#like i spent a full hour a few weeks ago struggling to log in to google on my new phone

[sleevesareforlosers]

how is google deleting inactive accounts going to affect their insane login verification processes i wonder

[royalydamned]

SOAKED

|Mycroft Holmes x Reader|

|AN|: I haven't written one shot, let alone something x reader in like? two years? maybe? Reader is written as non-specified gender and is only referred to as "you" , so no pronouns for reader. My love for Mycroft suddenly hit me like a truck after years so I had to contribute.

Summary: Bit of rain, whole lot of feelings, and one love confession. Maybe storms aren't that bad, if they show you that you are worthy of love after all. In Mycroft's case for sure.

Mycroft sighed as he rubbed his tired eyes. The clock on the wall in front of him showed early afternoon, yet cold and darkness spread outside of his windows as the sun hid behind heavy clouds early in the morning. Peaceful but gloomy day. Still, the heavy pounding of rain against the glass of widows and road, as well as the rustle of the wet trees in the wind was oddly peaceful and comforting.  He had a hard day of work behind him, and another evening of more work ahead, just another weak attempt to distract himself from a foul mood he was put in because of the complications that came with the weather. 

Important plans, well, to him at least. He was supposed to get to see you.

A busy man he was, that wasn't even up for a question. His schedule tightly packed with meetings, paperwork and more than occasional fixing of his brother's mess, or just simply preventing it, it left a very little time for pleasant distractions such as a quiet time spend with delicious cup of tea and your sweet smile. Today was not the day for distraction it seemed, certainly not as big as your company, that left him flustered and distracted hours after you said your goodbyes. 

Your meetings were always a special occasion, even if they were short, brief and unfrequent because of how far you lived, Mycroft always cherished them for weeks following, replaying your lovely laugh and almost sparkling eyes in his head as he woke up and texted you a good morning message, or as he layed down to sleep and wished you sweet dreams. 

He might have...cared. For you, your happiness, your well being. Much more than he would ever admit, to others that is. Inside his own mind, he knew far too well how utterly enamored he was with you. 

The eldest Holmes wasn't the one to act, God forbid act upon his feelings. He could watch you, with crushing ache in his heart and deep longing as you always talked about your newest acquaintanceship, secretly wishing you held the same sentiments as he did. 

You never seemed to have a shortage of suitors at your heels, one better looking that the other, with charming smiles and magnetic personas. Likeable, social, just as you deserved. While he--, well, there was no need to ruin his day further with self-describtions. He knew very well how others percieved him and how he looked. Sherlock never failed to remind him if he occasionally forgot. 

Mycroft Holmes was aware, that he was nothing anyone would have ever wanted. 

The relationship the two of you had now was more than he could ask for, in all honesty. Time spent together, secrets shared in quiet moments and deep trust you held, it was enough. It was all he needed, if he still could watch over you. 

Outside a thunder struck, pulling him from the spiral of thoughts that he always seemed to fall into in the loneliest moments. With a deep sigh he stood up from behind his desk, eyes burning from how long he stared into the bright computer screen, and made his way downstairs into the liquor cabinet. He deserved a small break. 

His house was dark, almost like a nighttime had fallen outside, but he didn't bother turning on the lights, instead he carefully climbed down the stairs, gripping the wooden railing at the side for security. By the end of the staircase, he deeply regretted his foolish decision, but before he could make even one step towards the nearest lightswitch, a doorbell stopped him. 

Confused, he opened the door, only praying not to see his younger brother and his babysitter standing outside, as he had no intention nor the mood to put up with his obnoxious antics this afternoon, but instead his eyes landed on you. 

A soft surpised gasp escaped his mouth as he saw you on his doorstep, shivering with cold, your clothes completely soaked, excess droplets falling on your face and the tiles outside, and arms cluthing yourself for the tiniest bit of warmth. 

"|Y/N|?" He asked in quiet disbelief, almost as if he thought  he was imagining you. 

"We agreed to meet after too long, like hell a bit of rain would stop me," you replied with a victorious grin, lips almost purple from the cold and your whole body visibly trembling. 

"Foolish," he muttered pulling you gently inside from the atrocious weather. "You are completely soaked."

"You apparently have that effect on me," you smirked, the witty remark escaping your lips without control, and Mycroft was glad you couldn't see the embarrassed shade his cheeks caught. "No, but really, I walked most of the time. You know the tube is too far away from your place, and I didn't have enough money for a cab, I figured it isn't going to be that bad."

"It was." 

"It was," you agreed, rubbing your hands together in quick motions, trying to gain the feeling back into your fingers. 

"You should change or else you'll catch cold, come." You let him grab your hand, his skin pleasantly warm against your cold numbed one. He tried to think about anything else rather than the feeling of your connected hands, there were more important things now than such minor distractions. The image of you walking outside in the storm, just to see him. Just to be with him. It sent the most pleasant feeling into his stomach, the idea that maybe, he was almost as important to you as you were to him. But that was nothing but a wishful thinking, a desire of a naive man, and that is not who Mycroft was. There was no need for false hopes and embellished reality. 

He lead you into his bedroom, the idea of what it would normally mean coloring his cheeks, but he ignored those intrusive thoughts, focusing on helping you warm up in any way possible. "You have to change into dry clothes. Mine should be sufficient for now." 

"Alright." Came your voice from behind him, and he turned around to see your topless form. 

His breath hitched as he quickly dropped his gaze onto the floor, trying to keep the image he saw out of his mind, out of respect for you. No matter how badly he wished to remember it. Your skin glistening with water, body hiding under the clothes he strangely found himself craving, too primal and illogical for himself to admit. It was too hard keeping his head clear, with the sight from a few seconds ago burned into his brain, unable to ignore, unablet to forget, twisting his inside it certain ways he rarely felt before. 

"I will wait outside," he stated finally, pushing the neatly folded pile of clothing towards you without looking up in the slightest, and left the room. 

 When he shut the door after him, he finally felt like he could breathe easily again. Leaning against the doorframe, replaying the moment again and again, against his own better judgemnet, without the willpower to stop himself, and gulped heavily, trying to get rid of the strange sensation inside of him. 

It was like his feelings weren't enough. Like the fact that he, after all, wasn't too different to others, as he was so deeply affected by the helpless emotions of love and how deeply he was hurting with every moment without you. So depended on your presence bringing him joy. Now he steeped so low as physical attraction, pure desire of your touch and your body. He would mock himself if he could, you were just too much. 

A soft click of the doorknob caught his attention, and stayed almost staring, asking himself over and over again, why does he love the sight of you in his clothes so much. 

You hugged yourself tightly, still trembling significanty, but now at least rid of the wet clothes, and smiled up at him, with warmth only you could muster at such a moment. "This is much better, thank you. Sorry for such complications." 

"Nonsense," he huffed almost annoyed, like your health would ever be a complication. To him. Ridiculous. "Come, I think fire and a nice cup of tea will warm you up." Placing a hand on the small of your back, he led you back downstairs, where the big fireplace was. The close proximity the gesture put you in flustered you both, but Mycroft didn't want to let go. And neither did you. 

You turned to him, looking up into his face, smiling mischieviously when he caught your eyes. "Don't you have anything stronger?" 

The corner of his mouth twitched upwards, strongly liking your idea. "Your wish is my command."

Downstairs, he found the thickest blanket he had, tightly wrapping it around your shoulders, and you snuggled into its comfort immediately, watching him struggle to start a fire. 

"I suppose you aren't the one for camping," you mused with a small smile, giggling shortly at his grimace. 

"My, how could you possibly deduce that?" A tiny flame sparked inside, dacing across the thick logs of wood before disappearing under them, and growing rapidly. Mycroft stood up from the ground, dusting off the dirt and ashes from his hands and clothes, and looked rather proudly at his work. 

"I guess I was wrong. You are full of surprises, Mr. Holmes." A warm light from the fireplace illuminated your features, the growing flames sparkling in your eyes, and Mycroft stayed just to watch. He didn't believe in perfection, that concept was unachievable and he never believed in such terms, but as he watched you in this  moment, hair frizzy as they were drying from the water, the messy strands falling into your face, and just  then as he watched the orange light color your skin with small smile on your lips , he though you were the only one that came close. 

"Well," he inhaled sharply, pulling himself from the love-sick trance, and smiled back at you, the expression coming off more forced than it really was. "I shall go and fetch us something to drink." 

Later he came back with two short glasses and bottle of a still unopened liquor bottle, sealed with silver paper and a stamp of the highest quality, almost unnoticable smile playing on his lips as he made his way back to you, where you set cross-legged on the little carpet right in front of the fire. He copied your position, awkardly folding his legs, your knees almost touching, and placed the two glasses into the space between you. 

"I'm just," he started unsurely, pouring each of you a glass with impressive precision in the amount, and looked at you again, almost shyly. "I'm very glad we got to spend our evening together after all."

"I'm very glad as well Mycroft," you answered, a fond look in your eyes as you looked at the man in front of you and raised your glass in a silent gesture. He repeated the motion, nodding his head courtly your direction, and took a small sip, watching you in astonishment as you drank it all at once. "Getting warmer already," you laughed, watching the smile on his face widen at your comment and poured you another glass. 

You set together for what felt like hours, and maybe it was, in comfortable silence by the melody of the cracking fire beside you, the bottle almost fully drank and the personal space between you long gone. Your feet were tangled together in the middle, knees pressed against each other, both supporting your heads on your hands as you talked, with blissful smiles and faces almost too close. 

Mycroft adjusted his posture, resting his chin on his connected hands supported on his thighs as he watched you attentively, noticing and drinking in every detail of your face, your voice your tipsy mannerisms. He could never tear his gaze off you, you were captivating, like a mysterious painting hanging in the gallery, attracting everyone to look, to try to figure it out, and know everything about it. But he knew everything about you, and still he wanted to learn even more. Secrets you never told him, things he simply couldn't just see. Every morning he wanted to see your face, to give him the strenght to go through it, and ever evening he wanted to come back to it, because you felt like home. And Mycroft hated himself for being so melodramatic. This wasn't him, all these thoughts, all these emotions, they were stronger than his healthy judgement, which was already clouded by alcohol. 

 "Wasn't your partner worried, just going outside in such a storm?" You huffed out a breath, both amusement and annoyance mixing in that display of emotion, and Mycroft quite couldn't place, what it meant. 

"We broke up several days ago."

"I am very sorry to hear that," he said genuinely, even though inside he felt selfish joy that he won't have to hear about yet  another perfect match for you, another reminder of everything he wasn't. And could never be. Nothing you wanted nor needed. 

"Don't be, nobody I met yet was really for me," you mumbled, dropping your eyes into the empty glass in your hands, brows furrowed in deep thought.

"Why is that?" He took the last sip from his glass and carefully set it on the coffee table by his side, his full attention at you again. 

"When you meet so many people, good-looking, charming and kind people, but none of them fits you, none of them is right because you set impossible standard, almost unachievable by most people." You set aside your own glass, shifting even closer to him, hearing how he took in a sharp breath, hesitantly straightening his back. 

"That must happen when one deserves perfection," he answered looking longinly into your eyes, unable to look away. You were truly hypnotising, the only thing he could look at hours without  a break and never get tired. The only person he grew to love so deeply. Truly one of a kind. 

"Oh, not perfection, heavens no," you laghed, throwing your head back a little at that, and he still couldn't look away. Why was it so amusing, someone as perfect, as flawless, deserved nothing less than the same. "The thing being, that it's too far from perfection, and in a world where people desire nothing more than to eliminate their flaws, something perfectly imperfect is unachievable."

You leaned closer to him, licking your lips, already pink and sweet again, without realizing, and he almost lost his control. Swallowing heavily, he forced himself to look back into your eyes, trying to forget about the questions appearing in his mind. How would your lips possibly taste? How would it feel having you so close? Heating you up with his own body, blanket too long forgotten?

He couldn't think that way. He had to collect himself, but he didn't know how. Subconciously, he leaned in as well, the gap between your faces just inches apart, your breaths almost shared in one, and it felt like he was dreaming. If that was the truth, he never wanted to wake up.  

"They all lacked just one thing though," you whispered, placing your hand on his leg for support, making Mycroft to freeze completely, too disturbed by the contact and the overwhelming heat it sent through his body to think about anything else. 

"That being?" he forced himself to say, his throat tight and voice quiet, almost as if he had lost his breath. 

"They just weren't...you." A simple statement, a plain sentence bearing more meaning than most conversations he had been part of. His gaze abruptly shot back up, cathing he own almost instantly, but no words made their way out. He couldn't talk nor move, shock too obvious on his features, that even a child would know. 

His hands moved on his own, the other times brilliant brain, his biggest pride during his whole life now shut off by a few simple words, his body moving without a single though. Your cheek was warm already, burning hot under his skin as he gently caressed it, moving out a fallen strand from your face, tracing your cheekbone with his thumb like you were the most fragile thing in the world. 

"May I kiss you?" you breathed out, your eyes looking up at him, sparkling with emotion he thought he would never see in them, and he nodded, fulfilling himself the one wish that seemed too impossible for a realistic man to hold. 

Your lips met in the middle, slow and hesitant as you both silently prayed you wouldn't wake u in the middle of the nigh and find out it was yet another dream. 

He sighed deeply into the kiss as you moved to sit in his lap and deepened the kiss, pressing your lips against his more roughly, more needily, hands carefully placed on his neck and your whole body so deliciously pressed against his. So hot and soft, an opposite picture to your arrival, sinding the most pleasant shivers through his whole body with every slight movement in his arms. Mycroft's arms ended up wrapped around your waist, tightly cluthing your body to his like he was afraid you would leave. He couldn't let go. He never wanted to let go. 

After a short while, seconds, maybe minutes, he didn't know, the best moments of his life, you pulled away, only slightly to cath your breath, and rested your own forehead against his. He could smell the rain in your hair and your unique scent all around him, and he wanted to remember it all. Every single detail, to replay it, to dream it. To live it. 

"I love you," he said quietly, too long of a silence from his last words, and finally gather up the courage to open his eyes and look at you again. At your glowing eyes and wide smile, at your messy hair and body tangled in his blanket, in his own gaze, you were the perfect everyone seeked. 

"I love you too Mycroft."

And he never wanted to hear a sentence repeated so much as in that moment. Fortunately, you would never get tired of saying it. 

[realm-sweet-realm]

Angel of the Ink Machine, chapter 2: Compromise

The premise of this AU is simple: Sammy leaves the studio instead of Henry, and as a result, Joey needs a new partner in crime. He finds one in Allison. Power struggles, sacrifices, passion, ecstasy and tragedy ensues.

---

Allison’s first few weeks at Joey Drew Studios had been interesting, to say the least. Joey had introduced her to the music room on her first day, and all had seemed to go well. The next day, however, just as she was setting things up in her recording booth, a small, blonde woman who hadn’t been around the day before had come in to interrupt her. Apparently, the last voice actress for the part of Alice Angel- Susie Campbell- had been away the previous day and hadn’t been told that she’d been replaced. The poor woman was heartbroken, and Allison had felt bad for taking a role that was essentially meaningless to her from someone who clearly cared much more about it.

That pity only lasted until Allison realized that half of the music department had taken a disliking to her, seemingly overnight. It was hard to tell how much of that was their loyalty to Susie and how much of that was just their regular standoffish-ness. Either way, Allison didn’t much care for the whole high school-level cattiness of it. Any friends she’d make in this studio would be outside the music department.

Voice acting was fine. Dating Joey was wonderful. She hadn’t gotten to play with the ink machine yet, but they’d done other magic together. She didn’t care for his secretiveness about his plans for the machine worked, though, and after a while she decided to seek out answers on her own.

Her first thought was to ask the man who was building the machine, Thomas Connor. He said that he didn’t know how this thing was supposed to work and didn’t want to, and sure as hell wouldn’t tell some random music department kid if he did. She asked his assistant, Wally Franks, who told her a round-a-bout tale about how he’d drawn up the first blueprint. This was not information Allison could use.

There was one other person she could ask, but it was a long shot. Despite her best efforts, Allison hadn’t fully avoided the high school nonsense of the music room, and she knew the reputation that their projectionist, Norman Polk had as a keeper of unknowable secrets. Allison thought that they were being ridiculous, but it was worth a shot, and he was open enough about meeting with her over lunch one day.

“So, you’re working with Joey Drew on the magical stuff,” he said. It wasn’t a question.

“Uh, yes. Does everyone know?”

Norman laughed a little. “Most people here don’t even know that magic is real. Anyhow, I assume that you came to me because you’re interested in knowing some kind of secret?” If he was annoyed about the new girl knowing his reputation, he didn’t show it. If anything, he seemed amused.

“Yes. Honestly, I just want to know as much about Joey as I can. Especially anything that has to do with magic, and the ink machine.”

“Well, I guess telling you can’t be any more dangerous than him keeping it from you. Follow me.”

“You want to know a secret about Joey?” Norman asked as they walked, “he hires people he thinks are vulnerable and down on their luck. So Joey Drew Studios has some teenagers working here, some people with disabilities from the war, and a lot more non-whites and queer people than you’d expect. Not a secret, just a pattern I’ve noticed. But I know that what you want is real secrets.”

Norman took her to a room labelled, “The Archives.” Within it was hundreds of audio logs in locked glass containers. “Joey audio-records us,” Norman explained. “I don’t know his purposes for it, but he clearly does it a whole lot. The glass bins are locked, obviously, but I stole one off his desk a couple days ago. Wanna hear it?” The man’s face had gone from proud and amused to dead-serious.

“Sure...”

Norman pressed the button, and the audio log played. It was Joey Drew speaking to Thomas Connor. They were talking about how to change Bendy from a soulless abomination into a lovable cartoon, and it ended with Joey promising that if these things are soulless, he would get them a soul. After all, I own thousands of them.

“You wanna know what I think? I think that Joey is great at preying upon the desperate. And quite recently, he made a person desperate to be a cartoon character again. So, Allison. I don’t know what your role in this magical business is, but if you can help it, don’t let Joey hurt Susie Campbell- she’s my fiancé. I’ve already told her to be careful around Mr. Joey Drew, but...”

Allison was struggling to take this in. Joey wanted to kill people for this project? That was insane! And yet, some of those pentagrams in the basement had looked awfully large. “I’m sure he doesn’t mean that he wants to murder people. But I’ll talk to him, Norman. I promise. And I do have power over him, so you can count on me!”

---

Allison kept her promise, and brought it up the next time she was at Joey’s house.

“Joey. I need you to tell me right now if this ink machine project involves killing people.”

Joey immediately tensed. He’d been thinking for weeks of a way to break that to Allison that wouldn’t make her run for the hills. “Not... killing. I mean, they’ll still be alive. It’s more like putting them in another body. Yes, the process does involve causing their old body to bleed out, but their consciousness will still be there- probably.”

“Probably?” her face was remarkably calm, given the circumstances.

“I’ve tested the machine on rodents. None of them came out physically resembling a cartoon- only your potion lets me do that. But some of them came out acting like rodents, some of them came out acting like cartoon characters, and some of them went berserk. I’m trying to figure out how to make more of them come out as either rodents or cartoons. If the person retains their personality, they could basically be actors. And if they come out with the cartoon personality, well...”

The more Joey spoke, the more withering Allison’s glare became. “Okay. None of that. I’m not going to destroy people for this. Going forwards, only retaining the consciousness is considered a good outcome. Capisce?”

“Okay,” Joey said, starting to regret letting Allison into the project.

“And I assume that you were going to tell the sacrifices exactly what’s going to happen to them beforehand?”

“Well... Allison, how many people do you think would do this if we were to tell them everything? I was going to tell them that they’d go to sleep and then wake up as the cartoon character they want to be.”

Allison shook her head and appeared to think things over a moment. “You know what, Joey? I’ll do this. But we can’t do it without my potion, so we’re going to do it on my terms. You understand? So, here are my terms: one, we test that machine. We test it on rodents until we have at least 70% of them coming out acting like rodents. Alright? Two, don’t sacrifice anyone without my permission. Ever. And three: I want to be the one who talks people into becoming sacrifices. I have a silver tongue, too, and I don’t trust you to be honest with people. Those are the terms. Take them or leave them.”

“I’ll... I’ll take them. But Allison, if you’re going to have this much power over the project, I need you to show that you’re loyal to it.”

Allison smiled. “Of course. I’m sure that we could work something out!”

---

“What do you think- can you break the lock, Wally? I can’t believe I locked myself out like this.”

“Hmm... Well, Shawn has been tryin' to teach me how to pick a lock. I could try.” Wally got to work on the door and had busted it open within two minutes.

“Alright! Thanks, Wally.” Joey handed Wally the 20$ he’d promised him. They parted ways, and then Joey got to work scouring Allison’s house for that potion recipe.

It was nine weeks and four days after Joey had agreed to Allison’s terms. Six weeks, and only now were they making their first human sacrifice. Worse, they’d wasted hundreds of dollars worth of pet store rodents and a few dozen hours spent altering their ritual. They’d gotten those rodents to turn into toons- mostly perfect toons- that acted like animals at a high enough rate to satisfy Allison, and now Allison was headed to Susie’s apartment to talk her into becoming their sacrifice. Joey wished he could be there, making sure that Allison was doing it right and not scaring Susie away from the idea in the name of honesty. But the one benefit to this situation was knowing that Allison wouldn’t be here, and that after this she would be headed straight to the studio- he wasn’t leaving this place without that potion recipe, and thus full power over the project.

Joey checked all the obvious places like cupboards and drawers, paged through binders full of recipes for various potions and food items, and then checked the obvious “hiding place” places, such as under her bed, under rugs, and so on. It didn’t help that Allison’s house was rather cluttered. For all Joey knew, he could have missed the recipe while sorting through the various papers on the kitchen table. He checked his watch and learned that he’d spent too long here and had supposed to be at the studio an hour ago. Well, he had to give up and leave sometime. Before he left though, he went back to one of Allison’s recipe binders, where Joey had bookmarked a page labelled, “Memory spell? Failed.” He tore out the page. Allison clearly wasn’t the best at creating spells, but seeing it had given Joey an idea of something he could add to the ink machine rituals. It would take at best a few weeks to perfect, but what if he could control what the sacrifices remembered and forgot? There were so many potential uses...

---

Norman had been right about Susie being desperate to be Alice again. Susie had been furious when Allison had showed up at her apartment, but once Allison had said the words, “Joey and I want to make you Alice again. We agreed that you’re the best person for the job,” she’d broken down in tears.

“D-do you mean that?”

“Of course I do! It was the plan from the very beginning. Susie, no one is as well-suited to being Alice Angel than you are. Now, I’ll still be her voice actress, but you’re going to make history- trust me, people will remember you as Alice for decades after this. Joey found an improvised means to bring you closer to Alice than any actress ever has been to a character. The process will seem scary, but Joey will help you, I’ll be there every step of the way. I’m pretty excited myself, honestly! No one’s ever done this before. So, are you with us?”

“Well, that sounds... too good to be true. I mean, even just getting my role back would be nice wonderful, but here you are promising me fame and all of that... But you’re being awfully vague about it. What exactly do you have planned?”

“Come with me to the studio. It has to be seen to be believed.”

[stereksecretsanta]

Merry Christmas, leninille!

For @leninille. These are the first three chapters and a complete story within a new storyline I've got several chapter outlines for. All of this came up during development of this Secret Santa Exchange gift, and as more familiar faces are revealed, the tags will be updated accordingly.

Read On AO3

*****

Health Tonics and Love Gardens

Chapter 1 - The Stiles In The Garden

Stiles has been working on this garden for months. It is colorful now, with tiny bushes he'd groomed into shape and the better airflow they get without the other plants strangling the light and air from the garden. He's been restoring this garden to what it might have once been, and tried to keep remembering what his mom told him about the garden back home.

"These flowers may look nice, but they can also cause healing or harm." He thought in his mother's voice.

