definitely hard. 

Hunger took her mind off dad more time than she can count as she takes to the garbage cans in search of edible food. The many monsters that lurk in the cities’ corners also took her mind off her dad. And the biting cold did a great job of taking her mind off her dad as well! 

Then meeting Aeron in Memphis after she fought off a cyclops also proved to be a great distraction even though something was off about Aeron. Something dangerous…

Still, it dulled the pain and she went along with the strange boy and devoured the food she was given. Met a boy some years older than her with a kind face whose name is Chris. Met another kind girl named Chevette who healed the poisoned bite she got from the shadow dog. Met a girl named Mia who said she understands as she cups her hands in hers with a smile that’s kind of deranged. 

Aeron said they’re revolutionaries. They’re going to change the world, the entire infrastructure. They said they were going to make sure no child goes neglected. No child will suffer. No child will ever feel unloved. Which sounds nice and all and when Miranda asked how they were going to achieve that goal, Aeron said they’re going to climb to the heavens, destroy the gods, and replace them with titans.

Which… okay. Miranda thought they might be a little crazy because after all, God isn’t real but they have food and shelter and people who say they understand so she stuck with them for a little while.

Nothing good ever lasts. 

The group she found, while kind enough to provide life necessities, are also off the rocket insane . 

‘We need you to fight.’ ‘We need you to kill.’ ‘We need you to infiltrate camp something something.’ ‘We need you to be a spy.’ ‘We need you to kill this boy named Perc something something.’ 

Espionage, murder, assassination. 

It’s absolutely insane. And the way everybody didn’t blink an eye? They’re definitely a cult. So she left in the middle of the night without telling anyone. 

But she wasn’t sneaky enough. Someone must have seen her left and tailed her. 

They’re oddly persistent, following her wherever she goes. No matter how much she threatens them to leave her alone, that she will hurt them (no, she won’t), that she will kill them (no, she won’t), that she’s getting tired of this (scared, really), that she isn’t going to join whatever evil cult they have going on (Katie, please help her), they persisted. 

And persisted and persisted and persisted. 

Miranda was seconds away from giving in and going to the police to help her take her back to Texas.

That is, until she met Lee. 

She was so, so certain Lee was with them. 

But he said Katie sent him after her and she so desperately wanted to believe that Katie loved her, doesn’t fear her like dad and Mr. Gardner does. Lee seems to be an honest, good man. She doesn’t sense any warning bells. So she got into the car with him (windows down and no seatbelt in the backseat just in case. Just in case…) 

But everything works out in the end and here she is, swathed in a warm blanket with fresh clothes, food in her tummy, and weirdos who aren't freaked out by her. 

But all good things come to an end.

“Hello, Miranda.”

It’s so bullshit.

“It’s so nice to see you again.”

Why can’t nice things last?

“Let’s all be friends.” 

Then like the viper she is, Mia smiles innocently and sweetly, standing on top Half Blood Hill with a suitcase.

  Miranda doesn't like asking outright what’s going on with the Camp (Travis becomes 100x more talkative with this painful longing in his eyes and Connor seethes quietly as he tears open into a bag of Cheetos. Miranda decides she doesn’t like those looks), but she gets just enough to understand the main picture.

Luke, a former counselor, went full crazy and joined an evil god to destroy the world. (“Titan,” as Chiron likes to correct her so often). 

Before going AWOL, Luke recruited almost all of the Hermes Cabin. 

A simple investigation of the cabin’s closet reveals a lot of belongings — a photo of a boy and girl, a stuffed bear, a Canon camera, a locket —  carefully stacked in the corner of the closet in a large box labeled ‘just in case they come back :)’ 

And an even simpler check of the belongings reveal names written in sharpie. Chris. Chevette. Holden. Aeron. 

Aeron. 

The pieces are falling together now. 

“Miranda,” Mia says lightly, like they’re old friends. “You look like you want to punch me.”

I do.  

“What are you doing here?” Miranda asks instead, hand gripping her bracelet as they stand under Thalia’s Pine. They’re the same height with close to the same build. If it comes to blows, Miranda won’t have trouble overpowering her. Mia’s ridiculously long, knee-length hair with all the ridiculously large ribbons and bold hair clips is also an easy target. The weird, shimmering cerulean hues of her eyes is no less creepy than it was all those weeks ago. 

Mia’s eyes follow her hand, her smile saddening. She tucks a strand of her straight, brown hair behind her ear. “I see you’re more open to using your powers. Shame you won’t use it for us.”

“What are you doing here?” Miranda asks again. Warning bells pulse through her. Danger danger danger, they scream. What were Mia’s powers? Do you remember? Did she ever used them? 

“Travis and Connor,” Mia says, Miranda’s blood going cold. How does she know them? “I need to talk to them.”

“What do you want with them?” Miranda asks, transforming her bracelet into a pebble. 

“I just need to talk with Travis and Connor. There’s matters I—”

“You’re working with Kronos, aren’t you?” Miranda bites out. 

The smile widens. “So you know that name. Yet you’re still here.”

“What is your goal?”

No answer. 

Miranda thinks of Will and Silena who can fight but not that well, who keeps facing death’s door every time a monster comes because the barrier is deteriorating. She thinks of Travis and Connor and how they liken this camp as their home, of Lee who calls this place a sanctuary, of Clarisse and Beckendorf who found their place in this world thanks to the camp. 

And she thinks of Katie. This is the place where she finally, finally, after years and years of trying and failing, learned to control her powers. 

It’s precious to them. 

And they’re precious to her.  

“Are you going to destroy the camp?”

No answer. 

Miranda takes a step towards Mia who smiles wider. 

“Tell me!” 

She hears footsteps behind her, someone running to them. She doesn’t turn around. She knows better than to turn the back to the enemy but she hopes, she prays to every gods there are that it isn’t—

“Hi there. Are you new? Do you two know each other?” her head counselor asks, coming right up beside her with what she knows is a lax grin. 

“Get back,” Miranda snaps, leaping back herself but it’s too late. 

Mia’s smile widens even more. The hand in her pocket twitches and suddenly Miranda and her counselor are flying through the air. The back of her head hits a shoulder. An elbow digs into her ribs. Her knees are pressed into her chest. 15 feet below the metal chain net she’s trapped in, Mia is pulling out a gun from the back of her pants. 

“Gun!” she yells, shaking the net with her hands. Panic settles in her as she twists to see who followed her counselor. His brother, most definitely. They’re never apart, but Malcolm is there too. They both stare at her— no. Her other counselor is looking at Mia now, eyes widening as he steps back with a hand on Malcolm’s arm. 

“Shit. Fuck. Malcolm, duck, duck, duck!”

“Connor, run!”

“She has a gun!” Miranda cries, “Malcolm, look o—”

The gun fires.

Malcolm falls forward flat onto his face and Miranda sees Char’s parents before her. Ms. Violet. Mr. Dinkleberry. Dead and in pieces. 

No. no no no no no nonono nonoNO

She shakes the chains with all her might, tries to break the chains by fitting the pebbles between the gaps and expanding but they hold strong. All she can do is yell and rattle the chains. 

She hasn't felt useless in such a long time. Not since Char’s parents gave their life for her. She forgets how awful losing friends is as she watches Malcolm curls in on himself undoubtedly in pain (he isn’t bleeding), forgets how much it hurts to hear others as Connor cries out and sinks to Malcolm’s side, shaking unmoving shoulders, (why isn’t he bleeding?), forgets the sheer grief that comes with situations like these. (He isn’t bleeding. Something’s wrong!)

Even with all that is happening, the tears haven’t come and she sees everything that unfolds in crystal clarity.

Malcolm continues to curl in on himself until his hands and feet are beneath him, then he’s pushing himself up until he’s kneeling, until he’s standing, until Miranda can see that glassy, distant hinge to his normally sharp eyes. (Something’s wrong.)

“Malco…?” Connor starts and he sees what Miranda does too, scrambling back from his cabinmate with alarm. 

Malcolm takes a step to close the distance and socks Connor in the cheek. 

Travis shrieks in concern, chains rattling as he throws a fit beside her. 

From what she saw during training, Malcolm is a very efficient fighter, wasting no movements, wasting no energy. He just does his thing without any hesitation. It’s no surprise to her when Malcolm restrains Connor before he has time to think. In mere seconds, Connor went from standing to nursing his cheek to kneeling to having his arms pinned behind his back, Malcolm gripping the appendages in a fashion that if need be he can just apply pressure and break the bones. 

“That had gone swimmingly well. Just as planned,” Mia sighs with relief and this blind rage, this boiling fury coils in Miranda’s stomach.

“Why are you doing this, Mia?��� Miranda asks, unable to keep the shake away from her voice as Mia stands over Connor’s vulnerable form.

“I’ll kill you! Fight me fair and square, you ugly punk!” Connor screeches with his cheek pressed against the dirt. He didn’t flinch or even showed discomfort as Malcolm pressed on his arms to their breaking point and that’s impressive. Once they’re free, Miranda has to get Connor to teach her to keep a game face. “I’ll kill you! What did you do to Malcolm?”

“Who? Oh, Him?” Mia says, like there could be any others. “He’s simply brainwashed. Whoever the gun hits becomes my personal slave for a couple minutes. So, I’m guessing you’re Connor? Aeron always said you had a potty mouth.”

Travis beside her bristled and that all but confirmed it. Travis and Connor knew Aeron. Aeron was originally from Camp Half Blood. 

Connor screeches and twists, trying to throw Malcolm off him but the smaller male has him locked in place. With gusto Clarisse would be proud off, Connor curses, “Aeron is a filthy liar. Let Malcolm go and I’ll show you how shitty my mouth can become.” 

Mia still looks unfazed. “Hmmm. You don’t seem as scary as the others make you out to be. I expected more. But I suppose this is the result when you overestimate your enemy.”

The chains rattle once to draw Mia’s attention. When Travis spoke it’s all calm and gentle words, but there’s a layer of coldness, of frigidity, that put her on her toes. It… it reminds her of her dad. “Hey. Mia, right? Nice to meet you. I’m Travis. Welcome to Camp Half Blood. Quick question before we start the tour, what do you want with my brother?”

Mia hums, tucking a strand behind her hair. “Luke wants him for some reason. He asked me to infiltrate the camp and kidnap you, Travis, to bring back to our base. We’ll use you as a bargaining tool to have Connor do whatever we want. Of course, my initial plan of pretending to be a camper was all ruined when I saw Miranda but I have to say this improvisation turned out to be better.”

Travis’s hand slinks into his pocket, the elbow jabbing into her ribs. 

“That’s it? You think kidnapping me is enough? Like, come on. I am an escape artist. There’s nothing I can’t break out of. Luke and Aeron should have known that. Do you seriously think keeping me hostage will work?” Travis says with a small laugh, voice still cold. 

“We thought about that and we came to the conclusion that if you proved to be too much of a hassle to contain, we’ll just have a child of Apollo mess with your memories a bit. We found him a few days ago. Apparently he’s well versed in the medicinal qualities of his powers. He can make memories, lock memories of his patients, even change existing memories by messing with the neurons of the brain. It all comes at a cost, of course. It’s rather draining for him so we rather not use it so freely.”

“Touch Travis and I swear I’ll cut you up into quarters and feed you to the pigs!” Connor shouts, struggling with renewed vigor as Travis laughs. 

“That sounds so villain-y and super, super fake. Do you know how crazy you sound right now?” Travis says but the hand in his pocket pulls out and Miranda can see the celestial Swiss Army Knife gripped tight in his hands. 

“I assure you I am not lying.”

“Sure you aren’t. Oh by the way, how many of those mind-control bullets do you have?”

Mia didn’t look away as she shot Connor in the back with the gun. “Enough for everyone here.” 

Travis’s jaw twitches, but he remains composed. The knife moves closer to the chain. 

“I rather not fight. My orders are to bring you back unharmed. But if I have to cut off your limbs, then so be it,” Mia warns, readying her gun.  

“You’re fibbing,” Travis says with hearty laughs, but under his breath, for her ears only, he mutters, “Make a cushion and then go get help,” before she’s freefalling 15 feet back to the ground.

A cushion , she thinks. Something to cushion their fall and not break their bones.

She extends the wood pebble in her hand to become thin wood shavings. Not the best but it’s something. She hits the pile feet first and flinches from the shock of the drop. 

Travis didn’t flinch though. 

He lands feet first and starts running immediately for Mia. He dodges Malcolm coming for him, leaps over Conner with that same glassy stare in his eyes, and — Travis crashes face first into the dirt from Connor tripping him. 

Travis groans and kicks Connor in the shoulder, yelling a quick ‘sorry’ as he scrambles to his knees. But Connor surges on and wrestles Travis back onto the ground. Either the kick was too soft or Connor’s brainwashed state dulls the pain. Probably the former. 

Miranda recalls the shavings back into a block of wood and charges at Mia. She grabs the hand with the gun first, pulling it off to the side first. A little twist and pressure and the gun drops from Mia’s hands. Then Miranda pins both wrists above Mia’s head and wraps it together with the wood in a makeshift handcuff. 

“Make them stop,” Miranda hisses in Mia’s face. 

To her infuriation, Mia smirks. “And if I don’t?” 

“I wasn’t asking. Do it. Now.”

“What will you do if I refuse? Kill me? I don’t think your father will be too happy with you.”

Miranda’s heart stutters even as she grits out, “You don’t know my dad.”

Kill her? Dad would understand why she has too. Dad will… no. No, he won’t. He barely understands why she has to kill the monsters. He thinks you do it out of fun, not out of necessity. He won’t understand this either . 

Travis makes a pitiful whine and Miranda’s head whips around to see Travis tossing his brother over his shoulder towards Malcolm. 

“Come on, Connor, dude. I’m trying to save your life. Stop being a nuisance and take it easy for once,” Travis whines, as Connor stands back up and koala hugs his brother while Malcolm takes out a dagger. 

“You always hesitate. The enemy won’t hesitate.”

All that time the two of them spar, Travis never won once.  

Unless… maybe… hopefully… Travis was holding back?

Connor is wrestling Travis into the ground, stomach down, just like in their practices. 

Nows a great time to stop holding back, Travis. 

Connor is straddling Travis on the back just like their practices. 

Come on, Travis . 

Connor now has Travis pinned just like their practices.  

Time to show your true strength . 

Connor has effectively rendered Travis immobile. Just like their practices. 

Who is she kidding? Connor is his brother. Travis won’t do anything to hurt him. So it’s up to her to get them out of this mess

Kill Mia . Kill her and everything will be solved . 

It should be easy enough. Humans don’t have nearly as thick a skin as monsters do. 

But her dad... Mia will win if you don’t do this. Her dad will never be able to talk with her again. Stop lying to yourself. Dad will forever hate her. He never loved you in the first place. She can never face him again if she does this. 

He’s a lost cause. Give up on him.

Her other bracelet starts shift forms. 

Mia‘s eyes dart to it.

Travis.

Connor. Malcolm. Will. Silena. Beckendorf. Lee. Clarisse. 

They don’t fear her like Katie doesn’t fear her, that has been established. She won’t lose them the way she lost her father. Now to not lose them to death. She can control that. 

Focus. Just kill Mia and this will all be over.

Just go one more step further. 

Save your friends. 

Kill. 

“Miranda.”

Focus.

“Miranda!”

Focus.

“MIRANDA!”

She snaps to attention, loosening up the wood block crushing Mia’s neck and there’s a cacophony of guttural gasps from the girl beneath her. 

Travis somehow got himself free and is now holding Connor in a bear hug while shoving Malcolm to the ground, kicking the dagger away. Even busy, the smile Travis gives her is genuine. She wonders if her heart should be swelling the way it is now. 

“Oh thank god, you finally look this way. It’s going to be — OW, Connor, you donkey!” Travis yells as Connor flings his head back, hits Travis’s scare in the forehead, and escapes, going for Malcolm’s dagger. “It’s going to be okay. Just go get Clarisse or Lee.” Travis rips the knife out of Connor’s lunging hands and tosses it aside. “I’ll handle this.” Travis blocks a roundhouse kick from Malcolm. “You don’t have to fight.”

I don’t have to… fight? I don’t have to? 

I don’t want to. 

But… but… 

Mia smirks but it’s tinged with the slightest of fear. “Lee, Clarisse, and Silena are at Karen’s funeral. Our intel tells us Will and Beckendorf are at the armory around this time. And Chiron is talking with the Olympians. Leave and by the time you get back, I would be long gone.”

Travis groans as he leans away from Connor trying to eviscerate him with a new knife. “The spy? The spy is a yearrounder? It’s one of us?”

Mia only smiles. 

A spy? Among them? What? How? Why? 

No. There’s no time to think about it. Later. When the time is better. When Mia isn’t— crap she shouldn’t have looked away from her. A shoe connects with her stomach, knocking the wind out of her and pushing her off. She’s aware of Travis crying her name but there’s bigger fish to fry. 

How could she let herself be distracted? 

Mia is standing back up with the gun in Mia’s still locked hands and crap. Miranda is shifting the block of wood into a shield but she can tell she isn’t going to make it. 

Crap. Crap. Crap crap crap crap crap . 

Mia aims the gun at her. Miranda can see the barrel. The shield is still nowhere wide enough, just barely the diameter of a basketball. But it’s better than nothing and with a little prayer to Mr. D, the only god she knows for sure is real, she tries to tuck her body behind the teensy-weensy shield.

  Except. 

There is no bang. 

The gun never goes off. 

Instead there is a howl, a high-pitched shriek she mistaken for hellhounds so many times back in Texas.

Follow directly by a stampede.

And shortly after a human’s screams.

“You always hesitate. The enemy won’t hesitate.”

She had asked them how long they had been at camp. “Almost 6 years,” they had told her proudly. “We came to camp when we were 7 and 6.” But then right after they said a lot of them here understand being homeless. A lot of them ran away from home. Did they too? Did they run away when they were so young?

“ I’m scared of going too far, you know? I don’t want to hurt anybody.”

That was what Katie used to say too, all those times she asked if Katie wanted to help kill the monsters. 

When Miranda lowers the shield, there’s a coyote biting at Mia’s ankle. Another coyote gnawing on the wrist. Several pigeons pecking at Mia’s face. A Holstein cow — a cow , where the heck did this cow come from?? — running in and butting Mia in the abdomen hard enough for her to fly back and hit the ground with a sickening crack. The cow stomps on Mia’s legs, her hips, her stomach and — oh god, she thinks she hears ribs cracking. Another coyote darts in and grabs the gun, crunching it in it’s jaws. Connor and Malcolm collapse in a heap. 

Miranda stares at the animals stomping, biting, pecking, tearing the girl apart. It’s hard not to think of Katie and how, on that fateful day, her powers crushed the living goo out of that cyclops. That miserable resignation that was on Katie’s face is the same on Travis. 

Miranda doesn’t like that face. She doesn’t want to see them ever again.

Travis kneels by Connor and Malcolm unmoving bodies and checks their pulses. The relief on his face tells her all she needs to know. 

“That’s enough. Thanks, guys,” orders Travis. 

The animals stop immediately, obeying without a second command and running off to who knows where. Complete and total control. Dang… Travis can do this kind of stuff? 

“You okay?” 

It takes an embarrassing five seconds before Miranda realizes Travis is talking to her and she nods quickly.

Travis sighs a hasty, “That’s good. Great. Cool. Amazing. Okie dokie, time to get this over with.” Then he stands with a grunt and limps towards Mia, his calf bleeding from a cut. 

For anyone else, being stomped on by a 1000 pound cow would be enough for death to hurl them off into hell but Mia isn’t just anybody. She splutters weakly as Travis nears but her voice still holds conviction. “Stay away from me.” 

Travis pauses for a second before going again. 

Mia turns her head and glares, face ridden with lacerations from the pigeons. “I said stay away.”

“You’re going to die if you don’t get help,” Travis murmurs, voice quieter than Miranda had ever heard it. 

“Good.”

“Good?” Travis says lowly, “Are you really going to die for Luke’s revenge ploy? Come on. You can’t be serious.” 

“Yes. I—” Mia coughs, blood spluttering from her lips. She’s dying, but her eyes are enraged, burning with hatred that she sees sometimes in Lee’s and Connor’s when they don’t think anyone is looking.

“Yes, I am willing to die if it means my godly mother will suffer even a bit of the humiliation and pain she inflicted upon me.” 

“Dying isn’t the way to get stuff done though,” Miranda says, staring at the corner of the shirt that’s still relatively free of blood. But there’s something… Miranda rubs her eyes. Is it her or is Mia’s hand glowing?

“You think you hold the moral high ground, don’t you?” Mia rasps. Yes, her hand is definitely glowing with a reddish light. “But you’re just allowing the gods to do whatever they wish, to continue their millenia long abuse. Your inaction makes you just as bad as them.”

“The world is going to end if we follow Luke,” Travis says mechanically, like he says this a thousand times.

Mia just laughs. “That’s what the gods told you to keep you fools fighting for them and you all fell for it.” 

Travis stares at the ground for a few, contemplative seconds before pulling out a bottle of nectar from his pocket. “Maybe. Maybe not. But I like to think my dad really cares for us. I can sleep at night that way. Besides, the Olympians are keeping the world running. It would be selfish to expect them to be there for us 24/7.” 

The glow is spreading from her hands up her arm and it’s shining even brighter now. Does Travis not notice?

Mia in return just laughs harder, even as more blood trickles past her lips. “Unbelievable. You’re so blinded. It’s actually rather sad.”

“I can say the same about—”

“You know, Luke had told me if you ended up resisting too much to just kill you. If we can’t add to our forces, then it’s better to cripple the enemy. I was so looking forward to my mother’s despair but I suppose I’ll just have to wait until she’s tossed into Tartarus.”

The light settles in the chest area, growing tenfold in intensity, and Miranda understands the same time Travis does. 

She’s going to explode herself. 

“Are you kidding me?!” Travis screeches before turning tail and yelling for her to get Malcolm.

There’s not enough time. 

Travis grabs her arm and tugs her to her feet, yelling even louder for her to move as he lifts Malcolm and Connor by the back of their shirt. Miranda stumbles to her feet and takes Malcolm from Travis, tugging him in place of the son of Hermes. 

They’re not going to make it. 

They have 3 seconds at most before Mia explodes. That’s not enough time to run. Not enough time to get out of the range. All four of them are going to die. But if she blocks as much of the blast as she can… maybe… it might all work out. 

Miranda looks down at the shield in her hands. 

She can’t change the mass of the shield. This is all she has to work with. A big enough shield to cover both of them means it will be stretched thin. But if she focuses on thickness, their limbs won’t be covered. 

Decide. 

Quick. 

Right now. 

Do it right now. 

“Miranda! Come on!

Miranda passes Malcolm off to Travis, plants herself in front of them, and makes a decision. 

Even if she misjudges the intensity of the blast, even if she gets burned a little (or a lot), even if it hurts, as long as everybody makes it out okay, what’s there to complain about? 

As long as everybody makes it out okay, then she is fine with any outcome. 

Holding up the shield, Miranda clenches her eyes and braces herself.

  But there’s a hand on her shoulder and another hand pulling her shield from her hands.

When she opens her eyes, Travis is in front of her with her shield in his hands. 

He’s protecting her, she realizes.

And wait — no — that’s not how it works. It’s supposed to be the other way around. It’s always the other way around. 

Wait — 

Don’t —

No — 

  It wasn’t enough. 

It wasn’t enough. 

The shield was too thin.  

It wasn’t enough. 

She wonders if she will ever forget the smell of cooked flesh and would ever forget Travis’s unbridled screams before he could restrain himself and would ever forget the burns, the entire arm charred black. 

No. 

She probably would never forget.

  “This is it. This takes the cake. This is the worst pain I ever experienced. I really do have a curse. Quick, check my arm. Is it still there? Am I going to become like Edward Elric? Will Beckendorf have to make me a metal arm? Ah my gods, that would be so so sooooo cool . Ahhhhhithurtssomuch.”

Maybe if she stares hard enough at Will and Beckendorf running towards them, they’ll run faster. Maybe if she does not look at the burns, it’s not as bad as it seems. Maybe if she just focuses on his words and not his tone, his gasps, his whimpers, then maybe Travis is okay. 

“Miranda, tell Beckendorf that in my new robot arm, I want a snack and drink compartment. He can do that, right? Yeah? Yes? The counselor meetings get so boring. You have no idea.”

But this laughable denial of hers is ridiculous. 

“Why?” she says, hugging her knees close to her chest. “I was already in position.”

Travis’s blue eyes fall to her and she hates the hurt she sees in them. Hates hates hates hates hates it. 

But he grins, a bare ghost from his usual dazzling grin, but a grin nonetheless. It makes her heart ache. 

“I’m a counselor,” he gasps brokenly, “It’s my job to keep you all safe and sound. Also, I’m the oldest. Wait, how old are you? Younger than Katie, right? I’m the oldest? Yeah, I’m the oldest and the oldest have the duty of being the punching bag.” 

“You didn’t have to.” Her throat feels knotted. The words are getting harder and harder to force out. 

Travis ruffles her hair with his good hand and smiles just like the way her dad always used to. 

“I wanted to.”

The charred grass blurs a little. Miranda grinds the heel of her hands into the socket but it just made it worse. And worse, and worse, and worse until she gives up and buries her face in her knees. 

This is so stupid…

She got over it… 

Why is she still hung up over it…

She should just let it go… 

But still …. Why couldn’t it be dad who said that to her? 

  “You’re incredibly stupid.”

“I’m going to personally kill you.”

“What the fuck were you thinking?”

Miranda glares at the blonde girl’s back. So this is Annabeth Chase. She heard nothing but good things about this girl and yet... 

She wonders how much trouble she’ll be in if she pummels this girl. 

“This isn’t his—'' she starts to say.

But Connor, fully recovered and sound of mind again, holds her back by the wrist and shakes his head. “This is how she shows she’s worried. She’s not being serious.”

Miranda doesn’t quite get it, but as long as Travis isn’t bothered by it — he isn’t, if anything he seems on the verge of laughing — then she’ll let it go. 

As Annabeth’s rants quiet down, Travis puts down the paper crane he's been making and says, “I’m thinking of starting a swear jar. Imagine all the drachma I can make off you and Connor alone.” 

“This is serious , Travis!” Annabeth sighs, stopping her pacing to face him. “You could have died.” 

“But!” Travis says, waving his healed arm with no scars whatsoever. Will is passed out, slumped on the infirmary bed. “I didn’t. So this is a great, great day and I’m still twinsies with Connor so even better!” By Ng

Annabeth sighs again and picks up Will with ease and lays him on the bed, sliding a blanket over him. 

“What about next time? What if next time you weren’t so lucky? You could lose an arm or leg. Even your life.” Annabeth walks over to Travis and pulls his arm into her hands to scrutinize the healed appendage.  

Still Travis shrugs. “Guess I’ll deal with it when that day comes. But since you’re here right now, how about a game of Egyptian War? Loser buys winner a chili bread bowl.”

It’s clearly an unacceptable answer even to Miranda. Annabeth looks close to having an aneurysm. 

