#like the only way id be able to fit 2 feets on my hand would be if it was a baby damnit like wtf

[hazeybabe]

Hi. I like men into feet now I guess.

You made me feel so lil 🫠

[harleybeaumont]

Love Me The Way I Am- Book 1

Chapter 8

Pairings: Maxwell x Harley (MC), more in future chapters

Book: TRR Book 2

Synopsis- After King Liam proposes to Madeleine, Harley and Maxwell grow closer while they attempt to uncover who’s behind her blackmail. Maxwell is hiding a medical condition he’s kept secret for most of his life. Due to his father constantly berating Maxwell during his youth, he believes no one will ever love him.. until Harley comes along and he dares to hope.

A/N- This somewhat follows along with the events in TRR Book 2. I have removed/added certain events to go along with my story! Harley Hughes is my character who is based loosely off of Riley. The other characters belong to PB.

Warnings- language, drinking, sensuality, some NSFW

18+ only

Word count- 3,180

Catch up here

The royal engagement tour, which was also a front for Liam to initiate new trade agreements, was in full swing. Harley had to admit that she was excited to travel to so many new places, even though she had to deal with Madeleine and the other ladies at court. Penelope was such a weirdo who was way too into her dogs. And Kiara was so stuck up. What kind of person speaks French nonstop to people who don't know French? A snob.

At least she had Maxwell, Drake, Hana, and occasionally Liam. They snuck around Applewood Manor where her “scandal” happened, looking for clues. They actually found an ID badge in the tree outside the window of Harley's room. It belonged to a freelance photographer and it even had her picture on it.. Wow, what an idiot! Harley thought. 

The next step was actually tracking down the photographer. Her name wasn't on the ID badge, but surely she had to be at one of the many events on the engagement tour. Maxwell, Harley, and Bertrand landed at their next destination in Italy and hopped off the plane.

“I'm so tired!” Harley yawned and laid her head against Maxwell's shoulder as they walked along the jet bridge into the airport. “And my butt is numb from sitting for so long. Carry meeeee.”

Maxwell scoffed teasingly, “You think you're the only one with a sore butt? Besides, it's your turn to carry me!”

Harley stopped in front of him, grabbed his legs, and began to carry him piggyback style.

“Holy crap, how are you so strong?” He laughed as he held on to her.

“Years of carrying heavy trays of food, remember! Bertrand grab our bags!” She yelled as she walked through the terminal with Max on her back. Bertrand frowned and shook his head in dismay.

There had been some tension between Max and Harley after she felt like he was hiding something from her, but she couldn't stay mad at him. By the end of the next day they were back to their usual playful selves. Maybe he really was just sick from drinking on an empty stomach. At least that's what she hoped.

The afternoon before the dinner party, Harley and Hana had an appointment at a local boutique in Italy to find a dress. Harley felt bad that the Beaumonts were still buying her clothes, but they insisted. And she had most definitely run out of money not being able to work for months. When they entered the boutique, they were surprised to find Olivia there, being fitted for a glamorous, floor-length red gown.

Olivia smirked haughtily, “Oh great, I thought this was a classy place, but apparently it's just a second rate shop for basic bitches.” Olivia was as fierce as she was gorgeous. She was tall with fiery red hair and if looks could kill, she would be a serial murderer. Honestly Harley wasn't sure that Olivia hadn’t killed anyone before. But like she realized with Drake, Olivia was kind of a softie deep down.

“Apparently you have the wrong address.. If you're looking for a dress to wear to your next seance, the Spirit Halloween Store is two streets down.” Harley flopped down onto the plush white couch in front of her and put her feet up.

Olivia put a hand over her heart feigning offense, “Oh you wound me, you classless whore. Why don't you get caught screwing someone from court again and disappear for another month?”

“You know you just want to see me in my underwear again. I told you before, all you have to do is ask.” Harley blew her a kiss. “Besides, if I left you’d miss me too much. I know you're obsessed with me, you venomous bitch.”

“Jesus, you two!” Hana shook her head as the seamstress working on Olivia’s dress looked between the two of them in horror.

Harley and Olivia had an understanding ever since they found out that they were both being blackmailed. She actually liked Olivia now, and they thoroughly enjoyed insulting one another. 

“Look if you wanted my help picking out a dress, you didn't have to follow me all the way here.” Olivia stepped out of the gown as the seamstress finished pinning her alterations. 

“Aw, Olivia, you do care!”

Olivia scoffed and sorted through the racks of dresses, clad only in her red lacy lingerie. “Here.” She thrust a dress into Harley’s arms. “This one will hide your ugliness the best.” 

“It's red..” Harley put her hand on her chest gasping in mock disbelief, “You want us to match don't you!? Oh my god that is so sweet! I knew we were friends!”

Olivia put her perfectly manicured hands on her hips. “You're delusional. I simply picked the one that'll make you look the least like the greasy barmaid you really are.”

Hana rolled her eyes and scanned the dresses. “I'm going to try on this pink one!” She held it against her with a bright smile. “It's so pretty and sparkly!”

Olivia plopped down on the couch, “Yes it just screams, ‘sidekick to the poor and delusional.’ Perfect for you Hana.”

Harley pretended to pout as she sat beside her, “Olivia you know I get jealous when you talk to other women like that. I thought I was your one and only.”

Hana sighed and went into the dressing room. Olivia lowered her voice. “Listen, I have some information. My sources tell me that the photographer will be attending the party tonight. I don't know why I'm telling you this, but I suppose we are unfortunately in this mess together.”

“Your ‘sources’? How very cloak and dagger.” 

Olivia rolled her eyes and crossed her arms indignantly. “You have no idea what I'm capable of. As the Duchess of Lythikos, I have an army at my command. You don't think I have reliable sources who are willing to do anything for me?”

Harley smiled at her. She loved getting her riled up. “I know, you're very impressive Livvy. And thanks for the info. I'll let you know if I find out anything.”

“Please, like you could find out anything that I hadn't already known days before.”

Harley laughed as she joined Hana in the changing room to try on her dress.

Olivia slipped her tank top, leather pants, and stilettos back on and called out to the seamstress as she headed for the door. “Please make sure it's delivered to my room before 6:00 tonight. And don't forget about the pockets for my concealed knives. Thirteen; exactly where I showed you.”

That night, Harley and Maxwell walked into the glimmering restaurant for the dinner party. It was packed with nobles and several members of the press. Sounds of soft jazz and the hum of conversations and laughter filled the air. Bertrand told Harley that Max went out and got a suit to match her dress. Her heart fluttered when she looked at their reflection in the mirror. They really looked good together- like an actual couple. She wondered if that's why he did it and her heart fluttered again. Maxwell grabbed two glasses of champagne from a passing waiter and handed Harley one with a smile. He held his glass out to her in a toast and winked, “Cheers to.. looking damn good tonight in that red dress.” 

Harley smiled but before she could say a word, Penelope ran up and pulled her aside. “Oh Lady Harley, I love your dress, you simply must tell me where you got it!”

Harley gave Maxwell a confused look as she walked away with her. On a normal day, Penelope barely spoke to her. Maybe she’s drunk. At twenty-one, Penelope had been the youngest lady in the group vying to marry Liam. She had an unhealthy obsession with poodles and an overwhelming drive to get married. Those were the only things Harley had ever heard her talk about; Poodles and marriage. Drake had even started calling her ‘Poodle-ope.’

Harley staggered as she tried to keep up with Penelope who was pulling her across the room. “Oh, um I can't honestly remember the name of the place, I can ask Hana if you-”

 “Yes yes, that's fine..” Penelope interrupted, glancing around the room suspiciously. She twirled her long black hair that had been permed into tight ringlets. Harley thought she looked just like a poodle, and knowing Penelope that was probably intentional.  “Look, I have something I need to ask you.”

Harley arched an eyebrow and looked at her questioningly as Penelope led her to a secluded alcove. “Okaaay.”

“You're close with Lord Maxwell, aren't you?” 

“Yes..” 

“Ok good.” Penelope was still looking around the room as if she expected to be ambushed at any moment. She leaned in and giggled, “Ok since we're such good friends, I need you to put in a good word for me! I talked to Madeleine and she thinks we would be a perfect match! I mean, he's what, twenty-three? Surely he's looking for a wife by now.”

Harley nearly choked. “Oh, my..” She wasn't sure how to play this. There was no way in hell Maxwell would ever want to marry Penelope. She was one of the most boring and awkward people Harley had ever met. She pushed out a breath and shook her head. “First of all, he's twenty-six. And second, I uh, don't think you're his type.”

Penelope looked as if she had been slapped. “Not his type?! I am a noble lady from a good house who would serve him and give him plenty of children! What more could he want?!” She closed her eyes and sighed dreamily, “We would have a house full of children and poodles! And besides, at twenty-six he shouldn't be so picky! He’s practically over the hill!”

My god this woman is delusional. “Over the hill?? There’s.. a lot to unpack here, but let me start with the fact that getting married and having tons of babies doesn't sound like something Maxwell would want at all.”

Penelope put her hands on her hips and stared her down. “Harley, I didn't want to believe the rumors about the two of you, but I think this proves it.”

“Hang on, what rumors?” 

“That the two of you are..” She paused and whispered loudly. “sleeping together!” A nearby reporter perked up. Oh, hell no, Harley thought. ‘Poodle-ope’ was not about to cause another scandal for her.

Harley smiled sweetly at the reporter and led Penelope farther away as she spoke quietly. “Look, I don't know where you heard that, but we are not sleeping together.” She smiled and tried not to roll her eyes, “You're totally right, I'm sure he would love to get married and have dozens of babies and poodles and all that shit… I just.. Don't know if you two are right for each other.”

Penelope pouted and crossed her arms. “So what exactly is his type then?”

Oh boy. Harley didn't want to be rude, but she had to snuff out this woman's delusions asap.  “If I had to guess, I'd say someone who's funny, energetic, witty, impulsive, beautiful..” Oh my god I'm such a bitch.

“Oh really?! Someone like YOU!?” Penelope huffed loudly as she stomped past her. Not a minute later she was sitting next to Neville and stroking his arm seductively. “Lord Neville, how do you feel about lots of children?”

Harley shook her head in disbelief as she walked back over to Maxwell who was trying to catch mini quiches in his mouth.

“What was that about?” He looked at her questioningly.

“I honestly don't want to ever think about it again.” Harley popped a quiche in her mouth.

“So, Olivia said the photographer would be here?” Maxwell scanned the room and casually leaned back against the wall.

“That's what she said.. Unless she was just messing with me. Wait, is that her?!” Harley pointed toward the back of the room where a female photographer almost identical to the photo on the badge was standing.

Max enthusiastically high-fived her. “Nice work, secret agent hot stuff! It definitely looks like her!”

Harley pulled him into a secluded corner. “How are we going to get the information out of her? If she knows we’re onto her she might leave! Why didn't we think of a plan?!”

“Don't ask me! You and Bertrand are the brains of this operation!”

Harley chewed on the inside of her cheek while she thought. “Shit. Maybe we can bribe her with money.”

“Ya except Bertrand would never go for that..” He snapped his fingers, “Oh I know! Torture!”

“Maxwell!”

“Sorry, that was extreme. I'm just out of my element here! I'm not a planner!” 

“We need to do something crazy to bring the press together into one place..” Harley looked around for an idea. 

Maxwell thought for a minute and clasped his hands together, beaming. ”Ok, I have an idea! Whatever happens, just roll with it ok?”

Harley chased after him,“Wait Max, what are you talking abou-”

Maxwell ran to the front of the room and grabbed a glass of champagne, tapping it with a knife to signal a toast. The glass shattered all over the floor, but it got everyone's attention anyway. “Oops. Ahem! How is everyone doing tonight?”

The crowd stared at him in confusion and a waiter scurried over to clean up the broken glass.

Max glanced around awkwardly. “Alright then.. I want to make a toast to the lovely Lady Harley Hughes. She came into my life recently, and made me realize that something was missing. Something I didn't know I needed until now.”

Harley looked at him in shock. What is he doing??

Maxwell walked toward her and got down on one knee. Everyone gasped and the press went wild snapping pictures. 

He winked up at Harley and she grabbed his hand to play along. “Maxwell what are you saying?” She gasped with her other hand dramatically over her heart and winked back at him.

“I'm saying that I love..”  Time seemed to stand still as he struggled to finish his train of thought. He looked into her shimmering blue eyes, and for a moment it was as if everyone else disappeared. Maxwell's mind suddenly went blank. His heart was pounding, and he completely forgot about the plan. He was paralyzed by the sudden realization that overtook his entire being. “I love…” You. Oh my god.. 

Maxwell shook his head to clear his thoughts, and physically struggled to stop the all too real confession from pouring out of his mouth. Thankfully a server holding a tray of Panna Cotta passed by, snapping him back to reality and reminding him of his initial plan. He snatched a plate and looked down at it, realizing he had no idea what this even was. Custard? Flan? He shoved a spoonful in his mouth. No, neither of those. The crowd was still hanging on his every word. “I love.. this squishy stuff!” 

Harley clasped her hands together, trying not to laugh, “Clearly a match made in Heaven!”

The crowd groaned and grumbled as they began to disperse. Sure enough the photographer they were looking for was right next to them at the front. 

“Let's get her!” Maxwell yelled.

The photographer looked at them with wide eyes and started running toward the exit.

Harley sighed, “Oh my god, now she knows we're onto her Max!”

“Shit, I didn’t think about that. Come on!” He grabbed her hand as they chased after her.

They ran down the marble stairs and through the crowded lobby nearly knocking over a passing waiter. They were close behind the photographer as she exited the building into the night.

“Fuck, what are we doing?! I feel like I’m on COPS!” Harley panted as she took off her heels and kept running. 

The woman ran into the road, dodging the cars that were honking and speeding past her. 

“Hell no! I'm not getting run over today!” Harley flailed out her arms, skidding to a stop on the curb. 

Maxwell kept going. He dodged multiple passing cars and rolled over the hood of a parked Maserati. When he landed on the other side of the street he looked back at Harley with his mouth agape. “Oh my god, did you see that?! Please tell me someone got that on video!”

“Maxwell! You idiot, you could have been killed!” Harley yelled from across the street after she watched the whole scene in horror. 

“Not with these skills!” Maxwell turned back to where the photographer had been running and followed her into a dark alley. By that time, the traffic had slowed to a stop and Harley ran across the street after them.

They had her cornered. The photographer looked around nervously. “I know who you are.. What are you going to do to me?”

Harley and Maxwell looked at each other. They hadn't planned this far. Harley was starting to feel like a criminal.

“We just want answers.”  Harley slowly walked toward her. “I just need to know who set me up and why.”

The woman glanced around as if she was thinking about running again. The only other way out of the alley was to hop on a dumpster and climb over a barbed wire fence. After a long pause she sighed defeatedly, “Look.. I don't know who it was or why. The name they gave me was ‘Jane Fluffybottom’, and that's a fake name if I've ever heard one.” She pulled out her phone. “The only thing I can give you is the last 4 digits of the credit card they paid with. “

“You're sure that's all you know? Don't make us go bad cop on you.” Maxwell tried and failed to look tough.

She rolled her eyes, “Look, this job isn’t worth whatever mess you two are mixed up in. I don't want any part of it.” The photographer showed them the credit card receipt on her phone with the last 4 digits on it. “Now please, don't either of you ever come near me again or I will call the authorities!”

With that she quickly walked past them, looking back nervously as if she expected them to follow her.

“Well that wasn't so hard!” Maxwell put his hand up for a high-five but Harley just glared at him.

“You ran out into traffic!” 

“I know, but I was just trying to-”

“Maxwell, don't you know how important you are to me? What if something had happened to you?” She started to choke up at the thought. 

He gave her a soft smile and put his arms around her. Even though she was upset, it warmed his heart to hear how much she cared. “I'm sorry. I was just caught up in the moment, I guess. I promise I'll never run out into traffic again.”

“Good.” Harley hugged him tighter. As they walked back to the restaurant side by side, she smiled up at him. “Maybe we can find some traffic cam footage or something because you did look like a total badass.”

“I knew it!” He laughed delightedly.

[edge-lorde]

For the ask meme: 1, 30, 34, 35 and C! For any of the brothers unnamed ( or for all four of them if u feel like it c: )

ill answer for all of them just cause c:

What’s the maximum amount of time your character can sit still with nothing to do?

'mom' clone- probably a day or two. hes definitely used to the old way of receiving orders where the clones just do them without asking questions, just standing around doing nothing included. without the hive mind to keep his mind from wandering though, he's used to being on his feet all the time and would eventually get antsy without a project.

'baby'- probably a few hours at most. this clones doesn't have the experience of doing orders without questioning them and would find something to do once he got bored/didnt think there was a good enough reason to be doing nothing.

'funny'- also potentially a long time depending if it was an order. if he knew his job was to stand in one place by himself for a certain number of days he might be able to do it by zoning out and entertaining himself with his thoughts (like me in high school tee hee hee). if he was just on his own or with his brothers then like 20 minutes.

'shitty' clone- like 10 minutes lol.

30.  Who do they most regret meeting? 

shitty clone grouses, and mom clone is tired, but i dont think any of my boys regret meeting each other or anyone else. baby clone kind of regrets sitting next to shitty and funny clone right now, but not meeting them in general.

34. How hard is it for them to shake a sense of guilt? 

(: very lol. it would be easiest for baby to do this, not having the same level of hordolic guilt as the others. next easiest is probably mom clone, who is comortable enough in his identity to keep a lot of personal guilt at bay because he actively is trying to keep the horde afloat, and doesnt think anything the horde did is wrong, and is too busy to be thinking about himself... then funny clone who is more likely to ignore his guilt and just keep going even if it never fully goes away. it would be the most difficult for shitty clone, who feels all emotions very strongly and then feels guilty about feeling them.

35. How do they treat the things their friends come to them excited about? Are they supportive? 

mom clone- yes. hes a little stuffy and doesnt always understand where the others are coming from but he always tries. even if its against horde custom-- he wont discount it out of hand and hes not a snitch.

baby- is wary at this point lol. he has a significant disadvantage when trying to tell if someone is messing with him and a lot of older brothers.

funny clone- he would be excited and giddy, if a little bit of a troll at times. he would be happy for the attention and is very easily entertained.

shitty clone- hard maybe. he would probably mock whatever the thing was but can usually be coaxed into having fun with something anyway. however he IS a snitch lol, will still snitch even if he is supportive.

C. Did you have trouble figuring out where they fit in their own story?

for these main boys, no! coming up with an active character like shitty clone is what made the comic-- his arc and funny clones arc are the whole story. i had the idea for baby clone later but his arc is about as thought out as the other 2's. mom clone is the only one im having trouble with. i see him more as a character who represents something, his arc doesnt move the plot, but it is related to it... im still trying to find a way to give the poor boy a break!

in the early pre-plot comics i had some where he got to be more happy and silly, id like to bring some of that back... but now it has to make sense in the timeline or something :P

[writing-on-the-wahl]

Writing Snippet #10

O Positive

Part 2

Ok so @im-a-wonderling had a FANTASTIC idea for a snippet, but I’m putting the ask below to not cause spoilers lol:)

Special thanks to @im-a-wonderling as well for the beta read, edits, suggestions, and expert medical knowledge to help make this way more realistic than my original draft! You’re amazing!!!

—————————————————

Hero shifted from side to side as she stood in line, fingers clutching a bottle of orange juice.

“Well you’re prepared.” Hero’s head shot up as the attendant waved her forward. “Normally people wait until after to go for the juice.”

She chuckled nervously. “That’s me... prepared.”

“ID?” She scrambled through her wallet, making sure she didn’t grab either of the two aliases she’d already used at different locations that morning.

She would have used the same ID, but last time she’d tried to explain that she healed super fast- a result of her powers- and could donate more, the resulting argument had lasted nearly an hour, with nurses questioning whether her “magic blood” could even be used at all (it was perfectly normal blood thank you very much), and they’d still only let her donate the normal amount.

She handed him the correct ID, and he shoved a clipboard full of paperwork at her. A phlebotomist led her to a reclining chair. Even though she’d filled out the information twice that morning, it still took approximately twelve years to finish the stack of forms. The phlebotomist returned, and began asking her an equally long list of questions. She only half paid attention to the stream of questions.

Have you received any blood transfusions?

No.

Have you traveled in the last 6 months?

No.

Are you free of HIV or any other blood diseases?

Yes.

Have you ever been pregnant?

Yes.

Wait! No!

The phlebotomist chuckled as she snapped on a pair of gloves. “Ok let’s see that arm.” Hero held out her mark-free arm. After the first donation that morning, the needle mark and resulting bruise had been gone in a matter of minutes. After the second, she’d had to wait over thirty minutes before the signs of her deception to fade. The phlebotomist wrapped a tourniquet above her elbow before consulting her paperwork.

“It says here you’d like to do a double donation?”

“Yes.”

“You have to be 150lbs in order to donate that much sweetie.” The older woman eyed Hero dubiously.

Her throat went dry. “I know. I am.”

“I’m just going to take one bag today; you’re looking a little pale, honey.”

“But the other phlebotomist let me—”She cut off and cleared her throat. “I mean, last time I donated. It was fine.”

The phlebotomist shook her head as she felt the inside of Hero’s arm for the vein.

Hero forced a cheery smile. “This is important. I’ll be fine.”

By tomorrow, she added silently. Or the day after that...

Last time she’d only been able to get in one regular and one double donation before she’d gotten called into help with a work emergency. She’d spent the rest of the day in bed, but had woken up fine the next morning. Of course, that was only half the amount of blood...

The woman narrowed her eyes before shaking her head.

“The shortage is the worst it’s been in years, but I’m only going to take one bag today.”

“But—”

“Unless you’d like to go stand on that scale over there?”

Hero blanched, then mutely shook her head.

The woman muttered something that sounded suspiciously like ‘I thought not,’ before raising her voice to a normal volume. “And make sure to take it easy and drink that orange juice you’ve got there.” She nodded at the bottle in Hero’s hand as she swabbed her arm with an alcohol wipe and picked up a needle.

“I will.”

————— 30 minutes (or so) later —————

Hero made it ten steps out of the building before she collapsed against the wall, head swimming. She peeled the tape and cotton ball off her arm. Blood immediately began to trickle down her forearm.

She struggled to unscrew the cap of her juice, hands shaking. Finally, she succeeded, the cap slipping through her fingers and bouncing against the sidewalk. She brought the bottle to her lips, but only managed a few sips before her stomach revolted. She clamped a hand over her mouth and closed her eyes, willing herself not to throw up.

She closed her eyes and leaned back against the wall, ignoring the curious stares from pedestrians on the crowded downtown street.

She needed to get home.

A quaking boom shook the ground, and Hero cracked open her eyes to see a plume of smoke a few blocks over.

Most likely the bank on main. Or the diamond store next door.

She took a step towards the plume of smoke, but the ground was still rocking, and she had a feeling it wasn’t from the explosion. She closed her eyes as panicked civilians began running to and fro.

Her phone rang out in a pealing tone, sending her a foot into the air, her orange juice falling to the ground with a sticky splash.

The emergency line.

Groaning, she accepted the call.

“Hero! Villain just set off a bomb on Main Street.”

“Diamonds or bank vault?”

“BOTH! You need to get over there now!”

Hero covered her eyes. She wanted to, she really did. If only the ground would stop moving.

“It’s my day off. Send Other Hero.” She cringed at her seemingly callous words, but she didn’t think the Hero Agency would exactly condone what she’d just done.

Even if she was just trying to save lives.

“Other Hero is undercover spying on Supervillain. Your phone shows you are six blocks away. That will take you 12 seconds to get your speedy butt over there.”

A second explosion rocked the ground.

Oh he didn’t. Hero growled, pushing off the wall and taking a hesitant step forward.

The ground was finally still. Much better. She pulled out the spare mask she always kept in her purse and fitted it across her eyes.

12 seconds, she scoffed.

————— 9 (and a half) seconds later————

Hero skidded to a halt in front of the shattered front windows of Pristine Diamonds.

The windows of the bank next door were in a similar condition. She rested a hand against the ash stained wall, gasping as the world spun.

She forced her head up, scanning the scene. A gaping hole had been blown in the wall connecting the two businesses, and smoke was still pouring out of both buildings. She darted into the diamond store, moving without her super speed through the black air. She made it to the back of the store, where the massive safe stood empty, the door hanging drunkenly off one hinge.

She cursed and made her way to the jagged hole. She was halfway across the bank lobby when a figure leapt from the smoke and she was thrown to the side.

She scrambled to her feet as Villain faded back into the smoke. His laughter echoed around her as she spun in desperate circles. The smoke thickened until it was nearly solid around her.

“You’re slow today, Hero.” The voice rang out behind her, and she whirled around, but there was nothing but smoke.

Her vision was truly swimming now. She swiped at her eyes. “And you’re extravagant. You can create smoke from nothing, you didn’t actually need to set off a bomb.”

“I was creating a passage between the businesses. They should thank me.” The voice was to her right, and she spun again. There was no point in super speed if she couldn’t see. Her head was starting to pound.

“And that outfit.” The whisper brushed against her neck, and she whirled around again, only to see the smoke curling in around the place where Villain had just stood.

She glanced down self-consciously at her pink shorts and baggy tie-dye T-shirt.

“You already ruined my day off. There’s no need to mock my clothes as well.” She huffed, taking determined strides in the direction she hoped was the door.

“Who said I was mocking?”

She sensed him behind her the instant before he attacked. She spun. He hit. She flew. Across the room. To the floor. Over chunks of rubble. And into a brick wall.

Her back cracked against the wall, knocking the air from her lungs.