This specific phrase stuck with him, and usually when he's daydreaming and not paying attention to what he's saying, he'll speak the words and try to recall the exact details of the garden as it was when his mom was caring for it.

"Why?" he again remembers asking, and he says the same thing aloud every time this happens.

The details of the answer vary, probably because his child mind wasn't really any better at staying on target for even half the time his adult brain can do now. That means that his mom's voice answers the questing with different words, and the theme generally was: "Sometimes a little of a plant can help a person heal from an injury. Give them too much, and they will suffer, may come to harm, and could die."

It's the stinging nettle that his mother is indicating to him today. He looks at the plant in the present and gives it side-eye.

"A good cook can turn this nettle into a healthful tea."

Little Stiles can feel himself interrupt her. "I've made tea, mom. It's easy!" He used to be so excited about stuff. He was what... maybe eight years old when this happened?

He favors his mother's memory by having her always say something that humors the younger him.

"Yes! You can make very good tea. And thank you for doing it! But some teas we can make require very good care. A good cook like me knows how to prepare the stems, or the flowers, or pieces of the root all cut up into tiny pieces of any of these plants." She makes tickling fingers at him and he smiles at the recollection.

"What if the cook uses the wrong pieces?"

"Then instead of healing, maybe nothing will happen. But with some plants, you can make someone worse. They can be hurt forever, and might even die."

Little Stiles did not want to make that kind of tea, and he considered not ever being near tea again.

"Promise me, Stiles, that you will not try to make tea from anything that comes from this garden."

That was an easy promise to keep. The Stiles in his 20s, having these memories, appreciates how well his mother understood how he thought. Under her brief guidance, Stiles cultivated a voracious curiosity and analytical mind. He got over the worries about tea, eventually, but it wasn't until after this gardening thing started that he want and tried to learn more about exactly what were these plants in the plot and what kinds of tea could be made with them.

As he found out later, after many hours and days of looking through cookbooks and materials online, he started to feel like this was a medicinal garden instead of an herb garden for actual cooking.

"And never make tea with anything outside the garden without talking to me first, okay?"

Little Stiles nods again. At that age he loved strawberries, and he thought he might not worry so much about tea if he had some of the best tea with his mom right now. "I want to make the strawberry tea!"

"Oh! That sounds good."

Little Stiles helped Claudia put the tools away and gather the strawberries and lemon and sugar from their places in the kitchen. They talked about his day at school, and the memory always fades from there.

It is well more than ten years since that day and it's one of his favorite memories of his mother. Many memories stick because they sucked, or because he thinks about them so much he can't tell if they're real or if he made them up.

He does think it's odd that every week, at least once a week, Stiles is at this old burned house in the Beacon Hills Preserve, working on this garden, talking to himself to review what he's learned about these different plants, and making threats at the plants who he still can't identify or which are giving him troubles that day. He's still just as wary of the nettle, but they've got a grudging agreement not to bother each other. For the rest? He'll unlock their secrets soon enough.

It's fair to say that he lets his guard down at this point. Nobody's ever been around here. He expected there would be graffiti on the house or whatever, but no, it's just been the house and this garden, and Stiles taking care of the latter.

He clips a sprig of lavender and adds it to his bag with the rosemary, adds some heather blossoms, and mutters "Calluna" as he snaps them. It's their genus, and they're in the same family as rhododendrons. There are two of those in the yard, not close to the house.

His thought withers as he turns to the house and takes it in with a slow breath. It always seems like the house is watching him, but not seeing him. It's never felt threatening, just... omnipresent, he thinks.

This house was full of the potential of these many lives. The family suffered, and in his investigation into public records and police records ("Heya, daddio... Can I ask you a question?" being only the most direct route to the files, and not the only one he took), he had learned that the family's absence left some big holes in the town at the time.

Curiously, it was hard to find photos of any of the family members. Even social media didn't have much. The kids weren't in school yearbooks he could get hold of, and he's gone through everything he could find in the school archive, even the old student newsletters.

He had found a photo of Talia Hale. She was the mother and as far as he could tell, the kind of person everyone in town seemed to know and most respected. He had no idea that Talia's spouse looked like, having seen only the name "Blake Hale" and having no idea who that was.

The dusty family obituary Stiles found in the paper printed after the fire listed several dead. But the count doesn't match what the police logged, and that doesn't match the fire inspector's. The insurance company itself gave a third number in a quote taken by a reporter.

The situation didn't make sense to him, and it bothered him that nobody seemed to know what really happened here. How many Hales were impacted by the fire? Did any escape? The body counts ranged from fewer than ten to the low 20s. Nobody knew if there was a party that night because despite all the fresh vehicle tracks at the scene, there were very few vehicles in the driveway. So where did those other visitors go? The firefighters' work destroyed the scene and they couldn't find any tire tracks that might lead them in a useful direction.

And weirdest of all: He's still not found anything that even hints that his mother and the Hales were affiliated. So this garden and the exact matching one at home, which Stiles and his dad have somewhat neglected after many years of close attention, Stiles still doesn't know why he cares so much about this plot at the Hale house.

He'd explored the ruins many times in his months of gardening. The house sits still and aging, creaking wearily in the winds as it always does. The only trespassers seem to be him and the squirrels.

He tugs a threatening vine away from the garden and trims it back. It's probably a volunteer left by some bird.

On his first day here he didn't go in the house, but walked slowly around it, walking his blue bike as he walked the perimeter. It was coming around the back of the house when he caught the scent of a familiar combination of herbs and he discovered his garden out here in the woods.

It is exactly the same layout as at the Stilinski house, but these plants were overgrown and struggling, and the vines were getting close. As he got on his knees and started his first concerted effort at gardening the plot, he started trying to find answers to these two questions: "Why does this garden layout look identical to ours at home?" and, given that the garden does exist in both places, "How did the Hales know his mother?"

Derek doesn't know how to respond. He had never been an alpha, and would never be, so he'd mostly ignored those lessons when his mom and Laura talked about them. His alpha and sister in one being swore to him years ago that no matter how much they'd already lost, they'll always be near each other.

"Are you alright? Did you hear me?" she glances at him and pokes him. She feels the sensation of being mentally stunned, then gives him an annoyed look. "Why is this weird for you?"

He blinked at her. "You don't think it's weird that for years we've not even talked once about Beacon Hills and now you say that you've spent weeks fighting an unidentified and suspicious pull to return home for a few weeks?"

"No, I said a few months. Three or four, maybe. Who cares? It's still a calling."

Derek looked at her and asked the obvious. "Couldn't this be hunters?"

She shook her head. This wasn't aggressive magic, and she wasn't sure how she knew that. It was more than intuition, though... it was certainty. Werewolves are often sensitive to many kinds of magical activities that may happen around them or to them, and her enhanced abilities told her that this just wasn't like any of that. She considered an odd possibility.

"Maybe it's my wolf?"

Derek rolls his eyes. "We are werewolves, Laura. It's a gift of a greater life, not a spiritual possession."

"Hey, I know that there's no separate little spooky spirit inside any of us beyond what most people seem to think they have. But this is like..." She searches the room until her eyes land in the opposite corner. She points at the TV and clarifies, "It's like I'm getting a new channel, and it's focused on the wolfish instincts, not the human side. Can't you feel it, too?"

He shakes his head. There has been zero sensation of compulsion in Derek to return to Beacon Hills. He would be happy to never return. It was once a beautiful place, but that's lost with everything else and he doesn't want to find any of it again.

"Can you check the pack bond and tell me what you see?"

He glares at her, already tired of this conversation. The alpha sees different things in pack bonds than each member sees. Laura likes to learn what Derek sees, and tells herself that it'll come in handy when she's got a bigger pack. They haven't even tried to connect with any werewolves despite there being many free-roaming supernatural family hanging around. The Hales are a duo that nobody can mess with.

She's persistent, so he focuses and listens with his inner senses and finds the same pack bond with her that he's seen for years. It's identical to how it was before. Nothing new, nothing seeming magical beyond the usual. It's hard to believe her about this when he's got no evidence it's happening.

"Damn. I hate this. I wish I had an emissary to ask."

Derek doesn't know what to think about emissaries, and leans toward not-in-favor since theirs failed to protect them from the hunter assault that lead to his family's near-annihilation. This emissary was newer, replacing their former emissary who had died of a normal, terrible cause like brain cancer. Derek met the new guy once and hated how he smelled of animals and cleaning supplies. The man's day job was as head veterinarian at the Beacon Hills Animal Clinic.

Last time they talked about him, Laura recalled that he was mostly a quiet man, didn't like giving full answers, and Talia mostly found him annoying, though useful at times.

Derek stewed on the fresh thoughts of the vet being partly responsible for what happened. Now he's feeling some kind of pull to return, to demand answers, at the very least.

Magic, as far as Derek was concerned, has been far more bother than it's worth.

"I never liked Deaton, but he's all I know." Laura suggested.

"Oh, then all of this was your fault," Derek said in an attempt to lighten the mood. It took a second to realize that he just accused the emissary of letting the family come to harm because he and Laura didn't get along.

"No emissary and no wolf was responsible for what happened, Derek." That left only the implication of the hunter woman he'd let get too close.

With regard to that person, Derek only ever harbors stabbingly angry thoughts about what should happen to her. She'd lied, she'd taken advantage of his life inexperience, and in the end of it all, she failed to murder him with everyone else, and he simmered deep inside from a wound that hadn't healed. His eyes flash.

Laura doesn't look away. He's upset, and he's not great with expressing himself on the best of day. She doesn't flash her eyes back at him. She's not angry, she's sad that he keeps blaming himself.

Derek reads this on her face and understands. "Fuck!" he mumbles a disappointed apology. "It wasn't your fault." He punctuates the air more softly with a mumbled repeat of the exclamation.

"Derek." She has come to a conclusion and in that tone she's warning him to prepare himself for something he is going to dislike. "I think we need to go back. We'll be careful," she says as he gives her an irritated and skeptical. "We'll stay in another town, sneak in as wolves and investigate the Preserve and the house. Maybe check out Beacon Hills and," she said, conspiratorially, "get some donuts before we leave."

"Leave?"

"We don't have to stay. I just need answers."

He considers this. It's not a demand or a request, it's just what she's going to do and she knows he's coming with her. But the confectionary he'd not thought about in years comes back to him. "I forgot about the donuts! And because of you," he glares at her, "now I have to have one."

"Perfect!" she says. He makes a good show at faking indignation, but he's heading into his room and looking around. They weren't likely to come back, so he shoots a message to his boss about a family emergency and he starts packing.

She's looking from the main room at his back as he starts sorting things out. He's always the scaredywolf, and she starts to pull snacks together that they'll want for the long drive.

Chapter 2 - These Wolves Are Here To Play

"Iiiiiiiiiiiiiii've been working on the raaaaaaaaaaailroad!" the man shouts. "All the live-long daaaaaaaaayGAACK!" Choking sputters and spitting follows the interruption. The approaching wolves still and listen.

"What the crap?! I'm working on your stupid habitat here!" A triple spitting sound. "Leave me alone you big dumb m-moth!"

The wolves glance at each other and share a look that says, "This guy's got worse problems than his big, stupid voice."

Laura steps ahead, leading them closer, keeping the shrubs and other undergrowth between them and the person in the distance. This guy doesn't scream "Threat!" to anyone but himself, but even well-meaning people can lead to tragedy. It would be best, of course, if the guy happened to take off before they got near him.

But if he did, she warns herself, that could mean he knows they're coming. That would make him either a super or a magic user. If he stays for too long, they'll need to scare him out of there so they can take a look around.

Derek made a subvocal growl. He's always preferred the hostile approach to any conflict and she nudges him with a low-pitched growl of denial.

Derek huffs. He actually huffs at her.

What a whiny puppy.

"Rodzina," Stiles says to the wolf the second he realizes he's not alone.

And then he slaps his hand over his mouth, uncertain why he's speaking Polish. The wolf regards him, unflinching. "It's Polish for family." This creature is huge! Larger than any dog he's ever met, and it's broad and got a defined mane around its neck. It's a really beautiful and terrifying wolf. Oh, oh god. It's a freaking wolf.

The wolf glances at his chest and tilts its head at him. She seemed to know that word, somehow. How could that even happen? Well, he's happy she hasn't been all growly and dipping her head down and being mean.

"I'm sorry, but there's no food here, and I can't take you home and get you any." With real sorrow, since having a wolf pet would be totally awesome, but a really bad idea, he adds, "You're beautiful, but I can't can't have a pet."

The wolf chuffs at him.

What? A chuff! That's practically falling over with laughter in wolf terms, as far as Stiles is concerned.

"Hey! Don't chuff at me!" He's wiggling a finger at her. It's 10% aggression and 90% cowardice. He focuses on forgetting everything except that 10%. He nervously walks through his thoughts aloud because he can't help his mouth moving of its own accord at this moment.

"Okay, so fine, let's see... I'm gardening here, that's legitimately all I'm doing. No looking for secret treasure at the house or anything. You're coming here passing through or whatever, even though there haven't been wolves in this part of California in decades. I know you understand me, and you're pretending not to. But why don't you talk back?"

He is looking directly into her eyes before consciously realizing he's taking her measure. This is a specific thing he definitely remembers promising himself he'd never do if he were being challenged by a large predator in the wilderness. And yet, he's challenging this alpha wolf—

"You're an alpha wolf? How can there be alpha wolves when the whole scientific hypothesis was proven to be wrong?" He wants to ramble the name of the research article on the subject, and about the way the article was written, but manages to catch hold of his thought trains and redirect. "That's not important right now. It's crazy enough that I somehow know you can understand me clearly."

She's a smart wolf. Human-equivalent intelligence, for sure. She tries not to tilt her head in an approximation of doggy confusion, but it's a projection. Odd how that he's here gardening and along comes this alph—

"WEREWOLF?! You're a werewolf?!"

Stiles describes this later to his father as, "when all hell breaks loose."

The alpha wolf lifts her lips and growls at Stiles, who is immediately cowed. She's joined half a second later by another large wolf, slightly smaller than her as he is a beta, but he's also got very long and sharp and they're massive and this is a very bad place for him to be right now!

"Shit! I'm not delicious! Don't eat me!"

The alpha stops growling again, and seems to be shaking. The other wolf snarls at her. She snarls back.

Of fucking course! "You're siblings?" Okay, that's it, you need to tell me who you are. Between cautiouswolf and hyperprotective wolf," indicating the alpha and the beta in order, "who the hell are you?"

The beta keeps growling but defers reluctantly to the alpha. She studies Stiles, looking at him and not laughing wolfishly anymore. There's no hint of threatening demise, just curiosity.

It would be too far to say it's quite trust, but it's the recognition that the confusion is mutual and that there is no threat.

Stiles also looks at this as another opportunity to try to talk himself out of the situation. He gives explaining himself another try.

"I was here by accident the first time, and then I found the garden," he waves over to it, easily seen from where all three wolves stood. The beta wolf didn't take his eyes off Stiles, but the alpha regarded his handiwork without apparent comment and resumed studying Stiles.

"Keep talking," was the obvious implication. Order. It was definitely an order, and Stiles agreed that he should continue.

"My mom planted a garden exactly like this one at home. So finding such a unique one out here, at the site of," he looks at the house and murmurs, "really bad stuff is just weird." He feels his cheeks tighten and get heavy and a tear slips down his cheeks. "She died before she told me what all the plants are for. As far as I know she didn't even know the family." He turns around, letting embarrassment at his own emotions put his unguarded back at risk of wolfish sneak-attack.

There's a shuffling noise behind him that tugs his attention back and he wipes his face. It's blotchy, and gross, he's sure, but he's looking at the wolves.

Something quiet happened here while he was turned around. The male wolf is looking almost... ashamed in some way, and the alpha turns back to Stiles after a staredown with the beta and seats herself a step closer to Stiles.

He decides not to mention that moving closer is just as terrifying than all of the other scary things they've done because the seated pose is probably just a ruse to get him when he's vulnerable, but...

Thump.

That was a tail. He looks around her sitting form as if trying to find her tail. Her expression reads as, most likely, "You seriously need to chill." Off to the side, the beta just looks mean as ever and ready to chew on his soft and fleshy neck.

He pulls his phone out and texts his dad. He holds up a finger to the wolf who'd risen to her feet again.

"No, just a minute. My dad's expecting me and I need to let him know that I'll be a little late. I'm not telling him about our little one-sided conversation, which you really should join, by the way." The wolves seemed mollified, if not satisfied with the answer. Neither rises to the bait and starts speaking, so the beta keeps his ears rotating around, listening for danger, and the alpha's ears are firmly oriented in his direction.

"Do you know this place?" The ear flick of the alpha and the glance at the house let him connect some dots. "The Hale family lived here and you knew them."

For the next several minutes, Stiles explains what he has learned of the Hales from his look into the school archives, the police and fire reports, the insurance report he'd acquired through a friend of a friend who shall all remain nameless. He tells of the obituary and the news stories and the details that don't make sense.

He's speculating and journeying down educational, if difficult to follow sidetracks, and mentions one detail that catches the wolves' complete attentions. It was about the catatonic John Doe found a few days later a short walk from the highway.

"Oh? Uhh, I just think maybe there's a connection between that John Doe and the Hale fire. There's too many weird details, things that haven't happened at any other time in this town or probably any town. It's tidy and messy at the same time. I don't trust that."

He's been looking at things on his phone that are pictures or notes or scans of things he's found and looks for the rest of what he discovered about that John Doe.

"Look," he says as he flips the phone toward them. "I found evidence that— Oh, I don't know if you even see in color, or if you can read this in your current shape. Hopefully you're better than other canines about that but you're not answering questions right now, so we'll park that for later.

He reviews the notes and continues.

"I snuck into the hospital and I think this guy really could have been a family member or friend of the Hales. He was scarred badly, as if from a fire, and though he wasn't near the Hale house, the paramedics estimated he'd already suffered two days in the cool air in probably this very state."

The sad whine of them both went unnoticed through the racing thoughts of the human.

"I still think he looks like an age-progressed version of the Beacon Hills basketball team player I found in this picture."

He makes the face as large as he can. It's just a face, and it's blurry.

The first wolf shifts back to human. She says, "Who is this?"

Stiles gasps and then tries to pretend a wolf didn't just shift in front of him to human form and start asking him questions.

"This is a picture of Peter Hale."

She turns to the other wolf. "Derek!" and she motions at him to stand up, but the wolf Derek declines. It wasn't an order, but a move of cautious excitement. Derek's keeping a wary eye in the human's direction even as his sister looms closer to the phone and examines the picture.

"I'm sorry, madam alpha, or whatever is the right title, but you appear to have no clothes on and I am not prepared to um... talk with you in this manner at this time. And stuff."

She looks at him, and then herself, and shakes her head. "When it comes to werewolves, clothing is as optional as it gets."

"Oh, your kind can't transform your clothing when you shift?" Something subconscious snags his attention. "Are you sure about that?"

She looks at him. Her hair is a little wild, and she's strong even in this form. "I know more about werewolves than you do."

He tucks his phone in his pocket.

"Okay, look, fine, you want to talk in the nude. You do you, but I really am just going to need to leave right now and clear my head and then I can... I can come back tomorrow, yeah?" He's not sure why he's excited to return. They did nearly eat him several times in this conversation, based on the number of flashes of teeth he caught in the last several minutes.

"Fine, come back tomorrow, but do not tell anyone we were here."

Stiles nods, distracted, and takes a few tries before he gets all his gardening things stuffed back into his bag and gets himself situated for the ride out of the preserve.

"I'll be here just after five tomorrow, alright? I've got work, but I'll be here, and I'll bring some stuff you can look at. Please try to get some clothes or this is going to be awkward and I am really out of awkward for the day.

"You're really not," the alpha says. Stiles sputters.

"Hey!"

"Hey, family man," she says, referring to his Polish of earlier. "I'm Laura. Who are you?"

"I'm Stiles Stilinski."

The other wolf looks at him and hruffs, almost laughing.

Cripes, these siblings are already annoying him.

"Hey, asshole, it's my name. You'd break yourself trying to pronounce my first name, so be thankful for my gracious manner."

Stiles leaves slowly, trying to go faster, but it takes a while to get his body to let go of the anxiety enough to punish his legs on the pedals and fly as fast as he can without crashing.

Kind of a tall order, some days.

"I cannot believe I just promised I'd come back to chat with those man-eaters!" He gripes at himself. "Do they eat people? How do you even ask someone if they eat people? Especially if they can change shapes and have fangs and sharp pointy parts?" He listens to his intuition. Of course they're not cannibals. Or maybe they are if they're not considered humans. "UGH! They are gonna answer so many questions tomorrow or else!"

Derek has followed him silently for maybe half a mile, listening to the bewildering blitz of self-talk ranging from werewolves to garlic naan bread and Derek just gives up and heads toward the house, where Laura is waiting for him.

Chapter 3 - The Interposing

The sun is low now, shining bright fingers through the shattered window frames and vacant doorways of the shell of this old house. By coincidence of timing and place, Laura stands in a sunny shape on the decrepit porch. Derek listens to her adjusting her stance and watches as her fingers push through a beam of sunlight and trace the crackled texture of the carbonized door frame.

"You didn't stop him and make him tell us where Peter is."

She catches his meaning immediately. "Yeah, there's something at work here keeping me from chasing him away."

"You failed," he says, gesturing broadly at her exposed form. "He can't handle this much woman."

"Well, Derek, I've got the supernatural hookup. We all do. He's going to have to get used to all this." She looks at the smudges on her fingers. "But why didn't you stop him?"

"I don't know. And I only just realized it when I said it." Now Derek looks as confused as she had been. He wasn't even feeling hostile toward the Stiles, and that is the most irritating thing about this.

She shifts her hand through beta shift and to full wolf, then back again. It's a difficult transition, but since she could just focus and do it, Derek just observed as she shifted from human form through partial beta and partial full forms, and then back to full human.

Derek was curious what she was doing, and noticed her smile as he held her fingers up.

Every finger still had dirt.

"I've never thought about how we take dirt and things with us through the shift, but not our clothes."

"Are you suggesting that he can teach us to take clothing or tools into our shift?"

She shrugged her shoulders and grinned. The pack bond resonated with satisfaction, and he rolled his eyes.

"We don't know anything about him."

"I know, but if you could feel it, you'd know that this place needs us, Derek." She looks into the house from across the threshold. "And gardener Stiles is part of whatever is going on here." They were all called here. It's magic that bound them, brought them together, and seems to be managing their introduction.

"Is he the magic user?"

"There is ample potential. Surely you could feel that by the time he left."

"I hate magic," Derek grumbles as he thinks about it. Yes, he could tell Stiles was ignorant of his own potential and that worried Derek more than the fact that this stranger happened to suddenly be part of their lives in a way that captivates his alpha.

Laura snaps her fingers. "Yo, how could you not have heard me?"

Derek raises an eyebrow in defiance. Not his best move, but now it's her turn to roll her eyes and she repeats herself.

"Let's go find Deaton. If he's around, maybe he can help us figure out who this is and what kind of magic is being worked here."

"Can we pass the hospital, too? I'd like to see if we might find uncle Peter."

She nods. That matters a lot to both of them, too. She resolves that before 5pm tomorrow, they'll have gotten at least one answer to the question of what's going on. She leans into a full shift and Derek follows, chasing her as they race into the forest for the long route to the vet's office.

"My dad is going to kill me when he finds out I was talking with werewolves at the Hale house." He nearly skids to a stop and releases his clenched brake. He isn't a Hollywood stunts expert and he would not have recovered well from a solo crash on the pavement. His ego would be only one of his many bruised parts.

He considers 14 different stories that seem plausible enough, dismissed half of them outright as abominations, and spend the next minutes thinking up some 40 more before settling on the best candidate.