“One month,” the blonde says, “I have one more month of school left and then I’ll be back as a yearrounder again. Don’t get into any trouble until then.”

“One month? Ehhh, doesn’t sound doable.”

“Travis,” Annabeth says smoothly, resting a hand on Travis’s shoulder with a terrifying calm expression. “Seriously.”

The jovialness sloughs off in one second and Travis nods. “Okay. One month of no trouble. I promise.” 

Quick as the soberness came, the quicker it left as Travis grins playfully. “So, Egyptian War? What do you say? Loser buys the chili bread bowl. I want it fresh from San Francisco.”

  Miranda and Connor are kicked out as Chiron checks Travis over again. Something about them being a distraction which she totally believes because Travis keeps asking them to free him. His cry of “Traitors! Don’t leave me with Chiron! Noooooooo,” lingering in her mind as she sits on the porch’s bench with Connor. 

Annabeth is on Half Blood Hill with a man, her father probably. A woman comes up to them and kisses the man on the cheek, the mother. Two boys bounce into the picture too, the brothers. They’re just one big, happy family aren’t they? She wonders if that will ever be her one day. Standing on the hill with her dad and Katie by her side… walking down the hill to go back to Texas… living life like it was when she was four and innocent and ignorant. What a life would that be… 

“Did I hurt him too badly?” Connor says out of the blue. 

Shit. Miranda tears her eyes away from the departing family to Connor, gloomily glaring at his lap. Shit . Miranda looks away. “No. You only just bear-hugged him.” 

“You need a better lying face,” Connor mumbles, slumping on the bench. “What exactly did I do? Did I make that wound on his leg? His shirt was torn too. Did I—”

“Hey! Let’s talk about something else. What is that cool Disney princess power Travis has? The one where he can control the animals?”

Connor’s guilt-laden expression disappears like a dime as he shushes her, eyes darting around them.

“Sh! Not so loud,” Connor whispers furtively, “He used it in front of you? His — his — okay, Disney princess power is one way to describe it — but his animal manipulation skill?”

She nods, Connor paling at her response. He slumps even more on the bench and runs a hand through his hair, muttering about how he can’t believe Travis actually used it. 

“Look.” Connor shuffles closer to her, whispering even quieter. “Our dad is the god of animal husbandry otherwise known as the care, management, and breeding of livestock. Travis and I can talk with animals because of this and if Travis focuses really hard, he can even summon them.”

Miranda shakes her head. “Snakes and coyotes aren’t livestock.”

“Right, but with zoos becoming more and more rescue-focused and helping the species recover while providing environmental enrichment, Hermes’s power extends to wild animals now. What I need you to do now is not tell anyone about this. No one but us and Annabeth knows. It’s our last resort power, our ace up our sleeve, our trump card. Don’t tell anyone .” 

“Then why did he use it?” she asks, puzzled. “He could have summoned the animals after I was mind-controlled.”

Connor murmurs, “Travis probably panicked. He doesn’t do well fighting by himself. I think he saw it was going to become one versus four and he acted so he wouldn’t be alone.”  

Oh. That sounds kind of sad to be honest. 

And a major liability. 

  “We aren’t the spies,” Malcolm announces out of nowhere. Travis, having been discharged by Chiron, wanted to spend the rest of the day on the rock climbing wall. But Will, bless his heart, somehow woke up like he knew Travis will say that and ordered him to only rest and rehab. 

 Connor and she had to drag Travis whining to the cabin. 

Malcolm followed after them. Maybe out of guilt. Maybe out of boredom. Maybe just wanting to get some rest too. Then five minutes into their break, Malcolm said that. 

“What?”

“I said, we aren’t the spies,” Malcolm repeats. “Us four, right here, right now. Mia tried to kill us four so we can’t be the spies.”

“Okay?” Travis says with confusion, continuing to draw in his notebook. It looks like the interior of their cabin. Is he making a bed sign up sheet? “I kinda figured that was the case?”

But Connor seems to get what Malcolm is getting as he scowls, putting down his book about engineering. “In a few more weeks, it won’t just be us four in this cabin.”

“Mia knew me,” Miranda realizes, “She couldn’t infiltrate like she wanted because she knows I will recognize her. But before I left, Aeron was finding demigods left and right. I would see a new face everyday.”

“How are we going to identify Luke’ henchmen from regular campers?” Malcolm asks, nudging Travis in the arm to make him stop drawing.

Travis waves his hand dismissively. “Don’t worry about it. Connor and I handle it.”

“But...” Malcolm starts as Travis goes back to doodling. 

“Trust us,” Connor pats Malcolm on the back. “We got a plan.”

“But…” Malcolm wilts. “I want to do something too. I can help. I want to help.”

Miranda twirls her bracelet on a finger. 

“Malcolm’s right. It doesn’t have to be you two doing everything. We’ll do what we can too.”

   June

She didn’t believe Lee at first about how full this cabin can become. But then the campers start filing in one after another and holy cow. There’s definitely not enough bed to house them all. It’s crazy how many people are coming in… 

And it’s crazy how far people are willing to go to claim a bed. Bags are being thrown. People are pulling out charts and diagrams. Powers are being used. It’s complete utter chaos. And Miranda has to say, she kinda likes it.  

“Mine! I called it!”

“No fair! I was here first!”

“Lukkkkkeeeeee, Johnny is being mean again.”

“Hey, where is Luke?”

“Wahahahahaha! All you little fuckers are too slow.”

“Everybody shut up. I’m trying to study for the SAT.”

“It’s summer. It’s summmeeerrrrrrrrrr! I’m going to do nothing but sleep.”

“Jeremy, give me back my manga!”

“LUKEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!”

Miranda ducks as an 11-year-old hurls a pillow and misses their target. She steps over two 10-year-olds play-wrestling on the ground. She points a lost 9-year-old to the closet. Then finally she stands before her childhood friend looking as uncomfortable as she expected. 

Katie never was one for rowdiness. 

“Kit-Kat Katie!” Miranda exclaims, looping an arm around her friend’s shoulder. 

Katie scowls just as expected too, but doesn’t shove her away. “Please don’t start calling me that too.”

Miranda laughs and presses her cheeks against Katie’s shoulder. “But it’s so cute!”

“It’s annoying,” Katie sulks, lower lip jutting. 

But her childhood friend drops the pout and tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. “Miranda, I—”

“My fault? My fault ? ”

Miranda glances over her shoulder to find two boys — Michael and someone she doesn't recognize — face to face. Well, more like face to chest. Michael is trying his best by standing straighter but there’s only so much one can do. They’re not outright brawling so Miranda lets her attention drift back to Katie. 

“Yeah? What were you about to say?” 

Katie’s face crumbles. “I pestered our parents to tell me what happened.” 

“And?”

Her step-sister shakes her head, tears gathering in the corners of her eyes. “They want you to stay here.” 

Miranda pulls Katie into a hug just as the tears start to fall. “There, there. It’s going to be okay,” she says as Katie cries into her shoulder. It’s not fair, I don't understand, what does he mean?, Monster?, you’re the nicest person ever.

Miranda hides her smile in Katie’s hair. She kinda expected this would happen. Huh. It hurt a lot more than she thought it would. But Katie’s quiet affirmations of her character helps dull the pain. Plus, there’s also — 

“I’m going to kill you!” 

Directly after, the screams start. 

Miranda turns around to find the newcomer on top of Michael with hands around his neck. Travis is pulling New Guy off Michael with difficulty, yelling for the others to step back. Connor helps Michael stand and holds him back from probably jumping the New Guy. This is turning out to be a very eventful first day. 

“I’ll be right back, Kitty Kat.”

Miranda bites back a smile at Katie’s indignant squawk at the new nickname and makes her way to Mr. Pushy.

“Hey,” she says, sliding in front of New Guy and planting herself right between Michael and him.  “That’s not a nice way to speak to your future friends.” 

“Future friends?” the guy — Sherman, if the name on his duffel bag is correct — snorts, “What is this, some kind of preschool?”

Miranda smiles. “If you’re a bully, you won’t make any friends.” 

Sherman rolls his eyes and rips his arm free from Travis. “Get the fuck out of my way.”

Travis, the semi-hopeful face he dawns upon her arrival, now looks absolutely miserable as he says, “I can’t do that. And no cussing in my cabin. Both of you are sleeping on the floor. Beds are only for campers who play nice.” 

“Fuck off,” Sherman spits at Travis and tries to shove past her (Michael really helping this situation by screaming, “BRING IT!” behind her).  

Miranda grabs the sleeves of Sherman’s shirt, puts her forearm under the armpit, and tosses him over her shoulder, making sure he lands on the pillow tossed earlier. 

She smiles innocently as she lets him go to address the silent crowd, ignoring the star-struck gaze Sherman has. 

“We are all in the same boat so let’s try to get along, yeah?” 

  Plus, she also got Katie and her new friends so life isn’t all that bad now. 

[broken-heartedgirlff]

Chapter 35 ~ Spend My Life With You

Can I just see you every morning when I open my eyes Can I just feel your heart beating beside me every night Can we just feel this way together til the end of all time Can I just spend my life with you Can you run to these open arms when no one else understands Can we tell God and the whole world (You're my woman) and (you're my man) Can you just feel how much I love you with one touch of my hand Can I just spend my life with you 

2 Years Later 

Giselle

I just couldn’t believe that today was here……. The day that I marry Dominic Maurice Cartier in front of all of our family and friends. Yes, we got married years ago, but that was a shotgun wedding because I was 6 months pregnant with Angel and running away from Daddy.

But here we are. I kept staring in the mirror at myself, waiting for this to be a dream, but it never was.  

“Dominic Zacharie Mason Boudreaux Cartier!!! Come Back here!!” Lizzie yelled, making me turn around to Mason bursting into my bridal suite. 

“Mom! Do I have to wear this suit!” He complained.

Mason was 8 years old now, and very opinionated, if he didn’t like something, he was very quick to tell you.

“It’s only for a few hours Dominic. I promise.” I tried to level with him by brushing his hair and squeezing his freckled face, trying not to laugh at Lizzie’s bewildered face

He just scoffed, “Really Mom, my first name?”

I laughed, It’s not that he didn’t like his first name, he just didn’t like being an exact replica of his father and people calling him Dominic. Which, by genetics, he was. No one really called him Dominic anyways, I just need him to know how serious I was.

“Yes, really. Can you please just wait?”

“Fine. Dad says he misses you.” He mumbled then walked out of the room.

I smiled at his statement, because I miss Dominic as well. With him asking me to marry him again, we’ve spent every night next to each other and it’s been two years since then. But last night, we had to say our goodbyes and to tell you the truth, I was too excited and I couldn’t sleep.  

Lizzie closed the door and sat next to me.

“We’re here kiddo.” She smiled sadly, I knew why though.

“Yeah, here we are.”

We kind of stayed silent, but I knew the bad news was coming.

“They can’t find Daddy, can they?” I asked.

She shook her head. “No one can find him.”

I sighed, “I don’t know why I got my hopes up for. I haven’t seen Daddy since Angel was a baby, what makes me think he would be alive and if he was, why would he come to a wedding where I’m marrying the man, he despised.”  

“He’s still our father Giselle. Hell I wish he could meet Zoey….I wish Mommy could too. I feel that they would be proud of us, no matter what. It’s not inconceivable that you wanted him to meet your family and walk you down the isle.”

I nodded my head, but it didn’t help. Rosalee got a message apparently saying that our father was alive. The only ones that knew were Rose, Xavier, Lizzie and I. And we used every connection we had to find our father.

Did I hate the man? Yes, he kept me away from my daughter and the love of my life. He caused me more pain than anyone else in my life….. but i couldn’t help but to want him here, on my day. My kids don’t even know about my father, and I think that is heartbreaking. He was a hard man who had a hard life, but I know he would’ve loved them til the ends of the earth.  

Again, brought out of my thoughts by Olivia.  

“Giselle, Dominique is wanting to talk to you.” She said poking her head in.

I nodded, and watched my 3 year old walk in and get excited by looking at me.

“You so pretty mommy.” She smiled.

“Thank you, Nique, You’re very pretty too. Is everything okay?”

She  beamed and nodded at me.  

“Can I sit by you and color?” She asked.

“Sure baby.”

Can you fault me? I loved Andrea Dominique like my own daughter. She was so small and timid  with loose black curls all over her head. She rarely spoke and when she did, it  was really only to Dominic and I. She constantly loved being around me, and I loved her being there.

At first, I was unsure on how me raising another woman’s child would effect my family dynamic, but Dominique has only enhanced it. She is the sweetest girl you would ever meet. As of a few months ago, I legally adopted her and I am her mother.  As for her birth mother? Bitch is salty every time something significant in our life happens.

Katie, is still in jail, and will be there for a long ass time. She for some odd reason, believes that she is going to get out and get back with Dominic, but she’s fucking insane for that shit. I refuse for Dominique to go by herself to the jail to visit Katie until she’s at least 10. Dominique hates going to see her, because she always feels that Katie is mean. Every time Dominique comes back, I have to de-program her from the shit she hears from Katie.

“10 more minutes ladies!!!!” My wedding planner yelled at us.

Everyone kind of squealed excitedly, and ran out.

“You ready?” Olivia asked me.

“More than you know.” I said smiling. 

Dominic

I knew that today was going to be an emotional day. I was finally marrying the love of my life in front of our entire family. I knew she was going to be absolutely beautiful.

“Angel, can you hand me my tie please?” I called out to her.

“Sure.” She said coming into view of my mirror. My daughter was 10 now and absolutely beautiful. She had my color, and my freckles and Giselle’s moles plastered all over her body. She had my black hair with Giselle’s length. Eyes the color of Caramel and She looked exactly like her mother. I knew, that I was going to have trouble with the little boys when she got older.

“Why didn’t you want to be in the girl suite again?” I quizzed

“I don’t know, I just wanted to be with you today.” She said, but then mumbled, “Plus mommy has ‘Dominique’ now.”

I sighed. “Angel, Dominique didn’t take away your mother from you, she just needs mommy’s attention, a little more than you.”

She looked at me, “I know. but still.”

“We love you all equally okay? No one is taking you away from me or your mother. You are our very first princess. You’re special, okay?”

She smiled, “Yes.”

Just then a knock came at my door, “Ayo D, we need to talk.” Jeremiah said to me.

“Angel, Let me talk to Uncle J. Please go check on your brother and sister for me. Also on your mother?”

She nodded and said greetings to J, and skipped out the room.

“Did you find this nigga?” I asked

J shook his head, “You know if X doesn’t want to be found, he won’t be.”

“I know, but I couldn’t go looking because that would scare him off. But I thought he’d at least be here for G.”

Even though she didn’t tell me, I knew the one thing Giselle wanted in her life was Xavier Valentine Boudreaux here to give her away. Even if I did hate him and want him dead. Giselle’s wants came before mine.  It was even more shocking to find out that X was alive….. Boudreaux aren’t good at being discreet. I figured it out a few hours after the messages were sent to all of X’s children.

“You think he got the messages?” I asked.

J just shrugged, “You never know, but it’s almost showtime.”

I couldn’t help but to smile. 

~

I was sitting at our wedding reception, watching my beautiful family, Giselle, was dancing with Mason and Dominique. While Angel and Sage were off bothering Olivia and Jeremiah. Watching the sight I am the happiest man ever. I never thought we would officially be here.

The ceremony was beautiful, Giselle was supposed to walked down the isle by her brother, but she decided walk by herself. I honestly cried because my baby was so Angelic and I just wanted to take her right there in the church. It was absolutely beautiful.

I guess she caught me staring and came over.

“Are you having a good time.” She smiled and kissed me on the lips.

“I’m fantastic, I know I’ve said this way too many times tonight but, You look really beautiful Gi.”

“Thank you Baby, and you look very handsome in your white suit.”  

“Well, the mother of my children picked out this suit for me, isn’t it nice.” I smirked.

“She has good taste.”

We sat at the head table watching our families enjoy themselves, when I noticed a stranger in the corner, who then left as soon as they saw me look their way. I spoke to Giselle, asking her to get up because she was leaning against me. She nodded, got up and went to comfort a crying Dominique.

I exited the reception area opposite of the stranger to catch up with them before they had the chance to leave the building.  Walking down the hallway, I didn’t see anyone, when I heard a pistol cock and felt cold steel against my neck. I instantly put my hands in the air.

“You know, you didn’t even ask for her hand, I should blow your head off right now.” He said

I slightly laughed, and elbowed him in the ribs, twisting his wrists and the gun ending up in my hands, so I pointed the pistol at Xavier’s chest.

“You took her away from me in the first place, I should shoot you in the chest right now.” I smirked

“Nice to see you haven’t lost you tenacity, young blood.”

I rolled my eyes and de-assembled the gun and gave it back to him.

“So you got my messages.”

“Of course, but I couldn’t walk her, she was absolutely radiant. But that would put everyone at risk. It’s best if everyone still thinks I’m dead.” He spoke with sadness

“I understand that… but Gi.” I trailed off.

“She understands. Trust me. She understands. You have a beautiful family Dominic. Both you and Jeremiah.”

I smiled, “Thank you X.”

“You know that the protection of my family comes first, and back then I thought-“

I picked up my hand to stop him, “I accept your apology.”

He simply nodded his head, “They’re safe where they are, with you. Better than anything I could’ve done.”

Before I could answer back, I heard a panicked commotion, my first instinct was to run into the hall and I did, but I remembered that X was in the hallway, I turned back and he was gone.  

I sighed and went into the room, where I saw Giselle and Lizzie holding each other crying at a grand piano. Liv was standing nearby with tears in her eyes.

“What the hell is going on?”

Giselle

While the party was going on, someone delivered a grand piano, in as a wedding present for Dominic and I.

I couldn’t find D, so I was nosey and decided who it was from. The piano looked brand new, but when I got up close, I could tell that it was slightly old, but it had been taken care of.

“It looks exactly like the one, momma played.” I heard Lizzie say

“It does, doesn’t it.” I said circling it, I played the keys a little

I picked up the card to read who it was from, and at the same time Elizabeth and I called each other’s names.

We both had tears in our eyes, “Is this Momma’s piano?” I whispered.

“It has our names stitched into the bottom, when we were little. The chip where you fell and broke your tooth as a kid on it. It’s Momma’s Piano. But where did it come from?” She cried.

I handed her the card that read…..

“You deserve this day, just like you deserve this piano. You saved yourself from me, now let Dominic save you. Forever my love. ~ Daddy.”

~ 

After the crying fit that Lizzie and I had, I was drained and ready to go on our honeymoon. The kids are staying with Mama Celeste and switching between Liv and Lizzie. Which I am thankful for, 2 weeks and no kids Dominic and I have never gotten a moment of peace between the both of us. Even when we met, no peace. But as soon as we come back, it’s Nique’s 4th birthday.

We decided to stay in a hotel to rest before going on our honeymoon tomorrow, and I had a few things we needed to take care of.

“How is it, that on our wedding night, we are taking a pregnancy test?” I mumbled to Dom

We were sitting in the bathroom, with me peeing on a stick because I had realized that I missed my period.  

“I mean, either way, I had plans to get you pregnant on the honeymoon, so if you aren’t now, you will be once we get back.” He smirked.  

“If I am pregnant, this is the last one, okay? Four kids is enough.” I told him

“If it’s a boy then sure, I’m fine with that 2 boys and 2 girls, but if it’s a girl, we are going to keep trying until I get my son.” He stated proudly

I rolled my eyes, just as the timer went off.

“You do realize, that we have 3 kids already and this is the first time that we’ve taken a pregnancy test together?” I asked.

He kind of just looked at me, then said: “And if you are pregnant, it’ll be the first time that I was with you through the entire pregnancy and raising the baby.”

It was my turn to look at him, “Oh my god, are you going to be extremely over-protective?”

Which he just smirked, “Dominic, please. I can’t take you when you’re like that.”

“Woman what does the test read!!!” He cackled

I looked at the directions again and spoke out loud, “A plus and a minus means pregnant, a vertical line and a horizontal line means negative.”

“So which one are we?!!” He jumped up from the seat.

I knew he was excited and couldn’t wait any longer, so I read the results.

“A plus and a minus. We’re pregnant. DOMINIC WE’RE PREGNANT!!!!” I screamed

He picked me up and spun me around.  

He finally sat me on my feet and we just hugged each other, I started crying against his chest.  

This pregnancy will not be of pain and suffering like my first 2 were. We are going to be together through everything, i know that he wouldn’t even let my feet touch the ground or any pain come my way because of how much this means to the both of us.  

“I love you, and I’m so glad I didn’t let you get too far away from me and I’m so glad you’re giving me another baby.” He whispered in my ear, kissing my neck.

“I love you too D,” I said and I reached up to kiss my King, for my Happily ever after

I was finally happy, I wasn’t trapped or running away from anyone, I didn’t have anyone controlling me. I found me and I finally got my man back and I had my beautiful family, despite obstacles and turmoil. I knew this is what Serenity felt like.

This all started because I fell in love with someone I wasn’t supposed to, becoming broken-hearted to being my own hero, saving myself and rewriting my destiny.  

I had Dominic, Angel, Mason, Dominique and our newest edition…. My happily ever after.

Nothing could be better than this.

[writethelifeyouwant]

Leningrad- Chapter 2

Sorry this update took so long to post, I’m on vacation at the moment! Hope you enjoyyyyyyyy :) 

Anya woke dimly, feeling the crushing pain that forced her into unconsciousness continue to press the breath from her lungs. Her vision was blurred, but even if it hadn’t been she wouldn’t have been able to see more than the darkness she had been engulfed in for the past day.

Had it been a day? It felt endless. She had no sense of where she was or when she got there. In a distant memory she could see herself walking towards a blinking red exit sign, the feel of the gun pressed against her back burning panic into her skin. She hadn’t tried to speak, hadn’t tried to fight. She was frozen inside her head, not really controlling the movement of her feet as they stumbled over the doorjamb into the grimy alley behind the restaurant.

Her captor hadn’t spoken either, just carefully walked her towards the back of the alley, away from the main avenue filled with cars and people. People, the one thing that might have saved her. But he had thought of that. As they rounded the corner onto another side street Anya saw the car parked and waiting for them.  To her horror, she heard the electric click of a car remote and thee trunk popped open.

Her breath started to come in strangled gasps, she couldn’t manage to fill her lungs with air because the fear had seeped into every empty crevice of her body but still, she couldn’t bring herself to make a single noise. The gun against her back shoved hard and Anya tumbled forward into the cramped trunk of the old car. She looked up, finally seeing her captor, before a blinding pain seared across her eyes as thee man struck her with the butt of his gun. The darkness embraced her.

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-

The team settled into their typical spots on the jet. Kate, Rossi, JJ and Morgan at the small table, Hotch perched against the arm of a chair across from them, and Reid reclining on the couch, displaying his mismatched socks beneath his slacks.

“Let’s go over victimology.” Hotch intoned, and he and the team opened their tablets while Reid flicked through the pages of his hard copies.

“Well he definitely has a type,” JJ started, thumbing though the pictures Garcia had compiled of the petite mousy girls. The images flashing across the tablets showed happy faces, senior photos, families laughing, memories of young lives that these girls should still be living.

“They’ve gotta be a surrogate for someone the unsub knows,” Derek added. “They’re incredibly similar looking.”

“I think you’re right,” Hotch nodded. “Get Garcia up on the screen, will you?” Morgan hummed his assent and hit the requisite buttons on the laptop. Penelope’s sunshiny face, outlined today by pink streaks through her hair, popped into focus on the small screen.

“Hello my heroes! What have you got for me?”

“Garcia, have you managed to find any connection between our first and second victims yet?” Hotch leaned forward from his perch to make himself more comfortable as he spoke.

“Unfortunately nothing solid yet. Our first victim, Katerina Russo, or Katie as she preferred to be called, was a bit younger, she was supposed to turn 18 last August but she didn’t make it to her birthday.” Garcia’s face was the picture of sympathy as she continued to rattle off her findings on the girl. “She had applied to several colleges already, looking for early admission definitely. One of those was NYU but that list also includes most of the major schools in the tri-state area. I’m not sure we can really call that a connection yet.”

“Garcia, was Katie taking any college courses through her high-school? Something that might have been taught off-site at NYU maybe?” Reid jumped in.

“Um let’s see, genius boy…” Garcia clicked for a few moments before answering. “Yes, Katie was taking several Advanced placements courses, one of which is a Manhattan-based college course, meaning that professors from schools like NYU, Columbia, Fordham, you get the gist, all helped develop thee program so the credits would help students skip freshman requirements when they enrolled in college.”

“What class was Katie taking?”

“Um… it looks like Katie was enrolled in their history survey course over the summer, we’re talking European history from the Renaissance until like, now. But the class was taught on her high school campus by high-school faculty. No where near NYU.” Garcia grimaced apologetically.  

“Okay, well, keep looking for any other points of cross-over Katie might have had with Lina and Anya. Maybe coffee shops, shopping malls, parties they might have gone to, that sort of thing,” Hotch instructed.

“Aye aye, captain!” Garcia signed off with a salute.

“Okay everyone, when we land, I want to hit the ground running. Dave, Morgan, I want you to go to Anya’s abduction site and start coordinating with the team there. JJ, Reid go to the coroners office and hook up with the ME. Kate, you and me are going to go to the station and speak with the families of our first two victims.”

Everyone nodded their acquiescence to Hotch’s assignments and began to settle in to the final twenty minutes of their short flight to New York.

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-

The fluorescent lights of the morgue hummed lowly in the cold room. With the metal walls and tables it felt like they had stepped into an icebox. Reid and JJ both pulled their jackets a little tighter around themselves. Neither of them had much body-fat to keep them warm after all. The figure of a petite girl lay in front of them under a dingy sheet.

The Medical Examiner pulled the cover off the girl, revealing a waxen figure. Her body had been cleaned and embalmed, to prevent its decomposition pending investigation of her murder. The BAU hadn’t been the first port of call for the detectives working to catch her killer, and the M.E. had gone over Lina’s injuries and cause of death so frequently since her arrival at the morgue she knew the answers to most investigators questions without having to reference her primary notes.

Lina’s body looked almost peaceful if you could ignore the bruising that dappled her ghostly skin. Her face had been reconstructed following the gunshot, so her family could have an open casket funeral after law enforcement released her body from evidence. Reid and JJ approached the dead girl with a practiced ease and forensic curiosity but their faces both registered fleeting traces of their more private feelings. It was always sad to see such young lives cut so brutally short. Especially when it was clear just how much they had suffered before they succumbed to the release of death.

“So this is our most recent victim, Lina Mills,” the ME started in. “The first victim, the first girl, Katerina Russo, was buried shortly after her autopsy and her parents have requested that we don’t exhume her body unless completely necessary.”

“Can I see her medical report?” Reid reached forward and took the proffered clip-board, scanning the entirety of the ME’s findings in a few seconds. “How consistent are the wounds between Katerina and Lina?”  