Smoke swirled through the air as Villain emerged, the dark tendrils receding to lap at his heels.

He looked surprised; he’d never actually managed to land a blow that direct before.

Hero forced herself off the ground. It was time to retreat. She summoned her powers, but between her swimming head and the sharp pain in her leg, she made it only a few feet before sinking back to the ground with a quiet whimper of pain.

She forced her blurry gaze up to Villain, who was regarding her with a strange expression on his face.

“I thought you healed as fast as you can run.”

She blinked, and realized he wasn’t looking at her, but at her leg.

She looked down. Blood seeped from a long shallow gash on the outside of her calf, no doubt from a sharp piece of rubble.

Smaller cuts and bruises covered the rest of her body, and none of them were healing.

“That’s strange.” She wiped clumsily at the cut.

Villain’s eyes narrowed. “You seem oddly off your game, Hero. You haven’t lost that much blood.”

She mustered the energy to glare at Villain. “I did tell you this was my day off.”

“I wonder if it’s from the blood earlier.” She mused, floating on a hazy cloud.

The tendrils of smoke scattered as Villain knelt down beside her.

“What blood? You came to fight me when you were already injured?”

His voice sounded as though he was speaking through a tunnel.

“There’s a national blood shortage. Worst it’s been in years.”

“So?”

“So, I donated.”

Villain scoffed as he produced a cloth from somewhere and began wrapping it around her leg. “You have regenerative healing powers, a pint of blood wouldn’t have made you this weak.”

Hero shook her head and weakly held up five fingers.

Villain froze. “FIVE PINTS OF BLOOD!” He roared, smoke dancing angrily around them. “ARE YOU ABSOLUTELY INSANE!? YOU SHOULD BE DEAD RIGHT NOW!”

Her head throbbed with every word, and she flinched away.

“I heal fast.” It was barely a whisper, but his fiery eyes met hers.

“I don’t care how fast you heal. No one can survive losing half their blood.” At least now his rage was contained to a low snarl. He grabbed Hero’s hands and pulled her to her feet.

“Your hands are freezing! What were you thinking!? Why would you face me after donating that much blood?!? Are you trying to get yourself killed?”

He continued to seethe as he swept Hero into his arms and strode through the bank. He paused only to swing a bulging duffle bag onto one shoulder before he swept out through a second gaping hole into a back alley. A dark SUV was waiting in the shadows. He tossed the bag into the back and slid Hero into the passenger seat.

She curled against the warm leather.

“I was just trying to help.” She mumbled, her voice muffled as she spoke into the headrest.

“I know.” A hand ran down her hair. “Close your eyes. Sleep.”

She forced her eyes wider, remembering. “I can’t. I have a job to do.”

Villain shut her door and rounded the car to the driver’s side. Slipping into place, he started the engine.

“Not today.” He managed a small smile even as his eyes crinkled in concern.

“It’s your day off, remember?”

Original request from @im-a-wonderling:

“I started thinking about a story where the hero donates blood and then the villain does something that the hero has to go and face them. The villain notices the hero is off their game, but assumes they’re just tired or something. Then, the hero gets injured. The injury is really minor in terms of blood loss, but the hero is pale and sickly and can’t stand up and the villain gets all protective like “WHY would you come and FACE ME if you DONATED BLOOD today?!” And the hero mumbles “They’re having a blood shortage.” And the villain is ready to wring the hero’s neck for not taking care of themselves. So they just scoop the hero up in their arms and brings them back to their lair to feed them and let them sleep.”

Again thanks so much for the request!! I hope I did it justice:)

[capricorn-stark]

Unexpected Encounters

pairing: dick grayson x reader, first encounter

warning: n/a

a/n: yeah I got nothing, pretty casual fic

part 2

Bludhaven was a city so miserable, it could give Gotham a run for its money any day of the week. 

You would know - after having lived in Gotham for most your life, only to end up relocating to Bludhaven for your job, you could whole-heartedly say that Bludhaven made you long for your dark, perpetually rain-drenched city. The place was practically like Gotham’s Crime Alley - if Crime Alley had been expanded to a house an entire city of people.

One of the biggest differences between the two, however, was that there was no silent guardian preventing the crime rate from steadily crawling upwards with each passing hour, no Dark Knight in the form of some stranger dressed up in a bat costume to save his citizens from killer clowns and watered-down furries in penguin costumes. In Bludhaven, you would simply manage to survive on your own, or you would get mugged and end up at the bottom of its polluted harbor for some poor soul to find weeks later. 

And that was simply how life was. 

Granted, those kind of thoughts definitely were not offering you comfort as you walked down the streets of Bludhaven yourself, keys between your fingers and the feel of your gun concealed in your other hand as you kept carefully drifting beneath the lights of the dying streetlamps, cautious of directing any sort of attention to yourself. You had missed your bus home after working a bit too late, and you couldn’t exactly wait around for the next one to arrive in another two hours. 

Luckily for you, you saw no real dangers tonight. 

Maybe, for once, it would be a quiet trip home. 

Naturally, you were immediately proven wrong.

You were a generally cautious person, as anyone who grew up in a city like Gotham had to be in order to survive there at all. You were careful of your surroundings, who you talked to, who you ran into, and where you walked. You were in no way stupid enough to go into a random alleyway because it just so happened to be a conveniently located “short-cut”. Ever.

You were smarter than that.

But you hadn’t noticed the presence of a man in a dark and worn hood trailing behind you for what, as far as you knew, could’ve been quite some time now, formerly concealed in the crowds you had walked through. He was only a few feet away from you now, his steps quickening ever so slightly when he noticed you catching sight of him in the window of a passing store. You remembered that you had seen that same man nearly five minutes prior a few blocks before. 

That, as anyone could’ve guessed, was definitely not a good sign. 

The crowds were thinning as you edged closer to your part of the city, fewer and fewer people lining the stores and alleys, with even fewer who looked like they would help you if you happened to need it. You couldn’t exactly dart into the nearest corner store and expect him to leave you alone, there was a much higher chance of him simply leaving your line of sight altogether and reappearing when you finally stepped outside. If you tried to book it, you were more than certain that a man that size could easily catch up.

The last option you had was a confrontation, but living in places like this for as long as you had, you were sure it could escalate immediately and leave you in a much, much worse situation. You had a gun, but you couldn’t gauge how effective it would be if he happened to have one himself, and this was Bludhaven. 

Everyone had a gun.

So, all your options were bad. You felt your grip around your gun tighten anyways as you walked faster, cursing under your breath as you noticed him doing the same behind you. Your heart was racing now, breath quickening as you tried to tell yourself that you were almost home, that you just had one more block to go before- 

“Excuse me, ma’am. Are you alright?” 

You looked up at the source of the new voice that had gotten you to stop in your tracks and meet a pair of bright blue eyes. The man in front of you offered you a reassuring smile as he tapped the badge on his uniform.

Bludhaven Police Department. 

“Someone bothering you?”

You turned your head to look back at where the man following you had been, only to feel a chill run down your spine as you realized he had disappeared into the shadows of the city, as if he hadn’t been there at all.

“I thought-” You cut yourself off, still staring at the people milling around left and right. “I thought there was someone-” He seemed to notice how shaken you were immediately, tearing his gaze away from the crowd and finally settling back to you, lips curving into another soft smile. Despite everything, it was strangely comforting to see.

“If it makes you feel better, I can walk you to your destination.” You couldn’t bring yourself to decline when your heart was still racing in your chest, so you managed a nod. The man pulled his jacket around him as he moved to fall into step alongside you after one last look into the crowds. “You’re sure you’re alright?” 

“Yeah, I am now,” you brushed off, wrapping your own jacket a little closer around your body as you made yourself fixate your gaze on the path ahead. Your fingers were hurting from the previous clutch of your keys. The gun had finally been fully tucked away. “Thanks, Detective-” You cut yourself off to get a closer look at his ID. “Grayson?” 

“Richard,” he offered with another smile, glancing at you in turn. “Well, I go by Dick, but-” he caught sight of your expression and laughed, shaking his head. “Richard’s fine, too.” You felt your face burn red and you tried to clear your throat.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

“It’s all good, I get it a lot. Can I ask for yours?” You chuckled a little before introducing yourself to him, shaking your head dismissively when he commented that it suited you. 

“Am I making you leave your post or something?” Dick waved that off immediately, sliding his hands into the pockets of his jacket.

“Nah, I’m just patrolling this area tonight. I was about to head into the café down the street for some coffee when I saw you, and I thought you seemed a little alarmed.” His tone was even but kind, and it was easy for you to tell that he had been in this type of situation a million times before. “If you need anything, medical assistance, filing a report, I can take care of that.” 

You nodded slightly again, taking another deep breath as you felt your panic finally subside. His presence was comforting, and you were glad he was with you for the rest of the walk home. You still couldn’t bring yourself to think about what might’ve happened if he hadn’t shown up. 

You wouldn’t be missing the bus again any time soon, that was certain.

“I was just surprised,” you finally started, feeling a twinge of embarrassment creep up your face for no apparent reason. As if you were the one who should’ve been more careful. “I didn’t see him - I guess I wasn’t as careful as I thought I was.” 

“Don’t think that’s on you, because it wasn’t your fault,” he started at once, apparently having been able to read your mind. “Creeps like that are running around all over this place, you can’t expect to see all of them coming. I’m just glad you’re alright.” You nodded again, pulling the jacket a little tighter before you sneaked another glance up at him. 

You hadn’t exactly seen much of what he looked like beneath the dingy light of the streetlamps, but as you edged towards your apartment complex, you could finally see his face beneath the brighter lighting. 

You noticed the striking blue eyes first, of course, accompanied by strong, defined features, jet black hair, and a surprising look of youthfulness despite the fact that he had sounded like he’d be a bit older. The light crinkles by his eyes told you he was the kind of person who tended to smile a lot. 

Clearly, he was very, very handsome.

“I’m actually pretty new to this whole gig,” he commented as he scanned around the street you were on, snapping you out of your not-so subtle staring. “Moved from Gotham a few months ago, found a job with the BDP. They definitely appreciated having new hires around, with the state this city’s in.” 

“So did I,” you blurted out in surprise, causing him to raise a brow at you. “Not working with the BDP - but I moved here a few months ago, too, from Gotham. I lived there my whole life.” 

“Well, look at that,” he laughed, seeming rather incredulous but certainly pleased at the finding. “I guess we have that in common. Some move, huh, thinking Gotham’s about as bad it gets before getting smacked with Bludhaven?” You actually laughed at that in turn, nodding in agreement.

“No super-people flying around to save the place, either. Tragic.” 

“I’m sure one’s gonna show up around here eventually,” he dismissed, following you when you motioned towards your building in the distance. “If there’s any place that needs some of them around, it’s here.”

“As what, Bludhaven’s version of Batman?” you deadpanned, imagining what things would be like if another man in a bat costume started running around and beating up street-thugs. At least the crime rates might dip. “As long as he doesn’t come with more psychotic clowns, I guess we could use one. Even if that means changing my insurance plan to fit him in.” 

“Better safe than sorry,” Dick agreed, corners of his lips twitching into another almost mischievous grin that caused your face to redden in the dark. “Doesn’t have to be another Batman, maybe it’ll be someone new.”

“As long as they take care of the city, I think I won’t care who it is,” you decided with another light chuckle, stopping in front of your building and looking up at him. “I just hope they’ll be cut out for the job.” He stopped in front of you with another smile, shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly. 

“I guess we’ll have to wait and see, huh?” You found yourself mirroring the action, feeling rather amused by the statement.

“I guess we will.”

The brief moment of silence between you was interrupted by him clearing his throat, moving to grab the handle of the door for you at the same time you tried to do it yourself, ending with the both of you promptly colliding apologizing profusely while backing away from the door altogether. 

“Sorry, I didn’t - sorry-” he cut himself off by reaching out to pull the door open for you again with an awkward laugh, not unlike your own. “I hope I’ll see you around here on a better note,” Dick finalized with one last apologetic grin, letting you slip past him and into the building. 

“You mean when I’m not speed-walking away from creeps running around Bludhaven?” you chuckled in response, shouldering your bag off-handedly. “Definitely, I agree. Thank you, Dick.” 

He made a show of dramatically tipping his hat towards you before turning on his heel, still smiling to himself. 

“Pleasure’s mine.” 

[slipping-through-my-fingertips]

Thought You Liked Me Too

Part 1 of Not the One series.

Summary: Blaine is just starting at NYADA, spies Kurt Hummel, and promptly falls in love. One issue, Kurt is dating the lead singer of the acapella group Blaine wants to join. 

Notes: Partly inspired by Maisie Peters’ song “John Hughes Movie”

Read Part 2 here

AO3

Blaine tells his friends that the first time he saw Kurt Hummel was at the club they frequent.

When they tease him about his little crush, it’s everything straight out of his daydreams. Dancing with Kurt in the middle of a dancefloor not caring who’s watching, foreheads pressed together breathing in each other’s air, and being able to lean in anytime he wants to kiss him.

Except none of those daydreams are true and none of those friends are really Blaine’s friends.

Sam made friends with a bunch of upperclassmen who had connections to get the pair of roommates fake IDs. Callbacks was a primarily NYADA scene so the NYU students wanted nothing to do with it. Blaine had spent the last weeks of summer hanging out with Sam’s NYU friends exploring the city by day and clubbing at The Lion’s Den at night.

He knew once he started school some of his weekend nights would be spent here and others at Callbacks. Hopefully, Blaine Anderson could make friends at NYADA as easily as Sam had at NYU.

It had only taken two days before Sam came back to their apartment talking Blaine’s ear off about a group of guys he spent orientation with, “seriously dude, Dante and I are like long-lost twins.”

Blaine thought the same thing about him and Sam.

“That’s great, Sam.”

“We’re going out tonight. They want me to meet the rest of the group.”

Blaine was still scrolling through his phone, checking his emails again to make sure he hadn’t missed anything from school. They sent out orientation day schedules when he and Sam went grocery shopping yesterday. Ever since Blaine’s been slightly on edge. Maybe he should update his email notification preferences?

“You have to come!” Sam exclaimed, jumping onto the couch. “Please, Blaine! You’re my best bud. I want you to meet them.”

“I don’t know Sam…they’re your classmates.”

“Come on! It’ll be fun.”

It never took much to cave to Sam. Not when he made his lips so pouty.

“Fine, when and where?”

“Yes!” Sam did an air fist bump. “9 at the Lion’s Den.”

Then, Sam disappeared into his bedroom.

“The Lion’s Den,” Blaine murmured. “Doesn’t sound threatening at all.”

Blaine came to learn that The Lion’s Den was always crowded. Even on weeknights. From trivia night to karaoke to wing specials, everyone had a reason to be here. Not to mention their cheap drinks. If you wanted a fun, inexpensive buzz this was the perfect place.

Their lenient ID policy helped too.

The story of his first Kurt Hummel sighting went something like this: Spinning around on his barstool, after ordering himself a vodka coke and getting a weird look from the bartender, to admire the decor. Dark blue walls with high ceilings. Metal lion heads at every corner. Plenty of multicolored lights dancing over the patrons.

That’s when he saw him.

Bright blue eyes in a sea of dancers. Pushing his way out of the center of the dance floor.

He tells their friends for weeks to come that it was Kurt’s silver shirt that caught his attention that night. Blaine hadn’t known anyone could pull off such a color. It appeared to be made of silk and doused in glitter with the way it shined under the colorful lights in the club.

But that’s all fiction. A story he created because he was laughably bad at hiding his feelings. It took four days after he spun this tale for Tina and Angie to ask questions over lunch. By this point, Blaine had already had his heart broken by Kurt but kept up pretenses for the girls.

What’s his name?

Who’s got you smiling like that?

Someone put a twinkle in your eyes.

Tell us. Tell us. Tell us.

Even when Blaine knew there was no hope, his heart held on. Kurt Hummel had left his mark on him from just one measly conversation. So, he lied and told them he had a crush on some guy he saw at the club. A guy he didn’t speak to and would never see again. A guy whose name would never leave his lips.

Tina called him a hopeless romantic. Angie insisted Blaine would see him again.

If only she had known how right she was. Kurt Hummel wasn’t just some guy he saw in passing. Kurt had actually been at the bar that night dressed in that exact shirt but it wasn’t the first time Blaine had seen him.

Actually, Kurt went to his school. Not that any of Sam’s friends knew that—they all attended NYU. Blaine’s pretty sure they’re just tolerating him tagging along to their hangouts because of Sam. With the exception of Tina and Angie. They were the only ones who sought Blaine out—asked him to lunch. But even their friendship wasn’t solid. They had just met a few weeks ago when Sam started orientation.

A bunch of freshmen all desperate for friends in the big city. Who knows if it would last ‘til Thanksgiving. Now that school had officially started for them, they would surely get busy and Blaine’s feelings would be lost in the hustle and bustle of student life. The girls would forget about him and if he was lucky, Blaine would forget about Kurt.

Except, the real first time Blaine saw him was at NYADA. It was actually on the first day of school, four days before he saw Kurt’s silver shirt amongst the dancers at The Lion’s Den. He was using his space between class times to tour the school, trying to figure out where the rest of his classes for the week would be. Kurt had found him in the hallway where he had been studying the bulletin board filled with organizations you could join.

From chess to anime to superheroes, Blaine couldn’t choose which interests of his to pick. The only thing he knew he wanted to be involved in was Glee Club. Of which, NYADA had a ton. Luckily, Blaine already had his interests in a glee club narrowed down.

All of the brightly colored flyers had tabs to pull so you had the information to contact them about joining. He pulled the tab for the Apple’s Adams; the only acapella glee club on campus. Blaine had just finished his three years as the lead singer for the Dalton Academy Warblers and was pretty sure he’d get invited to join the Apples.

That’s when Kurt approached him though Blaine didn’t know his name at the time.

“The Apples?” he asked.

Blaine looked down shyly at the green tab in his hand. He met the man’s eyes and nodded. “I love to sing.”

“Me too,” he said, “I’ll see you at auditions, break a leg.”

That was it. No hello, no introductions, just a ‘good luck’ and a promise of seeing the most handsome man Blaine had ever seen again. If Blaine was going to daydream about someone at least he knew Kurt and he already had something in common.

He couldn’t wait for auditions.

The second time he saw Kurt Hummel wasn’t at the club either. This time Blaine was getting coffee. Standing in line debating if he should get another cronut or should he just stick to a medium drip and be on his way. Then he heard this voice coming from a table behind him.

Since their encounter the day before, Blaine had been replaying that melody of “I’ll see you at auditions.” It was getting him through his first week of school.

Friday’s auditions couldn’t come soon enough. Though, in reality, Blaine needed all the time he could get rehearing his audition song. The Lion’s Den karaoke nights these last two weeks had kept his vocals strong but Blaine wanted everything to sound perfect. He had more than just the judges to impress.

He quickly looked over his shoulder and noticed a girl sitting across from that blue-eyed man.

“Come on,” she was saying, “that’s not the Kurt Hummel I know!”

That’s how he learned his name. It was fitting. Sounded like a name that could very well be up in lights someday. Blaine hoped he was there to see it when it happened.  

“Rach, it’s only the second day of classes please contain your crazy for another week at least.”

She huffed dramatically. “Kurt, you need to put yourself out there.”

The girl, Rach went on to talk about how she was auditioning for as many off-Broadway productions as she could this year. After all, “we’re almost graduates”. Kurt had scoffed at that remark, “we have another 2 years.”

It was obvious then Kurt was an upperclassman. A junior. Blaine had to stand out at auditions to even be a blip on his radar. He moved up in line, ordered his coffee, and mentally going through his closet for the perfect outfit. Surely tight pants and a bowtie were enough to get someone’s attention but what combination of patterns and colors would appeal to one Kurt Hummel?

When Blaine turned back around, coffee in hand, Kurt was already gone.

Okay, he thought, he already had some practice getting along with upperclassmen. Tina and Angie seemed to like him. Chad and Dante tolerated him—Blaine was cool because he liked college football. Bryant and Xavier were the toughest to crack. He wasn’t sure they’d ever really like him.

But Kurt went to NYADA. He liked to sing, obviously enjoyed glee club and theater. They had to have tons in common.

The third time Blaine saw Kurt was at auditions. He was sitting as one of the judges in the audience. This time dressed in a green army jacket and a tight black tank top underneath. Kurt had his feet up on the seat in front of him showing off his white Doc Martens.

In his wildest dreams, Blaine might’ve wished for Kurt to remember him, give him a teasing wink before he began to sing. Of course, nothing happened. Kurt barely looked his way at all when he walked onto the stage.

It was during the last few notes of Billy Joel’s “Just the Way You Are”, Blaine found out Kurt Hummel was taken. For a second, Blaine was glad the reason Kurt hadn’t given him a second look was that he was already in a relationship but in the next, he felt his heart sink to his stomach.

The man he had just seen Kurt kiss on the cheek was now talking to him. He was British. And taller than Blaine.

“I’m Adam,” he said, extending a hand, “we’ll let you know by Monday.”

Blaine can’t remember if he shook his hand before nodding and bolting out of the room.

Fuck fuck fuck.

There was no way he could stand to be in that group with Kurt and his lead singer, group founder, and British boyfriend.

That night Blaine had camped out on the living room couch, binge-watching the Star Wars movies knowing he had the day off tomorrow, and eating his heart out Sam found him covered in used tissues and Hershey kiss wrappers, with a half-eaten pint of Ben and Jerry’s cookie dough in his lap.

“Bad audition?” Sam asked.

He didn’t answer. So naturally, he just sat next to Blaine on the couch.

“At least tell me you’re watching them in order.”

Blaine shook his head.

“Fuck dude, it’s worst than I thought if you don’t care about the order!”

Sam reached over his roommate to grab the remote control and paused the movie. Even though both boys had seen them over and over again, they insisted on pausing it for conversation.

“Talk to me,” Sam said.

When Blaine couldn’t make the words come out of his mouth, Sam pulled his roommate to his side in a half hug, half cuddle. That’s all it takes for Blaine to start crying, murmuring about his perfect guy being taken.

“I made it all up in my head, Sam,” Blaine whined.

All that’s heard from their apartment is sobbing and gentle condolences from Sam, who is still confused as to why he’s consoling Blaine at all.

He may have only known about Kurt’s existence for four days but Blaine had been dreaming about him for years. Blaine Anderson had their whole life planned after their first interaction. His middle name was “too much, too soon.” When the Andersons wanted something, they just knew. The depths of his soul knew Kurt was his perfect man.

The fourth time Blaine saw Kurt Hummel was at the club. That Saturday in September after auditions Sam pulled Blaine out of bed to meet up with their friends.

“You’re friends,” Blaine had said, head buried under a pillow.

“OUR friends,” Sam corrected. “Tina loves hanging out with you.”

Sam took the pillow off his face and forced Blaine to sit up by pulling on his arms.

“Because she’s got a crush,” he sighed.

“She knows you’re gay.”

“Gay and depressed,” Blaine told him before pulling the pillow back over his face.

Sam ripped the pillow off and tossed it onto the floor this time and sat Blaine up again.

“Let’s go, you gotta get out of this room. It’s been forever since you’ve seen the world!”

“I was at school yesterday.”

Sam ignored him. “I picked your outfit.”

He held up his choice. The mismatched patterns are enough to get Blaine up and out of bed.

Thank god Sam only wanted to model clothes and someone else would be choosing them.

The rest of the night had been going fine until Blaine caught sight of Kurt. At first, he was captivated by him. Did Kurt Hummel always look like he stepped out of a painting? For a second, Blaine could forget that he wasn’t allowed to want him.

Then, Blaine caught sight of who Kurt was pulling behind him. It all came back full force like someone slapping him across the face.

They were laughing together, probably drunk off each other. What he wouldn’t give to know what he was like to have a man like Kurt look at him like he was currently staring at Adam.

All his earlier feelings, everything Sam hoped he’d drink away, came flowing back. Blaine downed his vodka coke, paid his tab, and asked the bartender to call him a cab.

That was that.

Blaine walked home alone, texting Sam when he got back to their apartment so his roommate wouldn’t worry too much. Then, he locked himself in the bathroom and sunk to the floor.

If this was a movie, Blaine knows there would be heartbreak music playing as a camera zoomed in on his breakdown. It’s not Kurt’s fault that Blaine can’t help but picture a happy ending with every crush he has. They just had so much potential to be a great love story.

Now it was clear that was a story never to be written. If Kurt doesn’t want to be with Blaine then he’s just not the one.

[squishy-mochi-is-bright-pink]

heyyy i hope you’re doing well <3 i have a requestt :) so like ushijima’s (and anyone else you would like to add) s/o comes home and is having bad day but he is also having a bad day and he comes to comfort them and once they’re calmed down a bit they start talking about their problems and then they saying praising him a lot saying stuff like he’s a best they’ve ever had and then starts going into how much they’re proud of him which kinda makes him start tearing up too and he might say some stuff back and they just end up comforting each other the whole night. i hope this makes sense....😭

Coming home to Ushijima when you’ve both had a bad day

Contains: Ushijima

CW: None, Gender neutral s/o

Genre: comfort / fluff

Word count: 1307

Summary: You come home to Ushijima and comfort each other after you’ve both had a long hard day

A/n: This makes perfect sense and its such a cute request. Thanks for giving me a distraction from school <3 Id honestly love any requests right now they make me so happy to know someone likes my writing enough to ask :D. I might end up doing a part 2 because this request was so much fun to write.

Today had been a long hard gruelling day for both you and your boyfriend Ushijima but in two very different ways. 