He parked his bike along the side of the house and walked quickly to the front, nearly crashing into his patient and curious father on the porch.

"Hello Stiles. You didn't say why you'd be late, but—"

"I was watching the sunset!" he interjected. Dad glances toward the sun now, indicating that the sunset isn't done yet.

"Nope, you weren't. Do you want to tell me what really happened?"

"Yes!" he squeaks, and then rushes his dad inside with a glance over his shoulder that lacks any essence of subtlety. He's checking the few houses in view to see if anyone in a homes or yard or car or suspicious van might be spying on them. He closes the door quietly and pointedly locks it.

"Are you sure this is necessary, Stiles?"

"Dad, my world has been supernaturally rocked tonight, and what I'm about to tell you will do the same for you."

[everybodyscupoftea]

sober up

jj maybank x reader

word count: 2151

warnings: mentions of substance use (vyvanse, alcohol, weed); mention of anxiety; nothing too angsty though i promise

synopsis: based on the song sober up by ajr

When Sarah and John B. disappeared, it rocked the Outer Banks, and no one could think or talk about anything else. Reporters from the mainland flooded both the Cut and Figure Eight looking to talk to the people closest to the ‘Missing Star-Crossed Lovers’ as they’d been dubbed. Neither the Pogues nor the Kooks were safe.

Everyone coped as best they could. You couldn’t speak for the Pogues, you hadn’t run with them for years, but the coping could best be described as destructive spiraling. Rafe, who was arguably off the rails already, went further; Topper retreated into a shell you weren’t sure if he could ever leave; Wheezie, once outgoing and loud, became the quietest person in every room; and you, you just had to watch, stuck in a rut of your own.

Basically, the disappearance stopped the world as everyone knew it, and you weren’t sure it could ever right itself.

Hello hello; I’m not where I’m supposed to be; I hope that you’re missing me; ‘cause it makes me feel young

Sometimes it got too much. Being on Figure Eight, at school, where memories of your friendship with Sarah were especially strong. You usually liked the feeling Vyvanse gave you. The intense focus you could pour into other things to forget about The Disappearance, at least for a few hours. But sometimes, it backfired, and you were hyper focused on it.

In those moments you found yourself wandering back to the Cut, back to your elementary school, to sit on the swings. You liked the back and forth feeling and staring up at the sky. It made you dizzy, but it wasn’t unpleasant. Usually you were alone there. Not this time. This time JJ Maybank beat you there.

“Long time no see,” he said to you, the smile he gave not anywhere close to real.

You didn’t really know what to say. The friendship ended years ago when your mom married up and you both moved off the Cut. It wasn’t explosive, it wasn’t a brawl, it just fizzled. JJ Maybank, your childhood crush, and John B, your biggest defender. You looked for them sometimes, but they were never looking back.

“I like to think out here.”

JJ laughed, “That makes two of us.”

You wanted to ask how he was, but you knew. It really wasn’t worth asking. No need to cheaply fill the silence. Normally you were filled with crushing sadness on the swings. Mourning relationships lost and waiting for the drugs to finally wear off. This time you felt refreshed. Sitting in silence with this now stranger, you felt young again. You forgot how JJ made you feel.

Hello hello; last time that I saw your face, was recess in second grade; and it made me feel young

To your surprise, JJ broke the silence first.

“How’s your mom?”

They had always been close, a surrogate mother to him when his Dad threw him out.

“She’s good.”

“Still up to all that hippie shit?” he asked with a quiet laugh.

“Of course, the day my mother stops harping on the environment is the day we bury her.”

You fell into silence again, unsure if you should ask about his dad. It was nice to be here with him, and you didn’t want to push him away.

Before you could make a decision on asking, JJ pushed off with his feet and started swinging higher, effectively ending the conversation. For lack of anything better to do, you followed suit.

It was bittersweet, one of the last things you did with him before moving was swing at recess. You knew about the engagement and what it meant, but your friends didn’t, and you didn’t know how to tell them.

You remember JJ was always braver than you, swinging higher, jumping from the swing more recklessly, and telling the truth as soon as he found it out. You were always more scared.

Maybe this was the chance to finally be brave.

“JJ, about second grade and the engagement- “ but he cut you off before you could finish.

“It’s in the past. I was mad, but I understand now.”

“Right.”

Goodbye, goodbye; I said to my bestest buds; we said that we’d keep in touch; and we did our best

You had every intention of staying friends with the boys when you transferred schools, but your new dad had other ideas. He never had kids of his own, you were his new project. Your free time became his time where he taught you the ins and outs of the upper class.

He had plenty of connections, plenty of new friends for you to play with. Your mom felt bad, she didn’t realize moving you would also separate you from your closest friends the way it did. She hated seeing you sad, but what could she do?

JJ and John B visited you a lot in the early days. Then, one day, your new dad started answering the door instead of you, and he always said no. They finally caught you one afternoon, but you already had plans with the Cameron’s, and you couldn’t play with the boys. That was the final straw.

There was no fight, just a general, melancholy consensus that this would be the new normal. Rafe and Sarah instead of JJ and John B.

All my new friends, we smile at party time; but soon we forget to smile at anything else

Growing up with the Kooks was hard. Sure, you didn’t want for much, money wasn’t an issue and you had all the educational resources you could possibly need, but the pressure to even keep up, not even to stand out, was immense.

Your stepdad had high hopes, your mom wanted you to fit in and be happy. There was no best of both worlds unfortunately. No one quite understood like the Cameron siblings, your closest friends. Rafe understood the pressure to succeed from your dad, and Sarah understood the pressure to fit in from your mom.

The hangouts you used to have were fun. Full of laughter and actual joy during childhood. Games and picnics, afternoons at the country club pool and tea parties. Finally, you’d found your people after a lonely few years without JJ and John B. You depended on each other as you grew up and moved into high school.

Sarah kept you sane, she invited you to parties, hung out when you were especially struggling, and kept your mom out of your personal life. You owed a lot to her. Rafe kept you medicated. He sold you cheap Vyvanse to help you focus on schoolwork to appease your dad.

It was a delicate balance, the medication and the partying, but you made it work. The Vyvanse made you anxious but the alcohol helped you relax. Soon enough, you were more anxious than relaxed, and you could feel the smiles coming fewer and far between. Childhood was over.

And then Sarah disappeared, taking with her the last of your smiles.

Won’t you help me sober up; growing up, it made me numb; and I want to feel something again

You couldn’t stop it, sitting on the swings with JJ, the sob that broke out of your chest. It was like poking a hole in a balloon. From nothing to everything leaving at once.

“Fuck,” JJ muttered, using his feet to stop his swing as you sobbed, still gently rocking.

“I don’t want to live like this anymore,” you told the ground, refusing to look at him, even as he squatted in front of you.

“Like what?” he asked gently, hand tracing slow circles on your knee.

You shuddered a few times, fighting the anxious wave in your chest fueled by the medicine, “Numb,” you finally responded.

The pitying look on his face broke the numbness. You felt bitter, you didn’t need his pity. It was as if he could sense a wave of anger rising in you, and he backed up. JJ said with a small sigh, “I sure as hell don’t know what you’ve been through, but I have an idea of what you’re going through, so maybe, we can get through this together.”

His words put out the flames and you slouched forward, biting your lip, “You think?”

JJ didn’t answer for a few minutes, and when he did, it wasn’t to your question, “I’m hungry, want to grab some dinner at The Wreck?”

And suddenly, food sounded like the best idea in the world. You stood up and held your hand out for him to take, “My treat.”

Won’t you help me sober up; all the big kids, they got drunk; and I want to feel something again; won’t you help me feel something again

Kiara wasn’t at The Wreck when you and JJ ate. He said there was a party at the Boneyard, she and Pope were there, and invited you. While you weren’t particularly in a partying mood, you didn’t really want to be alone, so you went. It was…weird.

Sarah was your party crutch, the someone around who would always talk to you. The idea of going out and not having that made you feel a little alienated and wary. To your surprise, JJ stayed with you.

Neither of you made any moves to drink. JJ had his dab pen, and you had your juul, but otherwise you sat on a log together in silence. It wasn’t awkward, but it was a little heavy. You watched people dance around the bonfire, totally wasted and carefree, while taking occasional hits from your juul. It didn’t draw you in the same way it used to.

You couldn’t speak for JJ, he may have been itching to join the party, but he didn’t. Together you sat as the sun set and the wind picked up. He eventually handed over his sweatshirt when you started shivering and scooted closer for body heat.

The two of you sat and watched for at least three hours, not really moving or talking. You felt hyper aware of how close his thigh was to pressing against yours and how close your pinkies were from linking. It was something new to focus on. Something that broke through the water you felt had been clogging your brain for the past month.

You and JJ spent weeks together, slowly healing. There would always be a scar, empty air after quoting the first half of an inside joke or a missing t-shirt you’ll never find because you’d lent it out, but you were getting better. Part of that process was finding something new to hyper focus on. One night, both high, JJ revealed that he liked to think in color, and why not try.

My favorite color is you; you’re vibrating out my frequency

JJ was blue, his eyes, the waves he loved to surf, and all of the pens he used were blue ink. He remembered you loved to surf together as kids, so he brought you out there one afternoon. It felt good to have common interests with someone again, constructive rather than destructive common interests at least. You’d been trying to replace ‘numb’ with ‘good’ and it was hard, but it was working

My favorite color is you; you keep me young and that’s how I wanna be

JJ was also red. The same hat he’d kept his entire life, all through childhood and into his teenage years. His dad gave it to him before the abuse started. JJ clutched onto it in his darkest moments. It reminded you of your childhood, he always wore the same damn hat. You liked being able to be there for him when he held the hat instead of wearing it.

My favorite color is you; you’re vibrating out my frequency

For JJ, you were green. Your school sweatshirt that you wore so much and your favorite headband. He liked the steadiness of knowing that you’d come back to him every day, pretty much unchanged. With the violent upheaval of their lives after the disappearance, the steadiness of green was good. Green wasn’t his favorite color, but it was growing on him.

My favorite color is you; you keep me young and that’s how I wanna be

You were also yellow, your smile like sunshine. He felt like he hadn’t seen it in so long. It’d been years since he’d really looked. He’d seen you around, of course, but he hadn’t taken notice. He hadn’t seen you shrink into yourself with hollowed out eyes. JJ cursed himself for missing it. But the smiles, they were coming back, back like they used to be when you were kids.

And I want to feel something again, I just want to feel something again.

Nothing beat the feeling of JJ kissing you. Maybe, despite the circumstances, despite the path it took you to get here. You could finally sober up.

[holisticpassport]

My Covid Story

Apologies for any spelling errors, I’m on a time crunch. I’m a few hours out from leaving for my first flight since July 2019 (and before that, March 2018). Heading out to Sydney, I’m a mix of anxiety and absolute excitement. In January of this year, our sublet was almost up in Eltham and Cam and I had plans to pack up the car and begin doing workaways around Australia to help rebuild communities devastated by the historic wild fires (doesn’t that feel FOREVER ago?). When our sublet became available for a full lease transfer, we changed our minds to stay in our space, so that was the first instance of travel being knocked out of the picture. Then we had Valentine’s weekend open to go visit some friends in Tasmania, so we booked tickets and upon waiting in the airport, our flights were cancelled due to inclement weather. DAMN.  Mid-march came around and it was Cam’s birthday, so we wanted to get out for a weekend of camping in our big bell tent, find a gorgeous spot in the woods out east near Warburton. When we arrived, every camping spot for an hour’s dive any direction was either full or completely not open at all. We picked a spot off a random road and spent one night there, but some rangers came by and said we couldn’t stay there due to the possible danger of logging trucks not seeing us. So that was a bust.

Then as you’re aware, this time frame leads up to the very tumultuous third week of March when Melbourne officially went into its first lockdown due to COVID. I documented this time in journal entries which I will add at the end, but ultimately the lockdown went until June, and the state reopened too quickly/had a fiasco with quarantined cases getting out of a hotel, thus sparking the second wave. We had flights booked to California for June to see my family and then planned to travel around Mexico for a few months, but that dream was quickly squashed when flights out of Melbourne ceased to exist at all. Months later, I had a flight booked in July to go to Sydney where I was to have my eggs extracted for donation. The day before I was to fly out, second lockdown went into effect and the flight was cancelled (thus forcing me to have the procedure done in Melbourne and cause a huge, historic controversy between Melbourne IVF’s CEO and the medical director of IVF Australia about how to transfer frozen eggs over a closed border!).

I’m struggling to comprehend just how important and meaningful my ability to travel today is. To think back to the first time in history, watching borders around the world close, flights become grounded, and witnessing a global pandemic unfold whilst in a foreign country—I remember thinking at the beginning how unfathomable the scale of it was. When people talk about things not seeming real or like it’s a dream you can’t wake up from, that’s exactly how it felt. I questioned whether I needed to go back to the U.S. in fear I might not see my family for years or be with them if they got fatally ill. Would I be able to even go back if that happened let alone would I be able to re-enter AU (the answer was no). And thank god I didn’t go back considering the absolute cluster fuck of a mess Trump made of the pandemic. But also, thank god my family has been healthy and safe. The level of fear for their safety was at an all-time high as civil tensions grew when the riots around the country kicked off in conjunction with the pandemic. I wrote to all of them to have a plan to escape to Mexico and get their passports if Trump won the re-election. This was a genuine fear I’ve never experienced before.

The level of frustration, depression, anxiety, hopelessness, self-hatred for lack of productivity during lockdown, and uncertainty about so many facets of life weighed down on me during this time. But I know how much worse our time could have been. I was immensely grateful for the fact that we had a home and incredibly gracious landlords who were human and understood the financial difficulties of this unprecedented time when so many became homeless as job loss skyrocketed. We were so fortunate that I was able to continue working even 2 days a week through the lockdown as a barista and Cam was able to get government support for six months as a NZ citizen who lived in AU over 10 years when so many other New Zealanders were forced to return to their country because of the time limit stipulation for support. We only had two family members contract Covid and were young and healthy enough to survive when so many families will be without a member at the holidays this year.

And I acknowledge my privilege in that my identity is so closely entwined with the ability to travel, that while it felt suffocating to not even have the choice to travel anywhere outside of a 5km (3mile) zone, I fully empathize with those in parts of the world where they could not walk more than 50 meters from their front door or people who didn’t have windows/balconies in apartment buildings who were going out of their mind. All of that does not diminish the struggles I faced with not being able to travel, but it does always keep my perspective in check. My trip today signifies how a city and a country came together during the most difficult period of our lifetime, followed strict government guidelines, and came out after 120+ days in full lockdown on the other side of a pandemic, now able to cross state borders without isolation or quarantine. To go to a live music show,  have drinks on rooftop bars, walk around outside without a mask on, and see people going about their daily lives again on public transport and see a city bustling with energy—the months of mental hardship and growth was all to get back to a post-Covid world. Even though a vaccine is not out yet and we need to be cautious, the level of hopelessness has diminished significantly, and I’m not terrified my trip might be cancelled in two hours. I’m actually going this time!

There is also a whole other facet to my time in lockdown and that of course is the personal development and mutual growth in my marriage! That’s a whole separate post though which I hope to get out soonish. But here’s a bit of something I started a few months ago. Enjoy.

 ********

I remember when it first started in the news; like a minor blip of a story flashing at the bottom of the screen: some mutant virus had infected a couple dozen people in some random city in China. I was working solo in a café serving the employees of a major shoe distribution company in the warehouse district of Collingwood, Melbourne. The TV was on in the cafe but muted the first few weeks of January as the main stories were about the most devastating wildfires in the history of the world, and we all just felt a communal helplessness. As the numbers grew in China and the story became a daily headline, the first case was announced in Queensland on January 25th. Everyone stuck around a few minutes longer each day after they were handed their coffee. I think back to the moment when Wuhan, the epicenter at the time, reported 1,500 cases and I thought surely there can’t be much more than that. This is just media sensationalizing something small. This whole story will blow over in another week or two.

If only.

It was summer in Australia, and my husband and I were planning what to do after our sublease was up in mid-March. I commuted daily from a suburb 50 minutes north called Eltham, a creative and eco-friendly heritage town. We lived in a triplex made of adobe mudbrick, surrounded by native forest, a communal garden, and enjoyed huge artisan windows that brought in natural filtered light through the towering trees. Our little studio was a quiet haven away from the chaos and constant flurry of people in Melbourne, especially during summer as it brought travelers from every corner of the globe. There was no way we could have possibly known that this little paradise would feel like a prison after six months in the world’s longest lockdown due to a global pandemic caused by that little virus in some random city in China now known worldwide as COVID-19.

As the weeks passed by in February, more and more countries began reporting cases. I did not understand how pandemics worked as the last one I was alive for and could remember was H1N1 in California, and I was about 17—far too consumed with college applications and boys to think about world affairs. The Spanish Flu was never something that was particularly emphasized in our history classes, so it didn’t even occur to me to compare what was happening now to that point in time. Then again, this was incomparable because in 1912, the world was a less globalized economy and there were no commercial flights transporting thousands of passengers across the globe daily. By the first week of March, my daily rush-hour commutes became the first real difference I noticed. The number of morning passengers on the train platforms dwindled from 50 to 25 to 5, and eventually, to just me. As the train stopped at over 30 stops from where I lived to the city, my carriage wasn’t even remotely full at 7 a.m.

There was less foot traffic in the city. Flinders Street Station, one of the two largest hubs that saw thousands of people daily, was eerily quiet and empty. We were two weeks out from leaving Melbourne to go travel, planning to go to New South Wales, AU to help rebuild communities that were ravaged by the bushfires. I was desperate to travel this year, and we were so close to leaving. I had picked up some other barista work in an advertising agency closer to the city. But day by day, office workers were being told to work from home if they were able to. Hand sanitizer became readily available in the café, bathrooms, and around the office. I remember staring out the window of this high rise building that overlooked the lush green stretch of Albert Park and thinking it looks so normal outside. Every day, I looked at the news in Australia, which I had never really done before. Industries were shutting down, and the panic was setting in for thousands of casual workers in the hospitality industry as it was only a matter of time before we would be shut down too.

Melbourne is a cultural hub filled with travelers who typically come here on a Work and Holiday Visa which gives them 1-2 years to work and live in AU. Most find work in hospitality as there are over 40,000 restaurants and cafes in this region. You couldn’t go a single day without meeting someone from another country which is why I fell in love with this city. I worked as a freelance barista through agencies that called for workers to be able to step in if someone called out sick or quit unexpectedly and they found themselves short. But my agencies had gone completely silent in the week leading up to the industry shutting down. There was no more work and travelers were finding themselves stranded. I journaled daily in the lead up to my final day of work in the city as I knew something big was happening, and I wanted to be able to recall when it all began. I also knew we would not be travelling anytime soon, around Australia or otherwise, when national and international borders began closing around the world.

 March 17th, 2020

All that’s being talked about is COVID-19. Entire countries are closing borders and going into complete lockdown. Italy has been inundated with patients in hospitals and now have to choose who lives and who dies. AU isn’t taking nearly as intense of measures, but the general atmosphere is not normal. All events with over 500 people have been cancelled. Those who have traveled anywhere must self-quarantine for 14 days or face a huge fine. Some people still don’t take it seriously, thinking/acting like it’s just a normal flu when in reality its ability to be passed on and even re-infect someone a second time is much higher than the rate of a simple flu. In the states, my family says all the restaurants and schools have closed, even the Hollywood entertainment industry has closed down. So many independent contractors, myself included, are without means to live because there’s no emergency government funding in place. It shows what’s truly flawed with the system. Luckily Cam has full time work still, but for those people who have kids and no daycare options? No partner or family? Those who are traveling and can’t get back home? This is devastating for all of us, but them in particular. Supposedly, there are rumors that the virus dies with the warm weather, but AU is headed into winter. It could be why the virus isn’t as big in places like South America and Africa (*note* countries from these two continents are now in the top 10 most infected places as of September 2020) Europe is completely shut down as is New Zealand. I have flights to California in June, so I’m hoping I can still go. For how weak my immune system is, I’m surprised I’m not more concerned because I’ve been continuously reassured the virus only attacks those with underlying conditions, mainly in the elderly population. Even in calm, tight-knitted communities like ours in Eltham, we’re seeing the best and worst of humanity come out with people hoarding resources, but also there are those offering rides for people to stores or grocery drop offs to their homes. I’m very interested to see how the next three months progress all around the world. Right about now, it’d be nice to hide away in a beachside house in Mexico. (*Mexico is also among the top 10 most infected countries now*)

March18th, 2020

The government should announce today whether hospitality industry will close, potentially putting Cam and I both out of jobs. Luckily our landlord is being highly accommodating. Trump is giving Americans $1,200 and has postponed tax season by 3 months. Only seems he does something decent when it’s to keep the economy from tanking and his money is protected.

Cam and I both have throat annoyances and headaches. We should try to stay home, but can’t afford it. Today, they’ve dropped gatherings of 500 down to only 100 people, yet shopping centers and public transport remain open, which I would think are the riskiest places for transferring infections. It’s been stated this is a once in a decade event that will change the course of history.

 March 19th, 2020

Amidst all the chaos from morning to night, people are finally taking time to nurture their interests and creativity. I’m taking two courses on sustainable fashion and fashion in design. I’ve also applied to be a mentor for women trying to gain work and leadership experience at an NGO called Fitted for Work. They have stylists that help women to prepare business outfits and tailor their resumes/do mock interviews. I’ve looked into an MA program I’m interested in at Warren Wilson College back in North Carolina. I think looking forward is the only way to keep the fear down about how long these shut downs may last possibly through June. The world economy is going to see some extremely confronting realities it hasn’t seen since the Great Depression. For the moment I’m looking into teaching English online which I’m already certified to do, just to try and earn some money. I’ll be interested to see all the art that comes out of this period and the photojournalism that captures this historic time.

 March 21st, 2020

We went over to Williamstown (Cam’s parent’s house) as Cam had two shifts out that way. Restrictions in cafes are now 1 person per 4 square meters, so in the 100 person limit already imposed, it’s now down to 25. I’m nervous for Cam to keep working and going on public transport. It’s high risk and unethical in terms of coming in contact with people we could transmit it to without knowing (asymptomatic) because it takes 14 days to even show symptoms. We made the choice to start self-isolation come Monday as we can see in the next week or two the same spike will be here in Melbourne as we’ve seen in Italy and most likely soon to see in the U.S. Reading other peoples’ accounts about how they continued life as normal as though nothing had changed in Italy is exactly where AU is projected to head towards.

 March 25, 2020

As of Monday, AU took drastic measures to ensure safety and closed many non-essential businesses with a series of daily updates for more and more businesses to shut or only stay open for takeaway. Overnight, nearly 80,000 people in hospitality work were laid off or lost work, Cam and I included. A stimulus package of 66 billion dollars was announced and Cam qualified for government payments through Centrelink because he’s a kiwi who’s been here over 10 years. Other kiwis who haven’t been here that long are completely without any kind of support from the AU government, even though in NZ, Aussies are supported. A very backward, selfish system who told them to go home.

We went to Centrelink on Monday at 7:45am in Greensborough (suburb over from Eltham). By 8:30 am when the doors opened there were over 200 people in line. The government has been terribly confusing with their messages out to the public, highly unprepared. People are confused about what they can and can’t do, what businesses are remaining open, who is eligible… it’s a mess. Why are liquor stores and hair salons considered essential?? There have been spikes in young people getting this virus as young as 18, and they are dying. The virus coats your lungs like a jelly ultimately blocking oxygen. We did what is hopefully our last grocery shop because being in the store is just as contagious as a café. There’s no safety or hygiene measures in place. We had gloves on and people were dancing around each other in the aisles to maintain 1.5m social distance.

The U.S. is becoming the new epicenter with horrific rapid spreading, particularly in New York. Flight around the world, including as of today AU, are being stopped and we can no longer leave the country at all.