“I’d say they’re consistent, but Lina’s injuries are far more extensive.” The ME pulled up the section of sheets covering the body’s leg, displaying a mottled pattern of bruising and a very clearly dislocated knee. There were shallow cuts littering the skin, and electrical burns on the soles of her feet. It was sickening.

“This kind of torture…” JJ trailed off, burying her own memories of pain deeper inside herself. “I don’t think there’s any kind of sexual component here. He’s not using the torture to get off. This reads more like interrogation.”

“You’re right,” Reid murmured as he stooped to examine the bruising on the girl’s body more closely. “There’s no penetrative elements to what he’s doing. The bruises, electrical burns, ligature marks… they all look like what you see on POW’s. Do you have a time line for her injuries? Spencer asked.

“Yes,” the ME glanced down at the clipboard detailing the original observations she had made several weeks ago. “The oldest burns and bruises start on her extremities and seemed to move slowly inward, towards the core of her body. They also seem to increase in brutality as time passes. She has several broken ribs and in some places the electrical burns have penetrated down to the hypodermis and exposed vascular tissue. She also had extremely low nutrient density and was severely dehydrated. If he hadn’t shot her, she would’ve died soon anyway from the lack of water and food.”

“Was this the same on the first victim from sixth months ago?” JJ asked.

“Yes,” the ME nodded, “she was deprived of food and water as well but her injuries weren’t as extensive.”

“So he’s escalating the torture with each victim,” Spencer mused. “They must not be giving him what he wants to hear.”

“Now we need to figure out what that is,” JJ nodded.

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-

[avidbeader]

Post-S4 Voltron Fanfic: “From the Outside Looking In” (1/?)

Yeah, I need to start another story like I need a hole in the head. But I just have to try and write out some of my thoughts and frustrations while we wait and see if S5 or S6 resolves some of the unanswered questions.

So, this is the first chapter of a story set right after S4. I hope it won’t run more than 3-4 chapters, but we’ll see what happens along the way. Spoilers for S4, of course. Probably T-rated when all is written, maybe. Many thanks to @latart for beta help!

Summary: Keith and Shiro are not interacting the way Matt remembers them. Matt wants to know why.

As Matt headed down the hall, he jumped when a door slid open unexpectedly.  It revealed Keith, dressed in that red jacket he’d had since their Garrison days and carrying a bag over his shoulder. Keith brightened a little at seeing him.

“Oh, good. I’ve said goodbye to everyone else and I was hoping I’d see you before I left.” He held out one hand and Matt took it. Keith continued, “That was some great work from you all. I’m sure Kolivan will be in touch the next time there’s a situation where we can help each other out.”

Matt squeezed Keith’s hand and let go to clap him on the shoulder. “Sounds good, but can we not do the kamikaze move next time?”

A flash of…something...darkened Keith’s expression before he smiled ruefully. “Well, sometimes you don’t have a choice. When one life can save thousands? Millions? How many people would have died if Naxzela had blown up?” He shrugged. “And it’s not like I’m anything important anymore.”

Matt’s eyes widened as Keith turned and strode down the hall. The last time he’d heard something like that was Keith’s second year at the Garrison. He had been sulking over a debriefing after a simulator run in which he’d killed himself and his crew in a desperate move to salvage a no-win situation. His actions had resulted in the highest survival rate ever for the targets being rescued in that scenario but he had been taken to task for not consulting his team about it. After the debriefing they were in Shiro’s apartment as Shiro tried to explain why the instructors had been so harsh.

“I’m not saying what you did was the wrong thing, Keith, but you should have told your team what you were about to do. You’re supposed to make decisions together.” He raised his hands from his spot on the couch, almost pleading with Keith to see it his way.

Keith continued to pace the room. “Yeah, except as the pilot I’m the one in command of the team and there wasn’t time. They’d’ve argued and the window for moving in would have been lost.”

“What if they’d had a better option?”

“There was no other option! I tried to think of anything else but we were completely outnumbered! And I know Tabor and Piñeda. Tabor would have wanted to signal retreat and hope everyone else was good enough to get out of range of the attackers. Piñeda would have tried to hack something to increase our speed or power and it would have taken too long. Ramming the enemy leader into the next jet caused their formation to break and created enough confusion to let everyone else make a clean getaway.”

“At the cost of your lives.”

“Look, I’m sorry that it meant all three of us dying, but the numbers speak for themselves. Three dead against a hundred sixty-two saved. Iverson said flat-out it was the best result ever. And it’s not like I’m important anyway.”

“Keith!” Shiro shot to his feet. He grabbed the teen by the shoulders and swung him around. “Yes, you are! You are important! Don’t ever say something like that!”

Matt felt his eyebrows shoot for his hair behind his glasses. But Keith looked even more stunned at Shiro’s declaration.

Shiro pulled Keith closer, holding him in place just a few inches away. “Promise me. Promise me you’ll never consider doing something like that unless there is absolutely no other choice.”

Keith’s mouth worked soundlessly as he tried to come up with an answer. Finally he lifted his own hands to Shiro’s face and Shiro loosened his grip, trailing his hands down Keith’s arms.

“I promise, Takashi.”

Matt shook his head to bring himself out of the memory. “Hey, Keith?”

Keith stopped and turned. “Yeah?”

“Was there really no other choice, back there?”

Matt expected anger or frustration at being questioned. Instead, Keith’s eyes grew sad. He looked down briefly, then back up with that rueful smile again. “Not like I could count on one of our mortal enemies showing up with enough firepower to solve the problem, you know?” He gave a brief wave. “Gotta go. They’ll be waiting for me. I promised I wouldn’t take long.”

“Okay. Talk to you soon, all right?”

Keith nodded and walked away again while Matt watched him go. Once Keith was out of sight, Matt’s face hardened and he turned to head for the command center.

<> <> <> <> <>

Shiro was talking with Pidge and Hunk when Matt entered. He paused, noting that the conversation was just between his sister and the other resident genius while Shiro listened.

“Hey, Shiro! I need to talk to you.”

Shiro turned to him and Matt was struck yet again by that tiny sense of different. Two years lost in space, going through stars only knew what kind of hell to lose his arm, of course he would seem different. Matt was different, too. But sometimes it didn’t seem like the right kind of different.

“What is it, Matt?”

“Keith’s leaving!”

Pidge and Hunk broke off their discussion at the force in Matt’s voice. Shiro nodded, as if Matt had told him they expected rain tomorrow. “Yes, he and the Blade need to assess where they can do the most good now that we’ve taken so much territory from Zarkon.”

“Did you at least talk to him?”

Shiro frowned. “We all said goodbye. We’ll see him the next time we need to coordinate.”

Okay, now the sense of different was more than tiny. Where was the Shiro that always had Keith’s back? For that matter, where was the Keith who stuck like glue to Shiro’s side? He remembered their very first visit to the launch area for Kerberos, seeing the ship’s construction up close, his family and Shiro exploring in growing excitement over the tangible evidence that the mission was really happening. Shiro had brought Keith, the teenage brat who was only a few years older than Katie but already breaking Shiro’s records in the simulators. Matt had been surprised at how different Keith was away from his peers. He had looked around the launch area in awe, listening closely to everything Shiro said, with a look of pure longing on his face.

Shiro put a hand to Keith’s shoulder and leaned in. In a low voice, Shiro said, “Next time, it’ll be both of us. I’ll do my part and come back safe. You do your part and be the best pilot in the Garrison when I get back.”

Keith smiled before noticing Matt’s presence and hunching into himself a bit.

Shiro looked over, saw Matt, and waved. “Matt, come here. I need to introduce you two.”

And just like that, Matt had met Shiro’s shadow. Slowly over the next two years of preparation, he had discovered some of the Keith that stayed hidden under his surly surface. The Keith that only Shiro knew well.

Now he looked at Shiro in shock. “What the hell? He nearly killed himself out there and you’re just going to let him leave with a ‘be seeing you’?”

Hunk sat up from his slouch, his feet thudding on the floor. “What do you mean?”

Matt looked at their uncomprehending faces. “Seriously? You didn’t know? He was going to ram his fighter into the shield to try and bring it down so we could take out the transmitter!”

Both Pidge and Hunk looked stunned. Pidge let out a breath. “That’s what you meant...you yelled at Keith not to do something…”

But Shiro only frowned. “Well, it all worked out. Lotor solved that problem and now we have a new one as we figure out what he wants from us.”

Now three shocked faces stared at Shiro. He looked mystified. “What?”

“I can’t believe what you just said! This is Keith we’re talking about!” Matt shouted. “What happened to ‘promise me you’ll never do something like that unless there’s no other choice’?”

Shiro’s brows furrowed, not making the connection. “Look, we’re at war here. Sometimes…sometimes sacrifices need to be made.”

“And you’ll just accept it if Keith sacrifices himself without even trying to find another way?”

And then Matt got support from an unexpected source.

“Or even if there is no other way, not letting it bother you for a single minute?” Pidge hissed. “I heard you! When we attacked Zarkon’s command center and Thace was caught and Keith had to infiltrate to take down the defenses? You know, the suicide mission according to Kolivan? You told me to get the cloak up on a pod and I heard you when you said Keith’s name! It almost wrecked you to let him go!”

Hunk nodded. “We all heard it, Shiro. What’s so different now?”

“I…” Shiro lifted one hand to the side of his head and pressed his fingers into the short hair behind his ear, massaging the spot.

Pidge’s eyes narrowed. “Another headache?”

“Yeah.”

Since when does Shiro get headaches?

Matt glared at him once more. “Maybe you should get it checked out. Have them search for your heart while they’re at it. Because the Shiro I knew would never have let Keith just walk away.” He gave Pidge a brief wave and exited the room.

<> <> <> <> <>

Matt was striding down the hall so fast that he couldn’t stop himself when a figure popped out of a room. They collided and Matt grabbed the other’s arms to steady them. Then he recognized Lance and let go, remembering the teenager’s antipathy toward him.

“Where are you going?” Lance snarled.

Yep, antipathy still there even though Matt had long since calmed down after his initial meeting with Allura. Other than thoroughly enjoying looking at her when they were in the same room.

“Back to the fleet. We need to coordinate supplies to the region around Naxzela.”

“That’s fine. You go back to your people, Keith goes back to his. Everybody in their little corner.”

Matt was walking away but whirled around at that. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Lance flapped a hand at him. “You’ve got your band of rebels and you’re all cozy with them. Keith is with his Galra buddies.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You haven’t heard? Keith’s half-alien. Galra, of course, because the universe has a nasty sense of humor. But naturally he prefers hanging out with them instead of staying where he had responsibilities.”

“He...what?”

“Oh, go ask Shiro if you want the details! He was there when Keith found out!” Lance turned and stalked away as Matt stared after him.

How in all the stars could Keith be Galra?

<> <> <> <> <>

I shouldn’t be doing this.

But her fingers danced across the holopanels, shifting from one camera to the next as she followed Shiro’s path through the castle halls. He had said he was going to find Coran and ask for a quick medical scan.

But there was something in his voice that told Pidge he was lying. And now that she was thinking about it, really thinking and not just reacting to situations, it felt like that something had been there for a while. Ever since they had found him in that adrift Galra fighter after weeks and weeks, things had been...different. Off. And now that she knew where Matt was and that problem was solved, she could concentrate on why things felt wrong.

Such as Shiro arguing with Keith so much since his return. Sure, they’d had disagreements, but they had always been able to talk them out. And even in the heat of a battle, Shiro had been able to explain his reasoning quickly enough for Keith to come around if he insisted on his option. But now Shiro ordered a whole lot more instead of explaining. And that didn’t make sense either, since Keith was supposed to be their leader.

But the minute Shiro was up and around, they had all swung back to him. Even Keith had offered to stay behind that first time and let Shiro return to the Black Lion. Had that been what set the tone? Had that made everyone gravitate back to the old status quo just at the point where they had all begun to feel somewhat confident with Keith leading?

Pidge jerked, realizing she’d lost visual on Shiro as her thoughts drifted. She checked the cameras in the halls near the cryo-room and found nothing. Biting her lip, she brought up the program that let her register life forms in any part of the castle. She had never told Coran or Allura about it, holding it in reserve until a severe enough emergency happened.

There were life forms in the kitchen and Lance’s room, almost certainly Hunk and Lance, respectively. There were a large number of moving forms in the cargo area, which were probably Allura or Coran and the Olkari organizing the latest shipment of food and medicines. There was one headed her way, possibly Coran--she needed to turn this thing off--there! She noted the passage near the hangars and swiped to shut the program down.

“Hello, Number Five! What are you up to?”

“Nothing, just watching Matt go.”

Coran stepped forward and put a hand to her shoulder. “Don’t worry. You’ll see him again soon.”

“I know,” she replied absently and got to her feet. “I’m gonna go tinker with Green a bit. Make sure there’s no lingering damage from that gravity field.” She darted out, waving as Coran called after her to be on time for dinner.

<> <> <> <> <>

Keith was halfway to the base when his comm lit up. He tapped the panel and raised an eyebrow in surprise when he saw Matt’s face.

“Didn’t expect to hear from you this soon. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s…” Matt trailed off and looked down for a moment. “No, you know, something might be really wrong. Is there somewhere we can meet and talk?”

Keith checked his position and let out a derisive snicker. “Have you been to the space mall that used to be an Unilu swap moon?”

“Um...no?”

“Sending you the coordinates. There’s got to be at least one coffee shop in that place. But ditch your cloak--the security guy has a thing against people who look like pirates.”

“I do not look like a pirate!”

Keith rolled his eyes and grinned. “Seriously, if you have any GAC, you could get some fresh clothes while we’re there.”

Matt shook his head. “Coran let me raid a storage area full of supplies. I think I’ve got it covered.”

An hour later Keith spotted Matt as he approached the central clock. Sure enough, he was wearing what looked like a scaled-back version of Coran’s outfit. Keith waved and Matt jogged over to him.

“Okay, that works. Looking good.”

“You, too. I can’t believe you still have that jacket after all these years.” Matt’s eyes wandered, taking in the size of the complex. “Have you found a coffee shop?”

“If I’m reading the directory right, there’s something like that up on the third floor.” Keith led him to the escalators. “So, what did you want to talk about?”

Matt bit his lip. “Okay, first...Lance told me something that I don’t understand. He said...he said you’re...part alien?”

Keith concentrated on stepping off the escalator and led Matt to the next one before replying. “Well, yes. I didn’t know growing up, but then things started happening once we were out here.” He pointed to his knife, the one he had always carried when off Garrison property. He saw Matt focus on it, realizing that the wrappings that once covered the hilt were gone. “We met a Galra, a member of the Blade of Marmora and the one who helped Shiro escape back to Earth. He was carrying a sword with the same insignia on it and I started trying to find out more. I eventually learned that somewhere on my mother’s side I’m part Galra. Got initiated into the Blades along the way.”

Matt’s eyes were wide with surprise, but, like Shiro, there was no recoil. No revulsion or anger that Keith was part of the race that had treated Matt so cruelly. Keith felt the muscles in his neck and shoulders relax as they stepped off the escalator and started down the hall.

And then Matt’s next words knotted them again.

“So, is that why Shiro’s different around you now?”

“What? No! He was there! He was there when we found out and he…” Keith felt his throat close, remembering how Shiro had patched him up so carefully, held him when he couldn’t keep the tears inside anymore. “He was the only one who didn’t let things change at all, not even for an instant.”

Matt frowned. “Explain?”

“Everyone else needed time to adjust. I think Pidge was the first to accept it--she started asking about my physiology and wanted to analyze my knife within hours. Lance never really talked to me about it, but he stopped making alien jokes after a couple of days. Hunk was just plain nosy about it all. And Allura…” Keith swallowed, remembering the pain from her rejection. “She avoided me for ages. She just couldn’t reconcile me, someone she thought of as a friend, as family, being part of the race that destroyed her entire planet. It took me going off on a deadly mission to get her to talk to me again.”

They paused at the entrance to a place that looked like a typical coffeeshop. Matt tilted his head in a perfect echo of Pidge. “Wait, you pulled another kamikaze move? Shiro’s the one with the Japanese background, not you! Just how many times have you done this?”

Keith swallowed hard and looked down, unable to meet Matt’s eyes. “Um...three or four? It’s not like I go in expecting to die!”

“Oh, really? What was your plan for surviving the impact from hitting that shield at ramming speed, then?”

“I...come on, Matt! Millions of lives were at stake!”

Instead of escalating the argument, Matt put a hand on his shoulder and steered him into the shop to get in line. He lowered his voice. “I get that. I get that in the moment you didn’t see another way and I get what you’re saying. What I don’t get is how, after managing to survive it, you and Shiro aren’t clinging to one another like magnets and reassuring each other that you’ve made it through so far. Why isn’t he making you explain breaking your promise to him and yelling at you for not even saying goodbye? Why are you here instead of doing everything you can to remind him you survived? If learning that you’re partly of the race that enslaved him hasn’t driven him away, then what the hell did?”

Keith calmed down as Matt began, hearing the sincerity in the other’s voice. And then as he went on, Keith felt a growing chill in his veins. If Matt, who had known them both since before Kerberos, could see just how much things had changed...maybe it wasn’t all in Keith’s head. He tried to sort out his thoughts as Matt consulted with the barista, who set cups in front of them with a hot liquid that was decidedly blue, glittered, and smelled like chai.  They paid up and settled at an empty table.

“It...I think it was after he came back the second time. He was missing for months after vanishing from the Black Lion when we defeated Zarkon. And when we found him he was almost dead. He spent a couple of weeks in his room, not letting anyone else in. I thought he’d be working through his PTSD all over again. Instead he got up, found different clothes, ditched his undercut, and started acting like everything was okay. Even when the Black Lion wouldn’t fly for him, he just looked...a bit sad about it.

“Before that second disappearance, he was dealing with recognizable symptoms. I know he had nightmares. He’d zone out in flashbacks, especially in combat. At one point the castle got infected from being powered by a Galra crystal --all of us got attacked by the castle’s systems during that little adventure--and he suffered what were possibly hallucinations or possibly a mental probe by a captured Galra officer. Either way it triggered a full-on panic attack.”

Matt sat back, staring into his cup. “Stars...I had no idea. He seems so together.” He looked back up. “Too together. Even the way he greeted me when I came back with Pidge. Sure, he pulled me into a hug, but then he let go and started talking...cripes, it was a speech. Formal. Like an actor improvising--”

“What a leader should say,” Keith finished with him. Goosebumps had broken out on his arms as Keith remembered that first speech Shiro gave when he returned to the command center. And speech was the perfect word. Sure, Shiro had given stirring pep talks in combat before, but this had lacked the energy, the sincerity that Shiro had always conveyed before.

“An actor…” Matt breathed, his brows knit as he considered the possibilities. “Some kind of brainwashing? Do we know whether the Galra have cloning capability?”

Keith inhaled sharply. “Hunk once said something about that arm, that it could be a way to implant false memories into Shiro’s brain. When he first came back, that one night we were on Earth before finding the Blue Lion, he said his memories were foggy, that his brain felt scrambled.” Keith pressed his hands to his mouth, his mind racing with implications. “But...if that’s not Shiro, where is he?”

“And who’s in the castle with the team?”

<> <> <> <> <> <> <> <> <> <>

More to come...

[my-fic-recs-for-ppl-in-need]

Stucky

07.02.2020

Here’s my first ever fic-rec that I’ve made. I hope you like them!

This consists 20 of my favourite Stucky fics! I’ve put warnings in if the fic has something like sad engings or if there’s some major character deaths to make your reading experience as enjoyable as possible!

Also feel free to send me some of your favourite ones because I am always looking for new fics to read. Anyways, enjoy your reading and here’s the list!

Chase This Light by leveragehunters on Ao3

58,5 K

Raiting: Teen And Up Audiences

No Warnings

In the modern world, where the creatures of myth live side-by-secret-side with mundane humanity, Steve Rogers is one of the gifted humans who straddles the line between mythfolk and mundane, and he's never told anyone about the day he healed a dragon.

Living in the city in human form, Bucky's managed to shed most of dragon-kind's more unpleasant tendencies, but he's never quite managed to shake the tendency to get attached, especially not when it comes to the healer who saved his life.

When healers start going missing, Bucky will do anything to make sure Steve isn't one of them, something that would be a hell of a lot easier if Steve could stand the sight of him. Of course, Steve might feel differently if he knew Bucky was the dragon he'd saved all those years ago.

The World’s at Stake by Atsadi on Ao3

16,3 K

Raiting: Teen And Up Audiences

No Warnings

Few soulmates are separated at birth by too much time – but when the distance becomes greater than one year all bets are off, with five years’ difference being equally as unusual as fifty.

Yet the one rule that has never been broken is that the soulmates’ lifespans always overlap.

So it came as something of a shock to the young boy in an orphanage in Brooklyn, New York, when his soul mark came in at the age of twelve and told him that his soulmate had been dead for almost sixty years.

Brooklyn by togina on Ao3

8,7 K

Raiting: Teen And Up Audiences

No Warnings

Need an Ao3 account to read

"Captain America, what's your stance on gay marriage?"

Everyone knows that, by now. Everyone but Bucky.

How can a loser ever win by sirona on Ao3

12,4 K 

Raiting: Mature

No Warnings

The Soldier should not be standing here, in the middle of a crowded room with obstructed exits, risking discovery with every second he remains rooted to the spot -- but.

But. He'd had to know.

Five Times Steve Scared the Ever-Living Shit Out Of Bucky, And The One Time Bucky Finally Did Something About It by WhatTheBodyGraspsNot on Ao3

7,6 K

No Warnings

Raiting: Mature

'Steve smiles against him, still getting his kicks with the whole thing. Because he might be a truly wonderful person, but he can also be a little shit if he wants to be.

“Never fucking do that to me again,” Bucky says, but it lacks venom.

“I won’t.” Steve says.

But Bucky knows he will because he’s Steve.'

OR: Whether he's doing it on purpose or not, Steve consistently scares the crap out of Bucky, who is already trying to deal with his looming feelings for the little punk. It's giving him gray hair.

Raise Your Hand If You Understand Russian by Alex_Writes on Ao3

6,3 K 

Raiting: Mature 

No Warnings

Bucky Barnes, a Russian foreign exchange student, moves in with Steve, Natasha, Tony, and Clint when Fury - the Dean of the college - realizes that his English is poor and that Natasha is the best candidate to work as an interpreter. Upon seeing Steve, Bucky starts making comments, knowing that only Natasha will understand what he's saying. Things change, though, when Tony insists they go to a carnival for "house bonding" and Steve overhears something. With a trick up his sleeve, Steve and Bucky proceed to surprise everyone in the house, proving that they might not know Steve as well as they thought they did.

Our Broken Parts (Smashed on the Floor) by This Girl Is (non_sequential) on Ao3

11,7 K

Raiting: Explicit

No Warnings

Steve is sent undercover to catch an elusive Russian assassin. He didn’t want to do it in the first place; he’s damn certain he won’t be asked again.

Bite Your Tongue by Avaaricious on Ao3

34,1 K

Raiting: Teen And Up Audiences

No Warnings

AKA the "I work at a department store and if you take out and unfold a shirt and then leave it one more time I'm going to stuff it down your throat" AU

Even Underneath The Waves by Leveragehunters on Ao3

20,4 K 

Raiting: Teen And Up Audiences

No Warnings

When the siren came to the merfolk clan in search of a temporary mate she knew she'd bear a daughter, a full-blooded siren, powerful and deadly. Instead she bore a son.

It was hard to be the son of a siren, a creature of suspicion in the eyes of his father's people, and Steve soon left his father's clan to wander the oceans alone. Alone, that is, until he found a human like he'd never seen. A human dressed all in black, surrounded by blood and death. A human whose heart's desire, buried deep beneath an inhuman shell, was crying out not to kill.

there must have been a moment where we could have said no by magdaliny

154,6 K

Raiting: Mature

Graphic Depictions Of Violence

The Soldier remembers this: he wakes up in the snow.

These Streets by alby_mangroves; Nejinee on Ao3

10 Works

108,5 K

Raiting: Mature

No Warnings

The trials and tribulations of Police Officer Steve Rogers and his experiences with the locals in his precinct, as well as his involvement with the stupidly handsome roughneck from the 'hood, Bucky Barnes.

Fill Your Heart Without Trying by Kellyscams on Ao3

38,5 K

Raiting: Explicit

No Warnings

Steve Rogers is a caster with one very big problem.

He's accidentally turned himself into a puppy.

When trying to cross the scary, busy street to get to Wanda Maximoff's Shoppe of Witchcraft to reverse this spell and get himself back to normal, Steve's picked up by someone trying to do a good deed and rescue a few pounds of pathetic puppy. Instead of getting to Wanda's place, Steve goes home with Bucky Barnes--his adorably shy rescuer.

Unfortunately, Bucky doesn't come off as terribly talented with magic and Steve has a feeling he might have to go to extremes to get someone to notice that he's not a normal puppy. Then again, maybe Steve's not the only one around here who's not what he seems.

it’s a strange courage by mambo on Ao3

27,5 K

Raiting: Explicit

Rape/Non-Con

"The question the entertainment world is asking themselves today is... Who is Steve? Hollywood superstar Bucky Barnes was spotted at a wrap-party last night, serenading someone named Steve onstage. Not only was Barnes more than a little tipsy, but he also sang a song from the Disney Channel Original Movie that started his career--a bold move, considering the fact that he always dodges questions about it. But who is Steve? Why did Bucky leave the club alone? What does this mean about the rumors of a relationship between Barnes and his co-star Natasha Romanoff? And is everyone's favorite poster boy gay? All this and more after a quick message from our sponsors!"

Critical Feline Mass by Kryptarian; zooeyscigar on Ao3

39,5 K

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

No Warnings

Adjusting to civilian life is hard for any military veteran — especially for one ex-sniper with a cybernetic arm, a classic Harley, and friends who keep trying to ‘help.’ When Sam Wilson at the VA sends Sergeant Barnes to rent a room from the hottest guy in the DC area, Bucky thinks maybe civilian life is worth it after all. And then he finds out Captain Rogers is everything Bucky’s not: a real hero, a Medal of Honor recipient, and an all-around nice guy. Bucky doesn’t have a chance in hell with him.

Sam was a huge help to Steve Rogers when he left the military. In the spirit of ‘pay it forward,’ Steve decides to rent out his basement room to a vet in need. But when Sergeant Barnes shows up on his doorstep, he knows he’s in for a world of trouble. Barnes is exactly what Steve never knew he wanted, from his bedroom eyes to his wicked innuendos. And he’s Steve’s tenant.

A love story in twelve chapters, including two Harley-Davidsons, a guardian angel, multiple snipers, the only woman who can scare them into behaving themselves, spontaneous kittens, and one attacking sheep.

technical difficulties by idekman on Ao3

7,1 K/WIP

Rating: General Audiences

No Warnigs

'Well, you got more followers than Katy Perry.' 'That's what you woke us up for? To tell me that I got more followers than some actress -' 'Katy Perry's a singer,' Bucky mumbles into the pillow. '-Some singer? It's -' he breaks off, checks the digital clock next to him. 'It's six o clock in the morning!' Next to him, Bucky lets out an offended groan. 'You're also on the news. Again.'