You had been tied up with back to back work whether it be confused people, dealing with problem costumers or running after your boss, no matter what you had been on your feet all day and hadn’t had a single break. By the time you got home, you were completely overwhelmed and exhausted.

Wakatoshi however, had an extremely difficult practice. For some reason today his spiked just weren’t landing as well as normal. It was rather subtle, so he doubts the most of his team even noticed, but he certainly did and it frustrated him. The more he spiked the more frustrated he got. This lead to him staying extra long for individual practice. By the time he got home, he was exhausted in a different way.

Wakatoshi had arrived home about an hour before you had and by the time you walked through the door with your shoulders slumped over he had only just managed to get dressed after getting out of a long bath. Unlike usual his bath had barely let him relax at all and he was patiently waiting on the sofa staring at the door to your apartment. Honestly, he reminded you of a puppy because the second you walked through the door his eyes lit up ever so slightly at the sight of his precious s/o. 

No matter how exhausted you are when you get home and Toshi is there you walk over to the couch and gently press a kiss to his forehead, he relaxes just a little at the contact, and then you walk to your shared room to change out of your uniform and shower.

When you and Wakatoshi first began dating you never expected just how touch starved he’d end up being. He was always so stern and severe that he just didn’t seem like the type but behind closed doors, he clings to you like a koala. When he’s tired, or in a mood, or just wants cuddles its almost impossible to pry your self away from him, not that you’d want to. That man is a literal space heater and he uses it to his advantage in order to receive maximum cuddles.

When you eventually finished with a scalding shower and changed into your fluffiest, comfiest pyjamas you could find and emerged from your room wrapped in a blanket. 

You silently walk to where he’s sitting on the couch with a movie already playing. You silently put your arms out straight, look at him with puppy eyes and make grabby hands until he opens up his arms and lets you lay on his chest. At this point, after all the stress of your day, you just started to cry softly into his chest.

You weren’t crying over anything specific just letting all your frustrations of the day out as your loving boyfriend rubs small circles and patterns on your back. After a while, he asked what was up and you recounted every small event between sniffles. He sat and listened to everything from the one Karen you had to talk all the way until everything just got too much. He didn’t really care if his spikes didn’t land as well today he had his baby in his arms.

Once you had eventually calmed down and stopped sniffling you asked him how his day went. Not wanting to pile anything else on you he gently tells you he’s fine. Obviously, you don’t buy it for a second, he looked like he was about to pass out from exhaustion when you walked in. “Toshi. Baby.” you start in a soothing tone, “we’ve been together since our last year of high school. I know when you arent alright, and I know when somethings wrong. Why don’t you just tell me about it now? I promise I feel better now”

That was when he gave in and told you. He told you about every failed spike, every joke or comment from his teammates, every extra drill he forced himself to do. How utterly exhausted he felt. He told you all about his insecurities. Was he even good enough to call himself the ace when he can’t land spikes?

You quietly listen while you took your turn to draw soft circles all over his upper arm and chest doing anything you can to soothe his nerves and insecurities physically. After about forty minutes he was all out of insecurities today brought up for him so you decided to start reassuring him. 

“Toshi, I love you. I love you so much” You start with again with as soothing a tone as you can. Then you decide to pick up his hands and lay a gentle kiss to each individual knuckle then his rough palm. “I’ve been following your volleyball since our first year of high school, and I know that you’re the best ace I’ve ever seen. I’ve never seen anyone spike in the same way you can.” You held him tight, trying to wrap your arms around him. “It’s not just spikes. You can read opponents and recognise their strengths and weaknesses. You can receive and you’ve managed to keep up the spirits of any team I’ve ever seen you play on. You inspire all of us to do better because if we don’t we wouldn’t be able to keep up.”

By now Ushijimas eyes were beginning to water, growing up hed rarely gotten this much genuine praise, especially from someone he loved this much. “And it’s not just volleyball either, you’re the best boyfriend I could ask for. You’re always there for me. It’s like you’re my rock. You’re steady and strong. And even when you’re exhausted you made me a priority I couldn’t ever ask for anything more.” You continued on your ramble about how absolutely perfect your boyfriend is, a rant you’ve gone on many times to your friends. 

By now tears have started to slightly roll down his cheeks, it was as if you had just gone into his heart and soul and surgically removed every insecurity. Even ones that he had never said out loud. You went quiet when you noticed and shuffled further up his chest, using your sweater paws from oversized PJs to wipe off the small trail of tears. He just wrapped his arms around you and pulled you back to his chest. Once you were there he laid a gentles kiss on the top of your head and just hold you.

After a very short amount of time, he started to whisper praises back to you. He told you all about how gorgeous you are, how smart you are, how you’ve lit up his life. He told you about how if he’s your rock then you’re his home. His safe space to return to and recharge at the end of each day. How he loves how patient and understanding you can be. He loves how small you are when compared to him. How his teammates, even all the way back to high school, had always been jealous of him. Especially on random days when you would randomly show up to practice with tasty snacks, you had made to surprise him, over time learning how to make them fit into his meal plan. How you did all of those tiny things without thinking. 

Eventually, you went to bed and fell asleep in each other’s arms. It was one of the best nights sleep either of you had ever gotten in your life. Tomorrow, his spikes were back to normal, if not better, and your job seemed just a little bit easier. You both remembered that no matter what you were never alone. although you knew that a reminder is always nice.

[honey-dewey]

Patient Zero

Chapter Four

Pairing: Din Djarin/Imperial Reader

Word Count: 2,885

Warnings: No big ones, mention of blood draws.

Permanent Taglist: @phoenixhalliwell

Working with the Empire as one of their researchers was, in theory, a boring job. At least, right up until you were assigned the mysterious Patient Zero. With no records, no data, and no name, he may as well not exist. But he’s much more than meets the eye, and you’re about to find that out the hard way.

Multi-chapter story. Chapter 4 of 4. Read Chapter 1, Read Chapter 2 Read Chapter 3

Returning to the medi-ship with the blaster hidden in your clothes wasn’t exactly the smartest move, but it was the only one you could pull off. It was nighttime, so the lights were all dimmed and the only person you knew would truly be awake was Yen. Walking through the halls as if nothing was wrong, you headed towards the medical rooms, where Din was likely sleeping. If all went right, you wouldn’t have to reveal your blaster. If it didn’t, well, then things were about to get ugly. 

Yen was, as expected, outside Din’s door when you walked up to it. 

“You’re back early!” He said happily, yawning widely and grinning. “Have fun?” 

“Not really,” you grumbled, trying to act natural. “There is sand everywhere.” 

Yen laughed. “Damn. Why don’t you go shower and get some sleep? Patient Zero was a doll for me while you were gone, by the way.” 

You took a breath, preparing your poker face. “Ah, that reminds me. I got orders from the boss while I was on my way back. They want to move him. Something about an upgraded facility in the outer rim that might be able to finally ID him.” 

“Oh!” Yen perked up. “That would be nice! When do you leave for that?” 

“Uh,” you shuffled your feet and put on your best guilty performance. “Technically I was supposed to leave yesterday. Figured I’d come to get him as soon as I got back, but I couldn’t make it in time. Is it okay if I take him now?” 

Yen sighed. “Sweet Maker. Alright, I’ll go prep a ship. Sure you don’t wanna wait until morning?” 

Shaking your head, you pulled your key card from your pocket. “Nah. I have to make up for lost time. And I have a ship prepped. Never turned the one I used off, so she’s still running, ready for immediate takeoff.” 

“Alrighty then,” Yen said, stepping back as you unlocked Din’s door. “I guess this is goodbye.” 

Guilt gripped your heart. “Yeah. Don’t worry, I’m sure we’ll see each other again.” 

Yen smiled. “Me too.” 

Just like that, he was gone, and you were sliding into Din’s room. “Zero!” 

He shifted in his bed, rolling over and blinking at you. “Wha?” 

You rushed to his side. “Get up. We’re going.” 

Din’s face changed, confusion decorating his features as he sat up in bed. “What?” 

Taking his hands, you looked directly into his eyes. “Din Djarin, I am taking you home.” 

Din jumped to his feet, not even bothering with shoes as he followed you out. You kept your head high as you walked, hoping not to run into anyone else. Luckily, you were able to get Din onto the ship without any issue. Unluckily, as soon as the doors were closed and you were climbing up into the cockpit, alarms started to blare. 

“Dank ferrik!” You yelled, sliding into the pilot’s seat and gripping the controls. “Hold on!” 

Powering the ship up, you took off, immediately swerving to avoid hitting a TIE fighter. The medi-ship didn’t have much by way of attack power, but it could absolutely defend itself if it had to. “Come on!” 

Din gripped the chair he was sitting in, his face tight with worry. “Let me pilot.” 

“Little busy!” You shouted back, swerving again and swearing violently. 

Din stood, holding onto the control panel for support. “Move over!” 

You kept your hands on the controls, standing and letting him sit. As soon as he took over the controls, it was like he was piloting a whole new ship. The Crest moved with odd ease, flipping and swerving with no effort at all. 

“Where to?” 

“Tatooine!” 

Din hit the hyperdrive, the blackness of space blurring away and fading into the pale blue of hyperdrive. You finally relaxed, falling limp into one of the copilot chairs. 

“Okay.” Din turned, keeping an eye on the controls as he put the ship into autopilot. “Explain.” 

And you did. You told him everything. The trip to Tatooine, learning who he was through Boba Fett, the plan to get him out and send him on his way to reunite Mandalore. He listened intently throughout the entire thing, facial expression never changing. 

Finally, once you were done, he nodded. “Does this ship have a communicator?” 

Twenty minutes later, you watched as Din set up the holo-communicator, frustration making his face pull. Eventually, it worked, a shaky image of a man appearing. 

“Din?” The staticky voice said. “Is that you?” 

“Yes,” Din said, nodding. 

You stepped away, allowing Din to have his conversation in private. Shutting the cockpit door, you headed down the ladder to the cargo hold, beginning to set up two small spaces to sleep in storage cabinets. It wasn’t neat, nor was it very comfortable, but it was private and it would work. 

“Hey.” 

You jumped, seeing Din holding the holo-communicator. A scrawny blonde with light robes and a single glove was on the screen. “Who’s that?” You asked. 

“His name is Luke.” Din held the communicator out to you. “He wants to talk to you.” 

You took the communicator, setting it up on a crate and urging Din to sit beside you. “Luke. Hello.” 

“Hello,” Luke said cheerily. An urgent babbling cut him off, and he grinned. “Din, your son is very eager to see you again.” 

Your heart almost stopped when Luke lifted a very cute green baby up, his wide brown eyes finding Din’s face and he cooed happily. 

“Is that,” 

“Grogu? Yeah.” 

You smiled. “Hello Grogu. It’s nice to meet you.” 

Grogu burbled and began to chew on a metal fixture on Luke’s coat. 

Luke gently pulled Grogu away and turned back to you. “Din tells me you’ve been doing regular tests on him, the most concerning is a blood draw. Now, we’ve had theories for years, but I’m eager to see if they’re to be confirmed today.” 

“Well,” you started. “We noticed when we started taking samples of Din, that he wasn’t naturally Force sensitive. However, he reacted to the use of the Force and he had a higher M-count. So, we assumed he’d associated with a particularly strong Force user for a long period of time, and that exposure to the Force changed his systems and adapted him to become more Force tolerant.” 

“Wait,” Din cut in. “Does that mean I’m like Grogu?” 

Luke shook his head. “No. I doubt you could be able to wield the Force. However, this means that the things the Jedi only theorized are true. I would love for you to join me on my planet and explore this concept further. Din, you would be welcome as well, of course.” 

You were shocked. Learning and researching with the Empire was one thing, but with Luke Skywalker? It was a dream come true. 

“Of course,” you said. “I would love to.” 

“And you Din? I could always use more protection out here.” 

It wasn’t even a question for Din. He nodded. “Absolutely. But we have to stop on Tatooine first. Can you send us the coordinates?” 

The communicator pinged, the coordinates saving to the device. 

Luke smiled. “May the Force be with you.” 

“And with you,” you responded, shutting off the communicator and looking at Din. “We’ll be on Tatooine in about 12 hours. Do you want to sleep?” 

Din nodded. “If I’m not up, can you dock us in a specific place?” 

You agreed, and Din immediately went off to sleep away his rescue. Meanwhile, you settled down in the cockpit, ready to land the ship when it came out of hyperspace. 

Approximately twelve hours later, you were landing the ship, hesitating upon hearing faint yelling. 

“I swear to the Force Mando! If this ship is falling apart again I will kill you myself, beskar be damned! Where the hell were you? No wonder this thing is always in horrible shape!” 

You grinned, stepping out of the ship to find a short woman in a mechanic’s uniform. “Hello! Are you Peli?” 

The woman scowled. “Are you with Mando?” 

“Uh.” You had no idea how to respond. “Yes?” 

“Yeah, they’re with me.” 

Peli softened when she saw Din, stepping forward to get a better look. “Where’d the helmet go?” 

Din shrugged. “I was kidnapped. The armor’s all with Fett.” 

In an instant, there was a blaster pointed at your face. “Did they kidnap you?” 

“No!” Din scrambled to correct her. “No! They broke me out.” 

You nodded, letting out a breath as Peli lowered the blaster. “Fine. Do you need speeders?” 

Din shook his head. “Just a place to refuel and get some new clothes.” 

Peli looked Din up and down, finally taking in his stained white Empire issue clothes and no shoes. She did the same to you, eyes narrowing at your cleaner cut researchers uniform. “C’mon in. I don’t suppose you’ve still got the little one, do you?” 

“He’s off getting proper training,” Din reassured, following Peli into the building. “With a Jedi.” 

Peli made a noise of approval as she handed you a stack of clothes. “Try those, I think they’ll fit. And Mando,” 

“Din.” 

“Din,” Peli corrected herself without skipping a beat. “Try these.” 

She left you two to change, abandoning the Empire white for Tatooine browns, greens, and burgundies. As you adjusted the loose cargo pants, you giggled at Din, who was desperately trying to pat his hair down. “C’mere.” 

He moved towards you, waiting as you sat on the bed. You patted your thighs. “Sit. I’ll fix your hair.” 

Din sat between your legs, allowing you to slowly comb through his hair with your fingers. He’d been decent about self-care while he’d been with you, always shaving when his facial hair got annoying and never needing help with his hair before this. You had to wonder how mentally drained he was if he needed your assistance here. 

Peli came back in, holding two plates of food. When she saw the blissed out Din, she quietly put the plates down. “Do you want a real comb?” She whispered. 

“Yes please,” you whispered back, nodding your thanks for the food. 

When she returned with the comb stick in a cup of water, you thanked her again and slowly drew the wet comb through Din’s hair. It worked much better than your hands, untangling the knots and taming the cowlicks. When Din finally got up to eat, he looked much more presentable. 

You turned to use the comb on yourself, but Din stopped you. Taking your wrist, he looked at you with pleading eyes. “Can I? I mean, you did it for me. It only seems right that I, y’know,” 

“Of course.” You dropped the comb into his hands and sat on the floor, waiting. Din carefully put his legs around you, sitting on the bed and wetting the comb. Water trickled down the back of your neck as he worked, his warm hands firm on your head as he guided you. The tug of the comb lulled you into a soft, gentle place. A place beyond trouble or fear. 

But good things don’t last, and suddenly you were up and eating so you could head out to Fett’s palace. 

“You come back now, you hear me?” Peli said as you climbed aboard the ship again. “I don’t want you dropping out of the galaxy, okay?” 

“Yes Peli!” Din called back, shutting the hatch. “See you soon!” 

You smiled, waving as you took off. Fett’s palace wasn’t far, so you didn’t even bother napping during the short trip out. 

When Din landed, he eagerly bounded off, knocking firmly on the front door you’d stood before not even a week prior. 

“It’s Din.” He confirmed to the hatch. “I’m here to see Boba and reclaim my armor.” 

Immediately, the doors opened, and Fennec was scooping Din up in a hug, his feet actually leaving the floor. “You had us worried sick!” She said happily. “Boba and I assumed you were dead! And you,” She said, turning to you. “You returned our bounty hunter safely. Is there any way we can repay you?” 

You shook your head. “No m’am.” 

Fennec snorted. “Please. Just Fennec will work. C’mon, let’s go see Boba.” 

Of course, on the way, you two detoured to pick up Don’s armor. He methodically put it all on, from the flight suit to the vambraces. You watched, memorizing his every movement. He picked the helmet up, staring at the dark visor. “When I swore the Mandalorian creed,” he said softly. “I swore that if my helmet ever came off in the presence of any other living thing, I wouldn’t ever put it back on. I would lose that part of myself, forever.” 

You stood, taking the helmet from his loose grip. “Din. You’ve earned this helmet ten times over.” Slowly sliding the helmet on, you noticed an immediate difference. Din stood taller, more confident and clearly more comfortable. “It suits you.” 

Fennec poked her head in. “Are we ready?” 

Din nodded, strapping a strange hilt to his belt and sliding a pure metal spear into a sheath on his back. “Let’s go.” 

Meeting Fett again was interesting. He, like Fennec, thanked you for returning Din. You simply responded that it had felt right, and there was no need to thank you. 

That night, after ample private celebrating during which Din removed his helmet so he could drink, you were alone, staring at the moons through a barred window. Slowly turning over, you sighed, trying to chase away the loneliness in your chest. 

A hesitant knock at your door snapped you upright. “Come in?” 

Din pushed the door open, slipping into the room. He was in his pyjamas, armor nowhere in sight. “Can’t sleep?” 

“And I take it you can’t either,” you pointed out, standing and stretching. “What’s troubling you Din?” 

“Loneliness.” 

You smiled. “My bed is always open,” you offered, not even thinking before you spoke. 

Din blinked. “Really?” 

Before you could hesitate or stop yourself, you nodded, scooting over. “Of course. C’mon.” 

He slid into the bed with you, eyes immediately blinking shut as you drew the covers up, covering yourself and Din to the shoulders. He relaxed, breathing out and sliding an arm over your body. You didn’t protest, instead curling closer to his warmth. “Are you really going to stay with Luke and Grogu?” You asked the hushed air. 

Din breathed out. “For a bit. I have a planet to run, apparently.” 

You laughed a bit, trying to stay quiet. “Right. The planet.” 

Din smiled. You could feel his cheek moving against your head. “What about you? Will you stay with Luke forever?” 

“Probably not,” you admitted. “I’m a traveler at heart.” 

“Me too,” Din said. “Bounty hunting was how I got out of the covert.” 

You snuggled deeper under the covers. “But you’ll stay with Luke for a bit?” 

Din was quiet for a minute. “As long as you stay too.” 

His response confused you. “What do you mean?” 

“I like you,” he admitted, his voice tender. “I enjoy having you around.” 

You smiled. “I enjoy having you around too. Can we finally be friends instead of researcher and project?” 

Now it was Din’s turn to laugh. “I thought we already were friends.” 

“Maybe we can be something more than.” 

Din hummed out a shallow breath. “Something more,” he said. “I like the sound of that.” 

The next day, as the twin suns painted the sky a brilliant orange and pink, you bid Fennec and Boba farewell as you got aboard the Crest. Din let you pilot, opting to, instead, organize the ship. You heard him clattering around every so often, but didn’t question it. He’d clearly flown a Crest before, and you trusted him to make this his home. 

Finally, you landed on the mysterious green planet from the coordinates. Setting down near a temple, you drew a cloak across your shoulders as you stepped off the ship. 

Immediately, Grogu came running as fast as his tiny legs would let him. Din crouched down and scooped him up in a tight hug, his shoulders heaving as you realized he was crying. Quickly ditching the helmet, he let Grogu pat his face down, smiling behind his tears. 

“Ah?” Grogu finally noticed you, pointing one small claw at you. 

“Yeah,” Din said. “That’s a very nice person who helped me come home to you.” 

You smiled, stepping forward and taking Grogu’s hand. “Mhm. Your dad is very brave and has waited a long time to see you again. He told me all about you.” 

Grogu cooed, cuddling into the curve of Din’s shoulder and falling asleep. 

Luke came over the hill, much slower than Grogu. “Hello.” He waved. “How was the trip?” 

Din shrugged. “Just fine. We didn’t find trouble, if that’s what you’re asking.” 

“Perfect!” Luke said, clasping his hands. “I’ve got two rooms set up for you guys, if you’ll follow me. I apologize if they’re messy, my nephew is visiting.” 

“Actually,” you said quickly, glancing to Din and getting an approving nod. “Is there any way you could make that just one room?” 

Din smiled, kicking his helmet. You reached down to pick it up. “Yeah,” he said, putting the arm that wasn’t holding Grogu around your waist. “Just one room.”

[doomstypewriter]

abt the last ask: u dont have to include it ofc (if u write it at all) but i thought id let u know that its based on the mental image i suddenly had of j climbing up to pats window, knocking on the shutters, pat pulling him in by his lapels and immediately kissing him (if you can even call it that with how hard theyre smiling) & then sometime later pat hearing like his dads footsteps coming toward his room as theyre making out so pat scrambles off his bf & shoves him in his closet (the irony)

Anon, finally, here you have it, but with a twist. This got completely out of hand, as per usual when I write anything. Since you were so nice (/li) to send me your request in two parts, I will actually break your prompt into two parts, otherwise, it’s never going to end. I hope you’re pleased by the first part, also, I am answering to this first because it matches the content of the first part. 

Thank you so much for your lovely prompt! Hope you enjoy! 

If anyone wants to be tagged for this let me know in a comment!

AO3

Chapter 2 >>

We call it an affair because it’s a forbidden romance

Summary:  An encounter in the dark. The disdain of society. A forbidden romance. Royalty is involved and a title is at stake. Will an aspiring count, Patton Morandi and his rogue lover Janus overcome the barriers laid in front of them?

(We're in it for the drama)

---

“So long away and what I least expect is not you saving my life, but finding myself having missed your nonsense”.

“Is it nonsense when I make you smile like this?”

Word count: 3848

Pairings: Moceit, future Prinxiety.

TW:  Homophobia, internalised homophobia, deadnaming a trans person, misogyny, mentions of religion, hopelessness, ideological things you would expect from the period (I'm not sure if there's anything else, but please tell me).

Chapter 1 of 2: 

Balcony kiss

How the moonlight shone in its quiet dance with the nightly air. It was a mostly clear summer evening, the second day of the week-long festival. The sounds of music and colourful lights could be heard and seen from the distance, but gradually decreased as a certain thief made its way across the gardens of Villa Morandi. For certain, the head of the family would not be excessively happy about the entire ordeal, but no disgruntlement could come out of those things of which one has no knowledge of, and Janus surely intended to keep his entanglement a secret. 

He crossed the bushes and jumped over marble balustrades expertly, careful to avoid the lights of the servant quarters, where their residents were reading themselves for departure. 

“Signor Morandi seems to be in good spirits lately, it is fortunate that most of us can leave for the festival”. 

Any news about the man was something worth listening to, given his situation, so he decided to stay and see if they mentioned something useful. Also, he, admittedly, enjoyed gossip. 

“Loretta! Don’t be such a bragger in front of us!”

“Why? I’d say the only one lamenting not being able to go is you. You should be ashamed for dragging poor Virginia in with you to make yourself sound less self-centred”. 

Janus silently nodded. 

“That is not true! I am merely trying to make the newcomer feel welcome! And here you are making her feel excluded, who is now in the wrong?” 

Weak retort, wannabe-partygoer, he thought. 

“Va, va…” the other maid answered dismissively “Quit holding her like that! Don’t you see she’s uncomfortable?! Povera bambina”. 

“Come on Virginia, don’t you think it’s a waste for such a wrinkly woman to be let out instead of us?” 

“Who are you calling old?!” 

“You did, but now that you so kindly brought it up, you are old! Turning wrinklier by the second!” 

Alright, at this point, Janus could not help but be rooting for Loretta, going for the old card was the low-hanging fruit. 

“I may be your senior, but I promise you that regardless of that nonsense about wrinkles you’re babbling I’m ten times more fair looking!”

“Ah!” she exclaimed with feigned indignation. “Can you believe her? She’s delusional!”

“Well then, the delusional one will not search for a man at the festival, such a pity I will not be introducing anyone to you this week!”

He smiled at the comeback. Way to go, Loretta. 

“Loretta! Just because you had the luck to get engaged doesn’t give you the right to rob others of their chances. Don’t be so mean, I’ll apologise if I must”. 

“Alright, but never dare call me wrinkly again, for you will owe this old woman when I find you a husband. Virginia, I can help you too if you want it, I know plenty of young lads who would love to…” 

“Oh, no, I’m not really interested”. 

At this point Janus had quenched his thirst for amusement and begun to lose his interest, having more pressing matters to attend to. But, one new comment made him reconsider the usefulness of his eavesdropping for longer on the ladies’ conversation. 

“That’s right, Loretta, don’t you see she’s here on official duty. To suggest for her to slack off with men… ts, ts… “

“Oh, you shut up! Don’t fret, Virginia, dear, I should have remembered you were sent for an urgent matter”. 

“True, true! Tell us if you can, is it as they say? Was her ladyship done in by pirates?” 

“Elda! Such crude language, you dare call yourself a lady, how can you say something so insensitive?”

“What? You want to know as badly as I do, besides, if it is true, then there is no changing it, and if it’s not then it’s fine, as her ladyship is still alive”. 

“I’m so sorry, Virginia, just ignore her”. 

“Don’t worry. As far as I’m willing to say, her ladyship still lives but I cannot disclose any further information”. 

Oh. 

No. 

When one spies on others, bad news exists as a possibility, but, usually, in the form of getting caught. This happened to be worse. Being spotted? That he could deal with. Having his heart ripped out after one stellar month? Not so much. 

