#made the grave mistake of washing my bedding when i knew today was a lay face down in the dark sensory situation

[moodycarcass]

Combo sleep deprivation and misophonia making me about to rip someone's head off I need a towel duct taped over my head like an alligator getting relocated from someone's swimming pool by fish and wildlife services

[drwcn]

《 Without Envy 》 storyboard 10 - concubine/sleeper agent!wwx & prince!lwj

Other snippets and storyboards can be found on [Master List]

Exactly 851 days - 2 years, 4 months and 11 days - after Wei Wuxian arrived at Gusu and began his mission as a sleeper agent, he was activated.

That chilly morning, he walked into the pastry shop - a front maintained by a decade-long Wen spy - a walk he'd done hundred of times on hundreds of mornings since he arrived. He breezed past the packaging counter, skipped through the faded cotton drapes, and rounded behind the back staircase to the room where Xue Yang always waited for him. Only this time, it was not just his candy-obsessed, murder-happy shidi, but a face he hadn't seen in many, many months. "...Shifu?" Wen Zhuliu's visit meant the end of his carefree days. It's time. That night, Wei Wuxian did not look at either Lan Wangji or Jiang Yanli when he bid "dianxia" and "Jiang-zhuzi" good night. He pretended to retire to bed early, after washing himself of his servant's exterior and donning his robes of night-black. He laid in the dark, waiting for time to pass, and reminded himself of his true purpose. He was never meant to care about these people; love these people. Jiang Yanli was not his doting foster sister; Lan Wangji was not his beloved wangye. I am Wei Wuxian of the great Qishan Wen. Nevernight is my home. I am a spy. Gusu is my enemy. Wei Wuxian kept his eyes closed, his breathing even, and his heartbeat slow. In the lonely quiet, he waited, and waited, and waited. Until the candlelight around the princely manor dimmed to nothing, until the night grew still and the moon shone bright and high in the dark, dark sky. Reaching under the floorboard beneath his bed, Wei Wuxian retrieved his life-long companion from its hiding place and released it from its sheath. "Hello, old friend." He whispered, stroking the blade edge. Suibian's steel glistened with cold malevolence in the stark, pale moonlight.

It would be another year before WWX's identity is discovered. During that time, he lived a double life. In the day, he was Lan Wangji's precious Wei Ying, and at night, he was the blade in Wen Ruohan's hand, stealing, killing and destroying on command. His assignments were not always murder; sometimes it required him to break into secure facilities and obtain copies of certain documents. He was never alone on these jobs; there was always someone convalescing with him from within. Slowly, he began to realize just how deep Wen Ruohan's spy network had infiltrated Gusu's foundation. In a way, it excited him, to know that the posturing and pretending would soon be over, that in the near future a quick war would sweep across the land and unite the two nations. In another way, it frightened him to the bones.

Wei Wuxian killed 37 individuals within the span of a year, 37 men and women of different ranks, status and stations. He did not always know why these people needed to die; in fact, he often didn't and preferred it that way. If he didn't know the motive, then he couldn't argue against the reason, and thus could go on believing that what Wen Ruohan did was ultimately for the betterment of everyone. The men of Gusu were weak - Wei Wuxian was always told - they were not fit to rule. The people of Gusu would be better served under a united empire. He repeated this statement to himself before every job, but over time, the mantra on his tongue began to lose its flavour.

In the meantime however, Lan Wangji and Jiang Yanli quickly formed a strong plan on how they wanted to live out the rest of their lives. Lan Wangji never quite enjoyed laying with women, but Jiang Yanli had just enough wickedness behind her demure exterior that things were... well, interesting. In any case, it was not long before she came to him all smiles and whispered the good news over luncheon .

"Truly?" Lan Wangji set down his chopsticks. "Hm uhm." Jiang Yanli dapped her mouth delicately. "Now, perhaps it's a good time to discuss how dianxia should go about winning A-Xian's affection. He's under the impression you've cast him aside on taishi's orders and has been giving him the cold shoulder." "I wasn't." Lan Wangji defended himself, distressed and slightly offended. "It's just, huangshu's been watching me like a hawk. I was afraid any further attempt to be closer to him would give my uncle reason to remove him from my household entirely." Jiang Yanli was sympathetic. "The summer hunt is in two week's time, and afterwards, since bixia always likes to finish the night on the river with fireworks, perhaps...." She let the sentence dangle, a knowing smile playing at her lips. Lan Wangji felt hope.