-

Steve Rogers' twitter ends up being more controversial than anyone expected.

(Maybe) It Might Be Love by endoftheline7 on Ao3

14,1 K

Raiting: Teen And Up Audoences 

No Warnings

Every day since the start of fourth year, Bucky Barnes has been asking Steve Rogers out. Steve always says no, of course- he knows it's a joke. Why would Bucky Barnes actually want to date him?

However as Bucky's attempts get even more ridiculous, Steve is finding it harder and harder to turn him away.

Is It Pretending If I Already Want You? by OhCaptainMyCaptain on Ao3

85,2 K

Raiting: Explicit

No Warnings

Based on prompt: Pretend Boyfriends AU where one of their families is always wondering why they're never in a relationship, so the other offers to pretend to be their boyfriend for some family event"

Basic Steps to Getting Yourself In a Pickle With Both Your Family and The Guy You've Secretly Crushed On For Five Years (A Guide):

STEP 1: After being perpetually single and constantly making up excuses to your family, give in and lie about having a boyfriend. STEP 2: Agree to bring said boyfriend to the family cottage for a week so he can be your date to your parents' wedding anniversary party. STEP 3: Panic. STEP 4: Say 'yes' when your best friend and closet crush - who you're convinced isn't interested in you that way in the least - offers to be your pretend boyfriend. STEP 5: Try your best not to fall in love with them during the trip. STEP 6: Fail miserably.

I’m just the man on the balcony (singing ‘nobody will ever remember me’) by megyal on Ao3

3,5 K

Raiting: Mature

No Warnings

"They call you the Winter Soldier," the man said. "But I know who you really are."

Coffee, Trapper Hats and Chocolate Wasabi Fudge Cake by perfect_plan on Ao3

15,0 K

Raiting: Mature

No Warnings

Bucky likes his job at Natasha's coffee shop. Mostly that has to do with Steve Rogers, who wears a dorky hat to work and sketches on his lunch break but Bucky's not going to tell anyone that.

[dannofaust]

Happy New Year! I hope everyone had a great holiday season. I am excited to begin the new year because in just four months I will officially be retired and in just over six months my Mississippi River trip will begin. At least I hope it will begin. We will have to wait and see what Mother Nature has to say about that. River levels and overnight temperatures will dictate my actual starting date. My tentative starting date is June 15th.

This seems like the perfect time to look back at the previous year and ponder my journey of preparation during 2019. It’s been fun writing this blog. I’ve learned a lot and grown a bit, but I think the most rewarding thing about the Glory Days blog is being able to go back and relive this experience. Without this written record of the things that have happened over the last eighteen months or so, many of the details and memories would be lost. I probably already forgotten a million little details that I didn’t write about, but having these few memories preserved is quite nice. They may not mean much to anyone else, but they represent a little part of my life that I want to remember.

In January there are pool sessions. Just like last year I will be traveling to Peoria for pool sessions with the Mackinaw Canoe Club at the Central Park Pool. It seems like a long time ago, but last year at this time I was still paddling my beloved Vesper kayak. Looking back now, it’s hard for me to believe I had actually intended to use that kayak for e entire trip down the Mississippi. The Vesper is a fine recreation kayak, but it has no bulkheads, no perimeter lines, minimal interior space ( aka volume ), and simply wasn’t a good choice for what I am planning to do. It’s kind of scary to think that I had let my ego talk myself into using that boat. Oh, it could be done. People use recreational craft even less well suited to the task each year. Some of them make it all the way to the Gulf. That doesn’t mean it’s a good idea. I don’t really want to be one of those people and I am thankful that Bob Alexander and Karen Kyle talked some sense into me. I also appreciate the gentle and patient way they nudged me in the right direction. So I guess I learned a lot more at those pool session than just rolling my kayak.

March brought back the annual pilgrimage to Canoecopia in Madison, Wisconsin. I hadn’t been to Canoecopia in quite a long time prior to 2019. It was good to get back there and immerse myself into the paddlesports culture again. There was so much going on in such a short amount of time. Canoecopia is always sensory overload for me. There is just no way my little brain can process it all. Looking back on it now I think, why didn’t I take a bazillion more photos and talk to more people while I was there. The truth is, I’m never very comfortable in a crowd, and Canoecopia is always crowded. It’s a super popular event, and for good reason. I think my brain had kind of shut down a bit and I was just trying to cope with the situation.

Overall though, Canoecopia 2019 was a great experience. One of the best parts of the weekend was meeting Traci Lynn Martin. She was so sweet to me. I can’t imagine the courage and determination it takes to peruse the circumnavigation of the five Great Lakes in a single calendar year. I also can’t imagine the heartbreak of coming up just a little bit short few years earlier. One thing that Traci has been through that I can relate to is the loss of her mother. It was a turning point in Traci’s life and a big influence that lead her to her quest to paddle the Great Lakes. Traci has such a wonderful story to tell and a powerful message for anyone who suffers from chronic pain. I wrote four blog posts about my Canoecopia 2019 weekend. The post that included meeting Traci was by far my most popular post up until that time and is still in the top two or three posts so far. Traci is scheduled to tackle the Great Lakes again this year ( 2020 ) and I will be watching her progress and cheering her on, even as I start my own trip.

March brought about one of the biggest changes of the year for me, the acquisition of my Wilderness System Tsunami 145. I had been thinking about the need for a better kayak. Bob and Karen’s message was slowly sinking in through my thick skull, and then … out of nowhere … I see this beautiful kayak listed for sale in a FaceBook post. I had a little bit of money in my budget from the sale of surplus canoes in our fleet, so I literally jumped at the opportunity and within a couple of hours I was returning from Galesburg, Illinois with a nearly new boat. Always cautious and slow to change, I wasn’t entirely convinced that I had made the right decision, but it didn’t take long for me to begin to grasp what a wonderful upgrade the Tsunami was. The tracking of the Tsunami is phenomenal compared to the Vesper. With the addition of two sealed bulkheads, perimeter lines, better bungee lines, and much more interior volume the Tsunami is far superior for the task at hand. My one last area of concern was how easily would it be to self rescue in the Tsunami? I needn’t have worried. The Tsunami rolls easily and is much easier to deal with should I ever have to exit the boat in deep water and then self rescue.

April is always a month that I look forward to. My birthday is in April. April means warmer weather and all the glories of Spring. This year I am a little extra excited about April because I will be retiring at the end of the month. I can hardly wait for that. Last April brought about a bittersweet experience though. It was time for me to part ways with my trusty Vesper kayak. I had paddled that kayak for hundreds of miles on many different rivers and streams, large and small. We had been through a lot together. I knew the time had come though. We don’t need an extra kayak right now and I had spent almost all of my Mississippi River trip budget on the Tsunami. Sadly, the Vesper had to go. She was already all cleaned up from doing pool sessions, so I snapped a few photos and listed her for sale. I was quite gratified to almost immediately receive some responses to the ads. The most enthusiastic of those responses was from a young lady in Michigan. Her name is Katie. The whole process happened very quickly with a flurry of messages going back and forth. We settled on a plan and met at a McDonald parking lot near Joliet, Illinois. As I drove north on Interstate 55 to meet Katie, I began to worry that she wasn’t the person I wanted to sell my kayak to. I worried that she didn’t have enough experience and didn’t really know what she was buying. I worried that she wouldn’t want to pay the price we had agreed to. I even worried that she wouldn’t have a proper roof rack to haul the kayak or know how to secure it properly. Boy, was I wrong. I was worried about nothing. Katie knew exactly what she was doing and had the situation well under control. We completed the transaction even quicker than I could have imagined and suddenly the Vesper was gone. I was sad to drive away without her, but I felt great about the new home she had with Katie.

April was also when I wrote about “Energy Bars” and we did our big energy bar taste off. I roped my daughter, my sister, and my brother-in-law into sampling more than a dozen different energy bars and then giving their opinions of each one. It was a fun ( I use that term loosely) and interesting experience that we still talk about. The best part was that it was a shared experience. By the time we got to the end, even my wife had joined in. Doing things with the family is always great. I’m glad We did that together and that I wrote about it. It’s one of those memories that I want to hold onto.

May meant that the weather was getting warm and paddling season was underway in earnest. I had just finished a short day trip on the Vermilion River not far from home at the end of April. With the weather getting warmer and an upgraded kayak to become more familiar with, I was eager to get out on the water. More day trips close to home soon followed. My first big trip of the season was the Des Plaines River Canoe and Kayak Marathon.

  I followed that up with an epic trip from the headwaters of the Vermilion River back to my home here in Pontiac, Illinois. That trip covered just over 40 miles in a single day. That’s the most river miles I have ever done in one day. It was a day where everything seemed to fall into place and just work perfectly with very little effort from me. The current was swift, but there were few obstacle to make things difficult. I had my kayak fully loaded so that I could experience what it would be like to paddle it that way. It handled great. The wind seemed to always be at my back. The water level had even dropped just enough to allow me safe passage under a low railroad bridge that had required a portage just the day before. The sun was shining and the air temperature was very pleasant. Every day on the river is great, but I have rarely experienced such a perfect day of paddling. I had no intentions of paddling that far when I started the trip, but with everything in my favor, it just worked out that way.

    June saw me paddling 18 miles through the scenic Fox River Dells with a group of Northern Illinois paddlers and then doing multiple trips on the Middle Fork of the Vermilion River Danville, Illinois. Those were some memorable trips for sure. My wife and I and our daughter Jennifer did our only camping trip of the year at the Kickapoo State Recreational Area. So many wonderful memories. The blog posts I wrote about those trips became the most popular so far. I could write several more posts based on those trips.

July was time to celebrate a great paddling tradition here in Pontiac, Illinois. That’s when the Vermilion River Canoe Race takes place. 2019 marked the 50th anniversary of this great event so I felt like I had to enter the race. Who could pass up the opportunity to be part of a historical event like that. I’m not a racer and it showed, but it was still an awesome experience with wonderful camaraderie. I was completely exhausted at the end of the race, but I was still smiling and had fun. I also slept very well that night.

August was a time where my paddling slowed down a bit. Even though I didn’t write about it, most of my paddling happened close to home. I did get a chance to try Stand Up Paddle Boarding on Lake Erie near Cleveland, Ohio while on vacation with my wife and daughter. We all tried it and had a good time. I fell of just once. It was more difficult than I had anticipated.

September started a trend that has continued right through to the end of the year on the Glory Days blog. That trend was “Food”. I had touched on the subject earlier in the year with the energy bar review, but I didn’t realize how much I needed to discuss this subject or how reader would react to it.

October was consumed with more of the same discussion about food, budgeting, and nutrition. It has been surprising to me to see how those three things are so closely s related for my trip. Food and nutrition obviously go together, but budgeting is a big factor that ties it al together. Those three things effect nearly every other aspect of the trip, in one way or the other, too.

November was time when I looked back at some of the paddlers I had been following as they did their trips down the Mississippi. I learned so much from following along via Facebook and the Mississippi River Paddlers Group. If there is any one piece of advice I could give to anyone else thinking about doing a Source to Sea Mississippi River trip, it would be to join that group, follow along with every post, and ask plenty of questions. In my humble opinion, there’s no better way to learn than from the people who have done it and/or are doing it currently ( pun intended ).

    December was another slow month for paddling because of the holidays, but unseasonably warm weather did allow me to get out and do a fell local day trips. The most notable of these was my last paddling trip of the year with an old friend and paddling mentor, Gene Grider. I hadn’t paddled with Gene in a long time. There had been a lot of water under the bridge and a lot of changes in each of our lives since the last time we had seen each other, so it was very rewarding to catch up and enjoy a beautiful late December day on the river together. A great ending to a great paddling year.

2019 was a good year. I can hardly wait to see what 2020 has in store. I wish you all the very best for this coming year! Cheers for a great start! Thanks for reading!

“I have not failed. I’ve just found 10,000 ways that don’t work.” – Thomas A. Edison

Previous Post: “Nutrition �� Part 2”

Next Post: “2020 – A Year of Discoveries”

2019 Year in Review Happy New Year! I hope everyone had a great holiday season. I am excited to begin the new year because in just four months I will officially be retired and in just over six months my Mississippi River trip will begin.

[deadcactuswalking]

REVIEWING THE CHARTS: 16th June 2019

Top 10

For the fifth week since its debut, Ed Sheeran and Justin Bieber’s “I Don’t Care” stays at the #1 spot, not to be dethroned anytime soon... except Drake and Taylor Swift, as well as Sheeran’s other song down the charts, are all viable contenders so we’ll see how that goes.

Meanwhile, “Old Town Road” by Lil Nas X is also pretty steady at number-two.

“Someone You Loved” by Lewis Capaldi isn’t moving either at number-three.

Speaking of not moving at all, “Vossi Bop” by Stormzy is also at number-four from last week.

Billie Eilish’s “bad guy” hasn’t moved from its space at number-five; seriously, whilst there a lot fo debuts this week, looking at the first half of this top 10 you’d be confused to why I’d consider it busy or even interesting.

We have got some traction with something in the top 10, however, with “Hold Me While You Wait” by Lewis Capaldi unfortunately being boosted up a single spot to number-six.

The release of the posthumous album TIM has lead the late Avicii’s “SOS” featuring Aloe Blacc up one spot to number-seven.

We actually have a top 10 debut this week, however, with “No Guidance” featuring Drake by... Chris Brown. Fantastic, we need more of him on the charts at number-eight. This is Brown’s 35th (!) Top 40 hit in the UK and 16th Top 10, and Drake’s forty-fricking-seventh UK Top 40 hit, which is insane, and only 17th Top 10 like Brown. Whether that’s due to general quality and talent or just latching onto what can be a hit and launching it into success by pure star-power without quality control or a need to think twice is up to your interpretation.

Ed Sheeran’s “Cross Me” featuring Chance the Rapper and PNB Rock is surprisingly stable at number-nine, although the UK Singles Chart says on the mid-week that this could be making a run for #1.

Oh, and Jax Jones and Martin Solveig’s “All Day and Night” featuring Madison Beer is up a spot to #10. That EUROPA collaborative album still isn’t out yet, though.

Climbers

Sigala and Becky Hill’s “Wish You Well” makes a sudden boost up nine spaces to the top 20 at #15, becoming Sigala’s eighth Top 20 and Hill’s fourth. On the topic of EDM, MEDUZA and Goodboys’ “Piece of Your Heart” is “up” 11 spaces according to BBC’s awfully-made first-draft page they upload instead of a legitimate rundown of the top 40, but it’s actually had its streaming cut and is down 11 spaces from last week. “One Touch” by Jess Glynne and Jax Jones is up seven spots to #23, “Easier” by 5 Seconds of Summer is up seven to #27, as is “3 Nights” by Dominic Fike at #31, and “Sixteen” by Ellie Goulding is up six to #29, but it gets more interesting in the fallers.

Fallers

We see the aftermath of Skepta’s album bomb last week, with “What Do You Mean?” featuring J Hus also moving “up” 11 spaces down to #25, and “Greaze Mode” featuring Nafe Smallz down 10 spaces to #28. “OT Bop” by NSG is also down six spaces to #32, while otherwise not very notable, Miley Cyrus’ “Mother’s Daughter” is “diwn” two spots to #33. How professional. “Falling Like the Stars” by James Arthur and “Carry On” by Kygo and Rita Ora are down nine and six spaces respectively to #34 and #35. “Location” by Dave featuring Burna Boy has interestingly survived on the Top 40 despite streaming cuts as hip-hop doesn’t often do, down 24 spaces to #36, and yeah, that’s all.

Dropouts & Returning Entries

Moving to an unofficial chart-watching site for this one because clearly the BBC can’t be trusted, after its debut, last week “Bruises” by Lewis Capaldi is out from #16. I’m pretty sure this is due to streaming cuts as well because it’s charted for 12 weeks outside the Top 40 and is an old song, so maybe it just went recurrent and dropped off so... “Grace” could return to #12. I know exactly what is happening and it’s kind of hilarious – Lewis Capaldi’s album is doing so well that the highest-performing songs are always on the chart, but since that can only be three, “Grace” and “Bruises” have been trading places for the last three weeks in the top 20. I think “Bruises” won’t be returning here though, because “Grace” has a lot more longevity although it has already peaked. We have a couple really sad drop-outs actually, as these are songs I pretty much loved that I feel are exiting prematurely, as “Summer Days” by Martin Garrix, Macklemore and Patrick Stump of Fall Out Boy is out from #40 and “EARFQUAKE” by Tyler, the Creator featuring Playboi Carti and Charlie Wilson is out from #37. “Talk” by Khalid out from #28 also hurts but that’s due to streaming cuts and it was in the top 10 for God knows how long so I’m fine with this. There are a LOT of drop-outs actually, wow, mostly from hits in the Spring that are making space for Summer hits, like “So Am I” by Ava Max from #35, “Fashion Week” by Steel Banglez, AJ Tracey (We’ll be seeing more of him) and MoStack from #33, “Keisha & Becky” by Russ splash and Tion Wayne from #19, “What I Like About You” by Jonas Blue and Theresa Rex from #23, “Bullet from a Gun” by Skepta from #32 after the album’s hype died down and “Here with Me” by Marshmello and CHRVCHES from #20, all making way for... “Sucker” by Jonas Brothers to return at #40. That wasn’t worth it.

ALBUM BOMB

STACKO – MoStack

Yeah, I didn’t expect this but I should have been, I didn’t think MoStack was this big to have an album bomb, with two songs debuting in the Top 40 thanks to the release of his debut album debuting at #3 on the Albums Chart, entitled STACKO. I think I just under-estimated his success because I’ve never liked him to be honest, but his debut from last week, “Shine Girl” featuring Stormzy has grown on me quite a bit and I feel I quite like it now, so I guess my opinion reflects the public since it’s up two spaces to #13, surpassing Katy Perry. MoStack also has two debuts in the Top 40, one of which I’ve already heard because it had Dave on it and I love Dave so I had to check it out. The track listing for this album is basically a who’s who of the best guys from the British hip-hop roster, with Dave, J Hus, Stormzy and Fredo all making guest appearances, and I guess we should start with the lowest debut from the album...

#39 – “I’m the One” – MoStack featuring Fredo

Produced by Hazard and Steel Banglez

This is technically a “MoStack x Fredo” song but I don’t care, and it’s Stacko here’s fifth UK Top 40 hit, as well as Fredo’s fourth. You may recognise the name Fredo from chocolate confectionary in the shape of amphibians or his #1 hit with Dave, “Funky Friday”, from last year, which has grown on me a lot from my lukewarm initial review and it’d be pretty high on my list of the best UK hits from 2018. Despite this, Fredo is kind of boring? A lot of his work doesn’t rub off on me at all or just ends up being rather decent instead of being all that interesting despite it often showing a lot of skill and I liked his album Third Avenue quite enough. I doubt I’ll see more in Fredo when paired with MoStack, though, but this beat is something. I love the mellow keys with a distant vocal sample that’s eerie enough to contrast the funky, groovy keys that remind me pretty explicitly of the Wii Shop Channel... because of course, it does. The trap beat kicks in and the percussion drowns out all of the funk or groove it used to have and the shrill synths that come in during the verses where Fredo and Stacko trade bars are off-beat, I’m pretty sure. The content is the same as any other UK rap song, with Fredo being blunt and much more charismatic and intimidating than MoStack could try being, with his nasal voice and much less of the Auto-Tune but a lot more of his irritating inflections, repeating nonsense words in an accent that’s obviously put on in his second verse. Yeah, this could have been something as well, as the outro is pretty moody, pretty atmospheric especially with the lo-fi piano but I’m not a fan of the performances or even the percussion here. It’s mixed okay, I suppose, although I’d argue there’s not enough bass as there should be and that the rattling percussion is louder than everything else. As it is, like the best of MoStack’s music, it’s barely serviceable.

#19 – “Stinking Rich” – MoStack featuring Dave and J Hus

Produced by Ill Blu

When I first heard this, I remember actually being pretty disappointed, as Dave and MoStack have really impressed me with the song “No Words” back in 2017, which was one of my favourites of that year. This is Stacko’s seventh Top 40 hit, Dave’s eleventh and J Hus’s seventh, as well as Hus’ fourth Top 20, Dave’s eighth and MoStack’s fourth, and it really didn’t click with me at all, and it still hasn’t. MoStack is best playing to his strength, I feel, which is often just singing on Afroswing beats, to be honest and whilst I’m not that big of a fan of those songs they appeal to somebody, but I feel he’s clueless completely on hard trap beats. “Stinking Rich” is a massive example of that, as while this beat is okay, with gliding pianos typical of this genre playing pretty smoothly over a boring trap beat that reminds me very much so of “Options” by NSG, MoStack is... charismatic, I guess. He starts his verse off with, well...

All I want is more life and... more vagina

The way he delivers this is hilariously awful, and I’m finding a lot of UK hip-hop delivery to be similarly pretty comically blunt, but otherwise he’s just boring and often kind of pathetic. While I enjoy his break from the verse to croon his “Bang, bang” ad-libs, it’s clearly thrown him off as afterwards, he gets a lot louder and more angry and that leads to him being completely drowned out by the beat and the mixing means his furiously-delivered lines about council houses falls on deaf ears, and he’s slightly off-beat at times, or at least his flow is sloppily switched pretty frequently. I don’t know who’s singing the chorus, but whoever came up with the line “What’s your perfume? I said I’m stinking, stinking rich” is either a genius or a cornball, probably both, but with its overdone delivery it really sounds like a joke that falls flat in a stand-up routine, instead of a casual bragging punchline like it should have been. I don’t like to say this, but Dave’s verse just kind of sucks? His content is generic, and his wordplay, while at least being there in comparison to MoStack’s plain statements, is really freaking janky and while the rhyme scheme is impressive, rhyming “bust down” with itself and talking about how now he bought his girl a purse, these girls want to PURSue him doesn’t reflect well on his verse. I wouldn’t say it’s phoned in entirely, but when compared to J Hus’ verse, which is incredible especially with the way the beat builds up and elevates as his content starts with pretty mundane girl talk and ending with violent imagery about police and breaking a woman’s privates with his trigger-finger, which is disgusting in every possible way, before the chorus comes back for one last time, and you realise that J Hus probably should have put his verse on a better beat and a much better song. I like the trumpets at the end, I guess, but yeah, I had a lot to say about this song for some reason but that’s because I’ve had a lot of time to think about it, even though in the end it’s just mediocre. That’s all for the album bomb, and yikes, I don’t think I’ll be checking this album out at all, and I thought I’d give it a better chance, especially considering the features but I’ve heard them all now and I don’t think Stacko can handle that many solo tracks. I like “Shine Girl” though, that song’s pretty cute.

NEW ARRIVALS

#30 – “Strike a Pose” – Young T & Bugsey featuring Aitch

Produced by Toddla T

Young T & Bugsey are a British rap duo because I can’t escape that genre today (I’d only be complaining if it were the dull and samey variation, and trust me it is), and Aitch is some other dude. I’ve heard Young T & Bugsey on the charts before when they had that song “Ay Caramba” with Fredo, funnily enough, but otherwise they haven’t really had much chart impact. This is Aitch’s first hit too, I don’t even know who he is and I’m relatively in tune with British hip hop, even if I don’t like a lot of it. First of all, this song’s wavering 808 groove that starts the song is really funky and smooth, and its abrupt drop into Afroswing/dancehall-infused production with a couple buzzing synths creating some beautiful melodies in the background, sounding very 80s, is very effective because of how intimidating and menacing the song ends up sounding despite the singer’s smooth, double-tracked falsetto and the content being just about a woman dancing... Maybe this doesn’t actually work, but I don’t really care, because it’s only barely about a woman to be honest, as it’s mostly braggadocio from Young T & Bugsey, who have really charismatic voices, flowing quickly on the beat which they ride and really fit on to be honest, especially Bugsey’s more nasal tones. The chorus is incredibly catchy and while this doesn’t sound like it’s going to be big, I think I love this to be honest. The second verse sounds like he’s grinning for the whole time, and while the content is pretty disgusting and objectifying as always, it’s not like it’s being glamorised, I mean, can you hear this beat? It’s pretty dark and eerie, so I don’t think this is a celebration of the culture at all, with those pounding kicks and hypnotic 808s making this a lot more depressing than it sounds. This is a really interesting take on the faux-dancehall faux-grime fusion genre (That MIGHT be called Afroswing?) I see a lot on the charts, and is actually pretty good. This doesn’t exactly sound like a hit, though, but time will tell.

#26 – “Ladbroke Grove” – AJ Tracey

Produced by Conducta

I can’t seem to get a break, can I? This song has been bubbling below the Top 40 for a while, and has just now moved up to the Top 40, becoming AJ Tracey’s fifth hit in this region, thanks to its release as a single and a remix with Novelist. Now, Tracey is okay, and has never really given me all that much of an awful impression, although I have to admit he is kind of the poster child of a genre and style I’m not a fan of, even though I took a fondness to his performance on the awful “Fashion Week” and I liked “Butterflies” back when that debuted, so it wouldn’t be a surprise to me if I ended up liking this new song, and, well, I love it, I’m sorry. This is a perfect throwback to the urban dance music sounds of the 2000s, and I’ve heard a lot of deserved high praise for the song. It’s a genre called UK garage, specifically, which is closely related to grime, and that pitch-shifted, chopped-up Jorja Smith sample is inspired, despite perhaps sounding somewhat lazy. AJ Tracey is perfect over this beat, though, and instead of focusing on flexing or even women (Well...) he goes for a simple “DJ rock the set I rock the mic” topic that would be typical of MC’s who rap over music of this genre. The flow is rapid and fun over a bouncy instrumental, and to put it bluntly it’s an absolute tune. None of Tracey’s songs I’ve heard are the same genre, and I appreciate that, but honestly can he just stick to this? His verses are hooks in themselves, and are repeated incessantly because it’s UK garage and made for the clubs, and if they weren’t catchy I would be trashing it but this is so fun. His final verse, is especially powerful as it reflects what the chorus has been droning on about all this time, not specifically the topic but the tonal juxtaposition between her longing vocals and the beat, by mentioning cop cars and making it evident that this music is a form of expression against discrimination as dance music was and will be for people of colour... It’s not that deep, it just bangs. The remix is okay, as well, but yeah I’m impressed, Tracey. I’d like him to do more of this traditional, somewhat throwback UK garage and grime stuff like this and especially “Horror Flick” – that song’s even better, I really dig it and it feels oddly nostalgic.