He ran. 

Not from his problems. More or less towards them. 

The marble balcony seemed as unreachable as ever. A sense of dread loomed over his thoughts, while a mix of feelings, now turned into urgency, settled in his heart. 

Raising a hand Janus willed his trustworthy companion to fall from the nightly skies. Meanwhile, he began to climb the walls of the manor. There was an undeserved elegance in his motions, not becoming of such an honourless goal, and, nevertheless, fitting for a thief like him. 

The hawk swept inside the room from a window and cast the doors to the balcony open. 

Janus promptly grabbed onto the bass of the marble balustrade. One month ago he had received news of something that would simplify his life. He knew he should not care, it was going to end poorly no matter what. But, rereading two months worth of love letters and hoping for an uncertain future, he could not help but feel happy. That made his resolve to return in time for the festival. 

From the room came a sound of rushing footsteps. 

Three months of yearning to see a face again. 

That image made Janus more desperate, and, in his haste, he committed one fatal mistake. His grip on the marble slipped. At a thirty feet height, the ground beckoned him. 

But, just when his doom seemed so certain, he was caught by the front of his cape and safely gathered against a pair of lips. 

With such smiles stretching their faces, it could barely be called a kiss. But, the intensity of the affections behind it rendered the notion meaningless. 

“My love”, Janus muttered as they parted ever so slightly. 

“You scared me, silly. I miss you for three months and when you’re returned to me I almost lose you for good”. 

“Let’s be happy you were there to catch me”. 

“Thank the Lord, and if He wills it, I will always be”. 

“I ought to be grateful to you, my dear, not the ones above” he answered while stepping to the safe side of the balcony. 

“Well, our poor feathery friend can’t be too happy about that” Patton laughed dismissively, gazing at Janus’ hawk. 

“You’re right. I neglect to show my gratitude, perhaps you could give me somewhere to start?”

“Oh, but how can I hand you my room, my sweet, the stones of the house are too heavy!” 

“So long away and what I least expect is not you saving my life, but finding myself having missed your nonsense”. 

“Is it nonsense when I make you smile like this?” 

Janus laughed in delight. 

“Let me make you smile in turn, then”, he said, whilst extending his hand. 

The touch of Patton’s palm felt like a warm pressure through the barrier of his leather gloves. Perhaps all of his interactions were as imperfect as their naked hands not being able to meet. Janus’ fake gallantry, their hopes, may be short-lived in the face of change. But, for now, he would rather enjoy pretending. 

He pulled Patton to the inside of the alcove. 

“Are you refined now?” Patton laughed. 

“Of course, I have always been. Whatever could lead you to ask such a question? If I were to be a thief, which I am not, I would be the most honourable”. 

There was a certain amount of delight to be found in catching his lover in the midst of changing into his night robes, judging by those being laid out onto the bed’s ostentatious covers. Despite such a degree of luxury surrounding Patton, he still refused to task any servant to dress him. What was there not to love about the man? 

Patton made a motion as if to hold his hands, only to surprise him by pulling his gloves off. Any other person, and it would have been a display of sensuality, coming from him, it was like movement turned into honey, perhaps a mixture of both. Indeed, there was everything to love about him. 

Maybe not all. Janus dreaded to admit how deep in he had allowed himself to be for this man. 

A fool for a good man. 

His hands felt the light night coldness in their grip on the linen shirt. Janus almost wanted to chastise himself as the thought of kissing away the kiss of the midnight breeze came to mind. He hid in the curve of Patton’s neck, sliding his lips along it, feeling like a coward whispering a lie. Countless lies. Telling himself this was enough, that he could bear the thought of this man taken away from him by a woman, that the thrill in this forbidden form of vice was not his worry taking yet another disguise. 

“Oh, you’re a thief alright”. 

“Is there something of yours I happen to have taken?” Janus retorted with a vague tone of amusement. 

Patton cradled his left cheek in a firm request to see his face. Who was Janus to deny him? 

“You know all too well you have”. 

Oh. 

“Well, that would make two of us”. 

Patton’s expression melted into more honey. It always made Janus unsure as to whether he had made a mistake, no matter how unfounded the doubt was. 

“Thank you” the words rebounded in proximity against the other’s lips. Janus didn’t know Patton could also be cruel. 

“A little sincerity never hurt anyone”. 

“You are not anyone” he smiled softly. 

“Then make the pain up to me”.  

Both their lips made contact like a wax seal on a letter. Janus pushed Patton against a low piece of furniture. From how the other fumbled, he could tell a corner was pressing against him. Despite the sting, Patton still committed himself to their affections. If that wasn’t a metaphor for their relationship Janus didn’t know what it was. Janus knew Patton would disagree, of course. 

It seemed that exchanging one piece of furniture for another, the bed, would not be possible. Someone was knocking on the door. 

“Janus…” Patton panicked in a hushed voice.

“Not a problem, my dear, this is my speciality” he smiled at him. 

Janus’ feet almost flew over the carpet, muffled by the Persian fibres and his expertise on avoiding the parts of the floor that creaked. He turned the key of Patton’s wardrobe without the distinctive noise most people couldn’t avoid. Luckily for them, he wasn’t most people. The door mysteriously closed itself from the inside. Janus could swear to hear Patton draw a breath in wonder as to how he had done it. 

“My son, let me in!” a voice came from the corridor. 

“On my way, father”. 

The mule-like bray of the alcove’s door hinges Janus detested preceded the sound of a set of footsteps he knew and loathed just as well, if not more.

“Were you reading yourself for bed? Ah, do not answer, I can already see your night robes over there. How many times need I tell you, call the servants to dress you, it is unbecoming that you do not. Moreso with the status you are to acquire”. 

Janus almost scoffed upon hearing it.

It wasn’t that Janus outright looked down on Signor Morandi. He certainly held an admirable reputation and an even more admirable wealth. He contributed to the church, upheld his honour, was a patron to a few talented artists and did everything expected from someone of his status. By societal definition, he was an outstanding man. But, he could never understand Patton. Yes, Patton’s behaviour in public also stood to scrutiny. He was a young man to be admired, for sure. Yet, it somehow mismatched any other person’s strive for reputability. Patton lacked this performative quality, eagerness, if you will, that he found time and time again in people. 

At first, Janus struggled to comprehend it. Everyone had desires outside of the strictly polite, they either pretended they didn’t or tried to hide it, that’s why they paid the church, after all. Janus didn’t believe people made an effort to actively align with the global canon for morality, just to look like it or deceive themselves. This theory on society made it so when he met Patton he simply dismissed him as a try-hard, later to relabel him as self-deceiving. Maybe he was a victim of his own biased cynicism. 

As they grew closer, he started to get the whole picture. To his surprise, Patton tried to get his desires to align with what he perceived as morally correct, sometimes failing miserably. Janus’ presence in his room didn’t qualify as a success by society’s criteria... Patton’s effort to be ‘good’ did not come from a place of wishing to be perceived as such. Patton didn’t want to look good, he needed to be good. A good man. The realisation was hard to process but true. 

Once he understood that, Janus could not let go. It stands to reason that, if that kind of person were to earn his affection, someone like his father would awaken his spite. Signor Morandi had simply never made an effort to understand his son’s motivations, unlike Janus. If he was a cynic, Patton was a victim to his own good intentions. 

“I do not understand”. 

“Lady Renata Regio is alive”. 

“Oh”. 

“Yes, it is most fortunate, you will no longer have to stay inside and miss the festival”. 

“Well, father, I am not sure if that is appropriate, her ladyship must be feeling poorly after such a horrid experience. Perhaps it is best if I stay in and promptly send a letter to help soothe her”. 

“Patton, it honours you to be willing to put the weak’s suffering before yours, but it is not needed in this case. You do not have to concern yourself with her. I am afraid that she is safe and sound on the account of having planned her own kidnapping. Lady Renata Regio has joined the pirates bringing disgrace upon her family, the wretched woman”. 

Yes! Janus thought. Neither the wardrobe nor the entire room could contain his joy at hearing it. 

“That is most unfortunate, should I reassure her family that I do not hold any resentment towards them?” 

“It would be no good, there is going to be a scandal!” Signor Morandi sounded too happy. 

Janus could not help but to smile a little.

“Are we going to pursue any retaliation?” Janus almost saw Patton shudder in the tone he used. “I do not think it necessary, it is a matter of marriage, although important, there are many other options that--” 

“Yes, there are many other women to pursue, that is the spirit! In said spirits, I must inform you of the most wonderful news I have just received”. 

What? 

“Today a trusted servant from the Regio estate arrived at our home”. 

“Yes, Virginia Fusco”, of course, Patton knew her name. “I personally received her, she refused to tell me exactly why she was sent here, also insisted to wait to talk to you”. 

“Precisely, well, it turns out she is the personal servant of Lady Romina Regio”. 

“The eldest of the twin daughters of the Regio?” 

“Indeed. Let me be frank with you son, the Regio know they cannot keep the true actions of their lesser daughter hidden forever, a rumour is meant to surface eventually. This is very unfortunate for them, I have heard they were planning to match Lady Romina with a higher member of the nobility. Her sister’s actions have ruined her chances, it is unlikely that whoever was to marry her will accept such a union. My son, you know I always have your best interests in mind, Lady Renata Regio was a fine choice to provide you with connections to nobility. In turn, her family would have got access to our wealth, which, after their losses in the war, they need”. 

Oh no. 

“This being the circumstances, they have to choose how to align themselves in the future and what would be more advantageous to the family”. 

“Shit” Janus said under his breath. 

“We are about to reach an agreement for a marriage between Lady Romina Regio and you. I need you to understand that, if you are to accept, you will have to face some troubles, at least initially. The rumours about Lady Renata’s motivations may taint your reputation for a short while and the Regio’s rush to marry off Lady Romina will raise more rumours”. 

“What choice would please you the most?” 

“Oh, Patton, you idiot”. 

“The union could make your child a count, you could potentially obtain a title depending on how we negotiate with the family. It is my wish that you accept this marriage”. 

“Will this bring honour to our family?” 

“Certainly”. 

“Then…” an air of doubt went through Patton’s voice. 

Janus was debating whether or not to burst out of the closet, either to tell him to refuse or to scold him for not accepting immediately what was probably the best opportunity of his life. 

“Of course I will accept”. 

“You make me very happy and proud, my son. I will meet with the servant girl to send her back with a letter requesting to meet with Lord Regio”. 

The words were spoken carelessly. Signor Morandi often did that around his son, not knowing how many times he had been overheard by him. He may be a great man by society’s standards, but he could never be a good man. 

Janus slumped against the back of the wardrobe, surrounded by pieces of clothing he could never afford. There was a world in which Patton had refused. But Patton hadn’t been left a real choice, so he could find some comfort in knowing this thing between the two had to end due to him being backed into a corner. Better than having Patton’s morals come between them. That, he would never reconcile with. 

This was better than before. Being cast away for something as mundane as marriage, no matter the useful connections involved, was one thing, being left for a countess, well, if that’s what it took to refuse him he wouldn’t complain too much. 

He would have preferred a marchioness or a duchess. 

He would have preferred to be the only thing standing in between Patton and kingship and still win. 

He would definitely prefer it if Signor Morandi was to accidentally fall down a flight of stairs on his way to writing his pesky letter. 

There was nothing like a fire to persuade someone, even a countess… 

But Patton would be upset. 

His hawk screeched from the roofs above. Then footsteps rushed to his side, followed by candlelight flooding the inside of the closet. 

Patton had no right to look so humble yet so marvellous. Not even the warmth of the flame could rival with that of his gaze. A gaze that was his’, not of any countess. But, still, a gaze that deserved to become a count. 

“Janus…” 

Honey clogging up his ears, that was the shape of a whisper. 

“I suppose”, he shook off the dust of his cape and held his head up with dignity, “this is when we part. I’d love to say it’s a pity, but we saw it coming. Guess it was nice to enjoy it while it lasted. I’m always a letter away, my dear, that countess of yours wouldn’t ever find out”.

This was the bitter taste of selflessness. He never understood how Patton enjoyed it. 

Janus turned around, ready to make his merry way out of Villa Morandi or fall off the balcony properly this time. Suddenly, Patton’s armed chained the two of them to their spot in the room. Patton’s chest heaved pitifully in a mockery of a hiccup. 

“I’m sorry. What was I supposed to do? There was no other choice. I didn’t wish to upset you. Please--” 

“What do you think you’re doing?” 

He promptly let him go. 

“I…”

Janus turned back to face him.

“You think crying will make this easier? Do you seriously think I enjoy this? I would gladly rob you of everything and have you entirely to myself. It is taking so much self-restraint to not get your father into a tragic accident, my dear. If anything, you’re making it worse by crying. I am doing this for you. Don’t you dare ruin the one honourable thing I will do in my life”. 

“How can I pretend to be happy when you’re leaving?” 

There were sparks of light encased in his tears. Something about their ironic beauty left him even more heart-broken. 

“What am I going to do, then? I can be selfish to an extent, but I cannot take the rest of your life too. You’re being offered a title and a wife, all the things someone at your level could wish for. Don’t be more of an imbecile, keep it. It is already inappropriate for you to be seen with the likes of me, and it’s even worse with me being a man”. 

“You’ve never cared about that”. 

“But you do! Let resume, dear”, he tried to say in his most condescending voice. It didn’t sound even remotely like it. “You go to church each Sunday, you have five bibles just in this room and the most sincere good-samaritan complex I have ever seen. I know you can’t bear to live in sin”. 

“I can’t bear to live without you either!”

Oh, Patton, you fool, silly, ridiculous man…

  “What…” he felt as if he was going crazy. 

A chuckle escaped through the spaces in between his teeth. Janus looked downwards and whispered. 

“What are you saying?” 

This self-consciousness, he had never felt anything like it before. Was he blushing? 

“I love you… I know it’s wrong, so why doesn’t it feel like it?” 

More honey. What a way for his plan to backfire.

“This is ridiculous, you should be concerning yourself with more important--” 

Patton placed the back of his hand under his jaw to raise his head with such gentleness... stupid. 

“Is it ridiculous when it’s making you cry like this?”

A compassionate man’s tears were not worth his. He had never been as sure as now that this was a mistake. Yet he longed for him more than ever. 

“Of course not” he wiped away his tears feigning some kind of dignity. 

As quickly as ever, he also pretended to regain his composure. 

“Do you have any sort of plan for what you’re going to do next? Under pressure, you’re a terrible improviser, my love”.  

“Well...I can’t let you go. I know as much. I should, for my family, father, my honour. But I will not. You’ve shown me that acting selfishly doesn’t make someone evil. I will find a way to fulfil my duty without giving you up, you have my word”.

[homeformyheart]

the perfect gift (part 2) - noah harris x mc (mtfl)

author’s note: part 2 in the sequel/follow-up to first choice. there are mentions of the crimson veil, the club owned by priya lacroix from bloodbound, danni from it lives beneath and justin mercado from save the date as a friends/classmates of emma’s.

copyright: all characters owned by pixelberry studios. song lyrics belong to their respective artists. series/pairing: my two first loves - noah harris x mc (emma price) cross-series references: danni asturias (it lives beneath); justin mercado (save the date); the crimson veil (bloodbound) rating/warnings: 18+; smut between 🔥⚡ and ❄💧 icons word count: 6.3k based on/prompt: club scene visuals inspired by the songs “jealous” by nick jonas and “shape of you” by ed sheeran summary: emma spent months carefully planning noah’s 21st birthday gift and drove up to surprise him at hartfeld for the weekend, but things go south after a big fight makes them both reevaluate their relationship after three years together. 

read first choice to learn how they got together in the first place.

read part 1.

the perfect gift (part 2)

emma rubbed her eyes sleepily as she fumbled around her nightstand for her phone so she could turn off the blaring alarm. she got in late the night before after driving all night from hartfeld and collapsed on the bed, grateful that she was at least so physically exhausted that she fell asleep right away instead of being kept up by the emotional rollercoaster of that night. she turned off the alarm and checked the time. it was already noon and she did not want to spend all day in bed feeling sorry for herself. she also noticed she still had no new messages or missed phone calls from noah, but he was likely still sleeping off all the alcohol he drank the night before.

after a very long shower, emma stood in front of her bathroom mirror, taking stock of how puffy her eyes looked. her phone started ringing from the room and she hurried out to answer it. she felt a slight twinge of disappointment when she saw that it was her friend and photography grad student danni and not noah, but she answered it. she had forgotten they agreed to grab lunch after she told her about what happened as she was heading back from hartfeld. she was going to have to rush if she was going to make it to the restaurant in time.

emma plopped into the booth across from danni and gave her friend a tired smile. danni gave her a sympathetic smile. “you look like crap.”

“thanks,” emma replied sarcastically, quickly scanning the menu and putting her order in. “i’m just annoyed with myself. i have every right to be upset with him and i should be mad. but instead i just feel…” she bit her lip. “worried.”

danni took a bite of her burger and chewed thoughtfully. “that makes sense. you still care about him and love him. one fight isn’t going to change that overnight. but haven’t you guys argued about this before? maybe you need to reconsider the long-distance thing. i don’t like seeing what this does to you.”

emma nodded, forcing herself to eat the food in front of her. “yeah, but something feels different this time. usually he texts or calls right away but i haven’t heard from him. i just don’t know if he meant what he said last night or not. and whether it’s over and even worth talking about.”

“look, emma, i get that he’s your high school sweetheart and you guys have been together for a long time. but what he did last night was uncalled for and you should definitely not reach out to him first. he needs to own up to what he did first,” danni said with a sigh.

“you’re right. i know you’re right, but… it’s his 21st birthday today,” emma said softly, looking at her phone longingly at the photo of her and noah on her lockscreen.

danni snatched up emma’s phone from the table. “okay, here’s the plan. you get to send him one happy birthday text. just one. then you’re blocking his number for the rest of the day and going out with me tonight. we’ll go shopping for the perfect club outfit and we are going to be single ladies living it up tonight, just leave it all to me.”

emma knew better than to protest when danni doled out orders like that and she was too physically and emotionally exhausted to care. so when danni gave her the phone back, she sent a simple happy birthday text and blocked noah’s number. she could assume they were broken up for tonight, right?

* * * * * after buying the “perfect clubbing outfit,” grabbing a quick bite, and taking a long nap, emma stood in front of her reflection in the bathroom mirror, taking note of the dark circles under her eyes that she would need to cover up. she carefully applied gold on top of the violet shadow on her eyelids before lining both with a subtle smoky eye. the gold and violet would bring out the warmth of her form-fitting, dark red, off-the-shoulder, short-sleeve dress had a sweetheart neckline and fitted corset that definitely accentuated her curves. the dress went to her mid-thigh but had a wide slit up her left thigh. she pulled on her black leather stiletto boots, a pair of dangling leaf-shaped gold earrings, and swiped on a coat of matte red lipstick. she carefully styled her long, balayage dyed hair into a side fishtail braid.

even she had to admit, this look was perfect. she hoped she wouldn’t have to be outside for too long in the not-quite-winter autumn night chill since she wasn’t about to bring a coat to a club.

her phone buzzed with text notifications from danni:

[danni: hey, you ready yet? justin says he can sneak us in without IDs but only if we get there by 9:30!]

emma typed out a quick reply before double-checking she had what she needed in her wristlet. she took one last look in the mirror, her gaze falling on the small heart and “N” pendant nestled on a silver chain that she always wore around her neck. noah had given it to her as a birthday gift two years ago. without giving it a second thought, emma unclasped the necklace and left it on her nightstand before locking the door behind her as she headed out.

* * * * * noah pulled up in the visitor parking lot, which happened to sit between the drop-off roundabout and emma’s dorm building, and took off his helmet. the drive took a couple hours longer than usual, between the usual rest stops and extra stops he needed to make whenever he felt too nauseous or sleepy. it was already dark by the time he arrived and he ached all over. he took out his phone and tried to call emma to let her know he was here but the call went immediately to voicemail again. he sighed.

even though it was all he could think about when he wasn’t actively focused on how exhausted he was, he still wasn’t sure what he was going to say to emma. somehow, an apology alone didn’t seem like it would be enough. they had had these fights in the past where he would let out his bottled up insecurities after a night of drinking and he had promised to do better each time they reconciled. he was pretty sure he would need to own up to that.

“emma, come on, the dryve is here and i already texted justin a picture of your outfit so he’s definitely excited to see you!” noah perked up at emma’s name and looked up to see two figures walking across the quad toward the drop-off roundabout. even in the dark and from a distance, noah could tell which one was emma and the boots she was wearing was just enough for his imagination to start running south.

“slow down, i can’t run in these boots! also, why would you text justin that?” noah felt his heart ache when he heard emma’s voice. he really missed her and didn’t register right away that his feet had already started walking toward her.

“duh, because he’s had a crush on you since last year and i told him you were single.” noah froze. single? this had to be a joke, right? or maybe he was having a nightmare, some sort of hallucination from lack of sleep?

“danni, what the hell? i’m not… i mean, i haven’t,” emma stammered, frustrated.

danni just shrugged. “no one’s saying you have to do anything with justin. let him buy you drinks and then just blow him off by saying you’re not ready to move on yet. problem solved, now let’s go or we’re going to miss our chance to get into the crimson veil!”

emma sighed and let her friend drag her to the dryve waiting by the curb. as danni leaned in to double-check the driver’s identity, emma let her gaze wander across campus until she noticed a white motorcycle in the visitors’ lot that looked awfully familiar. she took a couple steps closer to get a clearer vantage point when she felt a hand on her wrist yank her back.

“what are you doing? come on!” she climbed into the car after danni but couldn’t help look out the window at the parking lot.

“that looks like noah’s bike,” she said softly, too soft for danni to hear.

noah watched as the car drove away. he desperately wanted to feel more like himself and then maybe he’d be able to come up with a game plan. it wouldn’t be easy to talk his way into the crimson veil, one of the most exclusive clubs in manhattan but he needed to get in before this “justin” person tried to make a move on emma. he looked back at emma’s dorm building with hesitation; he did have a copy of her room key and could let himself in to take a shower and change. it would show that he was serious about working things out with her, even if she got upset that he let himself into her room without her knowledge. he started walking quickly toward the building before he could talk himself out of it. he needed to look and feel his best if he was going to show up to that club and win back his girl.

* * * * * it didn’t take long for them to arrive at the club, and just like danni said, their names were on the list and the bouncer barely glanced at them as he let them in. emma followed danni toward the bar as her eyes adjusted to the dim club, accented by gaudy chandeliers and soft neon lights accenting the booths and dancefloor.

“this place is awesome! what do you want to drink?”

emma skimmed the drinks menu. “i want to take it easy with the drinks, you know my rule about emotional drinking. a gin and tonic is fine.”

danni rolled her eyes. “boring! as long as you do at least one tequila shot with me,” she turned away to relay their orders when emma felt the warmth of someone’s chest against her back. she shifted so she could see behind her and found herself looking up at justin mercado, his dark brown hair styled to the side. they had worked on a project together last year for their business communications class (she was double majoring in photography and media management with a minor in communications), but emma kept her distance and shut down any flirting immediately. tonight, however, emma was taken aback by how attractive he looked with his sharp, stubble-lined jaw and black dress shirt that highlighted his toned muscles.

“hey there,” he said with a smirk, reaching past her to hand his credit card to the bartender. “this round’s on me, ladies.”

“thanks justin!” danni beamed, handing him and emma a tequila shot and lime. hoping he hadn’t caught her checking him out, emma turned away to throw back the shot, cringing at the burn from the tequila.

justin led them to a corner booth in the back of the main floor once they got their drinks, far enough from the dance floor that they could somewhat hear each other over the music. danni pulled her hand as they climbed into the booth and emma knew she intentionally made it so justin would climb in after her, leaving emma sandwiched between the two. she inwardly rolled her eyes and tried to maintain a façade of interest in whatever justin had to say, while being aware of the distance between their bodies’ and the location of justin’s arm casually behind her on the back of the booth.

danni squealed as the opening lyrics of “shape of you” by ed sheeran started blasting from the club speakers, “the club isn’t the best place to find a lover; so the bar is where i go; me and my friends at the table doing shots; drinking fast and then we talk slow, emma, let’s dance!”

without waiting to see if emma would follow, danni got up and disappeared into the crowd. justin stood up next and held a hand out to her. “wanna dance?” he yelled over the music. emma hesitated and stared at his outstretched hand before looking up to give him a firm nod, letting him pull her up out of the booth. he held her hand firmly as he led them to the middle of the dancefloor.

girl, you know i want your love your love was handmade for somebody like me come on now, follow my lead i may be crazy, don't mind me say, boy, let's not talk too much grab on my waist and put that body on me come on now, follow my lead come, come on now, follow my lead

emma turned around and let justin place his hands on her hips. she put her hands over his to hold them in place as she swayed her hips from side to side; she didn’t want to lead him on, but they could still dance and have fun, right? she tried to stay aware of how close justin was dancing and avoid any unintentional grinding on her part while keeping up with the beat. she closed her eyes and allowed the warm buzz from the alcohol guide her movements to the music.

i’m in love with the shape of you we push and pull like a magnet do although my heart is falling too i’m in love with your body and last night you were in my room and now my bedsheets smell like you every day discovering something brand new i’m in love with your body

it took sweet talking a group of girls near the front of the line and bribing the bouncer, but noah finally made it into the club. given how difficult it was to get into, he wasn’t surprised to see that it wasn’t overcrowded like most clubs in the city. there were enough people to make the atmosphere fun but not so many that the only way someone could navigate the room is if they either squeezed through people or elbowed them hard enough to start a domino effect, which although comical in retrospect, would definitely result in getting kicked out.

he quickly made his way to the side of the bar furthest from the entrance, looking over his shoulder once to make sure the group of girls he snuck in with didn’t notice him sneak away. in case emma noticed him first, he’d rather not be surrounded by a group of girls in outfits that screamed “we’re competing for who can reveal the most skin and not get in trouble for public nudity.” he ordered his favorite drink and out of habit, briefly did a scan across the room to note the layout of the room, location of the bathrooms, security cameras, and all potential exits. once he got a lay of the land, so to speak, he leaned against the counter, sipping his whiskey. he started looking around more casually until his gaze landed on the woman who still took his breath away, dancing in a sexy dress he definitely hadn’t seen her in before.

noah’s eyes traced the way her dress left her shoulders and collarbone exposed, hugging her curves down to her swaying hips before he noticed that there were a pair of hands intertwined with hers. he frowned and lifted his gaze to the tall, dark-haired, handsome-looking man (he didn’t see anything wrong with acknowledging that men could look attractive without him being attracted to them) with a definite toned build dancing against her. they weren’t grinding even though they were dancing close; as far as he could tell, it looked like emma was keeping him at a distance, holding the guy’s hands in place, although it could also be wishful thinking on his part.

i don’t like the way he’s looking at you i’m starting to think you want him too am i crazy? have i lost ya even though i know you love me, can’t help it

noah realized he was clenching his jaw and rubbed his temples to try to loosen up the tension and anxiety he was feeling. now was not the time for what emma called his “jealous-and-overprotective boyfriend” mode. most of the time she found it endearing but letting it take over in this situation would result in him making unfair and hurtful accusations and noah already had enough to apologize for from last night. he quickly finished off his drink, took a deep breath, and started walking toward the dancefloor.

emma was definitely the first to notice the leather jacket-clad, brooding brunette with broad shoulders and sculpted arms that came with playing football heading determinedly toward them. she looked up and drew in a sharp breath once she realized it was noah. each stride was filled with a quiet confidence, his gaze never leaving hers, and his eyes smoldering with something she couldn’t quite name - desire, jealousy, anger, maybe all of the above.