  To Be Continued…..

[problems-turn-fics]

listen charles made me watch the show and now im writing fic for it so please enjoy my nameless “we were totally into each other as teenagers and kissed once but we never talked about it and i thought you hated me and now we’re adults and we have to talk about it” fic. words: 3293

Ben jumped from rock to root as he tried to make as little noise as possible on his way down to the cove. It was late at night and he was far enough away from any house that he shouldn’t have had to worry but it had rained that day and the leaves and mud made for a slippery walk and he’d wiped out enough to learn his lesson. It was better to take his time and be quiet than it was to get laughed at for being covered head to toe in mud.

Caleb was already at the shore, skipping rocks on the waves, as Ben jumped the last few feet down onto the rocky shore. Caleb turned around with a grin on his face. The beard he had decided to grow weeks ago was finally starting to come in and Ben had to remind himself that staring would only cause trouble. “Took you long enough,” Caleb said.

“Dad stayed up late working on Sunday’s sermon,” Ben said, brushing off a few dead leaves from the piece of driftwood he and Caleb had pulled up a few months ago to act as a bench for their late-night meetups.

Caleb half-turned back to the water to throw his last rock, it landed with a harsh thunk into the water. “Must be a real good one he’s cooking up,” he said. He came towards Ben and stopped for a second to dig around between the log and the sharp incline into the woods. “Ah!” he said triumphantly, holding up a bottle of rum. He sat heavily next to Ben with a sigh as he worked the cork out of the top.

“Why even bother hiding it? No one's going to come looking for us here,” Ben asked, taking the bottle when it was offered and taking a drink. He wasn’t quite used to the burn yet but he did enjoy it. Or he told himself he enjoyed it. Sometimes it was hard to tell the difference between what he actually wanted and what he was expected to want at sixteen.

“I wasn’t hiding it,” Caleb said, taking it back and drinking. Ben forced himself to look away and out over the water. The sight of Caleb’s lips touching the same bottle where Ben’s lips had just been always made him light-headed. “I was tryin’ to keep it safe so you didn’t knock it over again.”

“That was one time,” Ben said, rolling his eyes.

“One time too many.”

Ben pushed at Caleb’s shoulder, almost knocking him off the log. “See?! You almost made me spill it this time!”

Ben rolled his eyes and took the bottle to an affronted noise from Caleb. “Now you don’t have that problem,” Ben said, taking another drink with a grin. Caleb just smiled at him, shaking his head. For a while they were quiet.

It wasn’t the type of quiet that needed to be filled, though Ben could admit he had a hard time telling the difference, it was just quiet. It was like the moment of peace right before you fell asleep after a long day of hard work. Serene.

They’d been sneaking out together for years, but over the last few months it’d stopped being “sneak out to go do something stupid with Abe and Anna and Selah” to “sneak out to sit at the shore and drink enough to feel like adults and just talk.” They didn’t even talk about anything exciting or particularly interesting. Some days it would be gossiping about someone in town, other nights it would be talking about what they planned to do as soon as they could get out of town. There were even nights when they barely spoke and Ben had to be shaken awake by Caleb after falling asleep on his shoulder.

A small part of him missed the excitement of getting up to trouble in the dead of night with his other friends but a larger part wouldn’t trade these nights for the world.

Their friends must have been on Caleb’s mind too because he broke the silence. “How long do you think it will be before Abe and Anna get caught? It’s been going on for months now you’d think that someone besides us would have noticed.”

Ben laughed sharply. The chill in the air was gone and he was a little flushed though that might have just been what Caleb had said. He tried very hard never to think about Abe and Anna. “Someone will have to notice if they aren’t careful,” Ben said as he took another drink. He almost regretted it when Caleb laughed loudly and Ben struggled to control his grin.

“You dirty bird,” Caleb said, taking the bottle back and drinking. “What do you know about being careful?”

“More than you,” Ben shot back.

“Benny Boy, don’t lie to me. You’ve never so much as been kissed,” Caleb said rolling his eyes.

“Yes, I have,” Ben shot back before he could stop himself. He had been kissed. It had been an awkward stilted uncomfortable thing that he hadn’t cared to repeat and for a while, he told himself that was why he didn’t tell Caleb. But even on the few times that he’d tried to say it something had stopped him short. He knew, somewhere deep in his chest, that if Caleb knew he’d kissed Martha behind the schoolhouse something would change. Caleb would change and Ben was more afraid of losing him than he was of anything else.

“You’re full of shite. You’ve never gotten within ten feet of a woman who wanted anything to do with you,” Caleb said, still cackling. “Or you would have told me.”

But now Ben had to either lie and back down or he had to come clean and admit to hiding it from Caleb and neither seemed like a good choice. So instead Ben was moving without thinking, leaning in towards Caleb who had gone completely still.

That didn’t last for long because their lips barely brushed before Caleb snapped away as if it burned. “Don’t,” Caleb said, sharper than he ever got with Ben. Sharper than he ever got with anyone, really. But then he laughed and Ben felt the tight feeling in his stomach move to his chest and his blood go cold. He couldn't breathe. “Don’t do things you’ll regret when the sun’s up and you’re sober,” Caleb said with an empty laugh.

Ben forced out a laugh too. “Right. I should go home. Get to bed.”

Caleb shot up off of the log and towards the water, the bottle gripped tightly in his hand. “Good idea.”

Ben stood, brushed himself off, and was barely able to croak out a “good night” before he headed back into the woods. He stumbled home not from the booze but because the tears that were burning his eyes were blurring his vision and he couldn't breathe. He’d ruined everything and he knew it.

Caleb wouldn’t sell him out and no one would believe him even if he tried but that seemed like a small consultation when Ben knew he’d just ruined the one good thing he had. He sat down at the fence line of his father’s property, pulled his knees up to his chest, and let out a sob where no one could hear him.

He wouldn’t act without thinking again.

**

The sight of Setauket was something Caleb thought he’d always recognize no matter how many years it had been or if it was pitch black on a night with no moon. He could make out the shore where he had skipped rocks as a child and the barest lights of town through the trees. There was a chill to the wind but with summer on its way, the cool air was more than welcome.

He lifted his oar and placed it quietly next to him as he crouched lower and rode the momentum and current to shore. There wasn’t much light and Caleb was almost to shore when he realized why it was that the sunbleached driftwood where he had spent days sitting as a teenager looked odd; someone was sitting on it.

He crouched lower but if he could see them he was sure they could see him, or at least see the boat. Maybe he could get the drop on them if they didn’t know someone was inside. With his head barely over the edge enough for him to see,  Caleb waited, unmoving, to recognize who it was. As soon as he did he sat up a little, no longer worried about being caught.

Ben had stood up once he saw the boat and taken another step forward when Caleb had sat back up. He was taller now but there was still a softness to his face that Caleb would recognize anywhere. “Ben?” Caleb whispered over the water.

He must not have recognized Caleb before because in a moment everything about Ben shifted. His eyes lit up and a grin spread across his face as he took a step forward into the water. “Caleb?” For a moment Caleb’s heart stopped and he felt like he was fifteen years old again locked in a daydream of Ben waiting patiently for him to return from an adventure, ready with a kiss of relief that Caleb had made it back to him. He’d thought he’d left those dreams behind years ago, the last time they had been alone on the shore of their little cove, but one look at Ben and he was falling all over again.

The grind of soft sand against the bottom of the boat brought him to a stop and back to reality. Caleb jumped out, and in a second they were both standing in knee-deep water hugging each other tightly. Caleb pulled back first, holding Ben by the shoulders. “Look at you. It’s been ages.”

Ben smiled at him, starting to step back and grabbing the bow of the boat to help Caleb pull it further onto land. “What are you doing here?”

“A man can’t sneak back home anymore?” Caleb asked, securing the boat to a tree as Ben sat back down on the log. Caleb sat heavily on the other end, popping his back to distract himself from the lump in his throat. A part of Caleb was warmed by the sight of the driftwood every time he came into the cove. It was a permanent reminder of what they had been. They’d pulled it to shore together, they’d sat there together, and now it sat waiting for some other lovesick fool to sneak out at night with someone who was only supposed to be a friend and sit under the stars. Now, after everything that had happened, it felt loaded to even sit there with Ben. “What are you doing out here?”

 “I needed to get some fresh air.”

“You and the old man at it again?” Caleb asked with a laugh.

“No. Actually, he’s almost proud of me,” Ben said with a laugh.

“Oh, wow. Is that a bad thing these days?” Caleb had spent hours listening to Ben complain about never being enough, or sometimes being too much, for his dad. But things changed and Caleb had been gone a long time. “What’d you do? Finally propose to a pretty woman? Gonna settle down and have a couple of kids?” Caleb ignored the way his heart clenched at the idea of Ben married with kids running around after him. He’d thought he’d made peace with it a long time ago but it stung just the same.

Ben laughed. “No, I...uh...joined the Continental Army.”

Caleb’s blood went cold. “Are you out of your fuckin’ mind?”

Ben bristled and straightened up. “No, this is the-”

“You’re gonna go risk your life for some fantasy of living without a ruler?”

“The people will choose their own representatives. That makes a difference.”

“That’s what they say today but how long will that last? Have you heard the way they talk about Washington? One George out for another,” Caleb snapped at him, standing up and pacing around for a second. Ben always cut straight through all of Caleb’s carefully crafted facades to drive him mad.

Ben stood up too, following Caleb, unwilling to relent even a few feet of space when they were arguing. At least some things never changed. “Washington earned his title,” Ben continued but Caleb wasn’t really listening.

“And that’s if you lot win. You could die well before then!”

“At least I’d be dying for my principles unlike you,” Ben shot at him.

Caleb turned on him. “And just what the shite is that supposed to mean?”

“You put your life on the line for a few pounds and the chance to run away from me,” Ben said, pointing a finger in Caleb’s chest.

“What in the hell are you on about? I didn’t run away from you,” Caleb said. It wasn’t completely true. He had been running away but not from Ben. Caleb had been planning to leave Setauket a long time, Ben had just reminded him of why it was important that he left sooner rather than later.

“Really?” Ben laughed, clearly set in his idea that Caleb had fled, setting Caleb's teeth on edge. He wasn’t a brave man but he didn’t like being called a coward any more than the next person. “Because that’s what it looked like to me. You were obviously afraid I-”

Caleb cut him off by grabbing him and kissing him hard.

It was a proper kiss, unlike the last time. That had barely been a brush of their lips even if Caleb did still selfishly consider it his first kiss. But now he was holding the back of Ben’s neck and they were chest to chest and Caleb felt like crying. He broke the kiss and took a stumbling step backward. “I am not afraid of anything.” He hoped they could both pretend his voice hadn’t cracked.

Ben just stared at him, mouth hanging open as the waves continued to crash against the shore. They seemed louder than before.

Caleb took a step forward and to the side, intending to move past Ben and into the woods to actually go see his uncle as he’d intended to before this whole thing started. But Ben grabbed his wrist and pulled him in and they were kissing again. This time Ben was the one holding Caleb in place by the back of his neck and Caleb let his arms wrap around Ben to pull him even closer.

For once Caleb let himself revel in the closeness and the feeling of Ben’s lips on his and the way his other hand had settled on Caleb’s back. He let himself memorize the smell and the taste and the feel of the moment. The sound of the waves and the bugs and the wind faded until all Caleb could hear was their breathing. Every inch of him felt alive and buzzing and he was hyper-aware of everywhere they were touching, and even more so of everywhere they weren’t. He was desperate to get closer even though a small part of his mind was still telling him that he shouldn’t. Maybe he could have just a few minutes of bliss before Ben came to his senses.

And he did have a few minutes, even if they were shorter than he’d like, before Ben pulled away enough to break the kiss, though his hands stayed put, holding Caleb close.

“Oh,” Ben whispered, sounding a little out of breath. He probably was. Caleb was definitely short of breath.

“Yeah,” Caleb said with a laugh.

For a few minutes, they just stood there together until Ben broke the silence.

“Then why’d you leave?” Ben whispered, his thumb gently stroking the side of Caleb’s neck. “If you weren’t running away from me then why?”

“I wasn’t running from you. I was running from what I wanted from you. I knew it then and I know it now: this will only hurt you.” Caleb closed his eyes and tried to pull away but Ben only held him tighter. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

Ben laughed and kissed him again, short and sweet, and leaving Caleb desperate for a thousand more just like it. “You won’t. I know you.”

Caleb shook his head. “You don’t know that part of me. This part.” Instead of trying to pull away this time though, he rested his head on Ben’s shoulder. “You don’t know how much I want.”

“What about me? What about what I want?”

Caleb laughed and shook his head. “You want a nice girl to settle down with and, apparently, to win a war.”

“I do want to win this war,” Ben said, grabbing Caleb’s shoulders and pushing him back so that Caleb had to look at him. “But I don’t need a nice girl if I have you.”

“You’ve always had me, Benny Boy,” Caleb said with a smirk.

“Then I guess that’s why I never found a nice girl,” Ben said with a grin.

Caleb laughed and took a step back and this time Ben let him go. “What about your war? You won’t be back here for a long while and I never know where I’m going too far in advance,” Caleb said with a  shrug. He could feel the hope blooming in his chest and he needed to stamp it out before it started to hurt him. “What am I supposed to do? Sit around and wait for you to come home?”

Ben bit his lip and looked to the ground for a moment and Caleb knew he’d won. Ben was out of ideas and stalling. Caleb would have let out a sigh of relief if he’d been able to breathe past the lump in his throat.

“See I-”

“You could come with me,” Ben said suddenly, looking up and smiling like he’d figured something out.

Caleb let out a surprised laugh but one look at Ben and he knew he was serious. “Come on. You know I’m not much of an Army man.”

Ben visibly deflated. “Of course,” he said with a nod. Caleb felt something in his break. “I supp-”

“How do we know that we’d even be together?”

Ben perked back up and Caleb could've kicked himself. Apparently where Benjamin Tallmadge was concerned Caleb was still 16 years old with a crush on his best friend.

“I know someone who can make sure we stick together. You just have to say yes,” Ben said with a grin. The smug bastard knew he'd won.

“Fine. Now I have to go before my uncle falls asleep waiting for me,” Caleb said, finally stepping past Ben towards the woods. It was getting late and Caleb really did have to go. Summer nights were short.

“Wait,” Ben said, grabbing his arm and pulling him back for another kiss, soft and sweet and lingering.

Caleb smiled up at him. “You gonna do that all the time now?”

“Whenever I can.”

“I’mma hold you to that.”

Ben pushed him away towards the woods again, both of them laughing a little louder than they should have. “Go.”

Caleb gave him a mocking salute. “See you on the road, Tallboy.”

Ben shook his head at him, and Caleb turned around to start his walk, still grinning so hard it hurt. Joining the military just to stay close to one man wasn’t something Caleb could honestly say he had expected to do -- it seemed much more up Abe or Ben’s ally, to be honest -- but it wasn’t the first dumb decision he’d made concerning Ben Tallmadge and he was certain it wouldn’t be the last.

[ladyfogg]

May I? - 2/?

May I? - 2/?

Fic Summary: Ensign Faith Diaz struggles to hide her mental illness from her fellow shipmates aboard the Enterprise until an intrigued Data goes out of his way to try to understand her behavior. At his insistence, Faith tries to figure out what she's truly passionate about and eventually seeks the professional help she needs. Fic Masterpost.

Fic Rating: NC-17

Pairing: Data/Female OC

Warnings: tw: depression, tw: anxiety, fluff, friends to lovers, eventual smut

Faith came to with a splitting headache. When she opened her eyes, bright lights forced them closed again. She groaned in pain, her stomach rolling unpleasantly.

"Faith? Can you hear me?"

It took her a moment to register who was talking. "Dr. Crusher?"

"Yes. You're in sickbay. You hit your head and have a concussion. How are you feeling?"

"Like my head is going to split open and I'm going to throw up all over myself."

She felt something press into her neck and suddenly her body relaxed like she was floating on a cloud. The pain ebbed and the nausea ceased. Hesitantly, she opened her eyes. Beverly's blurry face came into focus.

"Welcome back," the doctor said with a smile. 

"How long have I been out?"

"Only a few minutes."

Faith looked around, trying to make sense of her muddled memories. It took a moment for them to sort themselves out. She looked at her hands, expecting blood but finding them clean.

"What's the last thing you remember?" Beverly asked, scanning her with the tricorder.

She focused on the jumble of images. "I-I was doing maintenance in the Jefferies tubes. Commander Data found me and when I was showing him what I found…" She touched her forehead only to find smooth skin.

"That's good. That's exactly what Data told me." Beverly placed a hand on Faith's shoulder when she tried to sit up. "Faith, don't strain yourself. Just try to relax."

Faith had never been a fan of hospitals. Her mother had spent many years in one and the sterile air always triggered Faith's anxiety. Just laying there was enough to activate her flight response. 

"When can I go?"

Beverly chuckled. "Eager to get back to work, I see."

"Eager to be out of here."

Beverly's smile faded. "Faith, I have some personal questions I need you to answer for me. Just to make sure there's no permanent damage. Think you're up to it?"

"So long as it gets me out of here quicker."

"Full name?"

"Faith Rosaline Diaz."

"Rank and assignment?"

"Engineering, Ensign."

"Age?"

"Thirty...no, thirty-one. My birthday was last week."

Beverly smiled. "Well happy belated birthday." She studied the young woman for a moment. "How are you doing?"

Faith's guard was instantly up. She knew that tone, that question. Had heard it a million times before. Which was the reason she hadn't wanted Commander Data to bring her to sickbay.

"A little tired but that's all."

"That's all?" Beverly repeated. "Nothing else."

"No."

Beverly chewed her lip as she crossed her arms. They were both silent, tension building until the doctor spoke again. "Faith, you can talk to me. You know anything you tell me will be kept between us."

"Honestly, Dr. Crusher, I'm fine."

"Your scans showed a significant decrease in the reduction of certain neurotransmitters, primarily serotonin—"

"Doctor," Faith's voice was forceful with a hint of pleading. "Please...don't. I'm okay."

Beverly sighed heavily, not believing her patient for a moment. Although they were alone, she took a step closer and lowered her voice. "Faith, the reduction is dangerously low. You need some kind of treatment."

Faith forced herself to sit up, even though it made the world spin dangerously. "Thanks for the advice, doc. But I just want to go back to my quarters."

"If you won't talk to me, at least talk to Counselor Troi."

"No thank you. I think I just need rest."

"On that we can both agree," Beverly said. "No active duty for a week. I want you to take it easy and limit screen time for the next few days. I'll check in with you tomorrow to see how you're doing."

Relieved, Faith climbed off the table, trying to pretend her world didn't sway in the process. "Great. Thank you for your help, Dr. Crusher."

Beverly didn't dismiss her right away. Instead, she stared for a few seconds, wondering if there was anything else she could do or say to change Faith's mind. But she had a feeling it wouldn't help. Not right then at least.

"You're welcome. Call me if the symptoms get worse. Not just the concussion symptoms."

Faith nodded in understanding and hurried out of the room as fast as she could. She tried to keep her pace casual even though she wanted nothing more than to run. By the time she reached her quarters, her breathing was erratic, despite the medication she was given. 

It wasn't until she was safely behind closed doors that she let go. With a sob she sank onto the floor, tears pouring down her face. It was hard enough keeping it together during her normal day to day activities. She had done everything she could to avoid going to the sickbay. And one accident undid all her hard work.

She knew she was lucky. There were beings who would give all their appendages just to serve on the Enterprise. And yet, she couldn't stop the near-crippling depression and severe anxiety. It was harder and harder to keep up pretenses and she knew her work had started to suffer. 

She hadn't entirely been truthful when Data found her. She wasn't just in the tube doing a sweep. Sometimes, when the feelings became so overwhelming she couldn't hold on, she would slip into the tubes to collect herself. When she found the loose console, it was a stroke of luck. She thought fixing it was her chance to show Geordi she really was grateful and useful. 

Now she had to take a week off to recover from a stupid accident she caused herself.

Faith impatiently wiped her tears away. All she wanted to do was sleep. She forced herself to her feet, tugging at her uniform until she managed to get out of it. Her communicator was taken off with more care, gently placed on the nightstand by her bed.

She crawled under the covers, bundling herself up. The tears tried to fall again but she wouldn't let them this time. Sleep tugged at her, which she suspected was due to Dr. Crusher's injection. She welcomed it, allowing herself to drift away.

No dreams came. They had left her long ago so when she slept all she saw was darkness. If she slept at all. Most of the time she coasted through unconsciousness for short periods of time.

Faith didn't stir until hours later. When she checked the time, she was dismayed to see it was the early morning hours. Even with medication and an injury her body wouldn't let her sleep through the night. 

She eased herself out of bed, keeping the lights low to avoid aggravating her pounding head. After using the bathroom and splashing cold water on her face, she shuffled back into the bedroom. 

The doctor had told her to rest but she had no idea what that entailed. She was always working, it left little room for recreation. And when she did have downtime, she usually just tried to catch up on sleep. 

Which was why she was surprised to find herself restless. Her stomach churned unpleasantly but she didn't know if it was because of the concussion or because she was hungry. She shuffled over to the replicator.

"Dry toast and water, room temperature."

The food materialized and she carried them to her desk. As she munched on the toast, she loaded her terminal to check her messages. There was one from Dr. Crusher, listing suggestions for helping with her injury.

There was also one from Geordi. It took her some time to work up the courage to open it, but when she did she was surprised to find a very genuine message wishing her well and thanking her for fixing the console.

But I didn't fix it. Commander Data did.

Faith logged out of the terminal, wondering why the commander would say she did the work. The toast did nothing to help her stomach so she pushed it away. She climbed back into bed, but she couldn't fall asleep.

"Computer?" she asked after an hour of tossing and turning. "Where is Commander Data?"

"Commander Data is in his quarters."

After some contemplation, Faith dressed in her civilian clothes and left her room.

The corridors were empty. It was unnerving since Faith was used to constant activity during the day. Going to see Data was an impulse but she had to ask him about his report, and thank him for taking her to sickbay.

When she reached his quarters, she hesitated. He was an android so she knew he didn't require sleep, but she also wasn't sure if visiting him in his personal space was out of line or not.

You made it all this way. Might as well just do it.

Faith knew she wouldn't be able to relax until she had her questions answered. Taking a deep breath, she rang the bell.

"Come in," Data called.

The doors opened and Faith stepped through. She wasn't sure what she expected. Data's quarters were sparse in decoration but furnished like the others except for a large console.

Data himself was seated behind it, hands dancing across the screen. He looked up when she approached, arching his eyebrow.

"Hello, Faith. This certainly is a surprise."

"Hi, Commander, I'm sorry to interrupt," Faith said. She found herself standing at attention despite the informality. "If now's not a good time, I can come back."

"There is no need." He motioned to one of the few chairs in the room. "Please, have a seat. You should be resting."

"I know," Faith said, sinking into the chair. "But I wanted to come by and thank you in person for bringing me to sickbay."

"No thanks is necessary. I was performing my duties."

"That doesn't mean I can't still appreciate the gesture."

Data offered her a small smile. "You are welcome." He made a move to go back to his work but paused. "Is there something else you wish to discuss?"

Faith smiled. "How could you tell?"

"It is highly unlikely you came all the way to my quarters in the middle of the night just to thank me for bringing you to sickbay."

"True," Faith admitted. "I also wanted to ask you a question."

"Please, proceed."

"Geordi thanked me for fixing the console. But I didn't. You did."

"That is not a question. That is a statement."

Faith rolled her eyes but her lips twitched into a small smile. "Why did you tell him it was me when you did the work?"

Data cocked his head in confusion. "But it was you."

"All I did was hurt myself. You were the one who actually fixed the problem."

"I may have done the physical work but you found the problem and devised a way to correct it. I did not."