#22 – “Shockwave” – Liam Gallagher

Produced by Greg Kurstin – Peaked at #1 in Scotland

In stark contrast, here’s everyone’s favourite “fat man in an anorak” (Noel’s words, not mine) Liam Gallagher, with his fifth UK Top 40 hit as a solo artist after the break-up from Oasis and later on Beady Eye. Now, Noel and Liam’s constant fall-outs and back-to-back disses have been victim to media ogling for decades now, but there’s one point I feel isn’t touched upon enough in terms of their solo work, and it’s that they both have essential components in each other that they now completely lack, and will forever sound like wasted potential. Liam has the very distinctive vocals and his aggressive attitude was often reflected in that powerful and often desperate, distant performance. Noel, on the other hand, could write coherent hit singles and can’t hold a note to save his life. Do you see where I’m going with this? In terms of solo work, Liam’s is what I prefer more often than not because he has more personality than Noel and his high-flying birds or whatever, although both of their discographies are hit-and-miss and honestly compiling it all would make the worst Oasis album, and that’s saying something considering their 2000s output. Is this new song any good then? Well, I don’t think it’s bad, but it’s definitely uninteresting. Liam sounds restrained, which is something I never want to hear him sounding like considering he’s at his best when he’s giving it his all. In fact, I hear some Auto-Tune on his incredibly safe vocal performance. In fact, everything here is safe, the guitar riffs are oddly familiar, the droning bass sounds like it’s an FL Studio loop, the drums are monotonous and the way the chorus “transitions” into the verses is janky and abrupt, once again showing how Liam’s songwriting isn’t great. The chorus isn’t even catchy and honestly, this has no grit or much passion at all. I’ve always preferred Blur, so maybe that’s my issue but even me, a Damon Albarn fangirl, could appreciate the best of Oasis back in their day, but no, this is really mediocre and kind of boring. Sorry.

#20 – “Heaven” – Avicii featuring uncredited vocals from Chris Martin of Coldplay

Produced by Avicii – Peaked at #2 in Sweden

I really hate this chorus, I absolutely despise it. It reeks, and honestly the fact that it was released is really despicable. I don’t hate posthumous music on principle, if it’s finished or the estate and/or person before their death has given the thumbs-up, it’s really none of my business, but when the music released is awful or has a severe case of tonal dissonance that is perfectly tuned and twisted to make it a hit song, that’s when it breaks me. This is from the late Tim Bergling’s “new” album TIM and all profits are going to charity, which is something I can congratulate it for mostly because I’m about to defend XXXTENTACION’s post-murder releases. When X spoke of death, it was never an extended metaphor in an otherwise lyrically upbeat track, it was very bluntly about death and was often on a melancholy, piano or guitar-lead ballad or bassy distorted SoundCloud trap beats. Whilst the profits didn’t go to charity and the painful attempt at fanservice by using the dumb stylisations he used in the song titles is evident of how the label cared more about preserving X’s quirky image and making him out to be a martyr to his fans than actually releasing finished, worthwhile music, at least the lyrical content wasn’t re-purposed. The twinkly lead synths are precious but then we get into the inspired EDM that sounds a lot like Avicii’s older stuff, and is actually pretty good. Then we get the uncredited Chris Martin feature, who also provides some guitar somewhere. Then he sings the hook in his typical lower register, “I think I just died and went to Heaven”... this song is about love. This song is not about Avicii’s death or him coming to a realisation of his own fading morality. This song is just about being in love with someone and having that initial spark in the relationship, but it’s obviously being marketed as the new hit single by getting the biggest guest star on the album, making it easily the most accessible track on the record and maybe I’m nitpicking, but the fact that it’s uncredited sucks too. Did Chris Martin not want to put his name on this cash-grab? I don’t blame him or Coldplay if that’s how he was going to be credited, because this is just a re-hash of drops I’ve heard from Avicii before with that infuriating, morally reprehensible chorus. This and “SOS” really reek of re-appropriating lyrical content to make it seem like it’s some kind of prophecy, but no, it isn’t, really. The fact that it’s Heaven as well, because we all know that he committed suicide using a broken WINE bottle and suffered severe alcohol- and drug-related addictions, meaning that no matter how good a person he could have been, he probably wouldn’t have gone to Heaven in the first place, if we’re theorising it existed. This is dreadful, and I’ve lost respect for everyone involved in this album, but in the end, it’s a cash-grab that’s for charity, so what am I to complain? Am I an awful person for thinking this is a morally unrighteous statement since its profits are going to a charity we should probably have a lot of faith in? God, and I thought Lil Dicky’s charity single was a can of worms. I’m not going to cover this on my end-of-year worst list because it is, once again, a can of worms, but this rubs me the wrong way, to say the least.

#18 – “Mad Love” – Mabel

Produced by Steve Mac

Yup, we’re not done. After ranting about MoStack’s album bomb and the immoral Avicii/Coldplay collaboration, as well as going on nostalgia-induced rambles about AJ Tracey’s UK garage throwback, we still have to cover two more songs out of our collection of eight, one of which is by Chris Brown. Delightful. Thankfully, I can skip past most of these songs since I don’t have much to say. This is the latest of about four lead singles from Mabel’s new album – by that I mean she’s released a mixtape, a deluxe re-issue of her mixtape and a Jax Jones feature that will all probably end up on the album, which will definitely have an album bomb since she only has one single on the charts right now. This is her sixth Top 40/20 hit, and for what it is, it’s pretty decent. I first heard it on 4Music (Yes, I know what you’re thinking, but I have to do my, ahem, research on UK pop music) and it hasn’t clicked with me yet enough to consider it any good, but it’s definitely not bad. The 80s synth melody is simple and cute, somewhat 80s-like, but the painfully fake finger-snaps accentuating Mabel which are too loud in the mix, as are Mabel’s vocals to be honest, as she and her pitch-shifted counterpart are clipping into the synths when the chorus comes in at times. The lyrical content is just some primal, “I like you, let’s have sex” in a similarly self-centred way to how Young T & Bugsey are asking for it, but instead of sounding menacing, this is just a burst of joy, and the fact that the main hook is essentially a nonsense phrase just makes this all the more fun. Is it great? No, as I’ve said before the mixing is pretty bad and I’m not over-the-moon about his incredibly repetitious nature, but her vocals are well-delivered and the production is pretty bouncy, and that’s all you can really ask from a pop tune like this.

Oh, did you know Mabel is Neneh Cherry’s daughter? That surprised me too when I first saw it, but does explain her rise to fame.

#8 – “No Guidance” – Chris Brown featuring Drake

Produced by Vinylz, J-Louis, Noah “40” Shebib and Teddy Walton – Peaked at #7 in Canada and #9 in the US

Can I just skip this one entirely? I’ve done a lot this episode, I don’t need to finish it off with Chris Brown and Drake. There’ll be more of each in the coming weeks as well, just give me this one, guys. It’s their first single together in a while and their first since Drake squashed the beef late last year that started as early as 2012 over Rihanna and honestly I don’t think she wants either of them so I’m glad both of them have quit trying. A couple glass bottles were thrown, I don’t know, I don’t care. I try not to follow anything Chris Brown does because he just makes me angry more often than he shows any true talent. For what it’s worth, the song’s okay, I love the distant, drowned-out vocal sample with all the cloudy synths around it and 90s R&B soundfont that has been a lot more prominent in recent years. Drake sounds great, and sure, it’s pandering but it’s what Drake does, and has done for a while. His performance is good, but not as notable as how they build up Chris Brown like a space rocket coming down to Earth, but he has this phaser effect that really weakens his impact and Drake tries to put him to a halt with a subdued “Ayy” before he even lands. Brown actually doesn’t sound bad wailing on this, he kind of sounds like Kanye at times? This is way too long, though, I assume these guys wanted it to be 4:20 for the novelty but after the half-way mark not much is worthwhile other than the kind of empty but still pretty heated rap verse from Drake, with falsetto ad-libs, pounding 808s and hilarious use of Chris Brown vocal samples as a shrill, gliding synth. This isn’t bad, which is surprising considering it’s Chris Brown featuring Drake, but it’s not even close to good either. Just passable.

Conclusion

I’d feel awful giving the Worst of the Week to a dead man... so it’s going to Coldplay for “Heaven”, with Dishonourable Mention unfortunately going to Liam Gallagher for “Shockwave”, yeah, MoStack is saved by Fredo and J Hus here from getting any mention in this conclusion. Best of the Week should be obvious, it’s going to “Ladbroke Grove” by AJ Tracey but an Honourable Mention should be going to, to my surprise, Young T, Bugsey and Aitch for “Strike a Pose”. For more pop music ramblings follow my Twitter @cactusinthebank and I’ll see you next week!

[seriestrash]

You Me Her

1 || 2 || 3 || 4 || 5 || 

Chapter Six: Thanksgiving

Word Count: 2200

↠ ♥ ↞

The Monday that Riley found out about Lucas leaving the play, it weighed on her mind a lot. Maya seemed to buy the whole ‘too busy for baseball’ excuse but Riley didn’t. She knew Lucas left because of her but she didn’t know exactly why, like how he thought of the situation. Riley worried Lucas may think she still has feelings for him. Or maybe something she said to Kai sparked a different concern. Or maybe her overall mood the night he visited her in the bay window had something to do with it. Whatever it was, Riley wanted to know, but part of her couldn’t bring herself to ask out of fear it would make things worse. Or out of fear that it could confirm things Riley theorised about. So of course, Riley continues to do what she’s done for the past year and avoids confronting Lucas, or her feelings for him. 

After Lucas’ departure, a Junior by the name of Spencer stepped up to play the part of Demetrius. Spencer was originally cast to play a very minor part but offered to fill Lucas’ place once news spread. Riley shared her second, third, fourth, fifth and sixth kiss with Spencer. They kissed two times during rehearsal and then once on each of the three nights the play opened. Five kisses with a nice attractive boy and she felt nothing. Not a single thing. Riley emotionally detached right as Spencer dipped her into the kiss. It’s not like Spencer had feelings for Riley either and that the lack of magic was just on Riley’s end. It made it easier for Riley that way, less awkward. 

Zay spent every rehearsal complaining that Lucas wasn’t there and he constantly reminded everyone that the only reason he joined the play was because Lucas talked him into it. If Riley wasn’t already insecure about her friendship with Zay, that comment certainly confirmed all doubt in her mind. Zay didn’t join the play because he wanted to spend more time with Riley, he joined because of Lucas.

As for her friendships with the other members of the clique six, well they were non existent outside of the auditorium. Riley did her socialising with them, just before, during and just after rehearsals. Other than that Riley was not in their life. She’d spend every lunch with Kai and any of her free time with him as well. 

Once the play was over with, Riley didn’t have very much contact with her friends at all. This is something Topanga continued to notice and eventually she decided to intervene. 

Come Thanksgiving, Riley had spent the morning with Kai just hanging out at his apartment after having a movie night the previous evening. Riley skips home in just enough time to shower before lunch. 

Riley returns downstairs in sweats and a comfy shirt. Riley picks a few grapes out of the fruit platter and pops them in her mouth, muffling praise about how good it all smells. 

“Riley, you’re not dressed?” Topanga questions. 

“I wanted to be comfy.” Riley shrugs. “Grandma and Grandpa aren’t coming this year...” Riley trails off once she notices the table being set with more plates than the family of four needs. “Or are they?” 

“No, they’re not.” Topanga seems sheepish and suddenly an awful feeling arises in the pit of Riley’s stomach. 

“Who’s coming over?” Riley asks. 

“We invited Shawn, Katy and Maya over.” Topanga now tries to act innocent. “Didn’t Maya mention that to you.” 

“No. Why didn’t you?” Riley frowns. 

“I didn’t think you’d mind, Maya is your best friend isn’t she?” Topanga asks in an accusatory tone. 

“I don’t mind, I’m just surprised.” Riley acts wounded. 

“Look, we haven’t seen much of Maya lately, not even at the bakery and we miss her.” Topanga says. Her intention was to make it look like she hadn’t orchestrated the moment to get the two friends to reconnect but Riley took it another way. 

Riley fights the eye roll. Of course her mom misses Maya and doesn’t stop to ask why she’s not been around lately? Poor Maya got the boy and she still gets the sympathy from Riley’s own mother. This is something Riley immediately felt guilty for thinking. Riley had no animosity towards Maya, she pushed for things to end up the way they did so she silently reprimanded herself for trying to paint Maya as a villain. 

Cory comes downstairs and he’s on his phone. Riley is now sat on the sofa trying her best not to sulk. 

“Of course that’s fine, he’s always welcome... Topanga has made enough food to feed the entire building, don’t worry.... Okay, we’ll see you soon, bye.” Cory finishes his conversation on the phone. 

“Is Uncle Josh coming?” Riley perks up. “I know he wasn’t sure if he’d be staying in New York or going back to Philly.” 

“No, he drove back with his girlfriend last night.” Cory turns to Riley and suddenly his mood changed. “That was Shawn asking if Lucas could join us today?” 

“What?” Riley’s eyes grow wider. 

“He missed his flight back to Texas and couldn’t get a new one so he’s staying with them until his parents get back.” Cory explains. 

“Is that alright with you, Riley?” Topanga asks cautiously. 

“Why wouldn’t it be?” Riley asks a little crazed. “The more the merrier!” 

It’s not long before The Hunters and Lucas arrive at the Matthews’ apartment. Riley was upstairs, originally she went up to her room to change but she decided against it. All she wanted was a relaxed, carefree Thanksgiving. The only true kind of relaxation she gets when she’s at home, tuning out the rest of the world. Instead of changing, Riley calls Kai and fills him in on the mess that’s happened since she left him that morning. Kai shares her pain and offers refuge with his family. Riley wishes she could accept his offer and bail on any awkwardness or emotional pain lunch would bring but Riley didn’t want to make things weirder than they had to be as she’s sure people would question why she bailed last minute. As if the answers weren’t already screaming at them in the face. 

After Topanga calls for Riley to come down, the brunette bounces down the steps with her phone still pressed to her ear. A slightly menacing chuckle as she continues her conversation with Kai. Pretending like everything is good in the world. She gives the couple a casual wave and spends another minute on the phone before wrapping up the conversation. 

“Sorry for crashing your Thanksgiving,” Lucas gives Riley a sheepish greeting. 

“Sorry you missed you flight.” Riley says genuinely. 

Riley knew how important family was to Lucas and how much he missed Texas. Back in the day there would have been a selfish one percent of her that would have been happy he ended up at her table during a holiday season but the better ninety-nine percent would have felt Lucas’ sadness towards missing his family. Now there’s a strong one hundred percent that wishes she was anywhere but here. 

Once everyone sits down to eat she subtly manipulates the seating arrangement so she only had to sit by Auggie. 

Shawn asks about Josh and where he was today. Riley - a little too happily - answers that he was spending the short break in Philly with his girlfriend. After that the conversation steers towards Lucas and Maya. It seemed all anyone wanted were details about their love life. Riley remains silent. 

Auggie reaches under the table and holds Riley’s hand. Riley is surprised at first and looks down at their now linked fingers, her heart growing heavier by the second. How is it an eight year old boy understood her pain more than anyone else in the room? More than her parents, her best friend, more than Lucas, someone she believed she had a connection with. The room goes silent around Riley, like she’s detached emotionally again. 

Riley stares blankly at her plate of food and she can hear the muffled sound of her name but she wasn’t there to process it. Auggie gives Riley a gentle nudge and the brunette snaps her head up and with it she slams her fist one the table. Riley had officially snapped. After everyone pointed a quizzical look at Riley she started to come to again. She whispers an apology and rises from her seat. 

“I’m not feeling very well, I think I’m going to go lay down.” Riley leaves before anyone could question further. 

Riley sits at the end of her bed and takes a few deep breaths in attempt to take control of her emotions. 

Maya pokes her head through the door a few moments later. “Riles, are you okay?”

Riley lifts her head up at the question and Maya is quickly by her side. “Riley, you’re crying.”

Riley slowly lifts a hand to her cheek and feels the dampness, she hadn’t even realised. “I’m just really tired. I had a late night with Kai and it’s catching up with me.” 

“That’s not what this is about.” Maya shakes her head. “I know it’s not. This is my fault.”

“What are you talking about?” Riley frowns. 

“Why you haven’t been hanging out with us much anymore, with me.” Maya frowns too. “It’s because of Lucas, isn’t it?” 

“Don’t be silly.” Riley shakes her head. 

“I didn’t want to believe it at first but it’s obvious, you still like Lucas.” Maya says. 

“No, I don’t.” Riley tries to steady her voice. 

“You do, you like Lucas!” Maya rises from the bed. “This is about him.” 

“This is about me, Maya.” Riley raises too, an anger bubbling inside of her.

“I took Lucas away from you and you’ve been lying about being okay.” Maya says like it’s all making sense to her. “I understand why you hate me, it’s okay.” 

"I don’t hate you!” Riley says genuinely. It’s true, she didn’t blame Maya at all, she only blamed herself for the way she felt. 

“You do, you-” 

“Maya, I don’t know why you want me to be angry at you but I’m not. I’m not angry that you’re with Lucas, I promise you that.” Riley holds her gaze. 

“Then why do I never see you anymore?” Maya asks quietly. 

Riley lowers her gaze again. No words exiting her mouth, her only action is continuous head shaking as she tries to collect her thoughts. Day to day living for Riley is like a constant tug-of-war with her emotions. Her old friends. Her new friend. Her old friends. Her new friend. It’s as if every time Riley feels happiness again she’s reminded of everything that’s ever made her feel insecure. It’s sort of like she’s constantly being dumped by a wave and just when she finds her footing it pulls her under again. Riley wished the wave would take her and everything would stop. Faced with Maya, Riley realises it’s her turn to make a choice. Does she let herself drown or does she take the lifeline that’s been thrown her way. So, Riley sucks back a breath trying to keep herself from falling apart and she chooses someone who’s spent months choosing her. “I don’t think we can be friends anymore.”

“What?” Maya’s voice cracks on a whisper. “No. This is because of-” 

“Me.” Riley says firmly. “It’s because of me. I have been drifting away from the group for a while. For no reason in particular. I’m just growing. It happens in high school, I’m making new friends, finding new interests and I just don’t think we work anymore.” Every word hurt more to say than the last. Riley knew she had to severe the tie completely or Maya wouldn’t accept the answer. 

“You’re worrying about me when you shouldn’t. You have Lucas. Be with him. Be with our friends. I’m okay.” Riley continues. “I’m happy doing what I’m doing...” 

Maya quietly takes a few steps backwards towards the door and she wears a look that made Riley want to scream that she was lying and she was sorry but she couldn’t. Riley knew that she was never going to get on with her life if she let herself stay in the negative situation. 

“Okay,” Looking completely broken, Maya shrugs, “If that’s what you want...” With that the blonde disappears out the door. 

Riley places a hand to her mouth and the tears start to flow again, this time she was aware of them. Topanga is up in Riley’s room within a few minutes of Maya leaving.

“Riley, Maya just left and she seems really upset-“ Topanga enters the room and spots Riley crying. “What’s wrong?”

“Just for once can you be my mom?” Riley sobs. “Just be on my side, no questions asked?”

“Honey, I’m always on your side..” Topanga’s heart breaks to see her daughter so upset and she wraps her arms around her, pulling her in for a tight embrace. Riley felt deep down it was the right thing to do. Maybe now she’ be able to heal properly but if it was the best thing why did it hurt so much?

End Notes: Sorry this took so long and is kinda short and crappy.. Next chapter should be LONG. We glide through the rest of sophomore year and Riley is making some new friends!!!!!!!!!

people who want to be tagged;

@plutoxriley @pamela-barron​ @siennese​ @nicolecolin​ @brassqueen​ @renait-courageux @helenpenhallxw  (I think that’s everyone! If I’ve left you out please let me know!)

[nyacat39]

Things Forgotten Chapter 4

Link to Previous Chapter

Link to Next Chapter

Questions are Asked... Some Answers are revealed, yet new questions arise.

It was nearly 11:30pm now and the two had watched more than just the ghost movie. They had gone through Netflix before finding some movies in the “Children's” Section to help calm Barry down. They ended up doing a running commentary on some of the movies.

Well more like Barry did a lot of talking and Rachel would join in on one or two comments here and there. After the last movie, Rachel was about to get ready for bed when Barry seemed to remember something.

“Hey Rachel…” She glanced over at him with a confused look. “Whose Doctor Danny?”

Rachel blinked at the name.

“Who?”

“Oh uh… Well last week before your blackout… You said ‘Doctor Danny’ before passing out… I just forgot to ask the last few times we saw met up,” Barry explained allowing Rachel to think the name over for a moment.

Nothing turned up for a little while before a headache began. Barry was worried as she looked in pain from the headache… it almost felt like the last time.

“Rach-” Barry began, only for the blond to snap out of it with wide eyes.

“He… He was my therapist… years ago.” Barry blinked at that, he had not expected an answer like that at all. He watched as she turned to him with her eyes still wide. “What… what caused me to say that name?”

Barry shifted a little at the question. He remembered that it happened after he told the story of the haunted church… and he was naturally just uncomfortable talking about it.

“Tell me… please…” the desperation in her voice and what little could be seen on her face caused him to give in.

“I’ll… I’ll just get to the main points of the story,” He sighed and leaned back trying to get comfortable. He took a deep breath to prepare himself before he finally got around to it.

“I went to the church Nick goes to often… you know to visit that Reverend Black guy. I was in the library and I accidentally broke something. I freaked out and grabbed a book to pretend that I was reading when I heard someone coming in. The guy called my bluff instantly and well… he was this freaky ass doctor covered in blood… Though aside from that… the guys eyes really freaked me out the most.”

“His… eyes?”

“Yeah… I remember them most… Mostly because he stared in my mine… His left one seemed normal but his right… it… it was like someone shoved two different-”

“Eyes together.” Barry paused after the two spoke at the exact same time. Rachel also seemed to pause and rub at one of her temples, eye’s narrowed in confusion.

“... Okay how did you know what I was gonna say… I don’t think I’ve ever even told Katie that part… wait did I?”

“I… I don’t know… it… seemed right to say.”

A silence fell between the two, both trying to figure out what that was all about. Barry suddenly thought of something different from what Rachel was thinking.

Is… this because I haven’t taken my medicine?... What’s going on?

“Maybe we found something that gets through your blackouts!” Barry exclaimed suddenly very excited and proud. Rachel blinked at that but also realized… she did remember something from when she was close to turning thirteen. She’s never remembered anything from that time… except for her parent’s death… and waking up in the hospital months after her thirteenth birthday.

An idea came to her immediately as she turned to Barry.

“... Could you take me to that church?”

Barry jumped at that.

“What?!” Rachel flinched at the volume of his voice and immediately avoided eye contact. The pink haired boy quickly apologized before he revised what he said. “Why… would you want ME, to take you to a haunted place?”

“... When you spoke about the ghost you saw… I remembered a few things… If… If I could see the ghost for myself then… then maybe I could remember some more,” she answered quietly, her gaze still away from Barry’s face and seemed to be more focused on her own hands on her lap.

Barry was hesitant, looking at his friend for a moment… He suddenly raised his own fist and punched himself in the face, startling Rachel.

“Fffff- Okay… ow… I’ll help.”

“Did… you have to punch yourself?”

“Nah… I had to punch a coward… But just to be safe. Cereal you ready for walkies?”

The white puppy barked happily and started running around at the mentioned walks. Rachel however couldn’t help but smile a little… despite the words entering her head that always helped to add the hint of sadness in her smiles.

….

Barry nearly lost his nerve when they parked near the church. The old Gothic building looking so much more creepy at night with little light from the streetlamps to brighten it up at all. He was half tempted to punch himself again when Rachel opened up the passenger side door and jumped out. Cereal’s leash in her hands and the small dog following her out as she did.

“AH wait!” Barry quickly pulled the keys out of his car’s ignition and went into the glove compartment to pull out a flashlight from within. He exited the car soon after and followed after the blond. He turned the light on only for it to flicker a bit… as he was about to hit it though a light flashed in his face as Rachel held up her cellphone with it’s flashlight app activated.

“... Your phone is charged right?” the blond asked as Barry stared blankly before quickly slapping himself for being an idiot. Rachel flinched as he did that.

“Sorry… I wasn’t thinking.” A bark came from his dog, who immediately got the attention of the pink haired boy, who tried to shoosh his dog. “Cereal no, we’re trying to be stealthy.”

“I don’t think flashlights help with that…”

“... So we should turn the lights on in the church?”

“That’s an even worse idea Barry…” Rachel then handed the leash over to the proper owner and the duo, plus the dog, went right up to the door for a moment before reconsidering that idea.

“... Maybe someone left a window unlocked?” Barry suggested and noticed that Rachel was already ahead of him looking for one. Sucking it up he followed her with his dog by his side, only to stop when said dog started sniffing around like he needed to go.

“Hold up, can’t let Cereal go inside yet.”

Rachel paused at that only to blink and face Barry after noticing something.

“Uh Barry…”

“Hm?”

“Cereal’s sniffing a cross…”

“Yeah and…! Cereal no!”

It was too late… the dog had relieved itself on the cross making Barry’s jaw drop and Rachel to just look away. The little white dog finished up before trotting over to Barry with happy pants while the pink haired boy continued to stand there in shock.

“... My dog’s going to hell for that…”

“Probably…” Rachel simply responded before noticing… something in one of the windows. It… looked like a figure of a kid standing in the shadows of the building. She was about to point her phone’s light at it only to watch it raise it’s hand and… unlock the window before leaving quickly. She glanced back to Barry, wondering if he noticed the figure as well only to see he was still fussing over his pet… and seemed to be begging to God to forgive the little guy for following nature’s call.

Glancing back and forth between the window and Barry for a bit she decided to speak up finally.

“… This window’s unlocked…” She wasn’t sure if telling him that someone had unlocked it for them was the best thing to say at the moment… but if it turned out that someone was dangerous she was at least prepared this time. Barry perked up at the sound of her voice and saw the latch for the window was indeed up, allowing it to be opened.

“Whoa, that’s lucky!” Barry flinched at how loud his own voice got… maybe he really wasn’t good at this whole sneaking around thing after all. After making sure no one was going to appear and question them, they opened up the window. They were completely thankful that it didn’t have a screen that needed to be taken care of. It was clearly big enough to crawl through but the biggest problem was how high it was… Rachel would need a little boost to get in with her shorter height.

“... Mind helping me up?”

“No problem.” With a grin Barry, easily lifted her enough that she could get through the rest of the way on her own. With a mild drop to the ground she was able to stand up straight and lean out the window a bit for Barry to hand her Cereal. As soon as he brought the dog inside she thought she heard something… no someone saying her name.

She turned and tried to find the source of the voice… it wasn’t Barry’s at all, that much she knew. She also knew something was causing Cereal to feel uneasy as the tiny dog started to growl in her arms at nothing. Rachel was starting to feel a little uncomfortable in there as when she shined the light all around the room there was no sign of another living being other than her and the dog. Barry soon crawled his way in and noticed how both Rachel and Cereal seemed on edge.

“What’s wrong?”

“... I… thought I heard someone say my name…” Barry’s face remained blank for a moment… before he tried to get out through the window he JUST came through in a panic. Rachel had to stop him… thankfully she did but Barry was still kind of freaked out.

“What if it was the doctor ghost?” Barry shuddered while Rachel thought it over for a bit while Cereal continued to growl at nothing. Barry was more worried about that as he knows his dog… and his dog doesn’t just growl at nothing.