‘cause you’re too sexy beautiful and everybody want to taste, that’s why i still get jealous ‘cause you're too sexy beautiful and everybody want to taste, that’s why i still get jealous

she released justin’s hands from her hips and turned to face him. “hey justin, i had a really great time tonight but i’m going to have to head out early. can you make sure danni’s okay?”

justin looked at her quizzically. “does this have something to do with the guy walking toward us that looks like he wants to murder me?”

emma winced and nodded. “yeah, he’s technically still my boyfriend, i think. i know danni told you otherwise.”

he shrugged and smiled. “seriously, don’t worry about it. i had fun. call me if things change with you,” he said, with a wink.

emma watched justin walk away and took a deep breath. she felt noah’s chest against her back, his fingers hovering at her sides, and his warm breath tickling her ear as he asked, “mind if i cut in?” she squeezed her eyes shut as though it would keep the memories from trickling into her mind - the last time she heard him say that was back in high school.

and i’m puffing my chest i’m getting ready to face you can call me obsessed it's not your fault that they hover i mean no disrespect it’s my right to be hellish i still get jealous

emma couldn’t bring herself to turn around and face him. the brief respite she had while dancing with justin was gone but she wanted to try to enjoy herself for a few more minutes before facing reality and having to listen to noah’s excuses. she could feel her resolve weakening as his cologne filled her senses and his breath cooled the heat of her skin from the crowded club.

he knew she was probably debating with herself inwardly and wished she would talk to him or at least look at him. noah felt disappointment creep in and started pulling himself away. emma reached behind and grabbed his arms, sliding her hands down until she looped her fingers with his, pulling him forward. he let out a breath of relief and gripped her hips tightly, pulling her as close to him as he could, falling into rhythm with her hips swaying to the beat. he lowered his head toward the crook of her shoulder as they grinded to the music, leaving loving kisses along her shoulder and neck. emma tilted her head to the side to give him better access to her neck and noah felt the weight in his heart lift a little at the gesture.

‘cause you’re too sexy beautiful and everybody want to taste, that’s why i still get jealous

i wish you didn’t have to post it all i wish you’d save a little bit just for me protective or possessive? girl call it passive or aggressive?

the rest of the song faded into the background as emma released his hands to wrap hers around his neck. emma felt a sudden urge to see him and see what he was feeling in that moment. without losing the beat, she turned in his arms until she was grinding her hips into his, using the arms wrapped around his neck to bring herself closer to him. she forced herself to look up and into his eyes, keeping her face passive, searching for a truth. what truth exactly she thought she could see, she wasn’t sure, but she did see a lot of fear and genuine regret.

noah felt like he could hear his heartbeat pounding in his ears as he looked deeply in emma’s eyes. he felt like she could see into his soul and in that moment, he wished she could, so that she could know the unabashed truth of how much she meant to him and how much he regret hurting her. his gaze dropped to her lips; he wanted to kiss her so badly but knew that he needed to tread carefully. it was a delicate, albeit often frustrating, dance to figure out when he needed to let her take the lead and when she wanted him to take initiative. the anxiety he felt in his stomach warned him to follow her lead this time. his fingers dug into her hips as if he was afraid she would slip out and run away from him at any moment.

emma dropped her gaze and leaned in to rest her forehead against his, closing her eyes. she slowed her movements so her hips were swaying gently against his in time to the music, relishing the feel of being in his arms. she closed the rest of the gap between their bodies, resting her chin on his shoulder, breathing in his musky, leathery scent. she had missed him, missed this, moments like these where it felt like the rest of the world didn’t exist and it was just them. when the song ended, she stood on her tip toes so she could murmur in noah’s ear, “want to get out of here? we should probably talk.” she noticed him swallow and nod, letting go of her hips so he could grab her hand and lead her out of the club.

* * * * * emma quietly looked out the window in the back of the dryve the entire way back to campus. noah kept stealing glances over to see if he could gauge how she was feeling, but she didn’t turn to look at him once during the entire drive. he grabbed her hand and laced his fingers with hers both out of habit and a need to touch her. she resisted half-heartedly once but he held tight and couldn’t help the small smile on his face when she didn’t resist again. he tapped his finger against his thigh nervously, trying not to feel too hopeful that she would forgive him, but he certainly felt better about the likelihood of it after dancing at the club.

once they were inside her room, emma suddenly felt a pit form in her stomach. she really didn’t want to have this conversation with him but knew she couldn’t avoid it anymore. she motioned to noah to make himself comfortable while she stepped into the bathroom to wipe off her makeup and take off her boots and jewelry. she didn’t want to change into one of his old football shirts that she usually slept in quite yet and give noah the impression that things were back to normal.

while emma was in the bathroom, noah sat himself down on one end of her loveseat and looked around the room. he noticed the necklace on the nightstand as the “N” initial necklace he had gifted her on their first anniversary and his heart sank as he realized she had taken it off. he couldn’t remember a time when she wasn’t wearing it, so this definitely wasn’t a good sign. when the bathroom door opened he stood up reflexively. he thought he saw a ghost of a smile on her face as she approached the loveseat and sat down on the opposite end, tucking her legs under her.

he was debating whether or not to speak up first but she beat him to it. “i was not expecting you to drive down here today, much less show up at the club. how did you know where i’d be?”

“when i got here i saw you and your friend leaving the building. i overheard her say you were going to the crimson veil but before i could come up to you, she basically dragged you into the car,” he said, shifting in his seat. “i’m sorry, emma. for everything.”

emma maintained a neutral facial expression and gave him a long look. only her eyes betrayed how fast her mind was processing information and weighing the repercussions of different responses. finally, she said, “what exactly are you sorry for? do you remember everything from last night?”

noah bit his lip and nodded. “yeah, i remember most of it. i felt like we were growing apart over the last few weeks; i know we were both busy but it felt like our relationship was taking a backseat. so when you told me you couldn’t make it up to see me on my birthday… i was more upset than i thought i’d be. i drank way more than i should’ve last night and let my frustrations and doubts fester until it exploded like that. i really am sorry.”

emma sighed and looked away. “i know you’re sorry, and i know you feel really bad. but you’ve done this before and we’ve talked about this. it feels like you’re taking for granted that i’ll forgive you and i’m just so tired of doing this with you. you need to bring up your doubts and concerns with me instead of letting them build up and definitely not drink when you’re upset.”

“i know. i promise i’ll do better,” noah said, scooting closer to her so he could grab both her hands in his. “i love you, baby. can you forgive me?”

emma already knew what her answer was before he even asked. she loved him too much and she knew he was much harder on himself than anyone else and probably had been beating himself up over this all day. “i forgive you. i still feel upset, but i’ll get over it soon. i love you.”

“thank you, baby.” noah was thrilled. he leaned in without hesitation to wrap her up in his arms. emma let herself relax and enjoy the familiarity and warmth of his body against hers. noah shifted so he could pull her into his lap and emma cupped his face in her hands, leaning forward to give him a deep kiss. she pulled back and saw that he was looking up at her with pure adoration, and her breath caught with emotion – she loved this man so damn much.

noah’s eyebrow furrowed with concern. “what’s wrong, baby?” she was always surprised at how well he could read her. emma could feel tears prickling the back of her eyes.

“i just love you so much. and you pushing me away last night really hurt,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

noah raised his chin to give her a soft kiss. “i’m so sorry for hurting you like that. i’m going to make it up to you.” he left a trail of kisses across her jaw and down her neck, stopping to give a teasing kiss on her collarbone. “i’m going to worship you like the goddess you are. you are so goddamn gorgeous, emma. it took every ounce of restraint i had not to carry you out of the club when i saw you dancing,” noah murmured, kissing along her shoulder and down to the top of her breasts.

🔥⚡ 🔥⚡ 

emma shifted so she was straddling him and ran her hands through his soft hair. “were you jealous?”

noah paused and pulled back to look at her again. his hands roamed up and down her back until they settled on her ass. “you’re damn right i was jealous. i can’t stand the thought of you looking this sexy for another man.” his grip tightened and emma bit her lip to keep from moaning as she started grinding slowly on his lap, eliciting a soft grunt from noah.

“so what are you going to do about it?” she whispered in his ear, grinding up and down slowly, enjoying the feel of how much she was turning him on.

noah growled and stood up, gripping her tightly against him. emma wrapped her legs and arms tightly around him instinctively. “i’m going to make sure i’m the only man for you, starting by making you scream my name.”

he reverently laid her on the bed, kissing and touching her everywhere. emma felt warmth bloom from each spot he kissed and touched, as one hand massaged her breast while the other traced a finger up and down her thigh. she put her hands on his chest and gently pushed him back. “if i’m a goddess, then prove it. strip.”

noah smirked. he could take orders from her all day. he slowly pulled his shirt over his head, slowly revealing his abs before unbuckling his belt. he unzipped his pants and let them fall, stepping out of them and taking a step toward the bed. emma held up a hand and moved forward until she was sitting on the edge of the bed. she gave him the most smoldering look she could muster as she reached under her dress to pull down her panties before slowly spreading her legs apart. “worship me.”

emma watched noah’s eyes darken and he swallowed visibly. she let her eyes wander down his broad shoulders, sculpted abs, and very erect member, enjoying how it twitched when she gave orders. she laid back against the bed, stretching her arms overhead as noah started kissing up her thigh. she reached forward to weave her fingers in his hair and pulled his head gently back to look at her. “no teasing. worship me, now.”

noah surged forward, licking up her folds until he reached her clit. he alternated sucking and swirling his tongue over her sensitive spot, listening for her gasps and moans that would cue his movements. emma felt her hips rise and start moving involuntarily, his breath leaving a tingling feeling everywhere he touched with his tongue. he was incredibly adept at figuring out exactly what would get her off and it was all she could do not to squeeze her thighs around his neck to get closer. he pulled back slightly and emma whimpered at the sudden loss of warmth, although the contrast from the cooler air in the room gave her goosebumps. she felt him stroke her with a finger and resume his tongue ministrations and emma threw her head back, arching her back. she was getting close and noah knew it. he added a second finger and sped up his strokes, making sure his tongue swirled clockwise and then counterclockwise until he could feel her thighs start to shake.

“god, noah, i’m close— don’t stop, yes!” emma gasped, closing her eyes as he brought her over to the edge and continued to stroke and lick her so she could ride out her orgasm. she felt noah slow down and eventually stop as she tried to catch her breath. he hovered over her and emma opened her eyes just as he leaned down to give her a passionate kiss. she licked her lips as he pulled away, tasting herself.

she wanted more. “take my clothes off. now,” she ordered, watching with amusement as noah silently reached under her until he found the zipper, pulling it down and slowly taking the dress with it.

“this might be my new favorite dress of yours. although i definitely prefer you out of it more,” he murmured, leaving featherlight kisses on each her most sensitive spots as he freed them from the fabric. kisses on the top of her breasts, swirling his tongue over her nipples before continuing to kiss down her stomach and her hips. he let the dress fall to the floor and emma scooted higher on the bed so that he could lean over her more comfortably. he nudged her legs apart again with his knees as he hovered over her, kissing her passionately until emma literally didn’t think she could breathe.

noah pulled back, prompting emma to look up at him. “tell me what you want, baby,” he said breathlessly. emma reached up to trail her fingers down his back until she reached his ass and gave it a squeeze, eliciting a low moan.

“i want all of you, noah,” she murmured back. noah lined himself up and entered her slowly.

once he was buried to the hilt, noah stilled, looking at her to make sure she was okay. she loved the feeling of him being inside her and wrapped her legs around the back of his thighs to hold him tightly against her. she lifted her hips upward and started moving and he followed her lead; they fell into a familiar rhythm, grabbing, touching, and kissing each other everywhere they could.

her back arched and noah held her tightly as she felt pressure start to build in her abdomen again; she tilted her head back and noah kissed her neck and swirled his hips just the way she liked it. all she could manage was a gasp before crying out as the pressure peaked and cascaded over, drowning all her senses with pleasure. noah continued to thrust his hips to help her ride out her orgasm before he followed with a grunt, crying out her name as his seed filled her up. emma was too dazed to respond and wanted to enjoy the bliss before she came down from her high.

“god, that was definitely the best sex we’ve ever had,” emma breathed, placing a hand on her chest to try to calm her beating heart. “thank god i’m on birth control.”

“well, they say make up sex is the best kind,” noah replied, lifting his head from the crook of her shoulder. his breath was ragged and he wasn’t quite ready to leave the warmth of her body yet even though they were both spent.

❄💧❄💧

emma gave him a piercing look. “don’t go getting any ideas. i do not like being mad at you.”

“don’t worry, i hate it when you’re mad at me,” he said without a hint of his usual snark. if emma had any lingering doubts about noah’s feelings for her, which she didn’t, they would have immediately disappeared at the amount of heartwrenching love she could see in his eyes.

“well, i’m not mad at you anymore. lucky for you, since it’s your birthday for another,” she said with a smirk, quickly glancing at the clock before continuing, “four minutes. before i forget to ask, did you like your gift?”

“i loved it and i want to talk to you about it tomorrow, but this right now is the most perfect gift i could ask for,” noah murmured, resting his forehead on hers and trying to get his breathing back under control. emma’s chest was heaving up and down beneath his, her face flushed where it lay framed by his forearms.

emma opened her eyes and smirked up at him, lightly dragging her fingernails up and down his back. “what, sex? you’re really setting a low bar for future presents, casanova. although i will say this fits nicely within my budget,” she teased.

noah let out a low, husky laugh and emma could feel her body immediately flush underneath his. he was so damn sexy. he lifted his head to look her in the eyes before punctuating each point with a kiss. “no, this.” he kissed her forehead. “us.” her nose. “you.” her cheek. “here.” he worked his way down her face and left a few feathery kisses along her jaw. “with me.”

emma’s eyes fluttered closed as noah left a sweet kiss in the hollow of her collarbone and started working his way back up. “knowing i haven’t lost you.” he kissed the skin just beneath her earlobe and whispered, “knowing you still love me.” he resumed kissing a trail from her ear to her lips. “knowing you’ll still let me love you.” he hovered a hair’s breadth away from her lips when he murmured the word love, his eyes full of longing and adoration. she closed the gap between them, bringing her hands up to cup his face.

“i love you, emma. so much,” he said, giving her a lingering kiss before shifting his weight off her to lay on his back. emma curled her body into his and lay her head on his chest. his arm wrapped around her shoulders in an attempt to pull her even closer.

emma reached over to cup his cheek and turn his face toward her. “i love you too, baby. happy birthday.” she tilted her head up and gave him a soft kiss before sighing happily and letting the sound of his steady heartbeat lull her to sleep.

“goodnight, babe,” noah whispered as he pulled the comforter up around her shoulders. he closed his eyes and let himself fall asleep to the sound of her even breathing and the feel of her in his arms, feeling ever grateful for the love he had in his life.

* * * * * mentions: @khoicesbyk​; @nyastarlight​; @chetachisblog; @robintora​;​ @shows-simp-card​; @brycesgirl​;

[sneakerdoodle]

I was going to release this as a long video essay but devices and software had conspired against me and eventually drained my patience, so here it is in the written form. My magnum opus. My 15 pages long analysis of the three Infinity Train seasons currently out. 

1. Introduction

So for starters, I watched Infinity Train way too late, only a few weeks before the release of Book 3. And it immediately gave me MANY many thoughts, head full... Needless to say, when the first 5 episodes of Book 3 were released I was HYPED. So hyped that, being on a vacation out in the countryside, with better connection only availble upon climbing a nearby hill, I made some. sacrifices. To get there after dark, when everyone else was sound asleep.

[id: two screenshots of separate discord messages by someone with a handle “fern”, one reading “ also i decided to not risk bothering people/dogs by opening the gate, so i jumped the swamp instead, except i didn’t actually cover it, my foot got stuck, i barely saved my shoe, and i need to do that again to get back bc i am locked out”, another reading “well” with a photo of a person’s legs covered in black dirst from feet to knees. end id]

And by the rules of friendly bullying, I am now destined to have that night haunt me forever. Naturally.

[id:discord chat search results for the word ”swamp” (38 results found), cropped so that a part of one message is readable, saying “... KNOW it was the SWAMP that embraced ME, not the other way around”, another (by someone with a handle “Fleur” saying “you already DID embrace a swamp”. end id]

[id: a message from the same person saying “he asks ‘how was your swamp’”. end id]

[id: a message from the same person saying “big words coming from mx. soggy feet” with an angry red overlay. end id]

And, well. The first two Books had left me with a sense of assuredness, the underlying motif of them appearing empowering and infinitely comforting, and I was excited to get another supporting pillar in season 3. Another story to turn to in time of need to remind me that I have the power to make my life a better one, that it is never too late to make something of where I am. And, well, it's not that Book 3 didn't continue the topic of personal choice and growth, but the story it told added... let's say, more weight to the idea of personal development. 

That is perhaps only natural: narratives need to grow, to develop, to take the themes explored in them further, deeper with every coil of the spiral. And a more, grave, exploration of them will only bring them closer to life. But in the aftermath of Book 3 I had to deal with a certain sense of powerlessness, not being able to fit it into a neat system, put it on a shelf in a shiny frame of witty analysis and call it a day. But, quite ironically, I believe that this exact feeling of unending change and death of comfort is the exact thing the show wants us to get comfortable with. And that's what I want to talk about here. Infinity Train's core narrative of an individual versus the wrold, individual versus change. The very concept of personhood, the relationship between the person and their environment and the way to approach it that is shown as perhaps the most productive. 

I’ll start with my Many Thoughts on the first two books to explain what I thought was the underlying message of both of them.

2. Book 1: The Perennial Child and the Unproducitve Protagonist Complex

Book 1 establishes the core elements of the narrative wonderfully, the writing is smooth, effortless, beautiful and takes you on a wonderul, deeply impactful and bittersweet emotional ride. We have Tulip, The Perennial Child herself, who has to renegotiate her relationship with the world, with life, change, and other people's power to bring said change. Tulip is also to learn true connection and make peace with its price.

The narrower narrative of a story centered around a divorce is a perfect gateway into a broader one, so let's explore the specifics of the foremer first. Tulip's mindset is the mindset of a child from a dysfunctional family. The notion of blame is very strong in her perception of the world. On one hand, she sufferes from a misplaced sense of responsibility for the way things are, as she admits in her conversation with One One. That is the most natural for someone who grew up in an unstable environment, with parents whose relationship was not harmonic and healthy.  A child caught in the middle of adults' anger and argumments internalizes that anger and those arguments as something having to do with them. And that's what we see Tulip go through, with her having to listen to her parents fight because of her needs. 

[id: a screenshot from Infinity Train Book 1 showing younger Tulip, a read-headed girl, sitting between her two parents upset as her father is telling something to her mother angrily. end id]

Tulip also has to step in as a caregiver to a suffering adult, tucking her dad in at night; the dialogue emphasizes that their usual roles are being reversed in that situation. Growing up in the middle of constant conflicts, having to provide care and comfort and stability to someone who was supposed to take care of her, had naturally resulted in a  deeply ingrained painful perception that Tulip is the one responsible for her environment, is the one to blame when it is “broken”, and is the one who should step up and fix it, make it right.

Then, on the other hand, there is the notion of blame Tulip puts on others, specifically her parents. Here, we see the same mindset but reversed: Tulip feels caught in the middle of their divorce and demands that they make it right, make it work, for her sake. She needs her family, she needs stability, she needs her parents to work out their schedules, she needs to get to the game design camp. And she is prone to seeing her parents as people who are cruelly destroying her life and her family for no apparent reason. 

I am not calling her entitled, of course; ideally, stability is exactly what parents need to provide their children with. That is their mission. And when they fail, it is more than natural for children to feel hurt and betrayed. In a way, they are. Tulip's agony over her parents' divorce is never mocked nor undermined in the show, either; it is shown with the deepest compassion. So this is not so much about calling her feeligns invalid, but about looking for ways to redefine the situation in a way that would help Tulip heal. The way out of her  agony seems to be to abandon the mindset that puts her at the center of her family life – and at the center of the world, in general. Things are not that simple; people have reasons for behaving the way that they do outside of how it affects her; and avoiding and rejecting that truth hurts her, first and foremost. Feeling like the center of the universe isn't so much selfish or arrogant or toxic; it's just painful, and Tulip needs to step out of it, for her own sake.

[id: screenshot from Infinity Train Book 1 showing the two adults from before, Tulip’s parents, with exaggerated demonic features, surrounded by flames. end id]

An important thing to discuss is that the notion of “blame” can only exist if there is indeed something wrong with the world. Let's go back to Tulip's defining conversation with One One, in which she gets to say some incredibly important words: “It's not your fault the car is this way.There isn't a fault, it just is.”. “No fault” can mean “no one to blame” as much as “there is actually nothing wrong with the world”. The words “It just is” carry this simple and raw reality check that forces us to accept the way things are, with no emotional withdrawal or avoidance of it. 

The world simply is the way it is, and even if the way it is hurts us, it doesn't mean that what hurts us is wrong. 

I would like to suggest that the Unfinished Car itself, the residents of which continue adapting to their unconventional reality and genuinely thriving in it through acceptance and flexibility, are here to emphasize that. We may not like the way things are, but that doesn't mean we should go looking for someone to blame and force to “fix” them, be out ourselves and others. We shouldn't ferociously attack what hurts us with wrenches, kicking and screaming and tyring to get it to Work Already. Sometimes the only thing we can do is to accept the reality of it, let go, and see what we ourselves can do to feel happy and content in the present circumstances.

Making peace with the way the world is, renouncing responsibility for it outside of her personal decisions, is exactly what Tulip gets to learn on the train. Being half-abducted by it during a time when Amelia has taken over and no one is there to give a nice welcoming message with specific instructions, Tulip is deeply distraught by the mysteries surrounding her, and infinitely frustrated by her seeming inability to 'logic' her way through the challenges. She boards the train as a girl whose main need is to create a semblance of control over her environment, through understanding it. 

[id: two shots of Tulip’s sketchbook where she is tryng to figure out train’s puzzles. end id]

She is at the center of the universe, she is responsible for the way things are, and it is up to her to figure them out.

That is a lone, individualistic journey of a single person who only wants to deal with their own life, their own problems, and Tulip does not welcome any companions at the beginnig of it. It makes sense for her to seek solitude: she feels overwhelmingly responsible for her own little personal world, just how unbearable would it be to let it merge with other people's lives, for her to suddenly be at fault when those she cares about are hurt? Not to mention that new people are new unknowns, new factors that can make her life harder, more confusing and painful. For a person stuck in her desperate desire for control, it makes a lot of sense to prefer to deal with her problems on her own and expect others to do the same.

Meeting One One, who is the first to care, and Atticus, who is there to dispense his pearls of wisdom about the resources we find in each other, the value of friendship and its ultimate worth in the face of responsibility and risk of loss that comes with it, is what helps Tulip find comfort and humility in her relationship with others. She is simply one of the many people influencing each other's lives; she is not at the center, not at fault for the pain that comes to others, even if they were hurt through their association with her; it was their chocie to lend her a hand or a paw, and they had the right to make that choice.

Similar humility of being just one of the many is found in Tulip's relationship with the world at large, too, shown through her relationship with the train. First, she is frustrated and impatient, trying to figure out the most rational logical way to proceed in her attempts to control what happens to her next. Then, as she finds joy and connection, things become easier, she finds a rhythm that works for her, as seen at the start of “The Ball Pit Car”. And then soon after that, in swoops Amelia, ready to wreck havoc and quench Tulip's progress by trying to kill one of her friends and turning the other into a monster, and pinning it all on her. 