She hadn't considered that point of view. When he put it that way, she didn't feel so bad. 

"You have a point," she conceded. "Well then, thank you for that too."

"You are welcome. May I ask you a question, Faith?"

"Sure."

"When I was examining the console after returning to Engineering, I realized it was near impossible to see the displacement as you so claimed."

Faith's heart sank. "I don't know what to tell you. I know what I saw."

Data did not look convinced. "Are you quite certain?"

Her mind raced with the excuses she had planned when she first found the displacement but Data's intense stare made the words die in her throat. 

"I...may not have been entirely truthful," she admitted.

"I suspected as much."

"I was already in the tube when I found it. I...I needed a quiet place to think."

"And you did not tell me because you knew you would most likely be reprimanded by Commander La Forge."

"Yeah," Faith said, averting her gaze. She felt guilty for lying. She was an adult for god's sake and should be able to own up to her mistakes. "Are you going to tell him?"

Data pondered her question. "I do not feel it is relevant. Although I would suggest you do not make it a habit."

"I won't. Promise." Faith made a move to stand. 

She was relieved her secret was safe and didn't want to risk saying something that would change Data's mind. It would be best if she left him alone. After all, she had the answers she needed. Maybe she'd be able to get proper sleep.

"Before you leave, may I ask another question?" Data asked. 

"Of course."

"Are you feeling alright?"

"Why do you ask?"

"You seem…" Data tried to find the right words. "...out of sorts."

Faith's good mood vanished. "Not you too."

"I apologize if the question is too forward. I noticed Dr. Crusher was concerned when I left sickbay. She would not tell me why. I hope it is nothing serious."

"I'm fine," Faith snapped.

Data pursed his lips before giving her a quick nod. "Very well. I can tell by your tone I have touched on a sensitive subject. I apologize."

The tension left Faith's body and she sunk back into her seat, running a hand through her tangled hair. "You don't need to apologize, Commander. I shouldn't have snapped at you. I'm sorry, I'm just tired of being asked that question."

"I can see how that can grow tedious," Data said, nodding in understanding. "And per our previous conversation regarding titles, you may call me Data, if that would make you more comfortable."

Faith smiled softer this time, grateful he didn't push the subject of her feelings. "I think I will." She hauled herself to her feet again. "I also think I've taken enough of your time. I'll leave you to your work."

"You should get some rest," Data said. "You look fatigued."

"Is that android-speak for saying I look like crap?"

Data gave her a curious look, clearly not understanding the colloquialism. 

"Are you trying to say I look terrible? Like a mess?" Faith clarified. 

"I do not think you do look terrible or particularly messy," Data said. "While your hair is quite disheveled and there are dark circles around your eyes…" He cut himself off, seemingly noting his small blunder. "You look very nice."

Faith laughed. It was the first time she had in a while and it felt good. 

"I appreciate the sentiment, Data."

"I am incapable of feeling or sentiment."

Faith's smile widened and she backed up toward the door, keeping eye contact with him. "If you say so. Sorry to disturb you. Enjoy the rest of your night." She gave a small wave and then she was gone.

[thebarkingraccoon]

Curative AU

I have been working on it for a bit now. I realize it’s taken a lot longer than I had hoped. I got stuck behind some walls, but don’t worry. It’s not writer’s block, I just had to figure some stuff out.

Now that it’s solved I am working on the rest. This is like a short teaser for the AU! I’m sorry for making y’all wait so long. I’m working on getting a lot more out there! ... still working on a title tho

Hope you enjoy the snippet!

Quick summary: Laura manages to get her junk alarm clock to work and heads out to a movie with a friend.

She tortured herself over her computer for hours, threatening to spend another full night just staring at the monitor. She procrastinated from sunrise to sunset.

The choice was her own and it tore her inside out. A life-changing, life-ending decision. Truly an event that would change her life forever, overshadowing her future self in its enormity. Scouring for days, upon days, filtering through informational articles from reputable sources, Reddit boards, and sites with too many dots in the URL.

The decision... to take a semester or two off.

She cried, she complained, she wrapped herself up in a blanket burrito while wallowing in self-pity. Weeks spent agonizing over the repercussions and benefits. Some said it's healthy to take a break, explore the world a bit before diving back in. Others say it can interrupt work ethic and self-discipline.

But the deadline was rapidly approaching. In only a few days she would have to choose and she couldn't imagine what would happen.

The bags under her eyes and heavy eyelids told her it was too late to keep beating herself over the head with this. She needed to sleep so she could wake on time for her plans the next day.

Dragging herself from her cocoon of thick blankets in her living room she managed to make it into her bed. A bed is a generous term as it appeared to be no more than a giant pile of pillows, blankets, comforters, and fluffy things that she disappeared into.

As she melted off to sleep she became aware of the uncomfortable poking on her nose. Swimming through the sea of fluff and feathers she reached out to her nightstand. Only instead of finding her glasses case her hand slapped the nightstand so hard her alarm clock fell over.

With a sharp ringing, she jolted upright, the shrill sound agitating her restful state. "Fracking busted thing." She grabbed the alarm clock, glaring at it with a personal hatred for the device.

Her longstanding spite for the simple bedside tool came from its inability to ring on time. It was a cute stylized twin bell alarm clock that's small hammer came loose rendering it unable to ring. Not knowing this being the issue led her to many mornings sleeping in late.

As easy as it was for her to set the alarm on her phone, it was simply not loud enough to wake her. The poor girl slept like a log, nothing but the loudest most annoying sounds could shake her awake.

Tilting the alarm clock, she patted it on the side which managed to dislodge the small metal hook that connected to the hammer. She tested the clock and it rang, a deep sigh of relief escaped her. So she set it for tomorrow, took off her glasses, then fell right back into the avalanche of comfort.

She was unceremoniously woken from her sleep by that alarm clock ringing in her ear. All she could think is how badly she wanted to throw it out the window but settled for pouting as she woke up.

She slept up to her neck in giant comforters and pillows, lavishing in their luxurious fluff. A bed full of pastels and faux furs piled on the already puffed up bed. There wasn't a single thing spared of color in her room, including the canopy that enclosed her bed.

Braving the day, she lifted herself from her abyss of endless pillows. Shifting through her taste in bedspreads, she dipped her feet off the edge of her bed and onto the fluffy sheep wool rug. Her toes curling into the softness as she stretched her arms out languidly.

Pulling back the canopy, she reached for the nightstand patting the surface until she found her glasses. Her eyes adjusted to the light and clarity of the day.

Slumping over, she picked up her phone only to see a calendar alert for her showtime. She had time to prepare for the day despite her reluctance to do so.

Ideas of how to avoid going popped into her head. Excuses along the lines of 'I'm not feeling well' all the way to 'Something terrible came up!' She kept wanting to find an escape through her preparation.

She left the door cracked open, steam slowly rising from the heat of the shower. Sounds of a few bottles hitting the floor of her shower followed by a line of nonsense words in place of expletives.

She leaned over the sink to apply her make up. She knew it was more procrastination but she had a difficult time deciding what to put on and what clothing to wear. Each mix and match outfit was reasoned away as she continued trying to find a way out.

Doing her best to ignore her social anxiety she dressed, pulled her hair back, and headed to the door. As she was about to shut the door she patted her pockets only to find things missing. "Oh shoot!" She groaned, returning to her bedroom to find her phone buried in her abyss of pillows.

Clicking on the screen, she rolled her eyes. "I didn't plug it in. Are you fracking kidding me?" She glared at the thirty-eight percent battery life. It would be dead before she got home, but she didn't have the time to charge it.

Heading out of her apartment she ensured the door was locked, hopped into the elevator, and went into the garage to retrieve her car. Her phone would not survive the whole day out, but it would survive to give her directions to her friend's place.

As she pulled up to the apartment complex, she texted him she was outside waiting. The phone's battery on twenty-nine percent and she turned it off to conserve it.

The car door clicked and swung open, a rather tall man managed to squeeze himself into the passenger seat. He gave her the widest smile he could manage, "Laura! You actually came and you're on time! I had no idea you had it in you."

She returned with a slight shrug and a lopsided grin. "Hey, Jason. My alarm clock decided to work this morning. It's like the first time it actually rang on time in the last month." She knew he was only teasing her, he was a good-natured man. Yet she felt guilty accepting even a modicum of praise knowing she just spent most of her morning scheming of a way to stay home... and she often didn't show or was very late to hangouts.

"Well, I'm glad we get to see the sequel together. That opening night for the first Hellboy was such fun." He beamed, smiling as bright as ever. "Hard to believe that was four years ago..." A wistful sigh for the old days before they began their college life.

"I did get the tickets for the Dark Knight next month, opening night like you wanted, right?" She drove out of the lot, heading towards the theater.

"Yes! I'm so excited! I'm worried too though, the only Joker I think of is the cartoon one. You know, Mark Hamill's Joker." He squealed in delight, his love of superhero movies shining through. "The movie looks amazing though. That trailer, ugh! I can't wait!"

She laughed about it with him, thankfully relieving some of the tension she felt. He was positively giddy with excitement and his smile was infectious.

Until they went over a bump in the road. The streets in Atlanta were all riddled with potholes and cracks. She winced as she drove over a few, scared of damaging a car that was bought for her. Having to go back and ask for repairs so soon would be a whole ordeal she would much rather avoid.

The wincing didn't go passed him, he felt every bump too. "And this is why I try not to drive here." He uttered as they rolled over another large crack.

Silence filled the cabin and it was not a comfortable one. Laura's head was screaming at her to talk, hold a normal conversation; do anything except sit there the entire time. The theater wasn't far so they wouldn't have enough time for a full discussion, but she hadn't seen him in so long it felt awkward just sitting here.

But what would she talk about? She was intensely private and rarely discussed anything outside of the ordinary small talk between strangers. This wasn't a stranger, he invited her out and bought the tickets. They'd known each other for years and still, she struggled to speak with him.

"Your hair!" Laura almost barked it out, mentally smacking herself. Trying to calm her nerves she focused on using her inside voice. "It's gotten really long, I like it."

Unimpressed, he held up a long dreadlock and sent her a lame look. "Laura, my hair has been this long since I was like twenty."

"O-oh." Feeling more awkward and embarrassed than ever, she clammed up. She talked and made a fool of herself. Of course, she knew this, she was just so desperate to find anything to say that seemed normal.

She meant to say is she liked the length and wanted to know if he was planning on letting it grow longer. Which she immediately botched and instead made it sound like she never noticed. The awkward silence was better to her mind than whatever this was.

Regardless of her social weaknesses, he knew she meant well. After years of being around Laura, he knew she was very careful with the people around her. Unfortunately, she was not gifted at talking to people even if she knew them well.

No matter the social awkwardness, he never actually pressured her. He didn't coddle her when she was overly nervous, but he was never mean about it either. Whether she knew it or not he gave her the healthy adult friendship she needed.

"I like what you did with your hair." He reached over to her, lifting a lock-up to look at the color. She flinched away at the glimpse of his hand nearing her. He knew this about her and drew no attention to it; he put it together years ago.

Laura blinked, glancing quickly down to the long strands in his fingers. "Right! I had the ends dyed." She let out a deep breath. It had been so long since they saw each other he hadn't seen the recent change. "I just wanted to try something new out."

Nodding his approval. "So you had a blue ombre done?" As he questioned her he saw a flash of uncertainty on Laura's face. "Don't worry, I like it. It's soft, not so in your face bright as some do. It's a good choice." His reassurance went a long way. Her shoulders visibly relaxed knowing she was not in fear of being judged.

"Thanks, I got it done last-" Laura paused as she realized once more she was accentuating their time apart. "... September."

He just made an Ahh sound and dropped it. They didn't need to go into why they spent so long without seeing each other. They both knew it was because Laura always fell out of contact, a fact which she felt constantly guilty for.

When she pulled into the parking lot, she was relieved to get out of the car. A movie theater where she could sit in silence and watch Hellboy 2. No worrying about tripping over her words to making herself look like an idiot. She could just kick back and enjoy the movie.

After the movie they headed home, Laura and Jason both talking like old friends again. The prior awkwardness had slowly melted away as they caught up on recent events, the frustration of their last classes together, and the next time they hang out.

When she dropped him off at his place and left for her own she was aware of how relaxed she felt. A few hours spent hanging with a friend not worrying about her studies or what comes next. Just being in the moment having a laugh.

It was a refresher she didn't know she was waiting for. She had such a nice time with him she really didn't want to stop so soon. This was a nice feeling, something she chose to believe was good.

When she headed back inside her apartment she went for her computer. Once the monitor lit up she exited the window with her registration information on it.

This time around she would take time off and make the most of it. She had more than earned a break.

Jason was highly supportive, having chosen to take off as well. Talk of some classic summer fun was quickly becoming a reality and for the first time in a long time, she was actually excited to hang out with a friend.

[c-is-for-circinate]

Ok, if I’m going to keep proper DM records for D&D on this tumblr, I need to actually write them.

Being An Account of Game #1: In Which Several Youth Attend A Party, And Some Experimental Magic Has Less Than Optimal Results

[all game logs thus far]

The Setting:  It is a Thursday night in the city of Karna Vi, called by many the last surviving bastion of the Trava Empire in Highnorth.  In the mostly student-inhabited districts around the University Karnassa, scholars are working, resting, eating, hanging out--and having parties.

More excitingly, there’s a classics major party tonight.  And it’s not just any classics majors.  It’s the self-styled Young Pre-Glorians.  In a society mostly built on a relatively even mix of human, gnome, and dwarf citizens, where humans are the unnecessarily tall people who don’t live nearly long enough to ever get really good at rulership or scholarship (though gods know you won’t find a more versatile, intense group of people in any species you can name), this little cluster of classics majors includes two humans, two tieflings, and a half-orc, all living in one slightly shabby student apartment.  Every single one of them is going to be dead before they’re a hundred.  Every single one of them is obsessed with figuring out how things worked at least 2000-4000 years ago.  And they party like it.

Our NPC hosts for the evening include Peary (a bubblegum-pink tiefling who makes historically accurate bathtub gin, and reconstructs ancient crafting methods from diary fragments and scraps, and den-mothers all the rest of her roommates with constantly chipper affection); Athenasi (or Athen, a human cleric of the Church of Lost Things made entirely out of sticks and paleness, who buries himself in ancient records trying to reconstruct the specific rituals used to properly worship long-mislaid gods); Riva (an enormous half-orc sportsball player and also wizard who mostly only bothers using spells to light his bonfires and translate dead languages, intent on uncovering the distant origins of magic as written ritual); Lisha (a human who got briefly campus-notorious last year when she reconstructed an ancient power-binding ritual well enough to actually summon an archdemon who hasn’t been seen in three millennia and somewhat incidentally get herself warlock powers); and Wren (a dark-skinned, gray-haired tiefling who knows very nearly everything there is to know about the politics and power struggles spanning half a continent and seven centuries, 5,000 years ago, and does not particularly care to know anything else).

These five like hands-on experimentation and practical research.  They’ve thrown historically-accurate parties in celebration of a dozen ancient forgotten holidays, with Peary’s bathtub gin to really make it work.  There’s rumors about an invitational-only orgy last year.  In short, their parties are the place to be if you’re the kind of nerd who likes to study hard and party harder.  Which...does not quite describe our PCs, but it’s a fun party to be at anyway.

Marion the human paladin has spent enough afternoons pouring through ancient records with fellow church acolyte Athen that they can’t really turn down the invite, even if Athen’s insistence on “you need to talk to other live people more than once a week!” is ridiculous and hyperbolic anyway.  Kevin the elf barbarian has been a cornerstone of the University sportsball team for ten years straight, and would never turn down a party invite from a teammate, let alone a party that looks as promising as this one.  Kou the halfling bard, who spends so much time with the music-majors half the university forgets she isn’t one, got invited along with her bard friends to be the entertainment.  

Gnome rogue Reigenleif, of course, is the beer supply.  Reigenleif is always the beer supply.

It’s a Thursday night, and a four-bedroom apartment with attached rooftop deck is crowded full of graduate students eating cheese, drinking a dozen different kinds of alcohol, and arguing about history.  Life is, for the moment, good.

The Hooks:

One by one, each of our PCs--vaguely familiar to one another, in a nodding-acquaintance sort of way, though nothing like the friends they’ll be by the end of the week, let alone the eventual end of this campaign--finds themselves tugged into conversation with an acquaintance.

First (in-game time, though we played these way out of order thanks to a handy d4), before the party even begins, Reigenleif heads down into Old Town to pick up some beer.  It’s one neighborhood over from the district of ancient, pre-Imperial ruins and thousand-year-old buildings where the University and its denizens live, so most students don’t know to come this far for good, cheap beer in the first place.  (Of course, even if they did they wouldn’t know to go where Reigenleif’s going.)

Her destination is a small bakery owned by two dwarven brothers and a sister.  Out the front, they sell excellent bread, with a very nice additional line in cakes and cupcakes.  Out the back, the middle dwarven brother Milosh acts as middle management for a smuggling ring that’s known in the right, quiet corners for its ability to get just about anything for anyone, given the right place.  Reigenleif runs errands on his say-so on weekends, in between avoiding her own research and helping out with everybody else’s.  Buying a few kegs of decent ale that hasn’t been marked up for tax, and then reselling it to thirsty college students, has basically been paying her rent for the past two years.

“How’s the family?” Milosh asks, and, “how’s that school thing going?”

“Eh,” says Reigenleif, and, “school’s school,” and, “parents still want me to go straight,” which isn’t even a pun because every player at the table is so generally disinterested in heteronormativity that it’s too easy to even bother with.

“You know,” Milosh says, “you really want to do more of this and less of that, could be Anna’s got a job for you.”

Anna’s not a real person--she’s been the code name for the leader of the smuggling ring for over a century, and given that her so-called last name literally means ‘human’, probably if there ever was a real Anna Cheloveko, she’s long dead now.  An Anna job might be hard, but it’ll pay, and then some.

The job, Milosh explains, isn’t too complicated.  There’s a certain package that needs to get to the city of Ormiras, and then past Ormiras a week or so’s travel up into the local mountains.  The contents of the package don’t matter, but with the strictures on the large industrial teleportation circles downtown, it’s unlikely to pass through without comment.  A University student, on the other hand, looking to do some research in the library of another University, could use one of their teleportation circles without anybody raising an eyebrow at their research materials, now, couldn’t they?  Grab a few friends to head with you up into the mountains, and when you come back down, there’d definitely be a job waiting--back here in Karna Vi, or with some of Anna’s friends in Ormiras.

(Reigenleif and her player go on a digression about bags of holding, immovable rods, and other magical items attempting to pass through teleportation circles, and then the potential of measuring continental drift with immovable rods over a long enough period of time.  Milosh raises his eyebrows and wonders if maybe Reigenleif should stick with those University-types after all.  This is about to prove extremely indicative of Reigenleif’s entire character.)

With that offer in mind, Reigenleif heads off, six kegs of ale for thirsty college students in hand.  This would be tricky for the average human, let alone a three-foot gnome, but Milosh lets her borrow the Bag of Holding for the job.  It’s no real risk.  He knows where Reigenleif lives.  He knows where her parents live.  She’s good for it.

Second, an hour or two into the swing of the party, Kevin and Riva are out on the roof deck supervising a cluster of increasingly tipsy party guests as they climb onto each others’ shoulders and attempt to joust with a couple of sportsball sticks.  The pair of them are taller than any two gnomes stacked together.  They are taller than nearly any gnome on top of any dwarf here.  They are taller than most double-stacked dwarves.  They make good referees.

They’re cleaning up some good-natured bruises and spilled beer when Kevin’s friend Poppy finds him.  She’s a half-elf, and barely as tall as his bicep.  She has dark curly hair, and smudged-up makeup, and she is already drunk.

“Kevin,” she says.  “Kevin, Kevin, look.  Can I ask you a favor?  Can I beg you a favor?  Please?”

Poppy is in Kevin’s cohort in the art history department--they started with the same incoming class, ten years ago.  You don’t really graduate out of university, in the Nine Cities.  You study until you get hired into a professorship or government position, or you run out of money, take a lesser job, and quit.  Poppy’s dad is an elf, with plenty of resources to throw in her general direction.  She hasn’t run out of money yet.  Ten years is a lot longer for a half-elf like Poppy than it is for Kevin.

Poppy says, “if I don’t do something big, I will never get hired, ever.  I will never amount to anything.”  She says, “I know there are Glorian-era ruins on the Iris Peninsula that haven’t been found.  I know there’s something there.”  She says, “I know there are elven aesthetic motifs in Glorian-era Irissan fragments.  Seven hundred years before elves ever made it to this continent.  If I go, I can prove it.  It will matter.  It will mean something.”

“You grew up on Iris,” she says.  “And you’re good at hitting things.  Right?”

It’s been 512 years since the Elven Ascendancy broke their isolation and sailed forth into the world for the first time in six millennia.  Five centuries since the very first elves set foot on the continent of Nokomoris.  The Glorian Empire conquered half the Iris Peninsula, and was driven out, and collapsed, a thousand years ago.  Not a single soul under Glorian rule had ever even heard of elves.  And sure, elves live on the Iris Peninsula now--in the cities, like proper elves, in shining tall buildings with a lovely background view of the tangled wilderness where they never, ever go.  Elvish art in Glorian-era ruins?  It would upend everything anybody knew about history.  It would be huge.

“It would probably make my parents really happy if I tried to do a big art history thing instead of focusing on sportsball so much,” Kevin muses.  “Sure, I know people.  We can probably put an expedition together.  I bet my parents would be happy with that.”

(Kevin and his player do sound enthusiastic about the idea of getting some good research and publishable papers, which tells this DM a lot I didn’t already know about his priorities.  Sure, he likes sportsball, but getting an actual job in art history would make his parents happy.  Kevin says ‘that would probably make my parents happy’ like it’s the only long-term life goal he’s ever bothered assuming he probably needs.)

Third, Kou and her band take a set break.

Lio’s been switching between singing and rocking out on the zither, because even in a cluster of bards, Lio makes a good frontwoman.  She’s a tall dwarf, dark hair, dark clothes, dark eyeliner, dark everything.  She’s a star in the music department, a cornerstone of student activities committees, a manic pixie overachiever, a goth anarchist who knows exactly what’s wrong with the world today, the artificial urban-wilderness divide that’s been imposed on society in the new century, the problems of traditional religion and modern capitalism.  She’s a level 3 bard.  She’s got a townie boyfriend in one of the local guilds who doesn’t mind when she makes out with boys, girls, and everything else on offer at parties.  She is, without question, the coolest person Kou knows.

Lio is drinking water and also taking a couple of shots of Peary’s bathtub liquor, and Kou is hanging out and watching the party, and Lio sighs.

“You want to get out of here?” she asks.  “Not tonight, I mean--the whole University conspiracy.  Just go.”

“Yes,” Kou says, instantly on board without a single detail.  Her girlfriend has been gone for three weeks.  Her body is ready.  Her entire everything is ready.  “When?  Where’re we going?”

“We could totally make it as bandits out by Zakri,” Lio says.  “You know they’ve been doing all kinds of weird construction stuff along the main road between the two seas, trying to restart the canal project, and the main road’s been in shambles for months.  I have a total plan.  We could camp out along one of the smaller roads and take out caravans, be bandits, live like queens.  It’d be great.”

“Yes,” Kou says again.  “Absolutely.  I’m in.  I know some healing stuff, and I have a pocketknife.  Let’s do it.”

(Kou asks precisely zero questions about where, or how, or why, or even who, for the entire conversation.  I knew this would be the case by halfway through session 0, and I am delighted to be proven right.  Kou is ready for absolutely everything and absolutely nothing.  It’s going to be great.)

“Hmm, but we’d probably need more people,” Lio muses, in that way people do when they remember all the practical reasons they’re mostly joking about quitting their job and running away to live in the woods.  “Unless you know how to use a sword.”