“But… how would he know my name? I’ve… I’ve never been to this church before…”

“Please don’t make this creepier then it already is,” Barry pleaded as he took his dog back from the blond, the presence of the tiny dog making him feel a little more brave but not by much. Rachel didn’t seem to hear him as she was more uncomfortable with whatever had said her name.

Taking a deep breath Rachel straightened up and began walking off, Barry noticing this quickly and following close behind. He was looking around with discomfort and it didn’t help that his dog was still growling at nothing… only to seemingly stop and glance around confused. Barry really didn’t like that part.

“Actually you know what, let’s go back. I mean-”

“You can go back if you want… I’m not stopping you,” Rachel cut him off quickly. Barry hesitated for a moment before taking a deep breath and following her.

“... You still need a ride and I don’t abandon my friends remember…”

The blond paused at that and looked down. Of course she remembered… most of the time that is. There was one time she swears she will never forget though.

“... Sorry…”

It was all she felt that could be said at the moment… until she saw someone behind Barry. She was about to say something until the person poked the pink haired boy, causing said boy to scream.

“Are you trying to wake the dead?” it was a child’s voice asking the question. The kid didn’t look older than 12, he had a playful smirk on his face and it showed in his green eyes. His auburn hair looked messy, like he hardly ever took time to brush through it or always wore something over it. He wore a closed jacket with a red scarf, a pair of blue jeans and some black boots.

“HOLY-” Barry started to loudly say only for both the kid and Rachel to stop him.

“Shhh.”

“... A-Are you a ghost?” Barry asked after quieting down, his heart pounding in his chest. The boy gave him a deadpanned look.

“I don’t know much about ghosts… but I’m pretty sure if I was one I wouldn’t have poked you. Pretty sure we also wouldn’t be having this conversation right now either.”

Rachel could have sworn she saw a small smirk crossing the boy’s face… But then again the kid did kneel down and beckon towards Cereal so it could have been more towards the dog then anything else.

“Bullshit… I had one with a ghost once!”

“Oh? Huh the more you know,” the kid looked kinda surprised before he started petting the small white dog, who in turn started sniffing at him before wagging his tail happily to the attention.

“... What are you doing here anyways?” Rachel finally asked. The boy smiled up at her.

“Oh I heard a rumor of this place being haunted. So I made a bet with a few friends. I prove this place isn’t haunted by staying the night, and I get twenty bucks.”

“It is haunted kid,” Barry growled, causing the boy’s smile to fade into a look of disinterest when he looked over to the pink haired boy.

“Coming from a guy with Pink hair and screams like a girl at a minor poke in the side…”

“First off, I lost a bet. Secondly I was expecting this place to be empty.”

“Oh then who unlocked the window for you?” the kid smirked as Barry tried to come up with a retort only to pause and actually try thinking about it.

“... That was you I saw... wasn’t it?” Rachel asked. Barry turned towards her quickly with a “What the fuck” look on his face.

“You saw someone unlock a window and you didn’t tell me?!”

“.... We got in didn’t we?”

“You’re welcome.”

Barry was starting to notice a minor pattern with how this kid spoke… mostly with how nice and friendly he sounded when talking to Rachel… and how annoyed he sounded when talking to him.

This kid is out of his league… she’s also a lot older then you kid, Barry thought to himself and holding back on actually punching the kid… after all he only has four things on his list of things to never punch. Friends are number one, Elderly are number two, Children are number three and finally he will never punch the disabled.

“Aren’t you supposed to be in bed though kid?” Barry asked, his tone dripping with his growing annoyance with the kid.

“Well I was till I heard some yelling outside.” Barry grew embarrassed at this, before straightening up.

“At home?”

“The bet remember you idiot?” The kid smirked as Barry was so close to punching the kid but held himself back.

“You’re so lucky I don’t hit kids..”

“... Aren’t you parent’s going to be worried though?” Rachel spoke up, the kid glanced over to her with… an almost sad look?

“Nah, they just think I’m at a friend’s place is all… so you gonna continue this twenty questions without introductions?”

“... God damn it this kid is like a mini Nick…”

“... What?”

“He’s a friend of ours… I’m Rachel Gard-... Stewarts…” Rachel said catching herself before saying her last name she had before she got adopted… she still wasn’t used to the last name “Stewarts” even after all these years. But it was still better to use as for some reason she had reporters trying to get interviews with her for a while until she moved.

The kid didn’t seem to react to her almost slip up, but instead smiled.

“Edward Kingsley. Call me Eddie please.”

“We’re seriously doing this?” Barry questioned, to annoyed with the kid to even give a proper introduction of himself to the kid.

“He’s Barry McCoy… and his dog Cereal Killer.”

“RACHEL!”

“Serial Killer?”

“... He kills cereal boxes.”

“Cereal box- OH Cereal Killer,” Eddie laughed. Barry pretty much groaned while staring up to the ceiling… almost begging to a silent god to give him strength to endure this.

….

Nick was back at home, wide awake and on his laptop. A pair of reading glasses on his face as he looked up cases involving the recent Back Alley Murders.

Every killer has an MO… There’s gotta be something that connects all these cases together aside from the multiple stab wounds… and the location. Nick thought to himself, having already gone through one night before with no sleep and was approaching his second… an average thing by this point.

It’s usually harder for his friends to detect when he’s missed his first night, as he’s learned to better handle it… the second day though he knows for a fact both his family and his friends will be trying to get him to go to bed. He promised himself he would go to bed… when he picked up what connected all these killings or even any hint that this could have been done by multiple people.

“But Nick, that’s something for the police, not a seventeen year old…” Yeah well a Seventeen year old would normally not be in Law School this early either, and it’s called research… Am I seriously talking to myself in my head now? Nick paused his work at that thought, his expression going from confusion to wide eyed realization.

“I’m more tired then I thought….” Checking the time his laptop displayed he swore that he would try to wrap up in the next hour to head off and get some sleep… maybe.

Gazing back at his search window he scrolled through the links that he had already checked out, and checking a few other ones here and there only to back out as it was apparent they wouldn’t give him the info he needed. Going through he stopped at one in particular.

It was of a news article from six years ago. Pushing his glasses up a bit he began reading through the article… finding more of the story on how the original Back Alley Murderer got caught… and the girl who survived. Rachel Gardner.

He knew that was Rachel’s name before she was adopted… but he never expected her to be in anything big like this… or even at the site of a building collapse.

She was found with a gunshot wound in her side, passed out from loss of blood and sent to a hospital… at the hospital it seemed that when she woke up she practically begged to see the murderer… Stockholm Syndrome? Doctors found traces of some unknown hallucinogenic in some of the blood along with even more minor traces of some poison… What the hell was going on?

Nick was curious… and infuriated at the same time. This was something that had happened to his friend from a past she barely remembered… but at the same time he wanted to question her more on it so he could find out just WHAT happened. Though he doubted he would ever get those answers. After all Rachel’s memories weren’t a reliable source anymore… not with her blackouts being a constant thing that just removes said memories when triggered.

“DAMN IT!”

“Hey Nick! I know you don’t sleep but some people in this house do so shut up!” the voice of his sister shouted back at him. Before he could retort back the stern voice of his father broke through to both of them.

“IT’S 1:28 AM BOTH OF YOU GO TO SLEEP!”

“Sorry dad!” Joan called out, before presumably turning over in her bed and trying to go back to sleep.

“Sorry…” Nick muttered, but didn’t follow through with what his father told him to do. Instead he turned his attention back to the news article… and the picture it had of his friend when she was Thirteen.

… She doesn’t look that bad with long hair I guess… but it feels weird that it’s not shoulder length. I wonder though…. Is there any way to at least jog her memory?

Curiously he opened up a new search window and began looking for ways to try and jog someone’s memory. He bookmarked a few that seemed promising… but scoffed at one entirely.

Hypnotism… that’s just plain stupid.

Still engrossed in his own research he jumped at the sound of his cellphone ringing at… 2:53 am?

“Shouldn’t whoever you are be asleep?” Nick asked immediately when he answered the call.

“... You know Barry and Katie would be saying the same thing…” It was Rachel’s voice on the other end. Suddenly it didn’t surprise him as much that she would be calling him… after all Barry was more likely than not asleep and she DID witness Eric’s murder… unless she had a blackout then this is a lot more confusing.

“... What’s wrong?” There was a pause at the other end of the phone.

“Um…… theoretically speaking… how… how would one defend themselves from a ghost?”

Silence… Nick couldn’t believe what he had just been asked. Rachel… one of his most rational friends… was asking him something so irrational it made his brain hurt trying to even ponder just what caused her to even THINK of asking something like that.

“... Why the hell are you asking me this?”

Silence was on the other end of the line… though listening carefully he could pick up the sounds of rustling papers and other almost unidentifiable noises… only to hear Barry’s voice in the background asking something he couldn’t pick up completely.

“Did Barry set you up to this?”

“.... No….”

“Then why the hell are you calling me at nearly three in the morning for something as stupid as this?”

“.... Don’t tell Katie….”

“... What are you doing?”

“... Barry and I… snuck into the church… and got attacked by a ghost…”

Nick was quiet. He was trying to process just what he was told by his blond friend. It made absolutely no logical sense to him. Being attacked by ghosts? Sneaking into a church at night? The fact that Rachel believed in ghosts?

“... What kind of drugs did your doctor prescribe you?”

“.... Antidepressants…. Last I checked….”

Nick groaned.

“Okay… What the hell did you two DO in the church to ‘get attacked’ then?”

“... You don’t believe me.”

“You called me at three in the morning asking about ghosts, which do not exist. I’m going to have a hard time believing anything about that.”

The line went dead at that. Nick pinched the bridge of his nose, pushing his reading glasses up as he did… only for him to realize after a little while that he was kind of an asshole at the end there. Clearly she sounded kind of scared and was honestly looking for advice… and he was a dick who didn’t even try to humor the idea of spirits to try and calm her down. Hell she was attacked and had seen a murder HOURS AGO and was probably still paranoid about that.

“Damn it…” He picked his phone up again and dialed her number. Mostly to apologize for how much of an ass he was… only for it to go to voicemail. He tried again at least two more times, getting the same result and practically slamming his head on his desk.

I really fucked up if she’s doing this… Taking a deep breath he speed dialed Barry’s number, knowing he would have his phone and that he would be with her. After the first two rings the line was picked up.

“Yo, whatcha still doing up?”

“Don’t play dumb Barry… You know Rachel called me… could you just put her on the line for a moment?”

“Wha- OH that’s right her phone died. Alright give me a minute and I’ll put you on speaker.”

Nick paused as that… he… hadn’t upset Rachel enough to cause her to hang up… and not answer his calls? Her phone just died…

“Alright you’re on!”

“Do you seriously have to yell?” an unfamiliar child’s voice was heard in immediate response to Barry’s loud voice.

“Shut up Nick Jr.!”

“And will you quit calling me that!”

“... Sorry you have to deal with that Nick.”

“... Who the hell is this ‘Nick Jr.’?”

“MY NAME IS EDDIE! Christ is that to hard to remember?”

“... No it’s actually pretty easy to remember…”

“Don’t go taking Nick Jr.’s side on this!”

“For the hundredth time it’s EDDIE!”

“Will someone explain what the hell is going on?”

“Forgive them Nicolas… Children will be children after all.”  The voice of Reverend Black seemed to stop the other sounds going on…

“HEY!”

Except for that comment from both Barry and this Eddie he heard on the phone.

“Reverend Black? What are you doing up?”

“Well your friends were none too quiet… to the point I woke to the sound of a teenage girl screaming bloody murder. To my surprise it wasn’t the girl who screamed, and my Library was in ruins.”

“... We’re helping pick it up before we leave…”

Nick was now trying to process exactly what the fuck was going on now… and was having trouble picking it up at all. He wanted, no needed to figure out just what the fuck was going on. Screw curfew laws, he was driving over to the church right now and seeing this disaster for himself. He didn’t bother telling them or even saying anything as he hung up the phone and proceeded to exit his room to grab his dad’s keys.

He had just started the truck and left immediately… forgetting how most of his family consists of light sleepers… and how his sister watched him drive off with their father’s vehicle from her window.

….

As soon as Nick arrived he hurried right into the church… only to slam into the front doors as they were locked.

“Fuck… Going around… ugh.” Nick groaned in slight pain. He turned around and walked away from the doors. He rounded his way to the back of the church knowing for a fact if the Reverend was in, that’s where he would have more likely than not come in… after all the front of the church had stairs while the back was wheelchair access.

Nick ran around, not really paying attention to the opened window as he hurried. When he got to the back, he tried the door and boom he got a stroke of luck with the door being left unlocked. With the door open he went right inside and navigated by memory to the Library… Oh wait… the lights were on.

Wow I’m out of it… He thought for a moment before making way to the Library. When he entered it looked like a disaster zone. Books were thrown everywhere, some bookshelves had fallen, a few of the potted plants were smashed on the ground… basically it looked more like a Tornado had blown through rather than two teenagers and a… whatever age this Eddie kid was.

Speaking of which the three mentioned people, he was pretty sure with the number of people that he heard over the phone that the auburn haired boy was Eddie, were picking up… or at least stopped to stare at him as he entered. Reverend Black was the only one who didn’t look as surprised as the others… and instead looked rather disappointed… and had Eddie’s dog sleeping on his lap.

“You know I would have been more surprised if you actually stayed home like any other person,” the Reverend spoke, the other three still more confused on just why he was even here.

“... I had to see what the hell just happened… and I still have no idea what the fuck happened here…”

“Being completely honest that’s a piece of information I would like to know as well,” the priest responded, casting his gaze over to the three other occupants of the room… all but one shifted uncomfortably under said gaze. Rachel simply averted her eyes to her hands that held some of the fallen books, allowing the clear bruise on her face to be made seen… but also for Nick to notice that her hand seemed to be injured.

“... Well we got attacked for starters…” Barry started… Which to Nick it meant everything was going to go downhill from there.

[jvc-yearofservice]

Ending the year early

10/13/19- 10/19/19

           Monday was rough because a homeless woman having a mental breakdown threw oatmeal on me, and it got in my hair. On Tuesday, we took a field trip to the pumpkin patch where I was in charge of looking after two students who were awesome and behaved phenomenally. We rode the carousel, had a free lunch, and watched a pig race. That night, my housemates and I were walking to our seats at the Jonas Brothers concert, and a random man approached us and asked if it was just the three of us. We said 'yes', and he proceeded to give us tickets for the floor of the stadium, which were obviously much better than our nose-bleed seats. We took them and got escorted down to the floor where there were three seats together. It was literally so close to the stage and therefore closer to them as well. The concert was so amazing, and they played all my favorite songs, including "Burnin' Up", "Cake by the Ocean", "SOS", "Sucker", and "Lovebug". I nearly got trampled several times when they would walk from one stage to another (that's how close we were). My feet were killing me from jumping up and down for nearly two or more hours, but it was definitely worth it.

           On Wednesday, I was fired from my job. I'll tell you how it happened: I came to work early in the morning, and my supervisor met me at the door, saying that we would have a meeting at 8am, which was unusual because our one on ones were on Friday's. At 8am, she told me to follow her and then started walking away. I followed her to another building, and we walked in absolute silence the entire way. Eventually, in the other building, we went into a random office, and there was an uglier-looking Angelica Houston type woman standing there. She told me to sit down, so me and my supervisor both sat down while she stayed standing the entire time. The woman who was standing was named Ms. Julie, I think, and she was the head of HR at Loaves and Fishes. She informed me that a JVC representative was on speakerphone (Laura Strubeck) as well as our in-city coordinator, Windi. I was super perplexed about it since there was absolutely no preparation nor had I expected anything amiss. My supervisor started explaining that since my work "fell so short below the expectations I agreed to at the beginning of the year, my position has been terminated". I was so blown away that I couldn't really speak. I looked at my supervisor who had super fake sad puppy dog eyes, and then I looked at the HR woman. The HR woman seemed really angry with me and told me, "Your one job was to protect the kids and you failed." Then my supervisor very helpfully jumped in and added, "We do not trust you to keep the children safe." I was really shocked and confused because my supervisor and I had just had a meeting with the in-city coordinator where we discussed issues and (seemingly) resolved everything (but I guess not). The main issue was supervising the children, which I asked for more clarification on but had only received vague answers from my supervisor every time. They asked if I had any questions, and I could only think to ask about what happens next. The JVC representative, Laura Strubeck, said that because I had been terminated from my job instead of just a mutual agreement to part ways, I was out of the program. I asked if I could be put into another placement (since several of my house-mates' agencies wanted me), but she said I couldn't and that I also had to be out of the house by Saturday. I very numbly nodded, and the in-city coordinator's only contribution to the conversation was, "I'm here for you, Mary Kate!" For those of you at home, the job of the in-city coordinator is to advocate and support the volunteers. Guess who did not support me? Our in-city coordinator. The JVC representative also said that if I could, I should share my "exit strategy"/travel plans with the JVC just for their records. They asked if I had anymore questions, and I didn't so I was walked back to the school where my supervisor insisted on watching me while I packed up my things at my desk and then escorted me out of the school, not before asking me for the work keys back.

           Here is my take on why I was really terminated: from day one, I sensed that my supervisor didn't really like me. I figured that it would take some time to warm up to each other, but our relationship never got better. In all honesty, she had expectations that no person could ever meet, even me who was doing her best and putting way too much effort into a job that didn't fulfill me (the girl in my position last year complained that this supervisor was so overbearing and never satisfied with her work and someone in my position three years ago left after the first day at work). At our meetings, my supervisor asked inappropriate questions about my personal life and tried to involve herself in any drama that was happening back at the house. I stood by my morals and who I am, and I refused to compromise any of my beliefs, and I was punished for that. It was hinted to me that I should tell my supervisor about anyone making any mistakes in their jobs (not to help them learn but so that they would be punished), and I would not because I didn't believe that was right. When my supervisor realized she could not intimidate or control me, she felt I was a liability and therefore had to go. While we were still meeting and giving me the appearance of trying to help me learn and grow as a staff member and individual, my supervisor was actively gathering little mistakes I had made and then presented them to the higher-up people in order to make it look like I was incapable of doing my job. The JVC sided with them likely because of financial reasons. The JVC gets paid by agencies to have volunteers at those agencies, and Loaves and Fishes is such a large and powerful organization that the JVC would not have wanted to get on their bad side. If it were any other site, I believe the JVC would have supported and advocated for me. The only words I have for my supervisor are this: I can see that you are suffering very deeply. I can see that you think your suffering will be alleviated by hurting others. I am very sorry that you are suffering so badly. I do not wish that kind of suffering on anybody. I hope one day you can alleviate that suffering without inflicting pain on others.

           All that day, I had decided to tell all my house mates later on so as to not ruin their day. I basically packed up my room, got a plane ticket home, and took down all my decorations. Eventually, I told them all together, and they were outraged and devastated as well. Lots of tears and grieving. Everyone is still quite confused on exactly why I was fired and then unceremoniously kicked out of the program, and whenever we tried to reach out to anybody in a position of power in the JVC, but we were given vague answers every time or blatantly ignored. It especially helped that some support people, Lauren and OJ, came over to grieve with us that night. My housemates reached out to everyone they could in an effort to get the JVC to let me stay and work somewhere else, but I eventually told them to stop their efforts because I was too tired and too disheartened to try to fight anymore. Why should I fight to stay in a program that would treat me so horribly and obviously does not appreciate or see my worth?

           The days went quickly after that. On Thursday, I packed and shipped things back home. Thursday night, we all tried to celebrate together by watching a movie and hanging out on the porch like we did at the beginning of the year, but there was definitely a sense of disbelief and dread among us. On Friday, I finished shipping all my things and decided to sight-see as much as I could. I went to Old Sacramento and saw a replica of the original schoolhouse, bought little mementos for everybody (using up the rest of my stipend money, heyo), and visited Fort Sutter and the Indian History Museum. That night, we all went and got a hilarious old-timey portrait done of us in all vintage, cow-boy-looking outfits. For dinner, we went to In-N-Out since I had not had it yet and it was on my to-do list. MOST IMPORTANTLY, at Fort Sutter, I saw the DONNER DOLL, aka the doll of a little girl who survived the Donner Party disaster (look it up-it's horrible).

           On Saturday, it was time to go. I woke up to the amazing smell of my house-mates making breakfast for me. A couple of us went to get donuts, and I nearly got into a fight with an "overly-sensitive and emotionally unstable" woman who said I was standing too close to her (okay, so I wasn't standing too close on purpose at first but after she said that, I stood right behind her until she screamed at us all again and then left, haha). For the last time, we all held hands around the table, and I said grace which went a little like this: "Dear Lord in Heaven...what you did was hella messed up...and I hope I can forgive you one day for allowing this to happen to such good people...but still...we ball, and I'm thankful for what I have. Amen." The car was super packed with people as we all drove to the airport, and there were many tears as I was dropped off. It was super funny because a really sad song about missing friends and having good memories came on as soon as we all got in the car. I'm writing this now as I'm waiting for my plane to depart to St. Louis, where I will be moving back in with my parents until I save up enough to get my own apartment and hopefully one day my own dog.

           A couple last things before I go: I don't regret joining the JVC, flying all the way out to Philadelphia, flying all the way out to California, and living intentionally and simply for exactly 80 days. I don't regret it because I met some of the most incredible people in the entire world (Caroline, Fran, Meg, Joseph, Laura, Morgan, Lauren & OJ, Mr. Martin, Sara F., Kelsey & Katie, Liana, Lucia, Miss Emily, Mr. Troy, Miss Erica, Miss Stacey, Fr. Tom, Mercy Meg, the Mercy volunteers, the ACE volunteers, Grace, and many more). I'd also like to sincerely thank all the unknown former Jesuit volunteers who reached out to the JVC on my behalf in an effort to try to get them to change their mind and let me stay. I'm conscientiously choosing to release the anger and bitter feelings I have towards my supervisor and all those in power positions in the JVC who advocated for my termination because holding onto those feelings is so unfair to me. I would rather use my energy to continue to help and choose joyfulness and love than to seek out revenge for what was done to me. Yes, it was unfair and horrible, as well as traumatic and embarrassing. There has also been more crying and suffering in these past few days than probably my entire life before. However, I take comfort in the fact that those who really know me absolutely understand that I did nothing to deserve this and are outraged on my behalf as well. That's enough for me- to have the faith of the ones who really matter, so I will let the issue rest.

           And maybe this was all for a greater reason. We'll see.

Godspeed,

MK

[houstonlocalus-blog]

In Review: Bedouine, Ohmme, Shabazz Palaces and more

James Elkington. Photo courtesy of Timothy Harris

  JAMES ELKINGTON: Wintres Woma

A resumé is a document of qualification, and James Elkington has quite a superb resumé. The British guitarist and vocalist has played with Steve Gunn extensively and has lent guitar to everyone from Jeff Tweedy to Tara Jane O’Neil. And last year, as Jeff Parker had to sit out some shows, Elkington even filled in as a member of Tortoise. It’s also worth mentioning the criminally overlooked album Ambsace  that he collaborated on with the equally fantastic Nathan Salsburg. I say all of this as an unnecessary selling point to Elkington’s solo debut album, Wintres Woma, a collection of mainly acoustic gems that is as musically magical as it is at times slightly humorous. One advantage of playing with others is understanding how to accent a preexisting base. And by coloring within established lines, Elkington helps to define and detail his compositions, and this is a strength of his playing. Even with the use of one guitar, the songs sound fleshed out and full. His track,“Make It Up,” has a percussive base without actual percussion, and it moves along with a pace and rhythm that reveals Elkington’s prowess. A similar effect is used on “Greatness Yet To Come.” Even flourishes of pedal steel, cello, or viola present themselves only as falling leaves or slight hues next to the plenitude of Elkington’s sound. There is also a keen understanding of tone and celerity on this album. Additionally, there are some pretty magical moments in the tracks “Sister Of Mine” and “Grief Is Not Coming,” sentimental ballads that are more about beauty than dexterity. The lyrics of the songs in this album are chock-full of observational humor and understated elegance. It’s a wonderful album, absolutely fucking wonderful.

  Bedouine. Photo courtesy of Bedouine

  BEDOUINE: s/t

There are times when music is massively human and moving in a altruistic way. Syrian-born, LA-based artist Bedouine has a new self-titled album that accomplishes that feat by creating and emoting beauty and presence in a simple, understated way. Take, for instance, “Nice and Quiet,” a song of exiting a relationship. “I’ve tried so hard to be there for you, It seems that may mean disappearing for you,” read the lyrics of the song. Or consider the equally resplendent “Back To You,” a song of love within the bombast of the everyday. “They talk in exclamation marks, I’m still dying to know what’s so exciting,” go the lyrics of that song. It’s about the feeling of disconnect with your surroundings while relying on the connection with another. “Can lives so designed be sustained?” asks Bedouin. Wrapped in Van Morrison/Dusty Springfield soul, with tinges of jazz and country, these songs are tunes of quiet afternoons and mystic nights. Bedouine’s voice is calm and assuring, easing you into each tune. The brilliant “Solitary Daughter” extolls the joys of alone time, of the world of the mind and peace. “I don’t need your company to feel saved…Leave me alone to the charcoal and the dancing shadow,” read the lyrics to that one. And then there’s “Summer Cold,” that in spite of its tranquility still protests “I’ve had enough of your guns and ammunition.” This album is excellent in that it fits that part of life that is needed to makes sense of the world. It cannot be all extreme (sadness, anger, or joy), and it is not all running. Sometimes there is a stroll that is needed, and sometimes there is a need to take it in and consider it more instead of always acting and responding. These are songs for thinking, songs that provide space for thought. “Never thought I’d see the day that I would be at ease to say that everything around me is exactly as it should be,” muses Bedouine in one of the songs.

  The Peacers. Photo courtesy of the band. 

  THE PEACERS: Introducing The Crimsmen

The Peacers are purveyors of rock n’ roll, the particular class of rock n’ roll that is made in bedrooms and garages and in the minds of those who see song and form as instrumental to the magic of rock n’ roll. I stress rock n’ roll to suggest tradition because The Peacers cover ground from Big Star to The Beatles, and from Pussy Galore to Cream, on their new album Introducing the Crimsmen. It is rock, but haunted by the ghosts in the room. The track “Hoz” floats into the room and shakes the curtains, flicks some lights off, and on and disappears. It is strange but also grooving. The Peacers embody the implied line between the present and the otherworldly, and their track “ Child Of The Season” is reverbed balladry, sweet and blues and mystical. “D.T.M.T.Y.C.Y.M” is pure, it is the Lennon/McCartney (more Lennon), and as soon as it grasps you, it lets you go. It’s is a tease and you leave titillated. Meanwhile the track “Aboriginal Flow” is skronk and T. Rex, it is a trashcan fire outside of the blues club. The Peacers are rock n’ roll illustriousness. We make so much of things, but magic is always magic — abracadabra motherfuckers.