Losing Atticus is far too big of a blow, and so Tulip gives up her lessons and falls into fatalism, feeling like she has no control over her fate, like she will never be allowed to make it off the train.

But the core component of Tulip's character is her ability to “bounce back”. She loses her progress quite tangibly, with the number going up – and yet reverses that development rapidly, when she gives it all another try and subsequently learns the truth about Amelia. Finding out that the current self-appointed conductor who has been terrorizing cars and threatening Tulip and her friends is just a person, Tulip asks a very important quesiton: “What's stopping me from doing what she did?”. She stops interpreting her surroundings as alien, hostile and created to act against her, in weird incomprehensible ways that seem to be mocking her attempts to find a shred of logic to them. Instead, she takes full control of her own actions and starts using her environment to her own benefits, much like Amelia did. But Tulip takes it a step further and approaches it in a healthier fashion. Where Amelia is desperately trying to make the world do her bidding, Tulip states a simple objecitve: help her friend, - and looks at her options.

Tulip steps into her power when she realizes her choices and actions matter and have full weight. That restores her faith into being able to help Atticus. She cannot control her surroundings fully, she cannot control how other people behave, and trying to make herself responsible for it is unfair to herself and others and hurts everyone. She can, however, make her own choices and use her own skills to strive to perserve what is important to her.

Once again, that mindset is directily opposed to Amelia's. In Book 1, Amelia is stuck in the constant attempts to recreate her life, to change the world around her, to bend her environment to her will instead of growing internally, accepting the change and adapting to it, taking responsibility for her own feelings and not for what surrounds her. The key motivation in the prison she has created for herself is grief. Unwilling to let go of the world she once shared with someone she loved, not wanting to accept the passing of something that was incredibly important to her, Amelia stagnates, rejects the thought of progress, of healing, of moving on. To start to get over such a loss is to create distance between yourself and what you are mourning. When you move on, you leave it futher and furher behind with each step. And so Amelia decides to stay exactly where she is: in the depth of soul-shattering suffering. Symbolically, she never even leaves the pod she was delivered to the train in, stays at the very beginning of her recovery journey, turns her pain into her armor until forcefully broken out of it by Tulip. 

The two characters are perfect for each other as counterforces; even more so, the very environment that Amelia has created, the one that frustrates Tulip with all the unanswered questions and mysteries, is the exact one that would motivate this girl to grow. This is something to keep in mind when approaching Infinity Train's narrative: Amelia is a perfect antognist to Tulip, and it is through encountering her that Tulip grows. Amelia's mistakes result in Tulip's progress.

A key moment in the two characters' confrontation is Amelia's offer to give Tulip a car of her own, where her and her family can be pitcture-perfect and happy in the exact way Tulip wants them to be. By that point in the narrative Tulip has already had to face the truth of her family situation, the reality of it, it not being anyone's fault nor her parents' whim, sad things simply just happening for reasons outside of anyone's control. And with Amelia's offer, she has to come painfully close to the truth that she has just started making peace with once again. She has to really internalize the fact that her real parents were not happy together, and wouldn't be happy in this simulated reality; and if they were, they would not truly be the people she knows. 

Tulip acknowledges the painful and beautiful truth of life: if you want to be surrounded by real people you can love, people that can love you, you need to give them the freedom to live their lives, freedom to hurt you, to walk away, to change the life you share, to have their own personal feelings that might be different from the ones you wish they had. They need to have freedom to make choices. It is scary, and it hurts, but that is the only way to have something real. While Amelia is obsessed with molding her environment in the image of her perfect life, and failing miserably, Tulip realizes that to reunite with her parents she needs to accept that, as long as they are in her life, things can change between them; and that is okay. That is the only way love can exist. With the risk of loss and pain, not any less worth it for that.

At the end of her journey, Tulip has learned the nature and price of connection, and her place in the complicated, irrational, incomprehensible world. She gets to accept that things don't need a reason for happening, that there is not always someone to blame and demand reparations from. She gets to accept that she is just one person -  but that realization gives her so much personal power. As just one person, she is free from the weight of the world she used to carry on her shoulders; as just one person, she has the full scope of her personal skills and power to protect herself and those she loves, to change with the world and adapt to it, once she starts treating it as a friend and engaging with it on its own terms. At the end of her arc, she truly gets to say that she is ready for everything: she learns a whole new way to approach life that makes handling change much less painful.

She is a protagonist that gives up the protagonist complex, telling her she is the central point of the larger narrative. And through that, she finds peace and flexibility.

What is fascinating is that the narrative itself then supports that idea by removing Tulip from the center of the show. In the next book we follow the arc of Lake, my beautiful perfect child. And with it being centered around the idea of Lake's personhood and them transcending the role of a denizen, that decision could not have been any more metatextually perfect.

3. Book 2: Cracked Reflection and the Relationship between Personhood and Connection

In the first season, Lake is a side character that appears for just one episode, contributes to the protagonist's journey and is then gone. But as the story shifts and focuses on them, we see their struggle as they try to break out of the role of a 'supporting character' and prove their completion and worth outside of their contribution to someone else's story. Their intial place in the narrative and their initial position within their own story echo each other beautifully, and this is the exact kind of writing excellency that has me absolutely hooked. Thank you Infinity Train.

Quite interestingly, the idea of personhood is explored in relation to the theme of connection. Lake shares their journey with Jesse, and the two character arcs mirror each other, dealing with the relationship between personal freedom and external bonds. 

Lake and Jesse operate under the same false pretense that to connect to people means to be what they want you to be, that in order to have friends you have to sacrifice who you are, what you want. They approach this false predicament from the opposite ends: Lake by avoiding any connection altogether and Jesse by readily caving in to peer pressure, adult pressure, just... general imposion of everyone else's expectations, because he suffers from the compulsive need to be liked and accepted. Lake refuses to fit in and is left to deal with their horrifying situation alone, Jesse hurts himself and those he loves in order to fit in.

It's very interesting how the narrative connects reflectiveness to connection. 'Empathy Goes', the song about friendship that Jesse sings, starts with lines “When I look at you, I see me” – words that take on a quite literal uncomfortable meaning for Lake. 

[id: a screenshot from Infinity Train Book 2 of a small girl looking at her reflection in a reflective child (Lake)’s head, Lake unamused. end id]

Then the thematic core of season 2 – Lake's conversation with the dying Sieve, in which the latter torments them – introduces the thought that, by befriending Jesse and helping him grow, Lake became what he needed them to be; became his reflection.

That is, of course, not true. The idea that Lake had simply fulfilled the role of a denizen is disproven by the fact that they are the protagonist of Book 2 that goes through the same journey as Tulip, meeting the exact people and creatures and foes that influence and challenge them in the most important ways. At the end of the day, their victory was not changing their external circumstances but their internal approach to them.

As this awesome person has pointed out, that to get off the train, Lake had to embrace their reflectiveness. However heartbreaking was their enraged plea to have their personhood recognized, they never really did change One One's mind. In his perception, they remained a denizen, “so good at helping”. 

The truth is, however, is that yes, Lake has helped Jesse - by being themselves unapologetically, by not fitting in, by showing him that that is an option, and in that life, you can still be loved and cared about – because Jesse without doubt cares about Lake very deeply. 

But Jesse has helped Lake, too, has changed them – by giving them connection and recognition, by showing them they can be accepted and loved without the need to change who they are, without the need to tailor themselves to another person and 'mirror' them. At the end, the two get one escape for two people – because their journey was a shared one, because their paths cannot be separated, because they have influenced each other equally.

 And much like Amelia was the perfect person to challenge Tulip, One One with his inability to think outside of the algorythm and acknowledge Lake's personhood, was perfect for challenging them and putting them into a situation where they had no other choice but to accept, acknowledge and appreciate the connections they have made, and the fact that those connections define them - partially.

Reflectiveness represents bonds, letting other people into your  life, letting them influence you, teach you something, ask something from you – and, fascinatingly, that seems to be a part of what defines us, gives us personhood. Are we just what we do for other people? No, obviously not. Are we simply what separates us from others, what makes us unique, who we are completely on our own, with no regard to what unites us with other people, what they bring into our lives and what we bring into theirs? The answer Infinity Train provides appears to be no, once again. 

Lake names themselves – finds a true, real name that they identify with, when they embrace their reflective nature and see themselves in a body of water that, yes, lets the world in, reflects it, while also undoubtedly having a life and depth of its own. Personhood, real, full human experience seems to be the subtle dance of individualism and connection, both what defines us as separate from others and what tethers us to them.

I mentioned how Lake's journey being similar to Tulip's is a part of what validates their personhood. That's one of those fascinating things in Infinity Train's writing: how the intial split of the cast into the passenger and supporting denizen characters appears almost like commentary on the protagonist complex, with Tulip actually having to internalize the idea that the world and her life are not centered solely around her, are not all about her happiness and growth, that some things happen just because they do, not because they have something to do with her. 

Then, opening with a lead that needs to outgrow the protagonist complex, the show moves on to that character's narrative foil and shows them grow into the central point of the narrative, fighting to have the world recognize them as the main character of their separate, independent story. And to us viewers there is no doubt that Lake is a person of their own and has full rights to personal protagonism – they  are the one we are watching, whose struggle is  the focus of the Book, they are who we sympathise with in the story. 

This wonderful meta decision really drills in the idea that every single character we only ever catch a glimpse of is the main hero of their own journey, and has a full life and full personhood outside of the role they play in the story we watch unravel. At the same time, as per the rules of narrating, we only see the people and events that serve the current protagonist's growth. Through that, and through being an antalogy that unravels by latching onto a secondary character time after time, book after book, exploring their own journeys and inner worlds, Infinity Train creates a breathtaking polycentric model of reality, in which every single person is the main character on their own path, with people around them contributing something of value to that path – and the main character contributing something to theirs, becoming in turn a secondary supporting character in someone else's story. 

Tulip and Atticus are a wonderful example of that: embarking (hehe) on the same journey for different reasons, helping each other, accepting the responsibility that comes with being each other's friends and companions, welcoming the pain that comes with connection and at the end aiding each other in their quests. And Jesse and Lake are much the same. 

The idea of companionship being the escape is only directly introduced in Book 2, but it had already sprouted in Book 1. The themes of connection, renegotiating one's relationship with the seemingly hostile world, and coming to terms with everyone's place in it as one of the many, but having endless personal power over our own narrative, are constantly and continuously present in the show, with the differnet smaller plots and character arcs beautifully overlapping.

___________________________________________________________

Analyzing all of this in the past, I felt incredibly secure and confident in the seeming underlying lesson. That there is no reason to fight the world at large, the things that are outside of your or someone else's control.  And that doesn't mean “not standing up to those who are hurting others”, as shown in Tulip's confrontation with Amelia, Jesse's confrontation with the Apex. It means that some things, like where you have come from, what the relationships of people around you are, and who you have lost, cannot be changed, and our subconscious attempts to fight them only hurt us in the end. 

The idea of our boundless ability to find resources in ourselves and people around us, learn from people that surround us, accept their help and offer them ours, find love once we accept the change love brings; the idea that we always have the ability to thrive in our current circumstances, once we accept that we ourselves are getting in our own way, out of the unwillingness to let go of something we hold dear; the idea that we can always, always bounce back, that it is never too late for any of us, and that true companionship will always be there to give us escape... 

The idea of the world as our friend, with its own will and wishes, something that is not to be controlled and bruteforce- reasoned  through, but something to engage with... 

These all gave me strength, held me up, and gave me a new paradigm that allowed me to look at the reality from a place of comfort and assuredness. The paradigm of the complicated web of life where everything is in its place, where our shortcomings create valuable lessons for someone else, where our choices, even if they hurt us and others, create lessons, as established by Sieve,  have their place in the big picture, like what we see with Amelia's mitakes and Tulip's progress. 

Then, the idea that in that big picture, you are exactly where you need to be, always, because you always have the only thing you need to grow and recover and thrive – you have yourself and the people around you. How infinitely comforting this is, how solid.

And then Book 3 has arrived. And holy shit y’all.

4. Book 3: Cult of the Conductor and Trust vs Control

And once again, this season has not necessarily disproven all of the aforementioned stuff, just... put a lot more emphasis on the reality of pain people have to endure. In this book we had to witness simultaneously a recovery – within Grace's arc, - a descend – within Simon's, - and an actual, raw trauma, that Hazel had to suffer through on screen. We had to watch Simon murder Hazel's caregiver and repeatedly make her feel unsafe, and Grace withdraw herself and leave Hazel alone because of her ungoing identity crisis. We have to come uncomfortably close to the reality of the pain that shapes people, and with how horribly we all can hurt each other. That pain is no longer obscured by the passage of time, it's not something in the character's past. And that is... very rattling.

But, once again, the constant running themes and motifs remain. Once again, the show tackles the idea of change, of connection and the relationship between the individual and the world. 

Regarding the latter, what we see with the Apex is the protagonist complex projected on a group. The Apex myth simultaneously places them at the top of the world – hence the name – and makes them the poor victims of the evil False Conductor that of course seeks to destroy them and targets them specifically. Grace and Simon developed the idea of themselves and their group as the sole people for whom the train exists, as well as the chosen deliberate targets of the entity that had taken over their environment, instead of accepting that maybe the world does not revolve around them!

Upon meeting Amelia they learn that they are not chosen, that they are not on the train because the outside world did not recognize their value, that there was never someone at the top who had their best needs in mind, and that the entity that calls the shots now does not actually know anything about them besides the fact that they exist.

The theme of connection makes a comeback hand in hand with the motif of empathy, with the book opening with Jesse's song 'Empathy Goes'. And that's what's being explored in Grace's and Simon's respective arcs with relation to denizens: their ability to show compassion and recognize someone else's personhood.

The narrative is multi-layered here. On one hand, what is being explored is a group mentality, a cult mentality that paints the outside world as simultaneously inferior and hostile, and we can see Grace and Simon accidentally inventing some pretty mean propaganda techniques. Whew, those kids. But then on the other, the idea of denizens as projections, 'nulls', incapable of actual feeling, only pretending to be real people... this brings to mind such complicated and staggering concepts as philosophical zombies or the idea of the world as something that is simply a projection of your, you currently reading thinking person, brain, where nothing is real except for your own consciousness. And since it is simply impossible to possess others and make sure they are indeed living breathing feeling creatures and not just NPCs in one wild, wild dream, empathy becomes a fascinating choice. What we're left with is 1) believing that other people do in fact feel what they say they do, 2) treating them with respect just in case or because being mean feels bad, or, 3) you know, deciding that we're on top of the world, and are the Apex predator, and everything exists for us, and we can do whatever we want with people around us.

It's interesting to see this mindset as a group mentality, but it makes sense, too; with the Apex we get to watch what happens when a group only recognizes the personhood of those that are a part of it. The thing is, there is no actual empathy within that group, either; we see that once Grace stops fitting into it as smoothly. To the Apex, she becomes a 'void', a nothing, something hollow, devoid of status and power and therefore rights and feelings that need to be respected. Simon's approach is “whatever I do not like is not real”, so by proxy, the new version of Grace is nothing, and should be erased.

This lack of empathy can be tracked deeper and deeper down to Simon as the extremely tyrannical leader, his refusal to recognize the personhood of anyone who does not agree with him. It is natural for us all to act as if what we believe is correct; otherwise, why would we believe it? But Simon takes it to the extremes, refusing to even for a second consider an alternative point of view, and ends up locked in a mindset in which he is the only person entitled to the ability to see the truth, and everyone else somehow is inferior and incomplete. That's the protagonist complex, that's the experience of a person who considers themselves at the center of the world. Why would he out of all people be the keeper of truth? He simply does not ask himself that, because he does not stop to think about the existence of others, or their experiences.

However, it wouldn't be correct to say that Simon is completely devoid of empathy. It's just that his version of it is extremely self-centered and unable to discern between his personal situation and someone else's reality. As my awesome friend @buttercup-bug​ has pointed out, the relationship between Grace and Hazel and Simon and Hazel is built on extending that limited, conditional empathy. As they have noted, the golden and silver masks at the start of the season that are performing the song 'Empathy Goes' represent the two of them, the golden one directly intersecting with the one Grace wears, and in general gold and silver matching their color schemes. 

The position of the masks matches their position on the stage, as well: they are the two leading figures in the big messed-up play that is the Apex, removed from reality, avoiding it, living in their own little world. They perform that reality in different ways, Grace leading with smiles and emotions/emotional manipulation, Simon being more uptight and serious. 

[id: two shots from Infinity Train Book 3, showinng first a scene with halves of two theatrical masks, a sorrowful and a laughing one, surrounded by undefined actor creatures; then Simon and Grace, two young people, Simon white and blonde, Grace black, with shortr dredlocs, wearing a golden masks, holding hands with each other and two other kids in a curtain call manner, with fire raging behind them. end id]

Now, returning to the empathy motif: as it was pointed out to me, the two extend their empathy to Hazel in their own ways, representing their relationship with the inner child. Grace relates to Hazel as a lonely young girl seeking connection with other children, and engages with her in a fun, upbeat way, making it so they enjoy each other's company and spend time together like friends do. That helps her get closer to Hazel, get genuinely attached and through that let Hazel influence her worldview a bit, and be there for Hazel through harder, less fun things as well, till.. a certain point.

Simon, on the other hand, sees himself in Hazel as someone stranded on the train and under the care of a denizen, and automatically perceives Tuba as a threat. And he expresses his empathy in a direct, serious, violent way, by doing what he thinks needs doing: by getting rid of  Tuba without making time for smiles and fun times. 

Grace is the leader, she engages with people emotionally, making them feel needed and special and through that keeping the group together. Simon is the general who leads the army in what he perceives as the Apex's attempt to protect themselves. His approach does not leave much space for bodning. And it makes sense for him as someone much more focused on safety to have his understanding of denizens as dangerous run deeper, be more at the forefront, in his focus. He’s the one calculating the “danger levels” of encountered denizens. And of course the incident with The Cat makes it much more personal. I think it's fair to assume that both Grace and Simon must've had some unfortunate run-ins with the inhabitants of the train, with Grace being initially so set in her belief that denizens are dangerous because they are unpredictable, and you never know what they will do next. Though the only time we actually see her endangered is by the steward that Amelia had reprogrammed. Either way, the two had started off feeling endangered by the unpredictable and unreliable creatures surrounding them, and probably, in their attempts to find a reason to trust each other and feel safer around each other in a dangerous and confusing world, decided that passengers must be inherently good, denizens must be inherently bad.

There is, however, no actual trust in that, none at all between them. 

I'd say that “trust”' is the core motif of season 3. Infinity Train tends to adopt an aphorism that keeps reappearing throughout a season, pronounced by different characters or in different contexts, highlighting the thematic movement and change and the development of the theme within the plot. In Book 1, it was the collocation “bounce back”, as the core of Tulip's character. In Book 2, we had “You can't spell 'escape' without 'companionship'”. In Book 3, our boy Roy introduced the phrase “Teamwork starts with two people trusting each other”. Simon's horrifying rendition of it emphasized the idea that not everyone counts as a person, so not everyone is deserving of trust. You can only rely on those who fit your narrow criteria of one. 

However, even when Grace and Simon were on the same side of the barricades they've built with their own hands, they could never actually trust each other. Their bond and their care for each other were extremely conditional, hinging on the ultra specific image of a passenger, and influenced by the power hierarchy they had created. 

We see that Grace is reluctant to trust Simon or the Apex with the changes happening to her, with her number going down, because she didn't want them to think “less of her”. Her personal  issues, her fear of loneliness and abandonment and the idea that she needs to be something specific, someone who is always strong and right for people to stick around her, have certainly played into that. Grace is so used to comforting herself through saying the world is mean to her because she is special; she wears her “special” status as a mask, she has the highest number, she is “so good at the train”, and that's what keeps others around her in this reality, keeps them needing her. But it's not actually about her as a person. But it is also just the system the two have established. Numbers are power; one's number going down is their failure. 

The amount of trust only diminishes as the plot progresses, with Grace's perspective shifting but her not being able to trust Simon with those thoughts and feelings – quite understandably, since he remained adamant about his beliefs till the very end. Grace could never truly trust Simon outside of the invented value system they've been existing within for many years. And that is reflective of her constant inner struggle, not being able to trust anyone with her self, without any myth explaining why she is awesome and irreplacable. Hazel was the first person who spent time around Grace while also falling out of the equation, not being influenced by the Apex propaganda, and that is why their bond was so life-changing to Grace – aside from the aforementioned grounds for empathy.

Now, was Simon ever able to truly trust Grace? I think he desperately needed to, and facing the fact that Grace has in some ways betrayed that trust by keepings things from him was one of the things that played into him going off the rails. (...That pun was not intended. ) 

As it was pointed out many times by many viewers, Simon seems to know quite a lot about funerals, which means that he probably had to attend one as a kid. Then, his relationship with The Cat seems to be a metaphor for neglectful parenting due to an addiction. The Cat is a collector, her treasures seeming to be extremely important to her. The voice in which Simon says the words “She is collecting again” hints on a long, ongoing problem. Then in the memory of his meeting with Grace, we see that The Cat had actually probably endangered him on one of her car crawls. Overall, Simon's childhood seems to had been an extremely unstable one, with nothing and no one he could truly rely on, with parental figures either dying or neglecting him. It is similar to Tulip's struggle, but most likely running even deeper.

We see Simon continuously leaning on Grace, which at times causes her frustration: she snaps and asks bitterly if she always has to tell him what to do. When Grace starts behaving weirdly, starts changing, acting in a way that Simon can't understand and is not used to, he probably feels endangered, like his life is growing incomprehensible and unstable once again, like things are slipping through his fingers and out of his control. 

But at the end of the day, not one of them was truly relying on the other. Grace never trusted Simon to just stick around because he liked her, she needed the upper hand, the leading position, the idea of being “very good at the train”, and the system in which they should stick together as the passengers threatened by the dangerous environment and “the false conductor”. Simon never truly trusted Grace as we should trust those we love: with the freedom for them to grow and change and still remain someone we can feel safe and happy around. Instead of taking that leap of faith and relying on her to do right by him, he was in fact leaning on the system they've created, clinging to it desperately to the very end. People may change, but the system will stay the same, as long as he doesn't reconsider his worldview, and he had decided to never abandon it, whatever happens.

The lack of trust is warranted by their treatment of each other. How could Simon rely on Grace if she had never shown him her true self? How could Grace trust Simon with her genuine self if he needed her to be something very specific and unchanging? Their bond, while being something that helped them through the lonely existence in a weird, dangerous place, was in fact incredibly, tragically toxic. That is not something that people acknowledge easily. These two held onto their semblance of friendship for dear life, but that only worsened their respective problems, made them less and less capable of actual genuine friendships.

Both of their characters are very complex and convincing, and before I speak directly of some less pleasant parts of them  I want to establish that I love Grace and am so very proud of her, and glad to see that a Black woman character did not remain an antagonist and got explored deeply and compassionately. And that while I was absolutely enraged by Simon's actions throughout the season, I can also appreciate the depth and complexity of the show's writing in his arc, and the tragedy of it, and I do feel for him quite deeply. 

It is also worth mentioning that, even tho they are on the older end of 'kids', they are both kids still, with their formative years spent in unfortunate, unhelpful environments, and the age of growth and self-discovery happening in an actual cult, even tho it is one they had locked themselves into.

So now, to what can be perceieved as the darker parts of their characters. A unifying element of both Grace's and Simon's characters are their desire for control. Both scared of what life would be without it, they bend over backwards to make people behave in the way they need them to. 

Grace does that through emotional manipulation, she directs her entire demeanor into making people see her as the most knowledgable and powerful, someone they need. She makes them want to be a part of the gang, telling them that it makes them special and brave, as well as making them belive that the outside world means them harm, which is... a classic cult tactic. She hides the truth from them when the truth threatens her position and bonds with them. In the culmination of her personal growth, she admits the reason behind it: she did everything in her power to not be left alone. She tried to control the way other people see the world, and through that control how they see her, thinking that that will make them want to stick around. But her manipulation was what kept her from creating genuine connections, so after she first fell out of her own equation and then pushed Hazel away in the last desperate attempt to fit back into it, there was no one left around her. She made people need her cult, not her person. She never let them know the real her that would make them want to stay. The truth is that people change constantly, and we can't eternally push ourselves to live up to a specific expectation, so any attempt to keep people around with anything else than our genuine self are simply doomed.

Simon does not have the same talent for manipulation that Grace does, despite his attempts to use her own techniques on her when trapping her in her memories. 

[id: screenshot from Book 3 showing Grace looking at Simon, who’s sitting next to her with a grave expression on his face. end id]

Lacking subtlty, he seeks to control the world around him through brute force. We see him repeatedly grabbing Grace in an unsettling, scary, invasive and violent manner. He is unable to influence her mentality like she influences the mentality of other people. He can't act subtly, through emotion and manipulation. And his desperation to control the world and force it to work in ways that suit him get externalized through physical aggression. 

That does not excuse him, nor does his desperation warrant sympathy, but the idea of his shows of power being actually signs of powerlessness seems... captivating, reassuring somehow. People who lash out at us do so because they don't actually get to control how we feel, and never can. They can influence and wound us deeply, but they can never actually fully control us, they don’t get to rewrite us.

...Buuut back to the character analysis. Much like Grace who at the start was holding the position of “whatever doesn’t pleases or entertains me gets wheeled” (perhaps a reflection of her “never needed them anyway” attitude seen in how she feels about her failed attempts at friendship), Simon also denies everything that doesn't suit him, not just the value of it but the reality of it, too. Despite all reason, he refuses to believe that he had been living a lie for the last uhh number of years. If something isn't working the way he wants it to, if someone is behaving in a way he doesn't like, he deems them broken and wrong. As Grace points out, her memories are only a true and reliable source to him as long as he likes them, and once he doesn't, they must be lies. 