Unfortunately, a little hiccup happened before the hunt could take place. Jin Ziyan falsely believed that Wei Wuxian had fallen out of favour with Lan Wangji and was itching to show him his place. Poor Mo Xuanyu was caught in the middle. Jin Ziyan knew Wei Wuxian was an audacious one, but not so stupid that he could be easily goaded into committing a grave offence. Thus, Jin Ziyan planned to cause an incident in the garden whereby poor Mo Xuanyu would unwittingly "offend" him, and he would publicly announce a punishment that was harsher than necessary. He made sure that Jiang Yanli and Wei Wuxian were near by, as they usually took a mid-afternoon stroll after lunch. True to his predictions, Wei Wuxian could not stop himself for interfering on Mo Xuanyu's behalf. Then in their altercation, Jin Ziyan would fall into the pond, making it seem as though Wei Wuxian was the one who shoved him out of anger. Oh but a lowly servant shoving Hanguang-wang's deputy consort into the pond??! He was as good as dead. What's more, everything happened on the same afternoon that Lan Qiren was scheduled to visit Lan Wangji to discuss matters of court. If it was only Lan Wangji, Jin Ziyan knew Wei Wuxian would suffer little consequence, but taishi tolerated no insubordination or churlish behaviour of any kind.

Lan Qiren was incensed, livid, but he was not hasty to deal the punishment. Instead he turned to his nephew and asked, whilst fully knowing the answer, "Wangji, your household follows the regulations that govern all princely manors, does it not?" "It does, huangshu." "Then tell me what is the punishment reserved for a servant for daring to lay hands on a deputy consort and to cause physical harm to said consort?" "It....I - huangshu -" "What is the rule?" Lan Wangji knew very well that the punishment was death for any servant, maid or eunuch who dared to harm any member of the harem. But Wei Ying, his Wei Ying... "Wei Ying is very precious to Yanli and to Yunmeng-hou. As well..." Lan Wangji hesitated. "Yanli is with child again. It is still very early so we thought it best not to announce it lest we have a repeat of last time. It would not do to upset her at this time." Lan Qiren was extremely dissatisfied with his answer, but conceded for Jiang Yanli's sake. "I'm glad, Wangji, that you've found your way back to your proper companions. This Wei Wuxian clearly has been spoiled to the point of impropriety. His actions today are utterly unacceptable and cannot be allowed to go unpunished or else others would surely follow his example. Guards!" "Detain Wei Wuxian. Have him strung up on a post in the servants' courtyard and give him fifty lashes. No food nor drink. Sun or rain, he is not to be let down until dusk tomorrow." "Huangshu!" Lan Wangji's head buzzed, as though someone had struck him squarely in the temple. His chest felt tight, and his heart ached where it rebelled inside him. "Please -" "He has his life. That is mercy enough."

Wei Wuxian was stripped down to his trousers only and tied up to a post, his hands bound together above him and his bare feet never finding purchase on the ground no matter how he struggled. This fucking suck ass. Jin Ziyan you're a dead man. When all fifty lashes were dealt, even the guards were sweating through their robes. They left him dangling there in the blistering summer heat. A young maid dared to try and sneak him some water but was thwarted by an older momo. "What do you think you're doing, lassie? Did you not hear taishi, no food or drink until dusk tomorrow. Do you want lashes too? Go on! Go!" It rained hard all through the night, only easing up at dawn, but the aftermath of the storm left the air muggy and humid. Combined with the heat, it felt as though he was being steamed alive like a wheat bun. At some point during the second day, Wei Wuxian finally lost consciousness. He was not aware when Lan Wangji barged into the courtyard against Lan Qiren's explicit orders and cut him free.