  Ohmme. Photo by Sarah Hess

  OHMME- s/t

Sima Cunningham and Macie Stewart comprise the duo of Ohmme. Influenced by avant-garde rock and the improvisational music scene of Chicago, Ohmme works on many levels. And the songs on the self-titled album use space, rhythm and contrast to create a feeling of depth, which is what most great songs do. A great album is atmosphere, it is feeling transported, taken to a place with the lyrics sort of guiding that journey. And Ohmme does just that on this EP. “Woman,” the first song on the EP, is a perfect example of this and of the band’s aesthetic of patience and expansion, fuse and explosion. The track “Fingerprints” shares this magic. “Ithaca,” another stellar track on the album, has a similar simmering quality. It burns and spreads. The songs have lives and are at once still and quiescent before another wave comes in. It’s similar to how “Furniture” lulls you in and then attacks. This album is all about excitement. It is all sparks and flashes of light, all rumble and rustle, suspense and anticipation. I feel it all.

  MICHAEL NAU: Some Twist

As someone unfamiliar with Michael Nau, the opening track “Good Thing”ushers me into the magic. It’s a tune of appreciation, of recognizing that which shines in the darkness. Life is imperfect, but I have a “good thing going on.” Some Twist, Nau’s latest, is the kind of album that espouses an understated wisdom. The song “Wonder” is like opening a curtain to a beautiful day, a love song that talks of all the things one can see in the world. There is all of this, and there is also you. Maybe I’m trying to be distracted from you, or I am distracted by you. Nau does this splendidly. It could miss you, but the more times you hear it, the more bewitching it becomes. A mellifluous affair, it perfectly compliments a woozy evening. And “Scatter” is like a Shuggie Otis movement. It’s a slow jam with neon glow. The real star is Nau’s tone; his singing voice is always a sugar sprinkle or a honey glaze, and it continually rewards because it is so comforting and effortless. You sort of float away within it. Soul music penetrates, it’s goes beyond the surface, and his is an album that a day or year removed results in      another angle. It is perpetually good. There is always another color, there is always a gem to discover. Get on the boat and sail this into the horizon.

                                             Katie Von Schleicher. Photo by Bao Ngo

  KATIE VON SCHLEICHER: Shitty Hits

The album Shitty Hits has many connotations in relation to Katie Von Schleicher’s first real album, Bleakspoitation,   which was a beast. First of all, the quality of the 4-track recording, with its limitations and adaptations of sound technology, can be said to sound shitty. But it’s not shitty in the way of bad music, just in quality. So there is that. There is also the idea of feeling shitty, and songs like “Midsummer,” “Paranoia,” and “Life’s A Lie” lend themselves to the notion of feeling a bit, well, shitty. Now let’s add the second word, “shits.” What is a hit song? Theoretically it’s a song that works and that sounds good. And while there is subjectivity to taste in the process of successfully writing and recording a song, the completion itself, when done right, sometimes equals a hit. So there you have it, in a way, and with that out of the way, my opinion is that this album is fantastic. Imagine Wings using a 4-track, or great Syd Barret, or a weirder Linda Rondstat. “Soon,” a killer track form the album is a beautiful ballad, and “Isolator” also moves me in a major way. Beatle-esque is an adjective here that fits nicely. I am all about the majesty of this album. This shit is phenomenal!

  SHABAZZ PALACES: Quazarz vs. The Jealous Machines / Quazarz: Born On A Gangster Star

The double album is sometimes one of the most ambitious — some might say even indulgent — features of recorded music. Problem is, very few artists can really fulfill the commitment of making one great album, not to mention two. But Shabazz Palaces has never been associated with giving a fuck, so I will respect the sentiment. Quazarz vs. The Jealous Machines is the album that originally was going to be the only one. A concept of the alien Quazarz and his arrival and adventures in “Amurdica,” the album is a treatise on the representation of technology in our world and how that affects us culturally (love, attention, the isms), like in the track “Gorgeous Sleeper Cell.” “Effeminence,” another track on the album is like a slow jam sung by an alien, but it’s still romantic. The track “Julien’s Dream (ode to a bad)” is also of this motion. Meanwhile, “30 Clip  Extension” is all hip-hop in the time of whatever we call this Musically it is the Sun Ra hop that Shabazz Palaces rock so well. It’s a trippy record if you will. Meanwhile, Quazarz: Born on a Gangster Star is a bit like a more song-structured album, to use the term loosely. And “Eel Dreams” is like Arabian Prince, and then it turns into a kind of smoothed out jazz thing, but rapping.

“Fine Ass Hairdresser” should beat down the block, and “Moon Whip Quaz” is sort of like Parliament Kraftwerk (the tune of “The Model” is sort of embedded here). Whether or not you get one one of these albums, you will eventually get both because the exposure to one will spark curiosity in the other.

  DASHER: Sodium

Dasher is mainly the brainchild of drummer Kylee Kimbrough. A mixture of punk spirit, metal squall, and pure energy, these songs embody lightning and fire. The opener “We Know So” is the proverbial brick through the window. Meanwhile “Soviet” is the accompanying smokebomb. “Teeth” is a slower affair, crisp guitar and dark cloud, psychedelic but dangerous, a beast rising from the ocean. Kimbrough has mentioned an inability to keep a job or residence and the frustration of seeing something that others can do easily coming so difficult to her (something she attributes to a recent discovery of autism). The tension is apparent in the songs, and the album speaks to that sort of fight between the world in your mind and “proper” world. These songs are full-on assault weapons drawn. This is gut, blood drawn from the vein. Let’s burn this motherfucker down.

In Review: Bedouine, Ohmme, Shabazz Palaces and more this is a repost

[red-writer-js-blog]

Maturinus: School Days Preview

Chapter One: Transfer

“You’re a very special girl Catherine. You’re going to change the world.”

“Hi there! You must be the new girl! I’m *******, that’s *******, and that’s *******! Let’s be friends!”

“Do it again!”

“I can’t!”

“You’re getting out of here. I won’t let them keep either of you, even if it kills me.”

“Catherine… they’re dead. I’m sorry.”

“Freak!”

“Weirdo!”

“Stop it!”

“Hello?”

The voices died as she snapped awake, and as the dreary remnants of sleep fled she realised that she was face-to-face and hand-to-throat with a stranger, digging in tight enough to mark the skin a whiter shade of pale beneath her fingers. She jerked away at the realisation of what she was doing; staring at her hands in disbelief before bringing one to her forehead to try and calm the gentle throbbing that was spreading out from there in waves of static. Surprisingly, the young man she’d assaulted was rather unfazed by her actions, rubbing the engravings gingerly as he rose from his crouch, shooting her a toothy smile.

“Sorry about that, my fault. I should have learned not to shake dreamers awake prematurely by now; bad luck and all that.”

His voice drew her back to the man she’d tried to kill. He was lean and slight like a beanpole, and if she stood up he’d be about a head taller than her, said head covered in messy black hair. He was dressed casually in a loose shirt and jeans, combined with some kind of metal choker around the base of his neck. She recalled something her Aunt had said about a similarly looking boy on the cover of a romance novel once; handsome, in a sad poet kind of way. He looked a little uneasy, but it couldn’t have been due to the accident, because he’d already brushed that off. It took a moment to click that she should speak back instead of just staring at him. Not that she had much experience with talking to boys, or anyone really. Thankfully, he took command of the conversation with an awkward smile as she rose from her seat. It carried over into his speech as well, shaking a little for reasons she couldn’t understand. It wasn’t like she was intimidating in any way, shape or form.

“Anyway, allow me to introduce myself. Alexander King.”

He held out for a handshake and was taken up in a limp fashion. Withdrawing after a single pump, he turned his attention to the tablet computer under his arm. She didn’t get a chance to respond before he’d started up again.

“They’ve already given me a bit on you though. Catherine Holmes, but you prefer Katie for simplicity’s sake. You recently turned sixteen; birthday is the 28th August 2034. Happy birthday, by the way. B negative for blood type with a mostly medical record for the most part, not counting that time you broke your arm falling down a flight of stairs at school. Speaking of which, you’re quite the bright one, huh? School records favour high marks across the board, with an unbeaten streak of A+ in the sciences, very impressive. You enjoy science-fiction and horror novels, electronic music from the turn of the millennium and sweet foods. Dislikes include-hurk!”

His sentence was cut off as a thick appendage wrapped around his throat, pining the hand that had been reaching up for a casual scratch. Before he could utter anything else he’d been dragged down to his knees, their positions reversed as she stormed to her feet.

“W-w-who a-are you? H-how d-d-do you know all that?”

The appendage tightened, Alexander catching an unhealthy shade of red from it.

“A-are you an s-stalker? D-d-did you k-k-kidnap me?”

The new limb stretched unnaturally in her fitful fury, and he was slammed into the ceiling hard enough to crack the tiles, the shattered chips raining down around them in a haze of dislodged dust.

“Where am I, w-why can’t I r-r-remember a-anything, and w-why do I have a s-s-snake for a-an arm?”

She couldn’t explain it, but it felt like something was missing from her. No, not something; lots of things. Things that she felt she should know. Important things. Birthdays, family, the broken arm; entire years were gone, no matter how she reached back for them. She couldn’t even remember which school her uniform was from. Was that why everything was so fuzzy? Glowing eyes fought to stay open, running down the length of what had used to be her arm to meet hers.

“Technically, I believe that would be called a tentacle. Also, it would be much easier to explain if you weren’t constricting my windpipe. Please, calm down.”

His response wasn’t spoken but came from inside her head, the sentence fading as soon as it had been imprinted. Swallowing heavily, she lowered her ‘arm’, the tentacle loosening its death grip on the man’s throat to allow gravity to apply its own touch instead, and he fell awkwardly to his knees. With Alexander back on the ground she dared to look at it, the thick, fleshy rope that now extended from her forearm, drooping onto the ground to turn over itself in a coil. With a deathly shudder up her spine, Katie collapsed to the linoleum floor, covering her mouth to hold in the lurch of nausea, demanding release from the sight. The feeling was eased by Alexander folding around her, rubbing her back as he embraced her. The comforting motion broke what little composure she had left, and she was left heaving with sobs as she subconsciously burrowed into his shoulder.

“It’s okay. It’s going to be fine Katie. You’re among friends.”

The platitudes did nothing to assure her, her crying growing heavier, only to catch in her throat and became rougher, a rasping, spluttering cough adding to the sounds of her confused misery. She could feel herself being brought up as Alexander settled her back into a chair, still petting her as he pulled away.

“Okay, I’m going to get you a glass of water, so sit tight, enjoy the view and don’t freak out. You know, any more.”

And with that he exited the room post-haste, leaving her to stare out blankly and collect herself. Katie forced herself to breathe deep, trying to ignore the taste of bile in her mouth and sickly feeling in her stomach as she tried to process that she had been A: brought halfway across the country against her will at best, B: kidnapped by people who knew everything about her and had most likely been monitoring her for her whole life. Not to mention C… Wait, what was C again? Something about… no, it was gone. Never mind, it would come back to her. She also realised that the young man had left without answering any of her questions, and that her hand was still nowhere to be seen. Biting on her lip to hold back the tears in her eyes, she turned her attentions to the aforementioned view. The hallway she’d woken up in was unremarkable, long and cream with only her seating position and the window opposite to break the monotony. It was outside that was more interesting, even in her state of dulled shock. She appeared to be at some kind of port, full to the brim with both military and commercial vessels. Warehouses, stock houses and repair bays of all shapes and sizes littered the bay along with giant, quad barrelled flak cannons at the end of long, solid stone piers. Shops of all sorts lined what little she could see out the right-hand side of the window, leading towards the centre of a residential district. Every inch of the place was lined with redcoat soldiers, bayonetted rifles glinting in the weak September sunlight. It might have been any other idyllic seaside town if not for the military presence. The squeak of the hallway door signalled the return of Alexander, entering the room with two plastic cups of water and a handkerchief hanging over his wrist.

“We’re in Guernsey, for your information. St Peter’s Port, commercial and tourist capital of the whole island, mostly because it’s the only town on the whole island. Here.”

He held out one of the cups and the handkerchief, Katie taking both as he settled into the chair next to her, taking a sip from his drink. He waited for her to follow suit with an uneasy gulp before he took a second shot, mussing up his hair with a sigh as he began to speak.

“Sorry for that little info-dump, I thought you’d be reassured that you were supposed to be here, but I guess it came off kind of creepy. I’m not normally involved with these introductions, but orders are orders after all.”

She took another gulp of water, trying to ignore that most of it spilled onto her shirt, and hoping that he would as well.

“G-Guernsey… why does t-that sound f-familiar?”

“You’ve probably seen it on TV. The Adept Games?”

The look that appeared on his face when she shook her head was somehow relieved and surprised at the same time.

“I’m amazed you’ve never heard of it, seeing as it gets shown year-round. The Empire’s Most Popular Show since 1991, if you can believe it.”

She couldn’t help feeling a little uneducated, and went to look at her shoes hoping that her sudden onset of blushing wasn’t too visible.

“W-we d-don’t have a-a television. I read m-mostly.”

Alexander rose out of his seat and drained his cup, throwing casually it down the hall, and even Katie could tell that the attempt was nowhere close to the bin at the other end. But as the cup reached the halfway point and hit the ground, it popped up and launched itself the rest of the way, arcing nicely into the bin. He didn’t even react to the impossible shot, stretching his arms into the air with laced fingers, a series of pops and cracks sounding from his back and shoulders.

“Good for you, it’s an awful program. Anyway, as you no doubt have some questions, let’s take a walk. It’ll be easier for you to understand if I show you the place than if I were to just rattle off info at you without pause. You know, like I just did… and failed at.”

With an awkward cough, he held out his hand. Katie managed to look up from the floor to meet his eyes for the first time. Despite the dark patches under them, they were very nice eyes, a bright cerulean blue that seemed to glow in the morning light. She was staring again, but if he noticed her checking him out the notion flew over his head as he continued with his non-stop sentences, flowing one into another without pause.

“I understand that you’re hesitant. Everyone is at first, and I realise that I’ve kinda ruined everything straight off the bat for you.”

He knelt down to meet her sitting height, still smiling despite all that they’d inflicted on one another.

“But I promise you, I am absolutely the last person who would hurt you, on this island or anywhere else.”

Maybe it was that sentence and the look of certainty as he said it. Maybe it was the fact that he was the only one with answers. Maybe it was the fact that he was the first person not related to her, and a good looking boy at that, to hold a conversation with her in years. Or maybe it was simply that she wanted out of the room. Whatever the reason, she finished her own cup and took the offered hand as they both rose, Alexander giving her a brilliant grin.

“All right then, allons-y!”

“Um… what?”

“It means let’s go. In French. I forget no-one speaks it anymore. Well, no-one other than me and a couple of towns in France that refuse to see sense and switch to English completely. Good on them I say, sense is overrated.”

He was already whisking her out the door before she had time to decipher any of that, through a small reception area and out into the brisk air of mid-afternoon. He didn’t even pause to let her adjust to the light before he’d turned on his heel and began briskly leading her up towards the coastal town, her hand still held tightly in his.

“W-wait!”

Her guide turned back to her, gently tilting his head to one side.

“W-what about m-my hand?”

“Oh, that? You sorted that out yourself a few minutes ago. You used it for the handkerchief, remember?”

She looked down in surprise to find that he wasn’t lying. Her hand had returned to normal, back to soft pale skin and well-chewed nails. Alexander continued as she turned it over to check every detail, pinching to check – right, definitely wasn’t dreaming.

“That’s why I had you calm down. Adepts with transformation abilities sort of – “snap back” to normal form if they settle themselves. The change was caused by stress, so some gentle breathing and focusing on the scenery subconsciously changed it back. Best part is, you were so focused on more important things that it probably happened right after I left the room. Neat, isn’t it?”

Neat was not the word she would have chosen, but the young man’s continuous cheer was rubbing off on her, so she nodded weakly and let him begin leading her again as they swanned through the town, wondering what on Earth an “Adept” was as they joined a large crowd of people being escorted by yet another group of soldiers. Children babbled and screeched excitedly as their parents inspected even the slightest of dark alleys with paranoid eyes, while groups of teenagers and young adults held conversations about some kind of sporting event and the players, bags stuffed to overflow with merchandise layered over them. She had no idea who Fenrir was or how he’d earned his place on a t-shirt, but by the way the twenty-something girl gushed about him, he was a “dead cert” to win the day’s event. Alexander simply ignored it, having them keep pace as the head of the pack. As they continued, the lighting started to dim despite the sun being high up, and the cause became immediately apparent.

The dark, monolithic structure curled gently around the edge of the town and off into the distance, built directly into the island’s circumference to reinforce the borders against the sea. It towered over the rest of the island, stretching straight up so far it hurt her neck to stare at the top, where yet more anti-aircraft guns and soldiers were placed, intersecting with spotlights and watchtowers all along the parapets of the great wall. Only one entrance could be seen before them, a stone archway holding a set of black oak doors, the arch decorated with curving letters carved into the stone that she couldn’t quite make out until she squinted them into readability. Confidis teipsum ad meridiem morabantur. Trust no-one but yourself. It clicked in her mind just as Alexander translated.

“Trust no-one but yourself.”

Katie gave a double-blink as Alexander chimed up again in a slightly subdued tone.

“It’s Latin. The headmaster’s fond of old things and being generally depressing, and Latin lends nicely to that.”

“Yeah, I k-know, I c-can r-read it. Why c-can I understand it? I don’t k-k-know Latin.”

Alexander cocked his head to one side as the doors began to slowly creak forward in harmony with the sound of churning gears, soldiers calling for the crowd to step back. His voice sounded in her mind again.

“How odd. A side effect of your powers maybe? In theory, the mind of a shape-shifter could subconsciously adapt to situations before the user registered them, but uploading an entire language without thinking about it seems a touch odd, even for us.  I might as well explain now. I’m the same as you. A lot of people on this island are. This is my power, Telepathy, the ability to talk via thoughts or read those around me. I should also mention whilst we’re around normal people, don’t mention your powers around normal people. Best case scenario, they tend to freak out. I shan’t mention the worst case. More to the point, if you ever want to talk to me using my power, just think out loud.  Go on, give it a go.”

“Um, l-l-like t-this?”

Her wince at realisation that her stutter continued in her mind as well was cut off by a sudden uncertainty that Alexander jumped on before it should surface.

“No, I’m not reading your thoughts all the time. I can turn it on and off when I want, but I’ll know when people need to contact me.”

“W-wait, then how?”

“Lucky guess. As you can imagine, people get rather unnerved when you tell them you can get inside their minds. I’ve kinda got this explanation thing down to a science. Anyway, let’s get a move on, there’s a car waiting for us.”

Said car turned out to be a self-driving Triumph with blacked out windows, a hunched over beetle of a machine that elusive celebrities tended to use. Alexander opened the back door for her, exposing a leather interior made for six. Once she was buckled in he made his way around, settling himself into the seat parallel to her. The rest of the crowd were herded onto a coach, the vehicle pulling away with surprising haste the moment the last woman was aboard. Next to her, Alexander adjusted his seatbelt, fumbled with the tablet he’d ambushed her with earlier and knocked twice on the opaque pane behind him, setting their car in motion as well.

“Right, let’s try this again. As you’ve guessed, you’ve been taken from your home and relocated off-shore to the island of Guernsey. This entire island is a training ground and facility for people like us. Before you ask “like us?” the technical term for humans with superpowers, supernatural abilities or physical phenomenon associated with them is Adept. Which never made sense to me personally; seeing as it comes from Adeptus, meaning ‘one who has attained’, but that was in reference to transmuting metals, not breathing fire or growing wings. Ah well, c’est la vie.”

“S-so, w-what’s my p-power then? T-turning into a s-s-slimy b-blob monster?” Alexander’s smile flickered, before setting into an upturned line as he fingered his throat.

“Not at all. For one, there was nothing slimy about that tentacle, trust me. Secondly, it appears it’s more like general physical transformation, primarily revolving around animals and animalistic characteristics. Here, take a look at these.”

A quick flick across the tablet’s interface produced a series of pictures from a CCTV camera of surprising quality. The first of them showed Katie crossing the road outside a school, a car rushing towards her. The rest showed her turning to challenge it as her body grew in mass and size, changing shape as she transformed into…

“A gorilla?”

“An eastern mountain gorilla to be precise, albeit one about twice the size of a regular specimen. Not quite sure what was going through your head at the time, but I’m guessing that you wanted to ride out the impact with something stocky and solid. Adept powers tend to be revealed in times of crisis, and you certainly picked quite the crisis.”

The pictures continued with the collision, gorilla taking the blow shoulder-first, the impact driving it backwards down the road as both it and the car came to a skidding halt. The last pictures showed her falling towards the kerb, gorilla body stripping off in a haze of fur to blow away in the wind.

“To answer one of your earlier questions, the reason why your memory is so patchy seems to be a result of the accident. You were brought here after you were cleared from the hospital. It’s pretty fortunate no-one saw you; these kinds of incidents are rather hard to cover up, especially one as dynamic as this. Your Aunt has been informed of the situation, but I’m afraid you’ll be here with us for at least the next year or so whilst we teach you how to control and utilise your powers. Don’t worry; the classes are quite large, so you won’t be alone for the endeavour.”

Aunt? The word had come to her earlier, but there had been no connotations with it. Now it brought a faded image to mind: glasses, a ponytail and jumpers. Other than that, there was no definition to the term. Still, it was a small comfort to know that at least she wouldn’t be on her own. She hadn’t had many friends back at her old school, but maybe she could find a few among students like herself. If it wasn’t for the gaping hole in her memories, she’d probably have been thrilled for a new start.

“But, what a-about my m-m-memory? I-I mean, it’ll c-come back r-right?”

Alexander gave her a sympathetic smile that was only slightly belied by the supernatural glow of his eyes.

“Memory tends to be a tricky thing, especially considering the nature of your loss. It’s an unfortunate reality that many of the students here come in similar circumstances, as well as those that are suffering with other mental conditions as well. These things are a lot easier to deal with considering the number of psychologists on staff, as well as a couple of psychics like me to help when these things are really deep-seated. I can’t promise anything, but in most cases, the bulk of important memories tend to be recovered within about a year.”  

Did everyone with powers come here after life threatening accidents? That seemed rather odd. At least there seemed to be a good chance of recovery though, which put her slightly at ease despite the strangeness of the day’s events. Alexander continued on and on with an endless stream of information as they drove on, living arrangements and schooling timetables piling up in her lap as he levied papers on her from a folder he’d extracted out from under his seat. It was only by chance that she noticed the road splitting in two, catching the coach they’d seen earlier carrying on towards one of the largest buildings she’d ever seen, another indifferent wall of gunmetal grey steel casting a blot on the green plains stretching out from around it.

“That’s the Coliseum.”

Alexander must have caught her staring as he was suddenly very close to her, looking out in the same direction with only scant centimetres between them. She yelped, bolting back in her seat as he sniggered gently at her expense.

“Sorry, couldn’t resist.”

“P-please t-t-try to in-in f-future.” She managed to choke out as Alexander folded back into his seat, still playing that self-satisfied smile.

“Sure, sure. To answer your inevitable question, that ugly building is the one that houses the Adept Games I mentioned earlier. The Elizabeth II Memorial Coliseum, better known to most as the Grand Coliseum. Standing at a size comparable to four Wembley Stadiums stuck together, it is the largest” – He snorted, the next word marked with finger-quotes – ‘sporting arena’ in the British Empire. That coach you saw is the only one heading up today as part of a VIP party and event. It’s normally closed off between the end of the summer term and the beginning of the autumn. The damn things are non-stop for the rest of the year. On that note, I should explain about the games now, as you’ll be participating in them at least once during your schooling here.”

He pulled out yet more paper from the packs he’d unearthed, showing the skittish girl a map of the building. The three sections coloured red, blue and yellow respectively, the yellow section equal to the size of the other two combined.  

“The Coliseum is split into three sections, depending on which event students are taking part in. Yellow is the Assault Course, blue is Performance Arts and Sporting Events, and red… red is The Arena. That’s the one that attracts the most attention, both televised and in attendance numbers. You’ll become more familiar with the yellow and blue areas more than the others, as we hold a couple of football, hockey, and rugby leagues in the blue, with both used for P.E. exams. The Assault Course is a mandatory event held twice a year, once at the beginning of the school year two weeks from now, and once two weeks before the end. It counts as a separate grade of its own. Students are free to use it at set times whenever they feel like they need training though, and there are a few other televised runs a year for additional credits and such.”

“W-wait, how h-hard is all t-this?”

It was getting a little much. She’d only begun to learn about her ability, and they wanted to make her display it, and in front of people no less? She’d never been in the fittest student either, so just the words Assault Course made her stomach lurch as they implied all sorts of exhaustion in her future. Alexander’s explanation didn’t help matters as he carried on, oblivious to the sudden cold sweat that had broken out on her brow.

“Well, the exams themselves are rather simple; all you’ll need to do is display control over your powers, and a decent amount of stamina. The Assault Course can be a mixed bag, as you’ll never run the same course twice, and the obstacles range from ‘walk in the park’ to ‘oh dear god, why?’ Ah, don’t worry! It’s all achievable with the training and schooling you’ll get here!”

She knew she was suffering a panic attack, but the knowledge didn’t ease its passing as she buried her head in her arms and tried to erode away the crushing despair that squeezed around her heart. The car slowed to a stop, and she could feel Alexander doing his best to help, rubbing her back and folding a handkerchief into her palm. It took a few minutes for her to unfold and longer to stop shaking, but she refused to relinquish her grip on the cloth, cupping it over her mouth in a vain attempt to settle her breathing as she weathered the fright. Alexander looked somewhat sheepish as he set the car into movement once more.

“Sorry for doing that to you… again. Still, better you learn about it now then it being sprung on you at random.”

He waited for his travelling companion to calm down again before explaining further even if the feat took another hastily swallowed bottle of water before Katie was ready to listen again.

“The red zone – The Arena – is the problem area. The good news is that you’ll only need to compete in it once per month to demonstrate your progress, but there are also seasonal tournaments where you can… okay; you aren’t looking well at all. Do you get car sick?”

She was silent and shaky for a good time, and when Katie’s voice found the strength to immerge from the hole it had scurried away to, it crawled out scratchy and feeble.

“No, b-b-b-but… I-isn’t t-t-there away t-to avoid f-f-fighting? O-or doing a-a-any of t-t-these w-weird events?”

Alexander shook his head sadly, and when he spoke his voice sounded oddly resigned, as though he disliked his own answer. Glowing eyes stared deep into hers, and Katie fought down the desire to avoid his gaze. For all his bluntness, he was trying his best, so she would too.

“I’m afraid not. Most Adept powers tend to be ones that can seriously harm in the wrong hands, so it’s a requirement of any completed tutorage that students learn to access and master their abilities in a safe environment, and then are tested to see if they can maintain the same control in pressure situations. Otherwise we could have Adepts blowing up all across the country at the slightest bit of stress. Events that tend to channel a lot of adrenaline, such as faux combat or high-demand physical activities, are usually best for this.”