Simon is the very embodiment of stagnation, complete lack of flexibility – out of his compulsive need to control the world, to have it remain the same and stable, after the turbulences of his childhood. He is very, very much like Tulip – but he is not given a chance to 'bounce back'. Amelia, another example of deep stagnation and refusal to accept the changes in the world, is allowed that decades after boarding the train. She might never leave it, but she can still make an effort, she can still grow, bit by bit. Simon never makes it to the point where he is ready to accept the reality and start making peace with it.

I assume that for the biggest part of the show he is simply constantly triggered. He spends time with Grace, like they used to, before the Apex – but they met and started travelling together right after The Cat had abandoned him. Then they encounter a child who has no one but a supposedly unreliable denizen taking care of her – another thing to remind Simon of his own neglect. Then they straight up bump into The Cat, and Simon learns that her addicition is still active, that nothing has changed, that what happened to him wasn't enough for his parental figure to reconsider her ways. Then things start changing, Grace starts behaving differently, abandones the 'passenger-denizen' binary and makes him feel more alone and directionless than he probably has been in years. 

But after he traps her in her tape and returns to the Apex, there is at least a couple of month for him to get out of the spiral and reconsier. All Of That. and yet he doesn't. At this point his actions are not solely motivated by the very unstable state he was in – which is not to say that he wouldn't need to take responsibility for them either way. But a certain amount of time and distance from it all could have been used for reflection, and yet Simon stays firmly in his position of clinging to the system and revelling in the ultimate control he had found by becoming a leader. He creates a myth of Grace as someone who is worthless because she is unfit to be a leader. He paints himself as more reliable and powerful through the firmness of his beliefs. With him, you can always know what the rules are going to be, how to be the best. Perhaps, in his twisted horrifying perception, he was giving the Apex kids the stability he'd never had.

Going back to the question of why Simon was not given the opportunity to bounce back... Obviously, a core element of his character is his refusal to change in any form, and that’s on him. But with making peace with change being a big theme in the show from season 1, with Amelia doing the same for decades and eventually getting to a place where she had finally accepted it... This is a heavy and fascinating narrative decision.

It's good to consider that Amelia never actually succeeded at controlling the world in the way that she needed. Among all the characters, her grief was the most hopeless, most desperate: she tried to reverse time, she tried to bring someone back to life. Unlike her, Simon achieved some at least perceived control that he had been striving for. The danger of his character is that he executed his power over actual physical people, and he felt like he could actually decide what their life was going to be, what his life was going to be. He never got to lose it all, like Grace did. He never got to face just how hollow his illusion of control was. So in some ways within his arc him not getting redemption makes sense. 

But what does it mean for the show at large, for the underlying message? It feels inconsistent with the Infinity Train's narrative to just make Simon out to be a cautionary tale of what happens to those who deny change, or a foil to Grace who did ended up accepting it; we've already established that in the show's polycentric system, every character is more than just a part of someone else's journey, has full existence and autonomy outside of that.

Once again quoting my wonderful smart friend @buttercup-bug​, I want to refer to the end of season 3 in which Grace tells the ex-Apex kids that it is not fair for her to decide for them what their place on the train is, who they are, what life is to them; and in the same way, the unconcluded story of this book can be open to interpretations, with every one of us getting to choose what to take out of the simple reality of it. Simon's story simply happened. We can take whatever lesson we need from it. 

But before we part our ways and each one decides what to think of the bone-chilling end of his arc, I want to point a couple more things out.

5. The Train as a Metaphor for Life

Something that has really fascinated me about the show's narrative ever since my marathon of the first two seasons is the concept of the train. One One seems so very sure the train inspires growth, and yet, as we have learned in season 3, he, the Conductor himself, does not actually know much about the passengers' life aboard it except their numbers. There is no established system, there is no assigning of the denizens, there is no rulebook for them, they are not aware of the specific problems of the passengers they meet. Passengers can actually die on the train, which is wild if the goal of it is to make them grow and flourish. We are so used to thinking that to heal, one needs a perfectly supportive, comfortable and safe environment, and yet the train is challenging, dangerous, unpredictable.

I think the idea here, with characters time after time having to come to terms with life being confusing, ever-changing, often painful and entirely outside of our control, is that the train is not necessarily there to soothe the wounds but to raise the stakes, challenging people in such a way that their choices and their actions and approach to the reality have much more serious consequences. Tulip learns to accept help and help others in situations that actually threaten her and her loved ones, while what she would risk in the past when shutting herself off was just upsetting some friends and family and, you know, being fundamentally alone. Jesse went from letting others bully his brother to balancing on the edge of selling Lake out, which would end their entire existence. Grace went from being a child who creates fights and eggs others on to do something stupid to being an actual teenage cult leader. The train raises the stakes exponentially, and that makes everyone on board reconsider the real price of their actions.

Aside from that and giving specific directions for growth through numbers, though, it doesn't really... do anything. It functions the way life functions: things just happen, people just behave in ways that make sense for them, and everyone has full autonomy. At the same time, we see characters encounter the exact companions that make them grow, the exact enemies that challenge them in the most important ways. To once again quote Fleur @buttercup-bug​ a.k.a. the established sponsor of all of the behind-the-scenes Infinity Train discussions, the train is both ambigious and very meta, and “acts both as a narrative arc machine in a storytelling sense and as a lesson provider in a life sense, which bridges the gap between story and reality in a really personal way”. 

That is a wonderful way to put something that captivated me upon my first watch. The train is a metaphor for life. It is contrasted against the metaphor for death or non-existence: the  lifeless wasteland through which it is constantly moving, the wasteland populated by soul-sucking parasites also symbolical of nothing other than death. The train is life that is always moving, never the same, outside of our control, bigger than us, not obeying our wishes no matter how hard we try, challenging, populated by other people that have their free will, which often hurts us. And yet, the train is a provider of companions, which are to be our escape. And they are not crafted or tailored to us, nor are we crafted for them - and yet as our paths intersect, we impact each other, and we learn from each other in incredibly meaningful ways.

When thinking about this, I've landed on two possibilities. Either the Engine or the Train – something separate from One One – is a great and omnipotent mind capabe of foreseeing how things would unravel to everyone's utmost benefit, placing the correct people at the correct places, weaving an incredibly complex web of connections in which we always meet the companions we are supposed to meet ot exchange lessons with... or it doesn't need to be at all. And I think I like the latter much more. 

The train doesn't need to be that, because, as I've already proposed earlier, ourselves and the people around us, whoever they are, are all we ever need. Wherever you are right now, wherever the Universe has put you, you are supposed to be there, not because it has some grand plan and knows something that you don't, but because no matter your circumstances, you already have what you need for growth. You have yourself and you have other people and their stories, and the connection they can offer you. (Hazel, who is perhaps the most mature character we meet – which is tragic considering how many dysfunctional adults she has to be around – seeks to connect with everyone around her who is not outwardly dangerous, no matter how little in common they seem to have. And eventually something is found, some strand of connection, creating empathy.) People around you always have something to offer. You yourself always have something to offer.

I would hold onto that idea, as well as the idea of “bouncing back”, of it never being too late to get better. And I felt a bit off-balance when Simon was not given a chance to do that. But in a way, shifitng the story from fated encounters that kickstart someone's progress, like the one between Tulip and Amelia, Lake and Jesse, gives even more weight to this concept, by putting our personal decision to change into focus. 

It's not all about meeting this one specific person who will show you the error of your ways; even more so, sometimes people who have a lot in common and mirror each other hold each other back instead of helping each other grow. Sometimes one of them changing only pushes the other further down when they refuse to accept that. And at the end, it is all up to us. 

Getting a little bit existential here, but we are fundamentally the only ones who define our lone separate experience, and we are always on our own and solely repsonsible for ourselves. Connection is always there to support us, to teach us something, and playing a role in someone's life is what makes us real and vice versa, and at the same time we are all masters of our own destiny. We do not bear responsibility for other people's actions, and they do not bear responsibility for ours. Some environments are more suited for our growth, some less, but at the end of the day the choice to take whatever opportunities we have is up to us. 

Which means that we don't have to sit around waiting for the Logical Point in our character arcs to achieve a breakthrough. The world is always there for us to engage with, to hear what it has to say. The question is, are we ready to accept it? To see it for what it is? With time it will grow louder, ignoring the truth we're avoiding will become harder, but the choice to listen is always ours. We can do it sooner rather than later. Or we can do it... never, refuse the reality, refuse change and the nature of life. Because we are the ones responsible. We can't blame the world for not delivering the needed lessons sooner in life, because even if it did, nothing would stop us from ignoring them. We can't feel entitled to endless lessons and endless comfort from people around us. We should take care of ourselves. 

Which means that, wherever we are, at any point of our lives, we can always grow if we listen, if we open ourselves up to the truth. And the truth is that  life is incredibly, undescribably complicated. It stretches across so many different individual experiences, and it does not prioritize a single one of them. We are a part of such a vast web of events and connections, and it is foolish to consider that the world is the way it is just to spite you or hurt you, or that it should change, stop and start spinning in the opposite direction just to ease your pain. 

Things happen that no one is to blame for. There is no fault in the way the world is. Nothing is broken. Life goes on, endlessly, life changes, people change, people leave, people hurt us. That is okay. We can always change ourselves, we can be flexible and open and alive, we can extend our hand to the world and work together with it in true companionship.

Life is the way it is, wild and uncontrollable, and you cannot escape it, you cannot escape change, as long as you are alive. But you can make peace with that. Through acceptance, love and connection.

Gohms, creatures dwelling in the desert that symbolizes non-existence, parasites that symbolize death, are what awaits those who choose to get off the train. Those who try to escape the endless movement and challenges of life. You cannot truly stagnate, you cannot stop moving, you cannot stop things form changing, as long as you exist. As Simon attempts to control the world, still it, for the very last time, that is what happens to him. He stops existing. By refusing change, he refuses life itself. And loses it. And maybe it's not about him never getting to arrive at a point that would tip him over and change him. Maybe it's about his choice to not take all the opportunities that were presented to him before. Maybe he could've done something very different, whether that would have changed his fate or not, with whatever time he had left.

[anna-justice]

Lucky Stars - 1

Summary: Sylvie Brett is one of the most sought after actresses in the business, when her role in the new drama series “Firehouse 17″ sends her to Chicago, she finds herself working alongside the cities biggest heros, including real life firefighter Matt Casey. *BRETTSEY Celebrity AU

...

1 - Only the Beginning ...

“I don’t know how much longer I can do this…” Sylvie said, turning away from Harrison. 

“What do you mean?” Harrison Pleaded, “Whatever it is, we can fix it.” He took a step forward, reaching for her hand, but Sylvie turned away. 

Keep kept her eyes trained on the floor, knowing if she met his gaze she would fall apart. “I can’t keep living my life wondering if you are going to walk through that door every night.” She said quietly, a single tear running down her cheek.

“Baby--”

“No.” She said, regaining her strength. “You can be reckless with your own life, but if you insist on doing that then I can’t be in it anymore.” She took a step forward, placing her hand on his cheek. “I love you, so much, but I refuse to lose anyone else.” She let a few more tears fall before placing a chaste kiss to his cheek. “I’ll come get my things tomorrow.” She tore herself away from him and headed for the door--

“And scene!” The casting agent in front of her said, the panel of writers and producers clapping. “That was brilliant Sylvie.”

Sylvie gave them a gracious nod, sniffling. She had never been able to take a compliment and the fake tears in her eyes were not helping her reaction. “Thank you.” She turned to her scene partner, forcing a smile. “And Harrison, you were great as always.” 

Harrison returned the same facial expression, his smile not quite reaching his eyes. “Thank you, well done.” They held each others hostile gaze for a second before turning away. 

One of the producers spoke up, breaking the tension. “We are very glad you were able to come in to read, we will be in touch.” Sylvie took that as an invitation to remove herself from the room. She grabbed her bag and bid them farewell with a bright smile. 

She pulled on her coat and sunglasses, even though her driver was only parked a few feet from the building, New York in January was relentless. The clicking of her heeled boots sounded through the halls as she made her way to the elevator, earning kind looks as she passed the interns and busy bodies that crowded the studio. Sylvie had grown accustomed to the hectic energy, it was something you learned to deal with. 

Eventually she reached her car, using the back exit of the building to avoid the crowd. Sylvie loved her fans and always stopped to take pictures, but she didn’t need rumors starting about any casting before she even got the call herself. 

It had been a while since she had auditioned for anything and the experience was refreshing. And even though she had not planned to audition, she couldn’t help but feel anxious, after learning the premise of the show she couldn’t deny that she hoped she got the part. Despite Harrison already being the star. 

The character Kaitlyn Anders was intriguing to her, she was a paramedic with a heavy past. A characteristic of every person on a drama series. She was one of the leading ladies on the newest show being pitched, it was called Firehouse 17 and it followed the life of first responders, but with the added TV flare. Sylvie was already invested, Kaitlyn was unlike anyone else she had ever portrayed.

Her breakout role was when she was nineteen, she was cast in a coming of age rom-com and her type sort of stuck. She was the perfect fit: blonde hair, blue eyes, very girl next door. The trend followed her to her first role on the small screen. She played the best friend to the main character in a teen drama called Orange County, but her character Paige was killed in a tragic car accident in the season 2 finale. 

Sylvie had guess starred in several shows over the years, did a few movies here and there, but her biggest success was the show she had wrapped the spring before. She played Cassidy Bush in University Street, another drama, but this time focusing around college students and their struggles. The show ran for four seasons and now the popular actress was looking for her next project.

She closer to forty than 20 and Sylvie knew it was time to play a little bit of an older role, and this one was perfect. She didn’t know she wanted it so bad walking in. Her knee shook in the backseat, she glanced at her phone every few minutes, even know she knew that they were not going to call her with a decision anytime soon. 

Her driver pulled up to her building, and she jumped out, but not before saying thank you and telling him to wish his daughter goodluck on her dance recital. The elevator to her top floor penthouse seemed never ending, Sylvie always hated how slow time passed after an audition. It was the same every time. She shrugged her coat off as soon as she entered, heading to the fridge for a glass of water. She shot her mom a text about her cold read, something she had been doing since she was fourteen.

Sylvie: Just got home, I think it went well. They seemed to like me! Waiting on the call :) 

The text back was immediate.

Mom: That’s great! Of course they loved you, you’ll get it. I’m sure.

Sylvie smiled at her phone, her mom had always been so supportive. Both of her parents were, they had done everything they could to help her get to where she was. Which was a lot, granted that she grew up in the tiny town of Fowlerton, Indianna. 

She was adopted, her and her brother both were, but Sylvie was convinced that no one loved their children as much as Robert and Lisa Brett. She was about to text her mom back when her phone rang. She recognized the caller ID, it was one of the producers for Firehouse 17 that she had worked with before. 

“Hello?” She asked, shocked that they would call so quickly and worried that it meant it was an easy “no.”

“Hi Sylvie, I just wanted to let you know that we are offering you the role of Kaitlyn!”

Sylvie was beaming, her smile so big that it was hurting her cheeks. “That is so exciting! Thank you so much.” 

“We knew it was you as soon as we saw you.” He explained, “I’ll have someone drop off all the official paperwork in the morning. There is one more thing.”

“What’s that?”

“You were the last person to be cast, production is set to start on Monday...in Chicago.” Sylvie was about to respond but he cut her off, “I hope that won’t be a problem, we’ve decided that filming on location entirely is the best course of action.”

“No problem at all, I will see you Monday. Thank you again.”

“Congratulations Sylvie, see you monday.”

The line dropped and Sylvie squealed, she had gotten the role and she was beyond excited. It all came as a bit of a shock, but that would have to wait. She had five days to move herself to Chicago and she couldn’t be happier.

[jus-tea]

Going to explain a little about the Miss Rhona lyrics, what inspired different aspects etc, as I’ve seen a lot of people speculating over it, and coming up with their own ideas (which I fully support!) but for those who are curious...

1st Stanza

“Daddy’s at the food store” So, when this was written, myself, my partner, and seemingly everyone was spending so much time going from supermarket to supermarket trying to find the basics, the essentials. Pasta, flour, sugar etc were sold out seemingly everywhere. The weekend just before this was written he’d lined up for half an hour before Costco opened to ensure he acquired some toilet paper- which seemed impossible to get ANYWHERE. I had colleagues who sent their adult children to shops everyday (they couldn’t cause they were at work) to try to find toilet paper somewhere. We ran out at work, and ended up with tissues. People, generally, were spending so much more time trying to find essentials at supermarkets. It’s not nearly as bad now, but just over a month ago when I wrote this it felt like a big issue. Also, “food store”?! NO ONE HAS CALLED ME OUT ON THIS which I find so weird because no one actually says, “food store”?! What a weird expression! So why did I use it? Well! Initially I thought “cost-co” but didn’t use it because I wanted the rhyme to appeal more universally. And we only got a Costco in my city a few years ago and I know plenty of places in the world don’t have one so... I thought maybe supermarket? But thought maybe they didn’t call them that in other countries- market? Market sounded so strange as it’s really only fresh fruit and veggies we get in our local markets here (in my part of the world) and didnt fit with the image I was trying to create and besides all our markets were cancelled as they were too crowded.. so “food store” was initially just a place-hold. I still can’t believe literally no one has said “hey wtf is up with “food store? No one says that” but there you go. It’s in literally every version ive seen as that so... that’s what it is now. So, that line about the food store and collated with the next line, “mummy’s our of town- she’s working at the hospital” was based on news articles I’d read about doctors having to isolate themselves from their families by sleeping either at hospital or in their garage. People who couldn’t see their kids for ages, it was really sad! And then combining these lines, it’s about how these little kids for the first time really are sometimes being left home alone because their parents have stuff they *have* to do; get food or work, and lots of kids these days don’t get left home alone anymore, it was common when I was little but not for a long time! But seemingly suddenly with this pandemic it’s happening again. And I hadn’t seen that talked about but I was seeing glimpses of it and it, felt weird? I guess? So that made for the perfect beginning to a covid19 nursery rhyme- a kid getting left home alone a lot and not being really sure how to respond to that.

So, with the hide away lines, there’s 3 stanzas and in each miss Rhona gets closer. The first one is she’s “come to town”. Now I remember that feeling on that day learning that the first coronavirus case had occurred in my city. Up until then there was a bit of a sense of dread, like you knew it was everywhere else, then in the news it got closer and closer, with cases in small country towns nearby. But when it got to my city it was suddenly so real. And that’s where the story starts because Miss Rhona was HERE. She arrived in the kid’s town. The line, “she’s come to take us down” is another way of saying “she’s going to get you” and also links to the final line which reveals her success “she took us down/she’s brought us down”.

2nd stanza

So, she goes from being in town to being “at the doorstep” which represents getting closer- being in those people the child might interact with everyday- and imagined more literally in the postal worker delivering a package (actually ON the doorstep) or food delivery or anyone who they’d still have close contact with. But “I’ll keep 6 feet away” is a self reassurance that if they just do the right thing and keep their distance everything will be ok. But then the conflict! Grandma needs toilet paper, EVERYONE needs toilet paper and no one can get it anywhere! No doubt the dad is our trying to find some more while he’s at the “food store”. And I was thinking... my children’s grandmother lives in a different state to us but if we were in the same one you can bet your life id be out dropping essentials at her doorstep whenever I could- tp included. (Although, tbh the tp issue didn’t seem as bad in her state from what she told me) so in this bit I guess I imagined myself as the child because that would be something important to me, to make sure my elders had their essentials. Idk I tried to help where I could, got baby wipes when I found it for a friend with a newborn, stuff like that. So the conflict is the child’s sense of responsibility ensuring their grandmother has what she needs, while also knowing that the coronavirus, Miss Rhona, could reside in anyone they meet along the way. Kind of like a little red riding hood situation linking the dangers of strangers. So they open the door due to this sense of responsibility and, oh no, Miss Rhona was at the doorstep, remember? Now the child has it too; “Miss Rhona’s come to stay” IN THE CHILD. This line was to use the imagery of Miss Rhona coming to stay with the child at their house, like an aunt might come to visit for the weekend, but symbolises the virus coming to live within the child, they’ve caught it now, which is why they definitely, “can’t come out to play”.

Stanza 3

“But grandma needs the paper” that’s where the conflict arises again- the child’s sense of responsibility, maybe guilt even? Overshadowing their understanding of just how serious the virus would be should their grandmother catch it. They’re just a kid remember? They don’t understand. So they take her some anyway, everyone needs toilet paper! Also, I know that phrasing it as such misleads the listener to think about a newspaper. Thats how we talk, “I’ll get the paper!” My dad says ... often. But, 2 things, it rolls off the tongue easier than “grandma needs toilet paper” which would’ve messed up the rhythm anyway, and also, for anyone who’s lived it you would automatically know about the “great toilet paper shortage of 2020” 😅 there were so many memes about it and it was funny that everyone was obsessed with it but if you were one of those people who genuinely really couldn’t find any- and there were lots!- then it kind of sucked. And that’s a memory that’ll stick with you 🙈

So. The note. “And here’s a note from Rhona she wanted me to say” imagine the child at the grandmas doorstep, she’s bringing her tp (that’s nice) but the child is infected, and hands grandma a note. I imagined like a little filed up piece of paper in their back pocket they take out and hand over, to pass on the message from their aunt living in their house. As kids would do- what teacher hasn’t given their student a note and said “go tell mr x such and such” and the note is a reminder of what to say. But the note they hand over is also a metaphor. It symbolises contact between the grandmother and grandchild, and as grandma took it, she caught the virus too. And the note reads,

“Hide away, hide away, keep 6 feet away”

Which is that line repeated all the way through the rhyme. In the end, it’s what Miss Rhona was saying all along. Hide away children...

And the final line is a throwback to near the beginning, “she took us down” because earlier remember she came to “take us down” but now it’s happened and we’re in past tense. She did it. She took down the grandma, and possibly the child too, although I left that as ambiguous. To be taken down here is the symbol for death, of course. It’s pretty grim. But that was the point i suppose.

And that’s where it ends. Anything after that, while I’ve seen some adaptations made which sound really cool, doesn’t really make sense with the story, because they died in that moment. And continuing on after that seems a bit overkill, because I gues, perhaps symbolically at least, who would be able to continue singing the rhyme once they had already died?

But having said that, it’s still nice to see people get exited about it and want to contribute more lyrics too. Making up stories, songs, games, art in general, it’s a way we’ve found to cope i think? Like dark and morbid stories are a part of our culture because we respond to them. Lessons, feelings, etc. people far more articulate than I have explained before...

So. That’s Miss Rhona. This explanation was written really roughly and I apologise for that, but you get the gist. I strongly recommend for anyone who hasn’t already to check out the #miss Rhona recordings hashtag on my blog, because some of these melodies people have put to it are really beyond words. Dreamy, haunting. Peaceful. Childlike. Much more than the original chant-like skipping rhyme I originally envisaged.

Thanks for reading this far... please be safe and look after your grandmothers ❤️

[munstarr]

The Guardian: part 2

Hello everyone! Welcome to part two in a sloow burn series I am working on! I am very excited to finally put this idea into words, this is so fun! I hope you like it, please don’t be shy with any feedback or criticism I would really appreciate it! please DM me anytime!! Also I have a wattpad its @ LilMunstarr ! Thanks for reading! 

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A few weeks had passed and after sending documents back and forth, prepping to move Azura was finally all packed. She officially accepted the position and later that week they sent helpers to aid her in packing. They were certain to let her know what was essential and what wasn’t. She hadn’t expected to be throwing most of her things away but was happy she was able to keep most of her decorative pieces so she could feel at home. She had quickly learned that some Nuks were very thorough.  She had been escorted to the nuks' earth base on many occasions to set up her identification cards for her new life on the planet; they had even picked up some of her things and taken them ahead of time. She had insisted she could do these errands herself but they would hear nothing of it, saying how pleased they were to help. Today was the day she was going to leave Earth behind, she had flown a good bit but this would be her first-time off-world. She had received a letter a few days ago letting her know a ship would receive her and take her to her new assignment. Standing in front of her large bathroom mirror she dressed in her small town home one last time. Carefully she unfolded her uniform, the pants seemed to be a strange black latex and leather mixed material, ‘’great how am I supposed to fit this over my damn thighs” she said to herself inspecting them. After wiggling around like a fish, she finally had gotten them to fit over her plump bottom. She was relieved to find the top seemed to be a cozy onyx crocheted sweater. Inspecting herself in the mirror she was very pleased, she looked very sexy and felt more comfortable then she had originally thought. She was starting to feel nervous, as she placed the intricate oxford colored crest on her chest she felt it was all happening so fast. She smiled to herself in the mirror and made a posh pose “why yes, it is I” she chuckled, fake it to you make it she chuckled to herself. She had decided to do her makeup full glam, with a sexy vampire red lip and a soft coral blush to match. She looked like a baddy straight from Star Wars, that thought made her snort. She was on her way to freaking live on an alien planet, this was the closest to Star Wars as she’d ever get!