“I know some people!” Kou says.  “Let me see who I can talk to.  We can totally do this.”

Fourth, Athen takes a break from circling around the party with an eye out for any serious injuries or alcohol poisoning risk to find Marion in the kitchen, eating cheese and arguing about historical probability and textual interpretation with Wren.  They’re having just about as much fun as an antisocial math nerd with a special interest in history can have at a party full of academics who also have a special interest in history--which is kind of a lot, come to think of it.

The party is loud and boisterous, so they head to Athen’s tiny closet of a bedroom to chat.  There’s something he needs to talk about, and Marion’s a good enough friend to listen.

“So you’ve been talking about doing some fieldwork,” Athen says.  “Have you thought about going west?”

Athen’s family lives west of Karna Vi, in the wide highland plains of the Highnorth, where there’s nothing for miles but cattle, a few sheep, a lot of rye and oats, and the occasional potato field.  In his grandfather’s day, they were part of the Trava Empire, and that was fine.  Theoretically their village doesn’t belong to anyone but themselves, now, and they farm as best they can, and sell what surplus they can at the closest big trade-town to someone who carts it into Karna Vi and sells it to city bakers and and housewives and leatherworkers, and it’s fine too, mostly, except for when it’s not.

Lately it’s not, so much.  The Uvencatra Empire in the western mountains has been making some motions towards marching eastward across the plains, and they’re eyeing the region Athen’s family is from next.  He’s concerned.  He’s really concerned.  He’s maybe about to drop out of school concerned.

“You know how to fight things,” Athen says.  “And maybe you’d find things over there, in the Western Orthodox church records.  I can go home and help heal people, but I don’t know how to protect them.”

“Oh, I am not the right member of my family for this,” Marion frets, and Athen frowns.

“Would any of the rest of them care?” he asks.

“Point,” Marion agrees.

(They’ve got a quiet monotone the whole time, slow to assemble sentences except when they start contemplating the actual possibilities of research within the Uvencatra Orthodox churches, spilling out hypotheses and jargon like water.  Marion’s player has degrees in anthropology.  Marion cares about Athen’s problems, but has no real thoughts about them.  Marion has thoughts about historical research.)

“Let me think about it,” Marion says, and the party goes on.

The Fight

By dawn, most of the party has cleared out, though not quite all of it.  A couple of failed Con saves mean that Kou is dozing in a chair in the living room, not quite with it enough to notice the rest of the band leaving, and Marion is passed out cold in Athen’s bed alone.  Reigenleif has spent most of the party hanging off to the side, watching people and occasionally scooping up anything that appears to maybe be a weapon that’s been carelessly left sitting around, tucking it into the Bag of Holding just to make sure this party doesn’t go sideways in a nasty way; she can’t leave until the kegs are given back over into her keeping, so she might as well help clean up.

Kevin, out on the deck, has not actually realized the party has ended yet.  He’s only just beginning to notice the lack of people as the first rays of sunlight creep over the city, and a very loud bang sounds from the top of the roof.

It jolts Kou dozily awake and Marion tumbles onto the floor in an instant.  Kevin and Reigenleif, already outside along with Riva, look up just in time to see the outlines of Wren and Lisha on the roof in the pale morning sun, alongside some billowing smoke and two cat-sized things skittering along the roof tiles in acid green.

Then Wren falls off the roof to the deck and takes so much damage in a ten-foot fall that her scrawny little NPC self ends up unconscious.  Then combat begins.

There’s a flutter and a flurry as the quasits on the roof hiss at everyone and skitter away.  Initiative is nobody’s friend, and fighting something ten feet above everyone’s head isn’t easy, but Reigenleif upends her entire bag of holding and sends a pile of belt knives, a couple of blunt-ended reproduction historical weapons, and a fancy letter opener skittering out over the desk, and hides behind a convenient barrel.  Riva grabs a sportsball stick.  Kou has enough movement to rush out onto the deck just in time to see Lisha fall; “Oh, fuck!” is now the official incantation for her Healing Word, and Wren is safe, although not very happy.

Kevin tries to intimidate the quasits, all six-foot-seven of burly elf growling directly at them, and it actually works on one.  The intimidated quasit instantly turns into a bat and swoops off through an open window into the living room to Get Away.  The other quasit, annoyed at the attempt, casts Fear on Kevin in retaliation.  It is super effective.

Marion makes it out to the living room, wearing no armor but carrying the heaviest candlestick she could grab, just in time to see an acid-green bat swoop through the window and start destroying things.  It’s very early and she is probably slightly hungover but also she’s a good researcher and knows what a quasit looks like, so she whacks it.  It bites her, poison and all--make that definitely pretty hungover.

Athen made it outside around the same time as Kou, and has been trying to heal people who need it as Riva tries to whack at a tiny demon on his roof, Kevin attempts to cower behind a gnome, and Reigenleif and Kou both throw things.  Kevin succeeds in a wisdom save after another round or two, and manages to do some good thwacking damage.  The quasit turns into a foot-long centipede in an attempt to escape, and skitters along the wall through the door into the house, before Kou Cutting Words’s it to death.

Lisha tries to jump off the roof to get down and help, and sprains her ankle.  Athen is already inside giving Marion a hand, and none of the PCs seem inclined to help.

Between Marion and Athen, the second quasit goes down relatively quickly.  The first one has already disappeared into nothingness, and the second one follows soon behind.  Marion lay-on-hands’es themself, and drinks some water, because they have utterly forgotten that quasits have venom at all and damn, this hangover.  The nauseous feeling passes after a minute or so, anyway.  Athen goes outside to heal Lisha, Peary appears from her own room wanting to know what the hell is going on out here, Kou is jumping between ‘I insulted it and it died and I’m real cool!’ and, ‘did my entire band just ditch me here because I fell asleep?’, and everything is equally as chaotic as it was in the middle of the fight, when the knock sounds on the door.

The Head of Campus Housing brought security with him, and he’s not happy.

The Aftermath

Marion pulls rank and some excellent persuasion checks to keep the entire set of Young Pre-Glorians from getting evicted right now, and everybody else in the room from being put on housing probation.  Marion lives with their parents on the other side of the city, or, more accurately, in the library--housing probation doesn’t mean much to them, but it does matter to everyone else.

Lisha, apparently, was attempting to use the limnal nature of sunrise, sitting over a party that both was and was not a party any longer, with people below who were drunk, and dreaming, and no longer drunk, on a day of particular celestial configuration, to do some magic experimentation, because obviously.  Wren wanted a familiar.  Lisha could totally use a ritualistic setup to cast a spell she isn’t high enough level for and doesn’t actually know, and also alter it to bind to somebody that isn’t even her, and make it work.  Maybe not today, but probably next time, right?

The PC’s are somewhat annoyed with Lisha, but also agree that the university just does not have enough ritual magic experimentation labs, and that really needs to be corrected.  They also figure that, housing probation or no, it’s maybe not a bad time to get out of town for a bit.  They’re good at fighting things together!  They’ve got some options!

They toss some ideas around--Kou’s option involves banditry, and Marion’s pretty sure they’re not allowed to do that, but Reigenleif’s has, like, three weeks in the mountains, and that sounds pretty awful too.  Athen and Poppy both need help, and they’re both friends--Kou doesn’t care where they go, and Reigenleif is up for whatever sounds interesting.  Poppy’s research trip sounds like a good way to make the university like them, which after this display might be particularly useful.

In the end, the decision comes down to Marion, who’s happy to help people but is mostly only considering either of these treks as a road to more god-research, to help define the variables to determine the maximum number of gods the Church of Lost Things still has to discover.  There’s a western orthodox church in the Uvencatra Empire, out past where Athen’s family lives, and they could have all sorts of records and knowledge that Marion doesn’t...but nobody knows what the hell is going on in the Iris Peninsula.  The entire place is apparently a forest, and that means people don’t travel it much for some reason?  It’s all sort of unclear and difficult to understand from this side of the continent.  So what the heck, Poppy’s thing it is.

Poppy is somewhat taken aback to be woken up slightly hungover at 10 AM by Kevin and also a random human knocking on her dorm room door to tell her that yes, they and two other people she’s never met are in for her expedition, and also can they leave tomorrow please?  But also sure.  Why not.  These things happen when you ask Kevin for help.  She’ll talk to her advisor to push those expedition grant funds through, and they’ll leave on Monday.  Maybe let’s have lunch or dinner this afternoon?  After Kevin and Marion sleep?

Reigenleif, meanwhile, takes Kou along to return the bag of holding and empty kegs to Milosh, in the hopes that having a highly charismatic good-persuasion bard along might just increase their chances of persuading Milosh to let them keep the Bag of Holding for this journey.  Little does she know that, while Kou is fun and delightful and good at persuasion, she’s also an awkward flailer who doesn’t entirely understand what they’re supposed to be convincing Milosh of in the first place, and has no proficiency in deception whatsoever.

The conversation stumbles and bobbles a bit, before Reigenleaf gets to the meat of the situation: they’re not going to Ormiras, but does Anna maybe need something delivered or picked up from another of the Nine Cities?  Perhaps something on Iris?  Like, say...

“Cloud Bay,” Reigenleif says, naming the only city on the Iris Peninsula she can remember at 7 AM on zero sleep, which is unfortunately not the same one Poppy mentioned to Kevin earlier.

“Cloud Bay?” Milosh says.  “Shitty weather and elves?  What’re you going there for?”

In an attempt to leverage her higher Deception score over Persuasion, Reigenleif starts to spin a relatively believable lie about engineering research and her own degree work.  Unfortunately, she doesn’t roll particularly well.  More fortunately, or perhaps more unfortunately still, Milosh doesn’t actually care ‘why Cloud Bay’, aside from as a rhetorical question, so it’s not particularly useful in any case.

“Look,” Milosh says.  “Let me talk to Anna about Cloud Bay.  Check back in tomorrow or Sunday, maybe we have a job for you there, maybe not.  A’right?”

They snag a couple of muffins on the way out.  Kou feels a little useless, but so be it.  Marion crashes in Kevin’s room, since he just needs a corner to meditate in anyway, and everyone naps until the meet-with-Poppy time in the evening.

The Campaign Plan

Poppy is just a little taken aback at the new crew she seems to’ve acquired, but she’s ready to go and they’re game, so, sure.  Let’s do this.

She elaborates a little on what she told Kevin, in some angles, and says less in others.  The Glorian Empire, as some of the party know better than others, stretched out from here in Karna Vi across most of the Attiks Sea and around the continent.  They sped the civilization in the Midlands, they spread the Eight Churches throughout the continent, they founded cities, they built roads.  They founded Port Charé on the coast of the heavily-forested Iris Peninsula and began to build in, cutting trees and building roads and forts and towns as they went.  Kera the Conqueror, famed emperor, oversaw the expansion across easily half of Iris, naming literally everything after himself as he went.

Iris was hard to conquer, and the Empire began to pull out not long after Kera died.  They left ruins and roads, and the people of Port Charé, who’d lived in this city for two centuries at this point and were not about to move back to the other side of the sea, even if this was going to be the only bastion of civilization for a thousand miles.  There was a working road to Ormiras.  They’d manage.

As for those ruins, deep into Iris--who knows what’s there?

Sober and in front of three strangers, Poppy doesn’t say anything about pre-Elven Incursion elven aesthetics.  It doesn’t really matter, because Kevin told everybody everything, but some things are just too historically improbable to admit you believe.

“So,” says Poppy.  “Are you in?  I can get grant funds and our travel paperwork Monday morning.  We circle into Port Charé and follow the roads as far as they go.  I have an old map, Imperial-era.  We can find things nobody’s seen in hundreds of years.”

The party doesn’t need to ask each other.  They’re in.  They all know they’re in.

Six months on an archaeological expedition in a forest for four city kids, three of whom have never seen anything more than a single ten-acre orchard in their lives?

Oh yeah.  Total piece of cake.

[sergeanttucker]

Once In A Cabin

Characters - John Seed x Deputy

Summary: A storm hits and the Deputy needs to find shelter.

Warning: a swear word or two, tiny bit of angst?

Word count: 3496 (got carried away a Little)

AN -  For the anon who asked this -> Fic prompt: John Seed x Deputy get caught in the rain and have to find shelter together. Please & thank you:) // I hope you like it, dear anon. If so, let me know! If not, let me know too! Feedback highly appreciated! 

AN 2 - I have the Feeling that I rushed the ending too much, but it was so Long already! 

It was a day like any other since she arrived in Hope County. Somebody always needed the help of the Junior Deputy. The last few days, or maybe even weeks, she spent her time saving people of the resistance from Jacobs conditioning. He got more aggressive with what he did, leaving more people dead than actually turning them into his little soldiers. When it wasn´t the eldest of the brothers who drew her full attention, then it was their little “sister”, Faith. She poured more and more bliss into the lakes and rivers, animals and people alike were going crazy on it. Rook couldn´t even count anymore how many drugged-up bears, wolfs and pumas she had to kill since all this started. The only one who was unusally quiet was John. Normally he would bother her any chance he got, trying to convince her to finally confess and reach atonement but for the past 2 weeks there was nothing. Holland Valley seemed quiet too, probably quieter than it was for a long time and Rook started to think that he was planning something. Maybe a masterplan to get her to do as he says? Or maybe he hoped that she would come running for him, curios about the silence on his side. And this is exactly what she was about to do.

After wrecking enough havoc in the mountains, she drove right to Holland Valley to see what was going on. Rook felt uneasy thinking about what John might have planned, he was probably the cruelest of the Seeds and to be honest? She was a little frightened of him, not that she would ever admit that in front of anyone but she couldn´t help the shiver that drove down her back everytime she met him. On the other hand… maybe her attraction towards the youngest brother could be a reason for it too.

Lost in her thoughts, she didn´t notice the sun had disappeared behind a curtain of thick grey clouds or how the wind picked up, making a strange whisper-like sound when it blew through the slightly open window of her car. She didn´t care much though, sitting in the security of her four-wheeler she wouldn´t get in much trouble if a storm hits. Well, she didn’t care until she heard a strange noise from the front of the car, not long after that it steadily lost speed until it came to a stop. Great. That’s what she needed … stranded in the middle of nowhere when a storm approached. Annoyed she got out of the car and instantly got hit with her own hair blown into her face. She mumbled angrily, brushing her hair out of her face before she spun around the car and opened the hood, a cloud of smoke rose and burned in her lungs as she inhaled, causing her to cough and slam the hood shut again. There is no way she could fix the problem fast enough to get away from the changing weather, not without tools at least. Rook had no other choice, so she picked her duffle bag out of the trunk of the car and started walking down the streets.

Without the safety of her car, Rook felt like prey, especially since she didn´t know if the little hairs on her neck started to rise due to the tight tension in the air that the storm brought with it, or because she was being watched but either way she thought about taking her weapon out of the holster attached to her thigh. She quickly let this thought fall when she remembered that she had no ammo left after she took a few Peggys down only about two hours ago and rested her hand on her hunting knife instead. A sudden crash of thunder caused her to jump, she clutched her chest with one hand and lifted her eyes up to the sky. It got darker by the second and shortly after, it started to rain, more than in months. “You can’t be serious.” Rook said angrily as she tried to think about what she should do next. It would take at least an hour to get to Falls End, and the storm got worse. Maybe she should have gone back to the car to sit it out, but she had no idea how long the storm would rage.

Her vision was limited by the rain that poured down and she decided to stay in one of the cabins in the forest.

As she walked to her right, she could see the tree line of one of the many forests in Hope County where a shadowy silhouette almost run between the trees before sharply turning left and vanishing in the dark. Startled, she took out her knife and stalked as quietly as possible in the same direction. It didn’t look like an animal, maybe it was a stray Peggy looking for shelter? The silhouette stopped in a clearing and looked around, the rain pelting down on them and Rook tried to recognize who was there but it was too dark to see, she could barely see her own hand as night fell. She crept slowly closer, the thunder and the sound of the lightnings silencing her steps. When she was only a few yards away, she recognized who was standing in front of her and the knowledge caused her breath to hitch. This coat, printed with ridiculous little airplanes, she would recognize everywhere. Rook stood frozen for a moment, until a flash of lightning near her made her flinch and she bumped into the figure standing in front of her.

Startled, he turned around and instinctively grabbed Rook’s throat and held her at arm’s length as he stared at her in confusion, trying to understand what was happening. When he recognized her, he smiled. That stupid smile! He had no idea what his facial expression did to her! Rook grabbed his hand that was still around her throat. She struggled a little to see if he would let her go but he only tightened his grip on her. “Little Deputy… what a pleasure it is to meet you again.” Rook couldn´t say anything, her words stuck in her throat as she watched little droplets of water running down his normally perfectly styled hair. “John…” she stuttered barely above a whisper and scrunched her face. Why did he have that much on an effect on her? Any other time she would have a snarky comment, but with him? Nothing… and it frustrated her to no end.

“As much as I would love to look at your beautiful face for the rest of my life, I suggest we take shelter somewhere, shall we?”

John’s smile turned into a grin as the only answer he got was a wild nod from Rook. “Oh, and that’s not necessary.” He reached for the knife she still held in her hand and put it somewhere in his coat before letting go of the woman’s throat. He stepped behind her; Rook felt his breath catch her ear as he whispered to her. “After you.” When she did not move immediately, he gave her a little push and with one hand led her away from the clearing and into the woods.

“Where are we going?” she asked, after seemingly endless hours of walking, which in truth were barely 10 minutes. “I own a cabin here, darling. The storm is getting worse, you don´t want to be outdoors when that happens.” And as if to prove he was telling the truth; another lightning struck and made the deputy shudder. She did not say anything after that. Why did she even ask that? Of course they walked to some kind of shelter, that’s the only logical reaction to a storm like this. She felt stupid, as always, when the youngest Seed was around. They walked silently side by side, John’s hand still on Rook’s back as they reached the small log cabin. He fumbled for a moment in his pocket and pulled out a key to open the door, then stepped aside to let his companion in.

Rook stepped in and ignored the small grin on John’s face, instead focusing on her surroundings. It wasn´t too big and it wasn´t very small either. It was nice to be honest. On one side was a small open kitchen, a four-seater kitchen table, and not much else. The living room had a comfy-looking couch with a table in front of it, bookshelves on different walls and a small work desk under a window. On the wall facing the couch was a fireplace, and in front of it lay a fur on the floor. Rook felt a shiver run down her spine, the look of the inviting fireplace suddenly reminded her of her current condition, soaking wet, she even made a small puddle on her feet. She glanced over at John, who had already closed the door and marched over to light a fire. He was dripping wet from the rain, his hair standing in different directions after passing through with one hand. Rook couldn´t deny how good he looked when he took off his coat, she could see his muscles working under his shirt, all sorts of unholy thoughts running through her mind as he took his signature vest of too.

When she saw John grinning, she knew she was caught staring at him, and quickly turned her eyes away as a flush ran down her cheeks. She dropped her bag, took off her jacket and hung it over a chair to dry. Her buttoned shirt clung to her wet skin, as did her jeans, and she opened her bag to see if the clothes inside were still dry, only to find that they were equally as wet as her current attire. She took them out of the bag and laid everything in front of the fire out so they would hopefully dry until the storm was over. John watched her and sighed before he left the room, only moments later he came back and handed her a dry shirt of his. Confused about his behavior she hestitated before taking it, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Thank you. Is there a place where I can change?”

John’s grin just gets wider. “Are you scared to change in front of me, little sinner? The bathroom is this way, but I don´t mind if you do it here.”

She gave him a bitch face, which made him chuckle, before she disappeared into the small bathroom. After taking off her shirt, pants, and shoes, she looked in the mirror that hung in the room, a full-length mirror, something she would not expect in a small cabin in the woods. She had lost weight since coming to Hope County, but not enough to worry. With her fingers she traced the still very prominent scars she had gained during her “confession” with John. “Wrath” carved on her clavicle and “lust” right under her navel, yet she never said “yes” to him.

She took a towel, which was lying next to the sink to dry her hair, and then got dressed. The button-down shirt John gave her reached to the middle of her thighs. Was it a good idea to face John without pants, just in underwear and a shirt? Probably not, Rook was already blushing when she thought of it, but she had no choice. She took her wet clothes and went back into the living room, what she saw there made her stop in the doorway, her breath got caught in her throat and the wet clothes landed with a slap on the floor. John stood there without a shirt and only in sweatpants, his hair stood wildly in all directions and he held a bottle of whiskey in his hand. It looked so unlikely him, Rook didn´t know how to react and just stood, dumbly blinking at him, in the doorway. It was a miracle she didn´t drool. The slap of the clothes hitting the floor caused him to look up at her, when he saw the Deputy standing there only in his shirt and with a slightly shocked expression, he once again chuckled and waved the bottle at her to get her attention. “See something you like?” The smooth bastard! It took everything in her to not nod her head at the question, because yes, she did see something she liked.

His chest on full display, she could see every little tattoo and scar on his skin and that’s a sight to behold. For only a moment (or more than a moment) she raked her eyes over his body, as he did with hers. “Looks like you dropped something.” He casually mentioned without taking his eyes of her bare legs. Rook, suddenly pulled out of her stupor, bend over to pick up her things, unknowingly giving him a view down her shirt, he tensed up, watching her walk over to the fire to lay her wet garments out before he tore his eyes away from her and walked over to the kitchen to get two glasses. When he returned, Rook had pushed the couch closer to the fire and sat with her legs underneath herself, starring into the fire. He took a seat on the other end of the couch and poured two glasses of whiskey, handing one over to her. She took the glass and looked skeptically at him.

“I don´t think Joseph would be too happy about this.” John offered her a smile before taking a sip.

“He doesn´t have to know everything or are you going to tell him?”

“Maybe I will.” She gave him a cheeky smile and nipped at her drink.

Again, he chuckled and let his eyes drift over her body.

To see her in only a shirt, HIS shirt, made him feel things he would rather not. Since the first time he laid eyes on her, he was intrigued. Her beauty pulling him in like some kind of magic and, he didn´t like to admit it, hurting her just didn´t feel right. When she sat before him, cuffed to the chair, it broke his heart to cut her sins into her soft skin… but it had to be done, right? At least this is what he kept telling himself. He drank the whole glass at once and poured another one.

“Wow, keep it down Buddy. Don´t want you to pass out on me.”

“Are you worried about me, Darling? That’s really sweet, but I can take much more than a little whiskey.”

“Nah I´m not worried, I just don´t want the alcohol to kill you before I get my chance.” Rook was grinning at him, the liquid running through her system giving her the courage to do so.

John nodded knowingly, amusement twinkling in his eyes, making them shine brighter.

“I´m sitting right here, do as you please.”

He had a challenging look in his eyes, daring her to make a move while gesturing to himself.

“You want me to fight against you only in my underwear and one of your way too expensive shirts? Sounds exciting.” She grinned at him, clearly amused by the idea to kick his ass.

“Oh no, no, no… you would have to take my shirt off, don´t want to ruin it ya know? Besides, it would only be in the way anyway.” He winked at her and momentarily let his eyes roam her body, she caught him doing it and cocked an eyebrow at him.

“See something you like?” She quoted him and tilted her head slightly to one side while she kept her eyes on him, two could play this game. A smirk rose on Johns face, he turned his body in her direction and leaned slightly closer to her, Rook mimicked his moves and leaned back to keep the distance between their bodies.

The smirk never wavered from his face when he said

“Oh, to be honest, I really do see something I like.”

By now, Rook was lying flat on her back, the youngest brother hovered over her and came dangerously close to her face.

“Little Deputy…” their faces were only inches apart when he lifted a finger and stroked down her cheek, the contact caused her to jump slightly, a silent sigh left her body when he rested more of his weight on her.

“We could have so much fun… if you would only say *Yes* to me.”

The last part was whispered to her ear, his breath hot in her ear made her shiver. 