He gave a small sigh, his voice returning to its normal sympathetic tone as he folded his tablet under the seats.

“If it’s any consolation, no-one ever gets seriously hurt in any of this. It wouldn’t do to throw our students into life or death situations now, would it?”

With a weak chuckle as justification, he lowered the window to let fresh air in as they left another cut-off wall much like the one they’d walked through back at the port.

“Here, take a look. We’ll be coming up on the Maturinus Academy now. Named for the saint of comic actors, likely by someone with no humour themselves.”

Taking a peek out, Katie beheld the other monstrous structure on the island. Unlike the sheer wall of the Coliseum, this was a cluster of uniformly rectangular buildings, most about three stories high but with the centre pair reaching up far higher than that. She couldn’t make out any details of them from the car, but a suspicion grew that even if she had been right up next to one it would have made no odds to picking out individuality in the tightly knit complex of sharp angles and unmarked grey and glass. As with the Coliseum, all greenery and nature had been cut off and smothered under a harsh plane of concrete to serve the blank-faced buildings of the academy, with exception of a small port on the east side to connect the academy to the sea, a ferry - The Marianne, the proud flank read - floating there.

“Um, I-I’ve been m-m-meaning to ask s-something.”

“Hmm?”

“W-why are t-there s-s-soldiers all over the p-place? And all t-t-those b-big g-guns? Why d-does the island n-need a wall at all?”

She could see them now, all along the wall that had followed them from St Peter’s Port. If anything, the armaments had been getting heavier as they got nearer to the school. For reasons she couldn’t understand, looking at the pitch black metal sent a small part in her stomach turning over backwards with nervous tingles. Alexander looked a little surprised at the inquiry, shifting in his seat to follow her line of vision.

“I think that’s the first time I’ve been asked that.”

“Oh… I’m s-sorry.”

Of course, it was probably obvious to everyone else right away. She wondered if her power would let her turn into a chameleon and vanish into the seats. She needn’t have bothered, as Alexander rejected her apology with a wave.

“Don’t be, I’m actually impressed. It’s a nice surprise having someone question it. Most students just accept their presence. Comes with our military culture I suppose. In any case, why do you think that they’re here?”

The car was filled with a few seconds of shifting and stuttering as Katie pulled her reasoning together.

“W-well, the wall g-g-goes around t-the whole island, right? S-so it’s either to keep people out… or…”

“Or?” The word was drawn out, extending with his smile.

“Or to keep us in?”

Alexander’s eyes lit up to a lighter shade of blue as he lent forward, the light-hearted voice in her mind overriding the flat tone that filled the car.

“This is a major military hub as well as being the pinnacle of Adept education. It makes sense for this place to be heavily defended. It also functions as a minor recuperation centre for soldiers who have been posted aboard and are in need of some R&R, so the men here are only semi-enlisted. But I assure you that they are here first and foremost for your protection, and only carry tranquiliser rounds for the most part.”

“It’s a bit of both really.”

He winked conspiratorially, and was talking over her before she could ask why he’d hidden his real answer.

“But I wouldn’t worry about it too much. It’s not like we keep students imprisoned here or anything. You will get to go home eventually.”

The amusement at his own joke lasted up until the car pulled up outside a low-key building, the sign under the security camera identifying it as the reception area. Alexander slipped out first and came around to her side, opening the door as she gathered up the papers he’d given her and made to get out the car. Her brain caught up to her a moment later as she jerked to a stop, the seatbelt still tightly secure. Fumbling with the latch she hastily exited, pointedly not looking at Alexander in her embarrassment. If he was concerned he didn’t voice it, the slam behind her preceding him taking the lead to hold the reception door open, letting her scurry through with the hurried squeak of “Thanks.” Inside was another waiting room type area, which she saw for all of one second before the floor suddenly demanded her attention. She heard the hiss of a wince behind her, and some sort of muffled, choking laughter from the room. So much for a new start. Perhaps instead she could stay where she was, wait for whoever was in the room to walk over her before retreating to an isolated cave, never to be seen by humans again.

“You okay down there?”

It wasn’t Alexander, strangely enough. For all his rambling and personal space intrusion, even he seemed to have enough common sense to know not to step over someone just to inquire of their wellbeing. Katie took stock of her options as the question was repeated. She could either lie down forever, or try and salvage the situation by engaging whoever it was she was inconveniencing. The former was still more tempting, but the choice was made for her when a hand shook her shoulder, forcing a glowing face to meet a far prettier one. Hopefully the older girl looking down on her would assume the redness to be damage instead of embarrassment. The stammering started up slowly and low, winding up like a gramophone to machine-gun stuttering as she somehow managed to achieve a secondary layer of embarrassed red over the abused blood vessels that were already working overtime. By the time the strangled half-word finally crawled out of her throat to die, she had been picked up and dusted down, the other girl admiring her handiwork of patching up the broken doll as Alexander squeezed himself into the room to examine the rest of the new students waiting in cheap chairs, with the exception of the raggedy looking boy in the upright stretcher, dressed to the nines in bindings and restraints.

“Oi, you listening?”

Katie bolted in shock as she realised that she’d accidently ignored someone for the second time that day. The panicked snapping of her attention to the girl happened so quickly that her neck cracked on the trip, which turned out to be a rather counterintuitive movement to being social, as the pain created a spike of neck-holding agony, leaving her leaning forward and hoping that her barely-muted cry hadn’t been too noticeable. The cursory glance upwards killed that hope in its crib as she found the room staring right at her, and Hannibal Lecter over in the corner was practically dying of laughter behind his mask, until his stretcher was suddenly tipped forward by some unseen hand, mimicking her entrance to a tee. Alexander took a step forward, and overturned it upwards so he could stare down disapprovingly. It was weakened somewhat by his ever-present smile.

“Now, now, let’s be nice to each other. So…”

The stretcher was lifted back from the floor, bringing the two eye to eye. Alexander reached forward and loosened the mouth gag, before twisting the boy to face Katie, ignoring how she flinched away at the new proximity to the maniac.

“Apologise, and we’ll get along with the tour.”

Dull, dark ringed eyes tracked down her from behind a stringy black fringe, the boy wearing a cruel smile so tight and wicked she could see a canine tearing into his lip as he began to spit poisonous words.

“I’m sorry you’re such a retard, you flat bitch.”

The girl from before began to step forward with a warning but needn’t have bothered, as Alexander spun the stretcher back the way it had come, his smile waning.

“That’s not…”

His reprimand was stopped dead in its tracks as a blinding red flash lit the room. Even if Katie had been able to see, she was in no condition to act as something heavy crashed into her, letting her resume her ongoing affair with the floor once more. The red light vanished as quickly as it had come, but her vision still rang in time with the piercing sound in her ears, and looking around became impossible without receiving a wave of nausea. She focused instead on the figure crouched over her, shielding her from whatever chaos had broken out. Considering that Katie hadn’t said a word to her, it seemed a good idea to at least thank her when she wasn’t getting thrown around and blinded. In the centre of the room, Alexander was looming over the stretcher boy again, foot planted to keep him down and one hand poised over his chest, fingers splayed. A blood red sphere was hovering in the open space between the two, pulsating and surging as it flickered, indecisive about its target. It never found one as Alexander snapped his fingers to burst the orb, the rupture creating a ring of droplets around them. The bound teenager was already working another globule of bloody spit at him, only for it to be popped by a swift kick to the jaw. A follow-up boot to the temple rendered the unruly Adept unconscious, allowing Alexander to force the mouth piece on him once more.  

“Well, that explains a lot. You got the biography on this guy Angela?”

The angel behind him was stirred into action at the sound of her name, and there was no other word to describe her, as she couldn’t have fitted the image more perfectly unless she stepped out from a stained glass window. A pale girl a couple years younger than herself, her blonde bob cut and blue eyes the only colours on her that weren’t white, the sensible skirt and short sleeve shirt matching the body-length wings that framed her in feathers. Despite how pretty they were it seemed like they were troubling her greatly, her movements slight and stiff as she fumbled through various menus on the sizable tablet computer she held, finding the appropriate information and showing it to Alexander as her stern expression broke with the faint smile of someone taking satisfaction in one’s job. The blush was a bit much though.

“Bradley Liefeld. Age sixteen, blood type A positive, which is his power… but you probably guessed that already.”

“A Haemokinetic? Haven’t seen one of those in a while.”

“There’s more in his file you should see as well.”

She held the tablet out to Alexander, pressing herself into his side as he ran a finger up the screen she was showing him, soft noises of muttered reading filling the room as the assembled Adepts began to pull themselves up, including Katie’s current millstone, who leant back and fell onto her backside, freeing Katie as her senses cleared up, the ringing from the flash already fading away.

“So, you finally feel like talking to me?”

“Y-y-yes! I-I’m s-s-sorry!”

Wide dirty-green eyes swelled as hands flew up, both girls cutting each other off and mangling sentences together, rough Australian and timid English accents fighting the squabbling and complaining voices of dissent that were beginning to flood the room behind them.

“Whoa, didn’t mean to…”

“T-t-t-thanks for g-g-getting me up…”

“Just figured that…”

“A-a-and f-for p-protecting …”

“Sorry if I squashed anything…”

There was a pause as the pair simultaneously realised that they were getting nowhere fast talking at the same time, staring at each other awkwardly before the sun-kissed girl held out for a handshake.

“I’m Sabrina, Sabrina Martin. Pleased to meet’cha.”

“Catherine Holmes. P-please, c-c-call me Katie. I go b-by t-that a-apparently.”

A brief spot of arm-jangling followed, a broad smile lighting up the foreign girl’s tanned face. She quickly let go and popped up on the spot only to hold the same hand out to help Katie up. Despite the chill outside, she was daringly dressed in a t-shirt and tight shorts, filling out both easily. Katie took the hand once more, actually finding her feet for what was probably the first time that day. Up once again, Sabrina shot her a dazzling smile framed by two locks of raven hair, the rest tied back in a plaited ponytail that ended only when it reached the small of her back.

“There we go. All right, let’s see if they dealt with that bastard already.”

A shaky smile was the only response Katie managed to give as they turned back to the room, only to be met by open mouths and shocked stances as the other teenagers in the room pressed themselves against the back wall. A sharp clap sounded, Alexander beaming at the pair.

“Now that’s what I like to see. Jolly cooperation.”

The rest of the group turned their stunned looks to him, the tallest girl in the group finding her voice first. Said voice was a scratchy northern accent that scarred the ears the second she began caterwauling.

“Are you kiddin’ me? First there’s this murderin’ bastard, and now you’re tellin’ me you’re puttin’ us together with a fuckin’ Aussie! Are you tryin’ to get us all killed?”

Sabrina crossed the room in two strides, forcing her way into the girl’s personal space with a scowl that would surely incinerate her on the spot if looks could it kill. It occurred to Katie that such a thing might just be within her power.

“Hey, hey, hey! What’s wrong with being Australian?”

“What, you mean other than being a criminal scumbag from shit of nowhere? I bet you’ll have your hands round me neck just ’a fill a quota!”

“Frankly, the fact she survived Australia to be with us today is rather impressive to me. Also, watch the language.”

Alexander’s comment was lost as he was shoved out the way, the telepath resigning to lead Angela over to a large desk and hopping up onto it, taking the tablet to help her sit next to him. The northern girl stood face-to-face with Sabrina, the pair glaring at each other like opposite reflections in an asymmetrical mirror, white and peroxide blonde versus tan and raven black. Puberty was clearly being kinder to them then to her, both tall and full bodied as opposed to her slightness. Whatever confrontation was about to occur between them was stopped before it could even begin as an invisible force grabbed Sabrina and pulled her back, slamming her into the west wall with her limbs outstretched like the wings of a preserved butterfly under glass. On the opposite wall, the northern girl was struggling with the same pinning, cursing up a storm at all and sundry, so much so that her voice began to crack under the litany of swear words, some of which Katie had never heard and a couple she was sure the girl had made up on the spot. Alexander had pushed off the desk and walked to the centre of the room, glancing between the two with folded arms.  

“All right, all right, enough with the oestrogen and casual racism. If you two want to fight, there’ll be plenty of that coming up in future. Now…”

He took a step back and Sabrina was whisked back towards her nemesis of all of two minutes, the girls posed inches away from each other, so close they could probably smell what the other had for breakfast.

“Kiss and make up, and we’ll get a move on.”

“Go to hell!”

The three-word slur would likely be the first and last time the pair agreed on anything. Alexander seemed more bemused than insulted, and Katie wondered how long he would have held them there had Angela not tapped his shoulder.

“Alex, I think this counts as sexual harassment.”

Alexander thought about that for a moment, his response a shrug of indifference. Angela held his gaze over his shoulder, a soft frown marring her otherwise neutral expression. The staring contest was over in a heartbeat, Alexander losing with a reluctant sigh. The two would-be combatants dropped to the floor, ire focused on the psychic. If he cared for the death stares leveled at him, Alexander refused to acknowledge them, instead running a hand through his hair with another heavy sigh of irritation.

“This has run on for far too long, and I don’t want any more trouble. We’ll have to split the group. Angela, you take Sabrina, Katie aaaaand… she’s been quiet, so I can’t see there being much problem there. I’ll grab the rest, take another route and we’ll meet up at the student accommodation tower.”

Angela popped off the desk, setting herself to work with a sharp nod. Crossing the room over to the back corner, she tapped the shoulder of a girl smothered in a concealing jumper, blonde tresses buried in a magazine she’d found. A dull green gaze met the stern angel, who was doing her best to look authoritative.

“Come with me.”

The blonde nodded without expression, rising to follow Angela over to Katie. Angela cast a look over to Sabrina, who had yet to break her glare from Alexander, and made a gesture to the door. She made no attempt to move, and Alexander went on the charm offensive, his smile plastered back in place.

“If you could please follow my assistant, she’ll show you around the academy.”

“Why the hell should I? I’ve been getting looked down on since I got here, and not just by this stringy bitch! And I sure as hell don’t trust you, you goddamned weirdo!”

The room went dead as wills clashed together, glowing eyes running over the bare-teethed snarl and tightened fists. Katie didn’t know what each was looking for in the other, but whatever it was they were fighting for, Alexander relented first and shooed out the silence before it could become accustomed.

“You might not trust me, but you still need to be here nonetheless. Especially with a power like yours, Miss Martin. Besides, why judge a whole school just because two people are slightly obnoxious? Tell you what though, if you take part in the tour and introduction events and find legitimate reasons to leave, we’ll ship you back to the mainland. Promise.”

Sabrina never broke eye contact, looking for some deceit in his expression. Either she couldn’t find it or she had changed her mind about holding her ground, as she marched towards the door with muttered curses, knocking his shoulder as she went. Alexander’s voice cut the room just as she found the handle.

“Oh, and Sabrina? Try to make at least one friend. It might improve your idea of the place.”

A snort, a slammed door and the girl was gone. Alexander shrugged again.

“That takes care of that I suppose. We’ll see you later.”

With another sharp nod, Angela took Katie and their third party member by the wrists, leading them out as well. Sabrina was leaning against the wall, glaring at the pseudo-cityscape. She straightened up upon seeing the trio. Angela released the surprisingly tight grip she held on the other two Adepts as she and Sabrina made towards each other, but the angel carried on is if she wasn’t there, already heading into the mass of buildings, much to the mutual confusion of the paired Adepts. Sabrina’s surprise ended first.

“Hey, I thought you were supposed to be guiding us?”

Angela paused, wings folding up tighter as she tilted her head to look back at them at a rather diagonal angle that added to the list of impossible things Katie had experienced already.

“I thought you’d have enough sense to follow the guide you’re given.”

She had already begun walking again as Sabrina boiled over, stomping off after her with silent rage. Katie exchanged a nervous glance with her other companion, who simply took off at a pace that looked closer to floating then walking. Already left at the back of the pack, Katie hastily stumbled forward to catch up. It occurred to her that she should ask the unknown girl’s name.

“Cherri Wavewind.”

So she was another telepath then. Uneasiness rose in Katie’s chest, the idea of an island full of people who could all read her mind at any time disagreeing with her system for some reason. She knew that it was completely unwarranted, as the girl and Alexander were nice people, just… odd.

“I feel we should all know each other’s names, no?”

Or maybe she was simply far more comfortable opening up to complete strangers, as opposed to accusing them of being mind readers. Katie tried not to squirm with embarrassment at her presumptions. Thankfully, Sabrina saved her from any more internal cross-examination.

“Wow, your parents must have been a real pair of hippies.”

“I don’t think you have a right to judge others based on only initial perception, Miss Australian.”

The tall girl ground her teeth, redoubling her ire at the buildings as the group made their way forwards. Katie just kept her head down and prayed that everything would go smoothly.

Catherine Holmes wakes up with no memories and untapped power at her fingertips, only to be forced to fight in a world of broken history and heroes. Find the full novel at https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B01IBPIVLK

[oddree13]

Small Business Saturday, Chapter 7: The Morning After

Chapter 7:  The Morning After

(Read on AO3)

The next morning Bucky hoped that Steve had been rather drunk and delirious with grief to forget the conversation they’d had before falling asleep in the same bed. Mainly he hoped that Steve would forget the kiss.

James Barnes would never admit that the first night Steve stayed over was his first night without a nightmare, and would instead point to the alcohol and the odd night of sleep he’d tried to get anyways.

Waking up was a feat as Steve hadn't wanted to get up, but Bucky shoved him until he at least told him where his keys were so Bucky could get him something to wear that wasn't a suit.

Bundling up in his hoodie, Bucky stepped out the back door and walked down the steps that let out at the side of the store. Crossing the street, he let himself into SHIELD, and going to what he assumed was Steve’s room and rummaged around until he found something for his hungover friend to wear.

As he exited the shop and locked the door, he turned around and was face to face with Natasha.

“Care to explain to me why you seem to be breaking into our shop only to steal some clothing and boxers that would be too small for you,” she asked, tilting her head.

“They’re for Steve. He only has his suit and he isn’t going out in my pajamas that he slept in, so I came to get him something to change into,” he explained, which made the redhead cock her brow and grin.

“You mean to tell me the right now Steve Rogers is in your apartment, in your clothing, where he spent the night, presumably after getting hammered?”

Bucky just nodded but soon realized how it sounded. “Wait! Nothing happened. He was just sad, so I watched him. Never touched him. Just got him to sleep and vent is all!”

“Did he do either of those things?”

“Yeah. He slept and talked a bit. Also yelled at me, but I assume that’s just his charming personality. But I’m going to take him to breakfast at the Nest in about an hour if you want to meet us there,” he offered.

“Sounds good. I was just coming to check on things and leave a sign on the door. I cancelled all of Steve’s appointments for the next couple of days so he can take some personal time - which he’ll hate me for but see if I care.”

“I think it’s a good idea for a day or two, but coming from someone who uses work as a coping mechanism, you can’t take it away for too long or he’ll be lost.”

Simply nodding, Natasha walked to the door and tacked up the sign. “I’ll see you at breakfast. Thanks for taking care of him. I think he needed someone who was removed from the situation and could just let him be,” she sighed, and headed down the street to the cafe.

Walking back, Bucky quietly entered his apartment to still find Steve sprawled in his bed. He couldn’t help but smile at the sight. It had been a long time since he had anyone in his bed, and while it wasn’t because of sex, it was just nice imagery to dwell on.

Deciding to leave Steve asleep for a little bit longer, Bucky made his way into the shower and freshened up. Looking himself over in the mirror he figured he could go another day or two without shaving, since he was still getting used to a razor blade so close to his face.

Laying out a clean set of towels, Bucky walked back into his room with just a towel around his waist and tried again to wake up Steve.

“Rogers,” he whispered, shoving the blonde a bit, “set out a towel for you in the bathroom and got you a change of clothes. Rinse off and let’s go get food in you,” he reminded him, and went about changing, not caring too much about privacy since barrack life takes that away from you rather quickly.

Rolling over to finally move his head from under the pillow, Steve propped himself up on his elbows and caught a glimpse of his hosts bare bottom as he slid up his boxers. “I guess modesty goes out the window during basic?” he laughed, having appreciated the sight.

“Yeah, not enough time to worry about that,” he chortled.

“Right well I’ll just shower and then we’ll go?” he asked as he grabbed his clothing from the edge of the bed. “Thanks, by the way. For the clothes and for the company.”

“Don’t mention it. It was a rough day and you needed some companionable silence.”

"And something to drink," he scoffed, swinging his legs to the side of the bed, and suddenly feeling the thud in his temples more prominently. "Do you have an aspirin or something you can leave out for me?" he groaned.

"Sure thing. That and a tall glass of water. By the way, I ran into Natasha downstairs. She'll be meeting us for breakfast. She's a bit worried but happy to hear that you were able to vent a bit last night," he added, walking out of the room and leaving Steve alone to freshen up.

***

Steve didn’t want to think about breakfast. It wasn’t because his stomach wouldn’t keep it down, its more that he didn’t want to have to deal with people who would pity or coddle him. Yes, his mother died, but he was an adult and he wanted to grieve in his own way.

Standing under the spray, he leaned his head against the wall and hated himself momentarily for drinking so much. He tried to remember that night before and caught pieces. Him arriving, sitting in silence, throwing money at Bucky’s table, falling asleep, waking up with an asthma attack, yelling, and then...kissing? No that couldn’t be right. James didn’t seem like the kind of man who would take advantage of a drunk person, but when he closed his eyes again, Steve realized he was the kind of person that with a lot of liquid courage did some very bold things.

He couldn’t help but laugh at that. He chuckled, until his sides hurt, and he lifted a hand to his side to trace over the word “breathe” he has tattooed there, and then remembered why he was here in the first place. He quieted and turned the spray off, toweling himself off and changing into the clothes Bucky had left for him.

Coming out of the bathroom he found the aspirin and water waiting there for him. The man who owned this apartment was far too kind, and Steve needed to figure out a way to repay him. But he’d have to think of that another time.

***

As Steve was in the shower, Bucky cleaned up the mess from last night and tidied up in general so that in a bit when Steve walked out he was ready to go.

“Did you see the aspirin?”

“Yes, thank you. And thank you for getting the clothes and for everything you did.”

“It was nothing. Don’t fuss over it,” he smiled, trying to shrug it off. “Besides you won’t be thanking me once Natasha gets to you,” he laughed, and led Steve out the side, so he wouldn’t have to walk through the flower shop and get sneezy.

Going down the street, it was certainly a brisk morning and it woke both men up. Luckily the Nest wasn’t too far down the road and soon they were inside, sitting in a booth, and being served coffee without needing to ask for it.

“It’s all on the house today,” Katie began to say with a kind smile and was soon met by protests from Steve. “Rogers, shut up for once and take it,” she retorted curtly and walked off.

“You don’t do favors I gather?” Bucky asked, sipping at the dark, warm liquid.

“I give them. I don’t take them. And if I do, they are repaid. With interest,” Steve declared firmly.

“Any reason why?”

“I don’t need people’s pity or charity,” he murmured, not looking at the brunette.

“And what if they aren’t doing it from pity or charity? What if they are just helping you because they’re your friend and they care about you? I mean, I’m not expecting any repayment for last night, and I hope you don’t think that you owe me,” he pointed out, and seeing the tightening around Steve’s eyes and mouth, gaped.

“You seriously were going to do something weren’t you?” Bucky said in an accusatory tone. “Steve, your mother died. I’m not holding it over your head as some favor you owe me. I was just doing what any normal person would do for a friend.”

“Do you often let friends sleep in your bed with you?” Steve shot back, hating this conversation, and going on the defensive.

Bucky looked at him part stunned and part embarrassed. “You wouldn’t let me sleep on the couch, and you needed to sleep. So no, I don’t often share my bed with my friends but I had to get you to rest,” he explained.

“You could have just let me go home,” he pointed out.

“You were in no state to go home Steve. Yeah you live across the street, but you were drunk and depressed. I wouldn’t be a good person if I let you wander off like that.”

“I wouldn’t have wandered off!” he growled, feeling his hackles rise. “I’m not some kid you have to take care of James. And I know you don’t look at me like a kid from what happened last night.”

Bucky hadn’t been punched in the gut in a long time but the feeling was same whether it was a physical or verbal jab. “I apologize for whatever impression I gave you last night,” he swallowed, his voice lowering. “It wasn’t right of me to say what I did, and I should have left and moved to the couch when you...well when that happened,” he continued, feeling like some pervert for making a simple comment.

Standing up, he began to excuse himself but couldn’t look at Steve. “I am sorry if I gave you the impression that my intentions were anything but friendly. And I’m sorry if I made you feel uncomfortable,” he coughed, clearing his throat. “Enjoy your breakfast and I’ll text Natasha to pick your things up later,” he said, and grabbed his bag.

“Where are you going?” Steve asked, looking up at Bucky who was suddenly standing quite rigid, eyes forward, that for the first time he could really see the soldier in him. As he listened he realized suddenly that he might have been too defensive and implied something about Bucky when all he was trying to do was get him to stop asking questions.

“I have to open the shop. Teddy has deliveries to make and I need to let him inside,” he said, as an excuse, plausible though shaky.

“And you weren’t going to do this before?” he asked, with a raised eyebrow.

“Steve, just enjoy your breakfast and company with your friends. I need to go,” he said and didn’t stay to hear Steve’s protests.

On the way out he passed Natasha, who was saying hello, but she was another person he didn’t stop to listen to.

[bobbie-robron]

I always thought it kind of typical as soon as Katie and Andy were getting married again Robert walks back in with a fiance. like Robert could returned any time but had to do it when Andy and Katie found their way back to each other but guess it was drama for Katie exit sl. personally rob and andy hating each other was kind of ott as they seemed ok at jack funeral/wake. Katie and Robert parting was more sad and Katie did not seem that hung up on it but then again maybe she hid it by pushing herself to try again with andy. I always wondered what katie would of made of aaron and robert and seeing him truly in love.

The circumstances of both Katie and Andy getting back together and Robert’s return are intertwined imo with all roads leading to Katie’s exit months later. When you look back to 2005, Katie found out about Sadie, had words with Robert and drove off very soon after for her temporary exit. Then a few months later, Robert exited for an extended time away. If you focus on the overall dynamic for the three, there was still story to tell and what better way to heighten things than bring back an engaged Robert (and give us a memorable affair with grease monkey Aaron in the process). But I do agree that they boosted the hatred/animosity with Robert’s return (there was nine year gap and it didn’t play that way) for the sake of drama (now that I’ve seen how things played out way back when) while bigging up the overly good/bad brother scenario.

As for Jack’s funeral/wake (only seen bits of that), since Robert wasn’t going to stick around, they didn’t play up the adversarial dynamic between them. Just a few scenes here and there to mirror many of the aspects of Jack’s own return for his father’s funeral in 1972 and off he went again until the character was ready to be reintegrated (with lovely Ryan). As for Katie’s thoughts on Robert and Aaron, her views were fixated on how she saw Robert as a teen and not being faithful. It would have taken a lot for her to believe Robert was genuine about anyone.