A few hours later there was a sturdy knock on her door, her heart leapt. “Well let’s make it happen” she said to herself. She took a deep breath and smiled as she opened the door only to be greeted with a black fabric wall. ‘’Ahem, most apologize to you lady Emem” a huge Nuk said as it stepped back and bent down to greet her. “Oh, hello! I’m Azura!” she said sticking out her hand in surprise, The Nuk stared at it quizzically or so she thought. The Nuk’s didn’t seem to have any eyes or facial features recollected other than their mouth and leathery scaled looking bound skin, so she couldn’t be sure for certain.  Instantly retracting her hand she said “I’m so sorry, do you shake!? I didn’t mean to offend!” she said nervously. Suddenly forgetting everything she had read, she mentally smacked herself. The nuk standing before her had to be at least six and a half feet tall, his smooth leathery face only showed two rows of razor-sharp almost shark-like teeth. He was dressed similarly to her only his top was made of a knitted leather. Without any eyes she was unsure of how to read the situation. “Oh, my lady” he said with a dramatic bow and huge shark toothed smile,which gave her goosebumps. “Please do not waste any formalities on me, I am a Kilwhan the  transporter and I am here only to aid you on your journey. I will be personally delivering you to the guardian, it is an honor to be in your service” he said standing and picking up her carry on, he turned and headed towards the ship. Azura wasn’t sure what to do, shaking her head she followed behind him into the ship nervously. “Welcome aboard lady Emem, any inquiries before we take off?” he said in her direction as she buckled in. “Yes..um about before, please I insist on you calling me just by my name, it’s Azura. This is going to be my first time leaving my homeworld so I’d appreciate it if we kept it casual during the um.. ride?” she said quietly looking around the ship . Looking up she noticed him staring at her, or so it seemed “Just to ease my nerves, if that is okay with you that is.. I don’t want to get you into any sort of trouble or anything” she said with a slight nervous smile.  “As you wish...Azura'' he said with an enthusiastic wide-toothed grin and with that they blasted into the air. 

The trip would be several hours as Yanak was pretty far away, as they went into the air she struggled to keep her heart from falling out of her ass. She had always been scared of planes and this was way worse, after entering space though she relaxed. After seeing her awe and answering her questions, Kilwhan had slowed down to give her a mini tour of the galaxy. After hours of chatting Azura had learned a great deal about Yanak and told Kilwhan much about Earth. Turns out he did this for a living and was the one of the personal transporters for the guardians. She was very relieved to find out she would be seeing him often, she would have one friend at least. It had admittedly taken a bit to get him to relax and chat with her, apparently, his job was very formal and usually he rode in silence which he said he enjoyed actually . She was pleased to find he seemed to like chatting with her, this had been an amazing trip so far. “So..what is The Guardian Mirin like..?” she said curiously as she popped some snacks into her mouth. “The Guardian Mirin is someone  I don’t know personally too  much about,” he said surprisingly. “Didn’t you say you had been driving him around for a few years?” Azura said skeptically. “Yes well, he is very quiet and I wouldn't even know how to describe him” he said quietly. This puzzled Azura, surely you couldn’t work with someone for years without acknowledging them, how strange she thought. “Well that’s unfortunate, anytime I am around I would love to talk!” She said brightly. She had to admit she had always been a chatterbox, it was something that often got her in trouble during grade school. All the excitement of space had made her feel like her old self but suddenly she was a bundle of nerves again. She hoped she hadn’t signed up to secretly be a prisoner, she shook that thought off the alliance would never allow it!

After a few hours she had inevitably fallen asleep in the ship, She had awoken to Kalwhan poking her forehead. Azura sat up with a yawn, “I didn’t even realize I passed out” she said rubbing her eyes. “I am sorry to awaken you but we have arrived at your destination” he said stepping side showing her the view.  She was in awe, it looked like she was in a giant fucking tree! Her eyes nearly budged from her sockets. All around her she could see huge trees like plants holding all sorts of buildings, some circular and others long and tube-like, She couldn’t believe her eyes . The flowers swayed in the dark purple night sky, she looked up to see Kilwhan smile. “It sure is glorious,” he said picking up her bag and escorting her inside. She had seen some photos but there really weren’t many, the Nuks had been very private and didn’t share much about themselves online. They walked into a clear amethyst tube that guided them up to the beautiful circular building, this was quite the thing to wake up to. She had reapplied her makeup before leaving the ship and had her game face ready. She had butterflies but was relieved to know she would only be meeting the guardian and not jumping straight into work and meeting new coworkers. They had arrived around late after dinner time she had found out. 

They stepped out of the tube which she assumed was similar to an elevator, she turned around when she noticed Kalwhan had set her bag outside but had not come with her. “This is where we part Lady Azura, it was truly a pleasure to meet you” he said with a swift nod. “You aren't coming with me..?” she said in a hushed tone giving him a sad face. “I am not but you will just proceed to that door and scan your ID, the guardian should be with you shortly” he said, giving her a smile  and a swift “good luck” and with that he shot down the tube. “Great my only friend abandoned me, some support system” she snorted to herself. “WELP time to put on my big girl panties and make it happen” she thought. Picking up her small suitcase she took out her card and held it to the scanner. She was a bit shocked when the door slid open and the door sang in an angelic voice, “Welcome Guardian Keeper Azura”. That made her smile, at least she knew she belonged here. She slowly entered the room only to see it was very reminiscent of an earth style study room, a fancy one at that. The room was circular and had black wood throughout, there was an opulent emerald stone fireplace, the room was more than beautiful. There were built-in shelves of books and rolled documents lined the walls and stairs which seemed to lead to another floor of books. She passed the fireplace to look out the beautiful floor to ceiling window, this place was huge and the furniture was even bigger. She took this time to admire all the dwarfing buildings, she couldn't believe this was happening to her. Her heart soared thinking of what all the buildings could possibly be used for . As she drifted deeper into thought the door swooped open, “Welcome Divine Guardian Mirin” the door sang. Azura turned and that’s when she saw him. She had assumed everyone was the same height as Kilwhan, the helpers had been. Mirin had to be at least seven and a half feet tall, his black leathery face was all she saw, all wrapped up in a classic black earth suit. “Hello, I am mirin”  he said with a deep booming voice he gave a sharp nod extending his hand to her. “Oh why yes, h- hello!! I am Azura, she said, taking his hand”. She visibility gulped as his large scaled hand  engulfed her own.  She relaxed a bit to find it was covered in leathery black scales but it was surprisingly warm, with a gentle shake he gestured for her to sit in the chair across from his own. As if she was a child jumping onto a huge bed, she sat in the chair across  him. “I hope your trip went well, I know moving for humans can be quite a stress so I tried to design this unit to resemble a comfortable earth space” he said gesturing around with his clawed hand.  “Yes it is very beautiful, but you shouldn’t have gone through the trouble for me” she said looking around admiring the beautiful room. “You are so modest! But trust me, I have been waiting a long time for someone like you so really it was no trouble at all” he said plainly. This made her heart leap, what was so special about her she thought. She was flattered to say the least if not speechless, she fidgeted a bit in her massive cushioned wing chair, her feet didn't even touch the ground! “It seems I will have to make adjustments” he said with a sharp tooth smile “I forget how small some humans can be” he said with a deep chuckle that made her heat up inside. “ Well”, he said, standing up abruptly reaching out both of his hands to  her. “Are you ready to get to work?” he said with his booming voice to which Azure smiled and nodded proudly and took his hands standing up. She was beyond ready! She couldn’t wait to see this planet and prove to the Guardian that she was small but beyond capable! This would be an adventure she’d never forget. 

[maatryoshkaa]

[ YOUNG GOD ] missingfootage.mpeg-4

file name: birthday nightmares

warnings: descriptions of abuse, violence, and alcohol

ryu says: this is not a chapter. the events in this file are meant only to provide backstory and bonus context for the chapters to come. what happens between jisung and you in this excerpt can be seen as characterisation and character development, but will not be referenced in the chapters. 

enjoy.

SEP. 14 2005

“Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you!”

His mother’s arms were wrapped around him in a warm hug, swaying him gently as he squealed with laughter. Six red candles glowed on top of a homemade birthday cake. 

“Happy birthday, dear Jisung, happy birthday to you!” On the last note, she swiped a dollop of vanilla frosting and dabbed it onto his nose, making the toddler burst into a fit of giggles. His mother had drawn the curtains, a handful of balloons -- they were all she could find -- around them. Her bright smile was lit up by the birthday candle flames, a smile Jisung hadn’t seen for what felt like forever. 

Her face was an odd shade of white, but at least there were no red markings. Jisung didn’t like the red marks, because they always made his mother cry.

He dipped his own finger into the frosting and smeared it onto his mother’s cheek, the two of them still laughing. Catching his breath, Jisung reached up to wipe the white frosting from her face as she beamed back at him.

But the moment his tiny fingers touched her skin, her face contorted into an expression of pain before she tried to pull away, a forced smile on her face. Jisung’s hand clumsily swept over her cheek and came away with something thick and powdery on his fingers. Looking up in confusion, he was startled to see that his mother’s cheek was darker -- and beneath the white powder, there were the telltale marks of deep, painful purples and bright, angry reds.

“Hey. Hey, birthday boy, you still need to make a wish,” his mother said, smiling. But Jisung couldn’t hear her, fingers continuing to wipe away the thick makeup concealing her bruises.

The sound of the front door opening made his hand freeze. He watched his mother’s features draw taut, like a string pulled too tightly. As if a bomb had gone off, she shoved the balloons beneath the table and ripped open the curtains, her face pale with fear. Turning back to him, she thrusted the birthday cake -- candles still lit -- into Jisung’s hands before hurriedly pushing him into his room.

She kneeled to his height, one hand stroking his hair soothingly. “Remember to make a wish, okay? And don’t forget to sing yourself happy birthday, too. When you’re finished singing, mommy will be with you.”

She shut his door with a bang, the lock clicking. And Jisung was all alone.

“Happy birthday to me?” He whispered, but it came out sounding more like a question. “Happy b-birthd--”

A series of deafening pops made him jolt, soon followed by a crash and his mother screaming. He could hear his father’s slurred yelling from his room, the popping balloons sounding like gunshots.

“Happy birthday to m-me. Happy birthday, d-dear ‘sungie,” he sang louder, a bubble of sobs threatening to break in his throat. “H-happy birthday t-t-to me.”

The crying and yelling got louder, the sound of glass shattering making the floorboards beneath his feet tremble. So he sang again, and again, and again, until his throat was so sore and scratchy he couldn’t make a sound, and only dry, hiccuping sobs escaped his lips. Make a wish, his mother had told him, and so he squeezed his eyes shut.

I wish he was dead.

────────

SEP. 14 2009

“H-hey, ‘sung, happy birthday.”

Jisung opened one eye to see Minho smiling back at him. The older boy was standing in front of his desk and holding what looked like a small slice of cheesecake in his hands, wrapped crudely in a strip of cheesecloth. He had stuck what looked like a matchstick into the dessert like a makeshift candle, probably to make Jisung laugh -- or simply because there weren’t any birthday candles in the orphanage.

“I barely snuck into the school kitchen and bothered the cook until he made one.” He looked down at the cake, and stammered, “I-it’s a bit overcooked, and it’s cold by now, but, uh…”

Jisung lifted his head from his desk and Minho flinched. For a split second, Jisung thought he saw fear flicker across the older kid’s face, and then it was gone. Jisung had seen that look before; he’d seen it too many times.

It was how everyone used to look at his father.

He took a small bite, the sweet, familiar aroma making his mouth water and bringing a torrent of repressed memories flooding into his mind. He pushed Minho’s hand away, a little harder than he’d meant to.

“Thanks. You can have the rest, Minho. I’m...full.”

────────

SEP. 14 2013

“Hey, Han!” Chan’s voice was warm and friendly as ever, even from the other end of the phone. “Where are you, mate? I know you said you don’t like celebrating your birthday, but a few of us are hanging out at Felix’s. You think you can make it?”

The phone was propped against Jisung’s shoulder, Chan’s voice was pressed right up in his ear, and both of Jisung’s hands were digging into a dead body.

When he’d looked down and realised what he’d done, Jisung had made a small noise of terror. The dead man’s eyes were unnaturally wide with raw fear, and Jisung’s hands were wrapped so tightly around its throat he swore he could feel the vertebrae crack. Releasing his grip with a choked gasp, he stumbled backwards into the spreading pool of blood as Chan continued to speak on the other end.

“Don’t think of it as your birthday if you don’t want to -- some of us seniors just wanted to celebrate our last year in high school. What d’you say?”

Jisung’s fingers were still clenched and bruised and sore. He’d killed this man, he was sure of it. The memories were coming back to him in jagged flashes -- the man hitting his wife in their house, Jisung overhearing through the open window, the man stumbling outside, and Jisung driving his head straight into the wall. Mustering up the steadiest voice he could manage, Jisung replied, “Y-yeah, um, about that...I don’t think...don’t think I can m-make it, Chan. I--”

He broke off, voice growing scratchy and panicked. He heard Chan pause for a long moment on the other end before the older boy finally spoke again. “You sound terrible, ‘sung. Are you sick or somethin’? And on your birthday, too?”

The blood was beginning to seep into Jisung’s Converse, sticking between his toes. He was kneeling before the corpse now, not able to tear his eyes off of the man’s lifeless expression.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m so sick, it’s unbelievable.” A bright laugh forced its way out of Jisung’s mouth, and he squeezed his eyes shut. Above him, the night sky was pitch black, with no sign of stars or even the cold face of the moon. The stench of death was beginning to settle in, making his nostrils burn. “I’m so, so fucking sick.”

────────

SEP. 14 2019

Jisung tore out of the nightmare, clawing at his bedsheets and blankets and ripping them away. He was sat up straight now, chest heaving, blood roaring in his ears, his breath leaving him in jagged wisps. A drop of cold sweat trickled down the side of his face.

He reached for his phone, eyes burning when the screen lit up. September 14th. 2:00 A.M. A notification had popped up.

Happy Birthday, Han Jisung! Miroh Heights wishes you a happy birthday. 

He’d forgotten that they did this -- they had every student’s birthday logged onto the student database, and the system sent everybody stupid automatic birthday messages every year. He scowled. Happy birthday. What kind of bullshit was that? He hadn’t known a single happy birthday in his life. For the last thirteen years, the only birthday gift he’d gotten from the universe was flashbacks and nightmares--

Bzzt. Bzzt.

His phone lit up, his ringtone muffled against the bedsheets. Frowning, he picked it up, checking the caller ID.

INCOMING CALL: y/n l/n

He rubbed his eyes. Why on earth were you awake at 2 in the morning? Before he could stop himself, his finger pressed the answer button, heart pounding.

“Hello?”

He could hear the flustered smile in your voice, could see your reddened face as you stammered in response. “H-hi! Um...it’s just...I was staying up working on my report, you know, and Felix told me it was your birthday tomorrow -- I mean, today -- and, um. I swear I meant to just send you a message, but my finger slipped and my eyes are kind of glazing over at this point, so I’m really, really sorry if I woke y--”

“I’m glad you called,” Jisung interrupted, his voice coming out painfully softer than he’d intended.

He heard you make a squeaking noise on the other end, and chuckled. What’s going on? What’s happening? Why was he smiling despite the cold sweat on his brow, why was there a warm fluttering in his chest despite the lingering sick feeling in his gut?

“A-anyways. I should probably make this quick. Um, so I don’t have a gift, I’m really, really sorry, but -- you know what?” He heard you huff determinedly -- the same was you had before you’d pulled him in and kissed him for the first time. The memory made the corners of his lips twitch. “I can--I’ll sing you happy birthday!”

Jisung’s eyes widened and he opened his mouth to stop you, but nothing came out. How was he supposed to tell you that hearing anyone sing happy birthday made his head pound from repressed memories, made his throat close up with hot tears? What would you think--

You began singing, and all his thoughts immediately went silent.

“Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you…”

Jisung’s breath caught in his throat, ears straining and pressing against the phone just to hear your voice more clearly. You were half-singing, half-whispering, voice hushed and shaky with nerves and embarrassment. You went off-key in some places, giggled a bit, and then continued singing softly.

It was the most beautiful thing Jisung had ever heard.

“Happy birthday, dear Jisung…”

He felt all the tension in his chest let go, his muscles relax, as he sank into his bed, phone sandwiched between the pillow and his cheek. When was the last time he’d felt like this? Ah...he remembered. A birthday party, fourteen years ago, a mother’s warm embrace, her sweet voice, a smile lit up by six birthday candles. A dollop of vanilla frosting on a pale cheek…

“Happy birthday to you.”

His eyes drooped shut, lips parting softly as he slipped into a rare, dreamless sleep.

“...’sungie? Did you fall asleep?” You giggled. “Well, goodnight, then.”

Maybe it was a happy birthday, after all.

[sayhitoforever]

Burn Season - Malcolm Bright x Reader - PT (7/?)

A little holiday gift for all you lovely people.  Part 1  Part 2  Part 3  Part 4  Part 5  Part 6-  Thanks for all the love and support for this series. You guys are wonderful, your feedback makes my heart feel so full. I am playing around with the idea of making this it’s own fic, with an OC protagonist instead of a reader insert. If I go through with that, you guys will be the first to know and I’ll post any links here, most likely for AO3. Thank you, as always, for reading. This will be the last update for 2019! GIF credit to diver5ion because Malcolm is serving LOOKS 👌 .

~

Even with the meticulously neat organization of the evidence, it had taken Malcolm well into the evening to get through the boxes. The pictures were spread across his island and the floor as he’d tried to set up the scene the way it had been when it was first photographed. He poured over each report and lab and all the testimony that had been gathered before starting in on Y/N’s notes, usually left on sticky notes stuck to the reports. Some of them were incomprehensible, clearly pulling facts and forming theories around evidence he’d yet to read through.

It was strange, he thought. Y/N had said it wasn’t personal, that she hadn’t cared about her father, but all the hard work in front of him said otherwise. It could be that he was misinterpreting it, that the dedication to all the evidence spread around him was just part of her job. It was stranger even that her father wasn’t among any of the victims contained in the boxes, not that he could tell at least. Why, he wondered, would she tell him what she had but leave out any information that corroborated her story?

Six crime scenes, six charred buildings, corpses into the double digits, the timeline spanning over eight years. It had grounds to qualify as a serial killer by the modus alone. Always an abandoned factory or warehouse, some condemned and dilapidated building. Planned, intentional, where no one but the intended victims could be hurt. It was an act of empathy, an act of restraint, and that ruled out any theory involving a sociopath.

Malcolm found that all of the victims in the boxes had some kind of mafia affiliation. It was a dawning sort of dread that fell over him as he realized that the manner in which they’d been tied up, every last one of them, reflected crimes they’d been alleged of committing. The two handcuffed to old piping were infamous sex traffickers, known for keeping women chained up in basements to be abused. Another with remnants of his shattered kneecaps found in the ash, both ankles broken, known for crippling his enemies before executing them with a bullet between the eyes.

We will make you sorry.

Retribution then, like paying it forward in the cruelest way possible. Forcing them to suffer that which they’d done to others before they died. It was the fire though; the fire didn't seem to fit. It was the odd piece of the puzzle. Why burn them? What was that a reflection of?

Malcolm was reaching for his phone to text Y/N when it chimed with a message from Gil. ID on the victims from the other night that they were able to pull from their dental records. More mafia thugs, he noted as he scrolled through the reports Gil had sent, before stopping at the list of their alleged crimes. And there at the bottom of all three was the answer to his developing theory. Alleged murder, charges that never struck, involving bodies out in the wilderness, tied to posts with rope and shot at like an execution by firing squad.

The next chime was a phone call and Malcolm brought the phone to his ear.

“Gil,” he said by greeting.

“You got anything for me, Bright?”

“I…” Malcolm hesitated, looking at the spread of evidence all over his loft. “I don’t know. There’s a lot here, Gil. Years of evidence.”

“Any of it you can bring in? We could try to help, offer a fresh pair of eyes?” Gil offered and Malcolm could hear the sound of a coffee pot being returned to its stand. He smiled tiredly; so they were all depending on caffeine to get through the day now.

“There’s too much here to bring.” Malcolm stared at photos of the fourth crime scene, recalling testimony of a nearby vagrant. Something about overhearing someone a short while before the old factory had gone up in flames:

We will make you sorry.

Malcolm sighed, knowing that a fresh pair of eyes might actually be of some help. “But, let me grab what is most important and I’ll head over. Is Y/N there? I had a couple questions for her.”

“I saw her about a half hour ago, so I would imagine she’s around here somewhere,” Gil replied.

“I’ll be there soon,” Malcolm promised and pocketed his phone again as Gil confirmed.

What precisely to bring with him out of the mountain of evidence before him was another beast entirely. Should he rebox it and bring it all with him? Should he even keep reflecting on old evidence when he had a new case with fresh evidence that might even have more reliable results to focus on? Photos at the very least would help, and he made quick work of returning them all to their properly labeled envelopes and slipping them under his arm after donning his coat.

The chill in the evening air was like a sigh of relief as it washed over him. He’d been cooped up for so long, so focused, that he hadn’t even noticed that he’d been feeling a little claustrophobic. When he entered the precinct for the second time that day, Gil was on a heated, closed-door phone call with someone in his office, Dani had left to chase down the owner of the warehouse, and JT was on his way back with food for them all. With a sigh, envelopes full of old crime scene photos still tucked under his arm, he made his way to Edrisa’s lab where he was greeted with the sound of her pealing laugh as he opened the door.

“Mr. Bright!” Edrisa greeted him, face lighting up as he entered her lab.

Y/N was sprawled in Edrisa’s chair, booted feet kicked up onto her desk. The look she gave him across the room was a little haggard, but sharp nonetheless. He’d never asked her what business had called her away so quickly earlier, but it was clear now that sleep hadn’t been involved. It was the most comfortable he’d seen her around another person, and he wondered what specifically it was about Edrisa that maybe put her at ease.

“You two aren’t drinking again, are you?” he asked, eyeing Edrisa closely.

“Oh, no, no, it’s too early for that,” Edrisa laughed, looking back at Y/N who nodded with emphasis. “We were swapping stories of the worst dead bodies we’ve seen.”

Malcolm shot Y/N a critical look. The grin he received in return was nothing short of sardonic. “You have a laundry list of dead body stories?”

“More than I’ll ever let on,” Y/N said with a casual shrug, grin nearly splitting her face in half as she heard Edrisa’s groan of defeat.

“I knew you were holding out on me,” Edrisa lamented, hanging her head. “I even told you about the bog body.” Malcolm couldn’t help but chuckle at the hang-dog look on her face.

“C’mon, E. I gotta save the good ones. Can’t spill all my good stories at the same time.” Her eyes glittered as she looked over Edrisa’s sagging frame with another laugh, before she pinned Malcolm in place again.

“Oh, where are my manners? Have you two met already?” Edrisa exclaimed, glancing between the two.

Malcolm blanched for a moment, having forgotten that Y/N had left the crime scene while Edrisa was caught in traffic the other night. And again after the Baby Stout incident, she’d yet to discover that they were already well-acquainted.

“We are familiar,” Malcolm replied, slowly and awkwardly.

Edrisa blinked up at him, the word ‘familiar’ seeming to strike a chord with her. “Has she told you any of her good stories?”

“Unfortunately, Mr. Bright and I haven’t had the opportunity to share our best case stories,” Y/N piped in, moving her hands to settle them atop her stomach as she lounged even further down into the chair. “But this case is squaring up to be a pretty good one.”

“That’s true!” Edrisa said enthusiastically. “I might even submit this case to the review board if we close it. Carbonization of tissue is such a fascinating subject, very open to debate about how it…”

When both Y/N and Malcolm stared owlishly at her as she trailed off, clearly lost in her own thought, she gathered herself just a little. “I could use more coffee. Do either of you—”

“Yes, please,” Y/N and Malcolm said in stereo. Edrisa’s eyes flitted between the two of them like she was watching a ping-pong match before she pointed at Y/N and laughed like they’d shared a joke Malcolm hadn’t quite caught. She continued to chuckle as she exited the lab.

Y/N remained where she was, feet still propped up, hands folded on top of her stomach, eyes studying him where he stood with his hands clasped behind his back, eyes darting around the room.

“Spit it out,” she said suddenly. “Unless the question is meant for Edrisa.”

He winced, visibly, beginning to hate just how transparent Y/N made him feel. He couldn’t be that obvious, right? He was a trained professional after all. “It’s a sensitive question,” Malcolm said instead, holding back more questions. Always questions. Questions he was sure might never get answered. Not when the person he needed to ask evaded them like a pro, not when the questions entered a territory too personal, too private, too dark.

“Ok, I’ll bite,” she said simply.

Malcolm hesitated, his own racing train of thought coming to a screeching halt. “It’s regarding your father,” he said, giving her the leeway to refuse his request.

She stared at him impassively, cocking her head to the side slightly. “I’m still listening.”

He swallowed reflexively, trying to push out one coherent question at a time. “Was there anything that stood out in his autopsy report, anything weird, anything violently particular?”

“Clever.” Was the only thing Y/N said for a moment, eyes glazing over a little in contemplation, her silence leaving Malcolm prickling with anticipation. “Can’t believe I never thought about this, but yeah. His mouth had been stapled shut. Surgical steel.”

Malcolm’s pulse thundered in his ears as her gaze focused on him once more. She'd said it so easily, effortlessly, like the act of recalling that her father’s body had been mutilated while he was still alive, that he’d been silenced, before being burned alive meant nothing to her. Maybe it really wasn’t personal for her. Maybe it was just one of those cases you got fixated on because it had gone unsolved for so long. Maybe Malcolm was just projecting something onto her. His own need to understand everything that effected him in some way. The way she was looking at him, calm, exhausted, with no real sadness in her gaze, spoke volumes.

He stared back, too flabbergasted to speak for a moment before swallowing dryly. “So, I have a theory…”