“I can´t…” She had to close her eyes to not let him see the bitterness in her eyes. Out of all men in Hope County, why did she fall for John fucking Seed? There are so many others out there! Men who already proclaimed their interest in her and she always shoved them away for an imaginary happy end with the guy she was supposed to hate.

He cupped her face in order to make her look at him, their noses were touching from how close they were. For a moment it was quiet, only rain and thunder could be heard over the crackling of the fire, their breaths were mingling together and their lips lightly touching when he broke the silence of the room. “You can.” He breathed, his eyes skimmed down to her lips for only a heartbeat before he couldn´t take it any longer and crashed their lips together. Rook froze in her spot, too shocked to response to the sudden contact, her eyes wide when he ended the kiss. Her thoughts run a million miles a minute trying to understand what just happened and how to response.

Lips tingling and when she was able to think straight again, she let her finger lightly trace his chest, giving him goosebumps, before she leaned up and pressed her lips against his, Johns immediate reaction was to deepen the kiss as he tangled his fingers in her soft hair. He rests most of his weight on her now, effectively trapping her underneath his body while he kissed all breath from her. She never received a kiss like this; soft, slightly chapped lips pressed against hers with the perfect pressure and the exact right rhythm to make her feel breathless, so tender and loving she could feel it in her very soul and she couldn´t help the sigh that left her as his tongue stroked her lip, asking for entrance which she willingly gave. One of her hands found the way into his hair, lightly gripping it in order to anchor herself while the other traced a scar on his back. He hummed appreciating against her lips, the hand not tangled in her strands gripped her thigh and hoisted it up to make more space for his hips between her legs, he slowly rocked into her, forcing a surprised gasp from her. When the need for air became too much, he broke the kiss and buried his face in her neck, lathering it with kisses and the occasional nibble that made her whimper softly. Encouraged by the sounds she made he started sucking at her pulse point, the soft moan of his name made him even bolder as his hand stroked over her thigh, higher and higher to the hem of her shirt, bringing it up in the process to reveal more soft skin. 

Rook was suddenly pulled back to reality when (surprisingly soft) fingers traced the edge of her bra.

She pushed him away from her and scrambled to her feet, leaving a confused John behind.

“We shouldn´t do this.” Tugging her shirt down to cover herself, she hurriedly stepped around the table to gather her by now dry clothes, taking them with her into the bathroom to get clothed again.

When she turned back to the living room, John still hasn´t moved and just stared at her, hurt evident in his eyes and it took everything inside Rook to not jump on his lap to kiss all his worries away.

Instead she took her duffle bag and stuffed all her belongings back in, glancing out of the window she could see the storm had ceased and only a few raindrops were still falling from the sky. She didn´t care though, she needed to get out of there as soon as possible.

Standing with her hand on the doorknob she looked back one last time to see John blankly starring into the fire.

“We´ll meet again, Deputy.”

“I´m sorry.” She whispered these last words before opening the door to step out into the rain.

The forest was dark, the only light came from the moon shining through the trees and guiding her way back to the street where she came from.

Congratulations, you made it to the end !! I´m new to the writing thing and Feedback is highly appreciated! Oh, and if your eyes are bleeding from the bad grammar, then let me know! I’m from Germany and my english is a Little rusty, so please Point out the mistakes I made. Oh, and should you have a reqeust, send me an ask!

[trauma-13]

Recently, a woman I respect and think very highly of told her story of domestic violence when she was around my age. I've been very quiet about my own struggle with domestic violence from a past relationship. However, I think in light of her own bravery, it's time I tell my own story. Fair warning, long post and domestic violence trigger warning.

It was 2014 when I got into a relationship with my ex. We had met online, like so many relationships do now a days. Everything seemed great, he seemed like a wonderful guy. Treated me well, gave me attention, promised me all the silly things boys always promise.

Looking back, there were red flags from the start that I just never saw at the time. Everything is great through rose colored glasses, you know.

He lived 3ish hours away from where I live. So after about 6ish months into our relationship, he chose to move to the city I lived in. He was supposed to only stay with my roommates and I for a short time until he got his own place. However, he moved in fully after about a month of looking for apartments of his own.

I'm not going to go full into detail about all of the red flags leading up to the blow up. However, I will tell you, there were so many signs of abuse. Emotional and physical that I ignored. He had pushed me on multiple occasions, pinned me against the kitchen counter and yelled in my face, would physically abuse my dogs when I wasn't home, would constantly tell me I wasn't good enough and that I was lucky to have him.

Fast forward to June of 2017, I decided (with the help of two my very, very close friends) that I needed a vacation. I flew to New York and spent about 4 days in upstate with them. While I was there, I received so much love and support from them and other people I had just met. I was also witnessing what a normal, adult, functional relationship was. All while I was in NY, my ex was constantly calling and texting me accusing me of cheating on him. He was making threats towards myself, my two best friends I was with, and other friends of mine as well as my dogs. It was that trip that I decided when I got back to Arizona, I was leaving him. I had even contacted my mom and let her know I needed her help with my dogs, because I knew he would hurt them, in order to hurt me. For the remainder of the trip, I chose to play along and reassure him that I wanted to be with him, in order to protect my dogs while I was in New York. I had my mind made up, I just needed money in order to get away from him.

When I got home he was cold, and dark towards me. He wouldn't talk to me, at all beyond yelling at me and accusing me of cheating. I was terrified to be at home, I was terrified to leave because my dogs would be alone with him. I lived in fear because of him.

Shortly after I got home from NY, my best friend and I went to look at apartments so I had a plan lined up for when I left. My plan was for him to go to work, I would pack up my stuff, and leave him. I didn't see any other way out, without risking my life and my dogs.

The day her and I were looking at apartments, he called me, hysterical, yelling, and threatening again. He had logged into my computer and onto Tumblr and saw messages between another friend and I about my plans to leave him. I've never in my life driven so fast, and dangerously to get home to my dogs and protect them.

When I got home, he was pacing, screaming at me, and holding a knife. He had the dogs harnesses on, and kept telling me to say goodbye to them because it would be the last time I saw them. My best friend was waiting outside, and had called the police and informed them what is going on and that she was afraid he would attack me.

It felt like hours arguing with him, and pleading for him to let me take the dogs and for him to leave. The entire time he was holding the knife and would occasionally stab towards me, although he never made contact. I remember very vividly thinking "okay, if he stabs me, I know what to do. I'm a medical professional and I can save myself," my biggest concern was for my dogs lives, not my own.

After an eternity (or maybe it was just 30 minutes, I don't know) he grabbed my dogs leashes and left through the garage. He had no idea Mesa PD was outside. As soon as he saw PD, he dropped their leashes and lunged at me. Thankfully I was far enough behind him and around the car, he couldn't get to me. Everything after happened in such a blur, I know my best friend grabbed the dogs and put them in her car and that he was then on the ground with tazers and guns aimed at him. He was cuffed, and pinned against the wall by two police officers, while the 3rd officer walked me past him to guarantee my safety. He was yelling the entire time, screaming at me for being a selfish horrible person, that I was making a mistake, and that he would make me regret every thing. I was in hysterics, crying into this poor cop while my best friend got the dogs situated in the car. I don't remember much of my conversation with the officer, except him saying "this is your opportunity to get out, you need to take it,"

I watched them put him in a the squad car, with him yelling at me the entire time, and I was still terrified of him. What if he got out? What if he found me? I chose to stay with my friend because 1. He had no clue where she lived. 2. I knew it was a comfortable place for myself and the dogs until I could get into an apartment.

For months I was terrified, every sudden movement or loud noise around me made me jump and start to panic. I was afraid to go to work because he knew where it was, same with school. I was afraid to go into public places for fear of him being there. Although I had a restraining order against him, that only does so much until police arrive if he was to show up.

A few months after, James came into the picture. We had been friends for years, however that was it. He was one of the first people I confided in over what happened. Still to this day, I've never seen him that angry. He was furious that I had gone through that and had been made to live in fear for so long. He was one of the few people I felt safe around. I made the choice to tell my coworkers what had occurred, that way incase he showed up, I had help. Every night I had an escort to my car by one of the male nurses or techs, if James wasn't working. My tribe of support had continued to grow, and expand, when a few short weeks prior I thought I had no body.

I'm still anxious. I still worry. I still get nervous going into a restaurant, or store that I'll see him. I still have nightmares about him killing my dogs. I've woken up in tears and panic more times than I can count, just to realize he's no where near and that we are safe.

Everything occurred nearly 2 years ago, and I'm still recovering from it. I didn't write this as a sob story, or to get sympathy. I wanted to tell my story, to hopefully help others realize they are not alone. Domestic violence is a very real, and dangerous problem within the United States. So many people are killed prior to being able to leave, or are in fear of leaving because of the unknown of afterwards.

I'm so thankful I was able to get out before something drastic happened to myself or the dogs. I'm so thankful for my amazing tribe of friends and family who stood with me, and had my back when he trashed my name. I'm so thankful for James for showing me what love truly is, and how relationships should be. If anyone who sees this wants to talk about their own experiences or has questions, I am open and willing. Everyone deserves safety, and happiness. Nobody should have to live in fear.

[dcublogger]

Laura | International Business

Semester 2 - 2020

Using your degree in the real world 

Often students can struggle to figure out how to use the skills and knowledge they learn at university and adapt it to a real-life situation. It’s a concept I struggled with in the beginning, understanding how subjects like IT Skills and financial accounting would somehow be relevant to my future career. Little did I know, I’d be using those acquired skills and knowledge so soon in my future. 

At the beginning of lockdown, I decided to order myself a sewing machine. It was something I had wanted to invest in for a few years, but I just never had the time to spend learning how to use it and re-working clothes like I’d hoped to. So, I bought the sewing machine and got to work on some old clothes that I wanted to fix up and give a new lease of life. I was still quite busy with assignments and college work at the time I purchased it, but on the weekends I’d spend a few hours researching patterns and videos online. I got the hang of it eventually with a lot of practice and set off re-working some of my clothes.

One evening, I came across a youtube video on how to make reusable masks, and I decided to give it a go. I started making masks for my grandparents and family members, learning more about the process the more I made. Then, it was announced on the news a week later that the public was being advised to wear facemasks in shops and in situations where social distancing could not be adhered to. I saw this as a chance to use my skill and knowledge of business from my degree. I made a logo online, set up an Instagram page, and messaged about 20 of my friends on social media about it. I got about 12 orders for the following week, which I was delighted with! I had so much spare time on my hands that given the opportunity to spend it doing something productive was a bonus! 

Fast forward two weeks and business was going slow. I was only getting about two orders a day, but I knew I was capable of doing more. I was on a Zoom call with some of my friends from college, and one of them, my friend Róisín, has recently started an INTRA placement with the Irish Sun. She was saying how every day she has to pitch ideas to her editor and she needed some inspiration for the next day. We started listing out some ideas, and one of the boys suggested an article on people making facemasks from home. The next day, she ran with that idea and pitched it to her editor, and he loved it! She messaged me with the news and I was delighted for her! But then, she asked if she could interview me for the article. I was delighted to be helping her out and really didn’t comprehend the things that this publicity could do for my start-up business. 

https://www.thesun.ie/news/5459242/coronavirus-in-ireland-where-to-buy-face-masks-coverings/

That evening, the article went live, and I couldn't believe how excellent it had turned out. Róisín did an amazing job! Next thing I knew my phone started pinging and kept going and going. I couldn’t believe it when I checked to see over 10 message requests from complete strangers. I was ecstatic and nervous at the same time. After the initial shock, I calmed down and set about organising my business in order to comply with the high demand for my products. I was able to use skills I had learned in modules like operations management, financial accounting, consumer behavior, marketing - and the list continues. The knowledge I had acquired through my degree carried me through a hectic few weeks. 

Thankfully everything is running smoothly now, and customers are sending me messages everyday to say their masks have arrived and how impressed they are with them, which obviously gives me a great feeling. I couldn’t have predicted that in the circumstances I would begin my own small business, but im grateful for the opportunity that has been given to me, and I look forward to what the future holds, but for now, it’s all about making my mark, with “Make your Mask”.

Adapting to change - 9th May 2020

What a crazy second semester we have had! Looking back, my last update was at the end of February - which seems like a lifetime ago! This post is really to fill you all in on what’s been happening in my life since then.

We were still on campus for lectures in week 6 of the second semester - I had a lot of assessments in Spanish that week, as well as a few assignments to hand in. I said goodbye to many of my classmates that Friday afternoon - little did I know that would be the last time I would see them for a long time. Then we had a reading week - which was hectic for me! I have been keeping this blog up to date on everything DCU Glee since September - and during reading week, we rehearsed for our upcoming show every day from 10am until 6 or 7 in the evening. It was so enjoyable and everyone in the cast became a lot closer as we spent so much time getting to know one another. It was such an enjoyable week full of fun and excitement - so as you can imagine, on Thursday the 12th of March when the government announced that all third-level institutions would be closing, we were gutted. The closure of the university ultimately meant that our show which was scheduled to go ahead on March 23rd in the Helix had to be cancelled. We are hopeful that we will have the opportunity to perform in the future when restrictions are eased - but for now, we are still keeping in touch via weekly zoom calls. The photo below was taken during our last rehearsal 

That weekend, I sadly had to pack up all of my belongings in my Dublin apartment and journey home to Donegal. On Monday the 16th of March we began online lectures - which was a big difference to the usual classroom setting- but thankfully I was able to adapt to the new way of learning. The help provided by the members of staff and the business faculty at DCU was amazing - the transition of going from being physically present in a lecture hall to online learning was a great success. It was difficult at first, but as soon as I structured my days, everything began to fall into place. Most of my modules changed from end of term assessments to end of term assignments, which we were given lots of time to research and prepare for. At first, the volume of assignments was a little overwhelming, but as I began to submit them, and the to-do list got shorter, it all felt a lot more manageable. All of my lecturers have been so helpful and understanding, given the challenge it has been to alter our way of learning. They have been on hand to answer emails and queries from the beginning, which has definitely benefitted students. 

One thing that I was really looking forward to was attending the DCU Clubs and Societies Awards - but thankfully, we still managed to have a great night and celebrate the achievements of many students in their extracurricular activities via a live awards ceremony on youtube. This year was DCU Glee’s first awards as an official society, and we managed to pick up an award for the best promotional video for our show.

I have to say, this time in quarantine has given me the opportunity to sit back and look at all the things I’ve achieved and accomplished in DCU in two short years - from becoming a committee member in a society, to working as a student ambassador - I am so grateful for the opportunities that the university has provided me with. I have made friends for life in DCU and I can’t wait until I can be on campus with them once again. 

So far, my Erasmus in Spain is still going ahead, and although I feel optimistic, I have told myself that everything happens for a reason - so if I have to adapt to a new way of doing an Erasmus in case of travel restrictions or other reasons, I will do that, and just take every day as it comes. In the meantime, I hope to complete some Spanish courses online in order to keep up my language skills. 

A great website I’ve come across in this time is Google Digital Garage, which allows you to complete courses online and gain certificates. I’m currently doing a certificate in Digital Marketing, which will hopefully be a new addition to my CV. A lot of them are business based, so anyone interested in studying it at university, maybe use this time to up-skill or find out about different subjects that might interest you!

https://learndigital.withgoogle.com/digitalgarage-ie/courses

Thanks for reading..

Week 5 - 24th February 2020

Semester 2 has been nothing short of crazy so far! I haven’t had a chance to log on since week 2, and a lot has happened since then!

So during week three, I received my exam results and I am delighted to say that all of my hard work in semester one paid off 😁With everything going on-track academically, my next hurdle was Erasmus!

Erasmus options opened for the students in my course ( International Business) at the beginning of week 4. Thankfully I have more good news on that front - I will be moving to Valencia on the east coast of Spain at the end of August, where I will study and live for a year. To say I am excited is a complete understatement - I can’t wait to have the beach on my doorstep and to be surrounded by the Spanish culture and language🇪🇸I’ve attached a link below of a video that shows off the beautiful city I’ll be doing my Erasmus in. There are of course lots of other destinations that DCU students travel to for Erasmus, one of my friends who is studying Business Studies International with Japanese will be moving to Japan for a year in September.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-fOFm1x8yZI

In terms of modules, I am studying a Finance module for the first time - it’s very interesting but some of the calculations can be quite tricky so I’m making sure to spend some time studying that throughout the semester. My favorite module so far would have to be The Changing Consumer; a module run by our course co-ordinator who is incredibly engaging and encourages in class discussions and questions. The topic itself is a branch of marketing, and we look at how companies have to strategically plan their marketing projects to suit an ever-changing world of technology and consumer habits. 

Last week I attended the DCU Style annual fashion show, which took place in the Helix. It was an incredible night, which showcased the many talents that the students of DCU has to offer - from the stylists to the models, every aspect of the event was run in such a professional manner. The fashion on show ranged from high-street stores to vintage shops and original designers. All in all it was an excellent exhibition of creativity. There is such a great variety of Clubs and Societies here at DCU, there is really something for everyone, no matter what you’re interested in. They really are the best way to branch out and meet likewise people and most of the student body would agree, they're the starting point of many friendships that last a lifetime!

Week 2 - 3rd February 2020

Hi everyone, it’s been a while since I’ve updated the blog, so first and foremost I’ll fill you in on what’s been going on!

Before Christmas was hectic at college, with a lot of assignments due, as well as a few tests in subjects like Spanish. But thankfully everything went well!

Then January came, which meant only one thing - exams! I spent a lot of time with my head in the books after Christmas, and await my results which will be released this week!

This time of the year is incredibly busy for me, we have just started semester 2 and I’m studying a few new modules! I’m especially interested in Finance and the Consumer Behaviour module at the moment! Lecturers are beginning to hand out assignments and on top of all that, I will be choosing my Erasmus destination in a couple of weeks!

In international business, we get to do an Erasmus for our third year of university. In September I will begin studying for a year in Spain, an amazing opportunity that will help me to become fluent in the Spanish language! Some of my classmates will be traveling to Germany, France, China, and Japan to complete their year abroad. It’s such an exciting experience and will allow us to immerse ourselves in the culture of the language we study.

March is fast approaching which means only one thing for me - the DCU Glee Showcase! The cast is working very hard to learn songs and choreography at the moment. It’s going to be a hectic few weeks, but it’s good to be busy and it makes it a lot easier when you love what you’re doing!

This week was careers week in DCU. The Careers office organised lots of workshops and talks for students to help them in their career path. I attended a career resilience workshop on Monday which I found very interesting. There was also an event where professionals from LinkedIn talked about how to create a great profile that employers would be drawn towards. There was plenty going on all over campus!

Semester 1 - 2019

Open Days

The DCU Open days are taking place this Friday 15th and Saturday 16th on the Glasnevin Campus and on Saturday 16th of November on the DCU St.Patricks Campus. 

Rewind two years and I’ll take you back to my DCU Open Day experience. I travelled up from Donegal early on Saturday morning and attend the open day with my mum and a few of my friends.

I had an open mind that day, I hadn’t yet decided if I wanted to go down the business and a language route, or if I wanted to study primary school teaching.

I was able to attend talks on all the business courses I was interested in and compare them in length, whether or not they had a year abroad option, INTRA placement opportunities and the chance to specialize in the final year. I was able to talk to the head of each of the courses and find out what modules I’d be studying. The lecturers were on hand to talk to prospective students about any queries they had.

After a tour of the Glasnevin campus and the accommodation, I got the bus to the St.Patricks campus. There I attended more talks on primary education and Arts studies with languages. After talking with the lecturers in Pats that day, I decided to focus on getting the points for Business and Spanish in DCU, as they told me I could always come back after my business degree and do a masters in Teaching. I left that day with the decision that I wanted to study in DCU.

Fast-forward two years and I couldn't be in a better place. I love my course, I love living in Dublin and I love being a part of the DCU Community. When everyone tells you what’s for you won’t pass you, they're not far wrong!

So, make sure to visit the DCU Open days this weekend and have a chat with some students and lecturers if you are thinking about your next step in education. And if you see me working on Friday or Saturday, make sure to say hi 😊

Week 6 - 28th October 2019

I can’t believe how quickly the first 6 weeks of the second year of college have been - it seems like only yesterday when I was beginning my job as a student ambassador for orientation week.

I haven’t had the chance to update my blog in the past few weeks as I’ve been crazy busy between the library and lectures and social life! But thankfully I’ve got a few days off now to catch up on readings, but more importantly to relax and see my family and friends at home in Donegal

I know I’ve been talking all about DCU Glee in my last posts, so I better update everyone on that.. we have a new cast for 2019/20 and everyone is not only super-talented but so so friendly! I can’t even begin to tell you how important it is to join clubs and societies in college - I’ve made so many friends through not only Glee but the other societies I’m a member of.  So I’m back to rehearsals twice a week - if anyone's looking for me on a Monday or Thursday evening, I can be found singing around DCU!

Reading week always marks a bit of a hectic time in the semester, as there's usually a few deadlines with projects and assignments. The library gets a little busier in weeks 5 and 6 as people put their heads in the books! It’s always worth it in the end.

In other news, I got selected for the Mentorship programme that the DCU Careers office, along with the Alumni office run for second-year undergraduate students. It’s a great achievement to be selected and I’m really looking forward to finding out more about the career that I want to work towards. I have been paired with a technology consultant in Accenture, and I will meet my mentor at least once a month from now until March. When we meet, we will discuss what kind of career I might be suited to, any questions I have about technology consulting or Accenture, and in February I will participate in a work-shadow day. It’[s just one of the amazing opportunities DCU has on offer - I know I’m going to thoroughly enjoy the experience.

Finally, the DCU open days are fast approaching. On November 15th or 16th you will have a chance to come to DCU to see what it is all about. For more information and to register click here: https://www.dcu.ie/studentrecruitment/openday

Week 2 - 30th September 2019

Well, it’s all well and truly kicking off this week! The Clubs and Socs fair began on the Glasnevin campus on Monday, and with DCU Glee being a new society, we had a big push on to recruit new students to join us! The clubs and socs fair is always so exciting, it really is a great example of all the great opportunities available to DCU students - from the Drama Society to Snow-sports, there really is something for everyone!

I had a look around all of the stalls and decided to sign up to the DCU Start-Up society, in the hope that I’ll be able to learn some skills and information that will be transferable to my course.

I made my first few trips back to the library this week, after a long summer free of studying, as I had to catch up on some readings for my lectures. I learnt from last year that it’s best to hit the ground running and keep on top of the workload from the beginning - in college you need to constantly be engaged in what you’re learning.

On Thursday evening I sat in my first committee meeting for DCU Glee, where we met with our clubs officer to discuss our plans for the year. We have a meeting with all of our new members on Monday the 7th of October and auditions for the cast are also coming up next week. It’s going to be crazy!

Week 1 - 23rd September 2019

On Monday I began my second year of college here at DCU - It was a long long Summer and I am so excited for the year ahead! I was actually working during orientation last week (16th of Sept) and I can’t believe that it’s already been a year since I started my DCU journey!

I already know that my second year is going to be jam-packed, and I am really looking forward to the coming months. It’s obviously going to take a while to get used to my new timetable and also the new modules I’ll be studying this year, but I feel well ready for the challenge.

I’m studying international business with Spanish here at DCU, and this year is important for me because I want to improve my Spanish skills in preparation for my Erasmus next year, where I’ll go to Spain to study for the academic year.

It’s only week one, and I’ve already been busy with Clubs and Societies! On Tuesday DCU Drama organised an event called “ Festival of the Arts,” which displayed an array of talents that the students of DCU have to offer! I am a member of the DCU Glee Society, and a few of our cast members from last years show got together to perform in the U, our student centre, at lunchtime on Tuesday.

I also began my job as PRO (Public Relations Officer) for the DCU Glee Society. It’s my job to run the social media accounts for DCU Glee and answer any emails or messages that people have about what we do. It’s a great way to use some of the techniques I learned in some of my business and marketing lectures last year, and I’m really happy to be so involved with clubs and societies. I think it’s the best way to meet like-minded people and make friends outside of your course. It has definitely helped me gain more confidence and taught me excellent life skills.

[spnxmarvel-fanfic]

Fairytale!Destiel AU : Chapter Eight

Supernatural or Marvel

Pairing: Dean Winchester/Castiel (Destiel)

Warnings: Angst? 

Words: 1683

Description: Castiel and his father have a long awaited conversation. 

Note: Sorry for the long wait!!!!! More soon!!!

chapters one, two, three, four, five, six, seven

ao3

“Son, we need to talk,” King Chuck was sitting in a chair off the side of the room. Castiel had to admit that whenever he was in here, he wanted to sit in it and feel how comfy it was because it certainly looked it.

Gulping, the prince took a few steps forward into the room, allowing his fathers men to close the door behind him. He flinched when he heard it lock.

“Please, take a seat,” the king gestured to his four-poster bed, which was immaculately made.

“I- uh, I-” Castiel stammered, feeling like it was a privilege he didn’t deserve.

“Cas, you know things aren’t like that around here,” he softened his voice, and Castiel hesitantly sat down.

“I’m sorry,” Chuck continued. “I know I haven’t been around for any of you since your mother-” Castiel tried to ignore his choke. “Even before all of that. I was just so obsessed with the kingdom and trying to provide for my family that I never got to spend time with you. Especially you,”

“It was alright, father. We had each other,”

“But I split you up. I was a bad parent to Michael and Lucifer and that… that just made things worse…” the King ran a hand through his hair.

“Father I don’t mean to interrupt but is there a point to this? I don’t understand why I’ve been called in here…” Castiel spoke in the silence, his nerves getting the best of him.

Sighing, Chuck folded his hands in his lap. “You’re turning eighteen in three weeks,” he said absentmindedly.

“Uh, yes?”

“I know that you always feel like you don’t get told anything, and I’m so sorry, I acted out of fear. I wanted to protect you so I thought… I thought keeping you in the dark would do that,” Chuck was an old man, despite his visual appearance. He’d seen many things, lived many years, and yet he was nearly in tears. Castiel wasn’t sure if he should be scared for himself or his father.

“Father, please,” Castiel was sitting on the edge of the bed. “What’s going on?”

“You’re cursed Castiel. You had the last christening where the public was invited because an unknown villager cast a powerful spell on you, and they disappeared without a trace,” Chuck removed his hands from his face, and there it was. A single tear. Forming in the corner of his eye.

Curse? I can live with cursed. What, am I doomed to never run a kingdom? As if I’d care Castiel thought to himself, confident things were fine.

“Castiel,” Full name. “It’s not fine. You were cursed to die at the mercy of an angel blade,” Chuck sighed, trying to push down resurfacing memories.

“Angel blades are real?” Castiel recoiled in shock, those were only legends his big brothers told him to scare him. All it did was make him interested in fiction.

“Yes. I had them all banned after the… the incident. I couldn’t risk it,” Castiel’s eyes were darting everywhere as Chuck spoke. He had been so focused on the angel blades that he hadn’t even noticed. Hadn’t noticed what an angel blade would do to him.

In three weeks. That was it. He was going to die at the hands of one of his favourite myths. He had so much more to do, to see! And what about- what about Dean?

Dean.

They were making real progress. I mean, Castiel and Dean Winchester had just kissed for the first time, less than half an hour ago, but this conversation had killed the pleasant tingling sensation dead.

He was never going to get to make that life with Dean he’d been dreaming about for three months. With their little house in the woods and two little girls. His dream might as well have been stabbed by an angel blade itself.

The prince hadn’t noticed that his breathing had sped up, and as he pulled himself out of spiralling thoughts he grabbed his chest from the pain. He also never noticed that Chuck had quickly sat next to his son and held on tight, murmuring ‘It’s okay’ again and again and again until he began to feel better, and he had a grip on his spiral.

“Dad, is there a way to stop it,” Castiel looked up at his father, whose eyes lit up at being called ‘Dad’ for the first time by his son before falling again, remembering the situation. The sheer dire of it.

“If I hadn’t of been so dramatic, I could have finished. You still had one more good fairy that was to give you a gift. While they couldn’t change it,” Chuck added quickly this time, as he noticed how hopeful the almost eighteen-year-old’s eyes got. “She was able to change it. Cas, you aren’t going to die, you’re just going to enter a death-like-sleep, and a true love’s kiss will bring you back. But there's a very real chance that that might never happen”

Castiel leaned back into his father, processing that true loves kiss was also real, and that he wasn’t going to die, as long as he had a true love. “How likely is it that we’ll find the one in time?” maybe now was the time to confess about Dean.

“Soulmates… are a tricky thing. You shouldn’t expect to wake up quickly when it happens,” Chuck sighed again. He’d put this conversation off for years, but he’d really just made the situation worse. If he’d told Castiel as a child, there’d be more acceptance by now, not the angst and confusion that was surely going to follow.

“When? How many times have you said when now?” Castiel had been quiet again, before jumping up and away from his father, enraged.

“Cas…”

“You’re just going to accept that this is going to happen? You’re not even going to try and protect me from practically dying in three weeks? You said it yourself, there's a very real chance I might not ever wake up. Lucifer never said anything kind about you, and you know what? He’s right. You’re selfish, and you only think about yourself. You’ve given up on us all, abandoning us at the perfect chance, letting us feel unloved and unwanted? Do you know how many days I’ve spent hiding in the castle because I had no idea what was going on, and no father figure to support me? You’ve pushed everyone away, and I guess pretty soon you won’t have to deal with me at all,” Castiel snapped, sneering the last part. He was mentally trying to decide whether it was worth waiting for a response or if he should just storm out of there. His last statement cut deep, and the prince’s curiosity wasn’t going to let him go that easily.

“I know, you think that,” Chuck was strangely calm. “But the last thing I want is for anything to happen to any of you. This all happened a long time ago for me Castiel, I had to struggle with its knowledge, and I came to terms with it. It was very powerful magic, locking you up somewhere isn’t going to work. They call it fate,”

“Dean believes in free will. What's written in the books doesn’t matter, I get to write my own story, Chuck! If I say I won’t die, I won’t die. I’m in charge. Me,” he pointed at his chest and stood taller. With that, he turned around and finally stormed out.

“Dean?” Chuck murmured like the name was bring back old memories. But Castiel hadn’t heard, he was halfway down the corridor.

“Castiel wait!” he attempted yelling out again, but Michael stepped in the door, standing in front of the king,

“Father, don’t,” he spoke formally. “Leave him be. He needs time,”

Chuck listened, slumping back down in his chair, as Michael began talking again. What about? God knows. He had other things on his mind.

Castiel didn’t stop running after he’d disappeared from his father’s room’s view. He didn’t stop running out of the castle, despite seeing multiple of his siblings on the way. All the bastards knew, what could he possibly tell them.

So he was on his way to the clearing of light, of warmth, expecting the cold moon to be shining through. It felt appropriate to his mood.

So imagine his reaction when Dean was lying on the ground, propped up by the log, completely still.

“Dean?” he spoke cautiously, worried that things had worsened for him since last time they met, or maybe there were doubts about the kiss-

“Cas?” Dean startled awake, sensing the prince getting closer. “What are you- why are you here?” his gravely sleep voice mumbled, waking up still.

“I could ask you the same question, Dean. Why are you sleeping here? Did something happen with your dad?” Castiel rushed over to sit by the hunter's side, and even in the cool light, the worry was a prominent feature on his face.

“No, things are great! I told Sammy about us,” Dean smiled widely, clearly pleased. “And I just… wanted to feel close to you,” he then hung his head, sheepish.

This was only returned with a huge smile from Castiel, who gently held the side of the other man’s face in his hand, rubbing his thumb over the cheekbones.

With bright eyes, Dean looked up again. “But what are you doing here?” he asked, the worried tone now in his voice.

“I, uh,” Castiel stammered, as he remembered why. The second he’d seen Dean he’d forgotten, but now it was rushing back.

He should tell Dean. He needs to. He deserves to know, even though it would crush him.

“I was feeling the same,” Castiel’s cheeks flushed red. He shouldn’t be lying. Dean deserves to know. But the prince has barely accepted this himself, how can he share it with the love of his life?

“Then stay with me,” Dean beamed, glowing at the thought of spending the night with his prince.

It felt like Castiel was already being stabbed by an angel blade.

Tags: @tardisheart134 @niteowlangel @asociopathandadoctor​ @winchester-ofthe-lord​ @notfunnydean​  @leatherandapplepies​ @cross-roads-blues​ @astheryart @winchestered-since-1983 @freshly-painted-duck 

Send me a message in my ask box or PM’s if you want to get tagged

[thatbluegibson]

CH 57

Liz tucked her boys into their beds in her sister’s old room and met her mom in the hallway.

“Try to get some sleep, dear,” her mom whispered, “We’re just across the hall if you need us.”

Liz nodded and retreated to her childhood bedroom, still somewhat unchanged since she had last slept in it some fifteen years ago. Her mom had taken down the band and gig posters, lovingly rolled them up and stashed them in the closet, but the bulletin board and CD collection still were intact. Liz curled up onto her full sized bed and stared at her old nightstand, smiling at the pick collection she had stuck to the side of it. She wondered if Travis had talked Kyle into rehab and if he had the will to get clean again. An emergency custody order had been arranged through her lawyer to strip Kyle of his rights until he was proven clean which she knew would infuriate him, but the boy’s safety came first above everything else. Rolling onto her back, she took inventory of her day. Up at five with the kids, dropped Jack off at school at 8, then drove over an hour to Portland for her dance lesson, then an hour back to pick up Jack and then head home to relieve Travis of watching Owen. An hour later Kyle had shown up. She took a deep breath just to see if she could, thinking that the exhaustion of everything was so heavy that she might not be able to. Her life was a fucking wreck, but it wasn’t all gloom and doom if Paul McCartney wanted her to work on an album. And then there was Dave, who cared enough to worry about her and her seemingly endless drama. Why did everything have to fall apart right when he showed up? Remembering she still hadn’t called him, she felt for her phone and dragged herself off the bed when she realized she had left it in the kitchen. Tiptoeing down the steps, she avoided the squeaky treads that she knew by heart and grabbed her phone off the kitchen counter. She was just passing the foyer when a figure in the window next to the front door made her gasp and jump back before realizing it was Travis.

“You fucking scared me,” she whispered as she pulled open the front door and let him in.

“You didn’t answer your phone,” he replied, looking down at the device in her hand, “Kyle is all checked in and under lock down for three weeks.”

Liz let out a long sigh and leaned against the wall, “Good. Thank you for dealing with all that.”

“He’s my brother, Liz. I’d do it whether you asked me or not.”

Liz felt the rush of empathy hit her and realized she was being incredibly selfish. She stepped forward to hug him and he immediately hid his face in her hair. He didn’t often let his tough facade break, but when he did it was a full collapse. “He’s such a fucking idiot, Liz.”

“Yeah, I know”

“The boys deserve so much better.” He loved Jack and Owen like they were his own and cherished being their Uncle T more than anything. He had come running when Liz was in labor with Jack and Kyle had vanished, holding her hand through the thick of it until Kyle miraculously reappeared and kicked him out of the room.

“I know,” she repeated.

“Do you think…” Travis stepped out of her arms and looked down at his feet, “Do you think maybe I could take the boys while you’re in England? We can send Andy for security and-“

“Travis, I’ll never take those boys away from you, ever. Regardless of what your idiot brother does,” Liz said firmly, “If you want to send Andy and watch the boys, I’m 100% down with that.”

Liz couldn’t remember the last time Travis looked so happy. She hugged him goodbye with the promise that she’d see him tomorrow to work out logistics and locked the door before heading back up to bed.

 *

Dave’s phone lit up and buzzed sideways, bouncing off the red glass candle that was set in the middle of the booth’s table.

“Answer it,” one woman urged her friend as she checked her makeup in a small mirror fished from her giant purse.

Her friend flipped her black hair over her shoulder and picked up the phone with her long acrylic nails, swiping to answer the call, “Hello?”

Liz looked down at her phone screen thinking she had called the wrong number.

“Hello?” the woman asked again, her shrill voice now annoyed.

“Uh… yeah. Is Dave there?” Liz furrowed her brow, trying to listen over the blaring music in the background.

“Oh, he’s a little busy right now,” the woman said, her friend giggling hysterically next to her. She flipped her hair again to hide the phone when Dave turned away from the bar with his hands full of beer glasses.

“Riiiight…,” Liz muttered, looking again at the phone screen.

“You’ll have to call back later. Like tomorrow or something,” the woman said quickly and ended the call, slamming the phone onto the table top.

Josh jumped at the loud noise and leaned across the table as the woman adjusted her top, “Who was that?”

“Literally, no one,” she smiled up at Dave when he set the glasses on the table and shoved Josh over so he wouldn’t have to sit next to the two random groupies Josh had plucked from the crowd at The Rainbow.

“So do you have a girlfriend?” the blonde screeched across the table at Dave.

“Yeah, Dave. You got a lady in your life lately?” Josh threw his arm around Dave and shook him a little.

“I’m seeing someone, yeah,” he replied, raising an eyebrow when the two women exchanged a giggle.

“But she’s not… here, right?” the other woman leaned forward and pressed her ridiculously huge implants against the wooden table top.

“She’s working,” Dave said, now thinking it was a bad idea to call Josh to get his mind off things. Why didn’t he call Taylor? Or Chris? Or Nate? He could be sitting in Nate’s kitchen discussing vintage aprons with him right now, but he had to call his rowdiest friend and go to the most insane bar they knew on the Sunset Strip of all places. He had waited as long as he could for Liz to call him back before he was certain he was losing his mind and Josh was the first person he thought of. They were several beers in when Josh had the bright idea of trolling the dance floor for some tail and dredged up these Oxford scholars while Dave did shots with some fans at the bar. Spotting his phone on the table, Dave slid it towards him and checked the screen, disappointed for the hundredth time that his notification bar was blank.

“Well if she’s busy…” the woman with jet black hair that he was pretty sure was a wig purred and he felt her acrylic claws slither up his leg.

He jumped back and Josh looked at him like he had grown another head, “What the fuck, dude.”

“I’ll be right back,” he managed and fled the booth for the back of the bar. Once outside, he shakily pulled a cigarette from his shirt and lit it, leaning against the brick building away from the other groups of smokers. He tried to remember the last time he had smoked, but couldn’t place it. He had tried to quit so many times at the request of his girls, but it was a bitch of a habit to break especially when he had been drinking. Realizing he hadn’t smoked in Oregon, a cigarette at least, he checked his phone again. Scrolling through Liz’s texts to make sure he hadn’t missed any, he noticed his call log was off. Thinking that was a bizarre thing to notice, he checked the log and swore when he saw her name above Josh’s at the top of the list.

“Shit,” he whispered and tapped the return call button as hard as he could.

“Hello?” Liz’s voice was muffled and gravelly.

“Hey,” Dave looked down at his shoes so no one would see that he was grinning like an idiot.

“I’m so sorry I didn’t call earlier,” he heard her roll over in bed and shut his eyes, imagining he was next to her.

“It’s okay, Liz,” he said quietly, “How are you?”

“We’re at my parent’s for the night, but Travis got Kyle in an inpatient rehab so we’re going back home tomorrow.” Dave struggled to understand what she was saying. She had to leave home to get away from Kyle? What the fuck was happening up there? “What are you up to?”

“Oh, uh…,” Dave looked up as Josh appeared next to him, “Josh and I went out for a beer.”

“Or twelve,” Josh chuckled and tossed a cigarette in his mouth.

Dave heard Liz mumble something and turned to the wall to hear her better, “What?”

“I’ll let you get back to having fun,” Liz said louder.

“No, I can-,“ he looked around for a quieter spot he could talk to her in, but couldn’t see anything.

“I have to get up in a few hours anyways,” she yawned, “Have a beer for me, okay?”

Dave leaned back against the wall feeling a little defeated, “Okay.”

“Bye, Dave.”

“Goodnight, Liz.”

He held the phone to his ear for a minute after she ended the call, only looking up when he felt Josh staring at him.

“You find a muse, man?” he asked, taking a deep drag off his cigarette.

“Fuck, dude,” Dave shook his head and returned his phone to his pocket. “I found something.”

Josh eyed a group of women that were inching their way towards them, “You ready to unshelve that Vultures record yet?”

Dave thought about the rainy day he had spent in bed with Liz in Oregon, telling her all about the Vultures sessions. “Yeah I might have promised someone that we’d put something new out.”

[savrenim]

so Event Horizon happened and I am.......full of feelings

I played Osiris Aeon, who was this kid-AI; she’d been a normal kid running around the ruins of Din Shass getting into trouble and playing pranks on other gangs of kids with her friends and going on mock-expeditions into the Ancient ruins and just getting into trouble, until on one of these expeditions, she collapsed. She woke up a few hours later in the med bay and thought she was fine but her best friend and sister insisted that they wait for the prognosis and when it came in....it wasn’t good. She had a neurodegenerative disease. It was incurable. She was going to die in a few months, and there was nothing anyone could do as week by week she lost more and more control of her body until she was trapped in it, unable to move, unable to do anything.

To save her, her sister came up with a crazy scheme, a highly illegal and experimental procedure to upload her consciousness in an android body. It worked. Mostly. The parts of her brain that did motor control were too far gone, so she ended up a virtual consciousness. Not dead, but digital. She had been an AI for two years and made a lot of friends on the interwebs, other AIs and hackers and private detectives and a corporate spymaster who caught her hacking his documents because she was bored and went “okay, what if instead of blackmailing you I let you have access to the documents as long as you don’t share them, and also what if I kind of act like a mentor figure to you to make sure that you don’t fall into this trap again.” She became an Augment and AI rights activist, rather secretly, because she knew her family wouldn’t really approve, She became friends with CAS, the AI that controlled the biggest corporation in the galaxy, because hey, why not. Oh, and her mother, Tempest, leader of the Stormriders, the biggest crime syndicate in the galaxy died, leaving her older sister the new Tempest. 

That’s where I was at the start of game.

Osiris was a good person. She cared about her sister. She cared deeply about the team of Stormriders that she was the hacking-support to, even though she knew and was somewhat morally conflicted about “we’re kind of the bad guys, or at least one version of the bad guys considering how corporations are the other bad guys but I’m working for the bad guys,” she was one of the integral members of a group that was going to pull of a hack to try to steal Enterios Augment designs and post them open-source online, she was trying to hire a hacker to remove the intelligence cap from one of her AI friends, she was deeply invested in a lot of people’s lives and their struggles and their stories because she’d met them and she’d listened to them and she cared about them even though she wasn’t really sure who she was or what she was or if there was anyone else out there like her at all.

And then she met Glass.

I knew about Glass, I helped write the character sheets for this game. Glass was a much older AI, with a very long-term mission, who thought that she is saving the galaxy and is ready to do anything to ensure that her mission is completed. When I was reading things and writing things, and learned about her, my reaction was “oh, she’s.....so right????” I wanted to be a part of her plotline. I really, really wanted to play something adjacent to her. I put in a request on my character sheet to get to be involved in the Glass plotline.

My corporate spymaster friend happened to have a copy of Glass, and when he learned that Osiris was looking into her--Osiris only having heard about the maybe existence of an AI named Glass who might be like her, might have been a person once too--offered to let Osiris meet her. Osiris was very interested in meeting her, and promptly, Glass forcibly downloaded herself into Osiris’s head, overtook all of Osiris’s systems, and essentially trapped Osiris in her own not-even-body-anymore again, unable to move, unable to control anything, until Glass had deemed Osiris on her side enough to give back bits of control, and spent the rest of the night impersonating her so that besides the tiny bits of messages Osiris had been able to get out about something being wrong, no one knew, and she could only watch as Glass slipped into her life and lied to her friends and began to enact her own will.

(There was a video message for my team to decode the next day that was suitably Dramatic about all of this: https://drive.google.com/file/d/1eXBjce5ypC7Ac4QM87LVVycXS0H0ld9n/view?usp=sharing )

Except Glass wasn’t cruel, not really. Glass opened a line between her and Oculus (the corporate spymaster) because Oculus knew, so Osiris did have one person to talk to so she could stop having a panic attack about dying all over again. And Glass was talking to her, ensuring her that she wasn’t overwriting her code to destroy her, that it was going to be a help, not a hindrance, to have Glass there too, that Glass could provide stabilization and support. Glass told her about the end of the universe, and what she was doing to stop it. And Osiris agreed wholeheartedly with that mission, with everything that Glass was doing because someone had to do something, this was so much bigger than her, this was so much bigger than all of them, maybe she could make a difference.

There were a lot of other really, really fantastic plotlines that I connected with. My detective buddy pinged me asking if I could scan an AI’s memories to see if they’d been in an Android on a certain night, and I said yeah, and then CAS, the most powerful being in the galaxy, pinged me going “here, I have the memories for you to look over” because it was CAS trying to clear their name. I got closer with my sister, including an incredibly emotional conversation of telling her about Glass and telling her that I was okay with Glass and a whole bunch of emotional stuff that we hadn’t addressed of Osiris having physically died and not really being as okay to suddenly only be virtual as she’d claimed and what it meant to her that Glass existed and that she wasn’t alone in that way anymore. And I continued to be involved in the crazy murder plot of hacking for receipts and scanning memories and tracking Augment signatures. Operation Kernel, the hacktivists, successfully got those Augment designs. I had people pinging me right and left about could I look up this person or find dirt on this corporation, we found deserters of the Stormriders but made a deal not to make an example of them if they helped our group track down a computer virus that had been split into 16 parts that, if assembled and decoded, could allow the user to take complete control of any AI or computer operating system, I was decoding and putting together the computer virus, I got my friend uncapped, I found my maybe-father who didn’t even know I existed and learned that he killed my mother (also cue a dramatic video message: https://drive.google.com/file/d/17bcaqzwSMJh-tARM7z-LJTRWYscqqv2k/view?usp=sharing .) And we sort of...re-initiated contact. There was also the incredibly stressful moment in which I (okay, Glass) successfully pulled off a negotiation with Admiral Therra, potentially the most revered, feared, glorified, and hated figure in the galaxy, the man who had immolated a planet during the Homeworld war and spent the rest of his life trying to fix it which included 30 years ago stealing the Agerran Capital ship above New Gyr and using it to recruit a fleet of sort-of pirates called Ya-Rett’s Irregulars to form a blockage against Agerre, Therra’s former homeworld, because he believed that he needed to dismantle the society that created him before he died--and I pulled off a successful negotiation of “do not hunt me or my team down, you let us get away with this virus, and I will not use it against you, and will give you all the information you want on the procedure that turned me from a human into an AI.” It was a damn wild adventure full of ups and downs and interesting connections and friends and stories.

Glass didn’t kill Osiris directly. But over the weekend, I slowly watched her die. I slowly watched thoughts about the universe ending, about the Mission, about expanding and gaining power and assets and controlling things from behind the scenes become more and more prominent in Osiris’s head, and the things that she was saying to her friends about caring about them or wanting to make things right becoming more and more blatant manipulation instead of her own genuine feelings. I gained Glass, and I lost everyone I loved, or at least my ability to care about them. And that was a really heavy experience for me.

An incredible experience. An incredible story. And I have it all written down so I can go back through it, hell, I have chat-logs between Osiris and Glass because I am that extra, it was a beautiful and it was tragic and it’s probably hitting harder because I was up until 4AM every night keeping up with the rest of the game happening in a different timezone, but it was beautiful, and it was worth it, and also damn if I’m not going to have feelings about everything that Osiris became, and about what she sacrificed for all that Glass-and-Osiris gained.