Really tho, i just want this scene to happen (╹ڡ╹ ) "I'm sorry." Wei Wuxian blinked at Lan Wangji's hunched figure sitting at his bedside. "Whatever for? You saved me, dianxia." Lan Wangji, "But it was my attention that put you in such a position in the first place. Huangshu was looking for a reason to punish you since that day he saw us in my study." Wei Wuxian, "dianxia..." "I find you... lovely, Wei Ying," confessed Lan Wangji with a heavy sigh. His ears burned red not only with the embarrassment of a youth in love but with shame. "I wish for your company, even when you have no desire to be part of my harem. Now I know my mistake. I should have respected the boundaries. I should've known my attention on you would incite jealousy from the others, and as a servant, you have no means of protecting yourself. This is entirely my fault." Wei Wuxian's heart fluttered despite himself. He quickly shook his head. "No dianxia, please don't blame yourself -" Lan Wangji, "perhaps I should send you back to Jiang-fu; I'm sure Jiang-xiao-gongzi would be delighted to have your company back. You would be safe there." Jiang Wanyin had come to visit his sister the very next day after Wei Wuxian was sentenced to whipping. He was one of the most accomplishment young men of his generation, anticipated to be a great general. Nie Mingjue had thought highly of him and had expected great things from this youth. Though perhaps what the late feng-jun found truly commendable was Jiang Wanyin's complete lack of pretense and his short-fuse temper. That is to say, he did not hesitate to get in Lan Wangji's face. His sister would have chastised him, had she not been so preoccupied by her tears. Wei Wuxian, "Jiang...Jiang Cheng was here?" "He was, and he was very upset about your condition. He left many fine medicine and ointments for you." Lan Wangji sighed again. "I shall speak with Yanli. If she is amenable, then I shall make arrangements for you to go back to Jiang-fu. You would not have to put up with me any longer." Lan Wangji stood up. Wei Wuxian grasped his sleeve immediately. In that moment, he could not tell if his panic was derived from his worry that he would not be able to complete his assignment if Lan Wangji were to send him away or if he simply did not wish to part with the prince. "Dianxia - I - I don't want to leave. I - it's true I had once rejected you, but...would you think less of me if I said your attention … hasn't been unwanted for a while, that I have come to enjoy them." At Lan Wangji's widened eyes, Wei Wuxian continued quickly. "You need not give me anything, no elevation, no rank. I don't care about any of that. I am a man, I have no ability to give you children. Nor do I have any family who would benefit from your continued favour of me. I am an orphan, dianxia, I have no place to go. I just....don't send me away. Please let me stay! I'm not afraid of Jin Ziyan, or taishi, or anything!" Lan Wangji sat back down. His hand trembled when he laid it on top of Wei Wuxian's. "Wei Ying...?" Wei Wuxian smiled, still radiant despite his pale complexion. "Dianxia -" "Lan Zhan. No more dianxia, I only want to hear you call me by my name." Wei Wuxian flushed pink. The blush was real, as was the pleased little smile he tried to hide. "Lan Zhan, Wei Ying is yours, if you still want him." The worst part of that was that he meant it. Just the mere thought of being held by Lan Wangji, of being kissed by him, of... so many other wonderful possibilities, made Wei Wuxian want to hide his flaming face into his pillow. Lan Wangji smiled. Quietly, he lifted Wei Wuxian's hand and pressed a kiss to the inner side of his wrist. "Rest, I will be right here." Wei Wuxian felt his treacherous little heart soar: oh no … oh no no no no ….. (Xue Yang's voice in narration: and it was in this moment, that Wei Wuxian knew, he fucked up.) The cruellest thing Wei Wuxian ever did was give Lan Wangji hope knowing that one day he would take it all away.

[fanfics4all]

Requests are open! Here's some Prompts!

Angst Prompts

“This will be the last time you lie to me.”

“You know it’s not like that.”

“How could you think this wouldn’t hurt me?”

“You’re never going to be the same after this.”

“I just think it’d be best if we never met.”

“I can’t believe you would even think to leave me like this.”

“You never loved me, did you?”

“It didn’t have to be like this, but now you’ve ruined everything.”

“I hope you’re happy.”

“If you had have kept your mouth shut, then he’d still- he’d still be here!”

“What did you want once this was all through? Tell me!”

“Now I have to deal with the consequences of your actions. Thanks, it means a lot.”

“You could’ve- could’ve stayed. You could’ve helped me fix things.”

“I knew she’d never change, she was too stubborn, too similar to me.”

“This isn’t going to be fixed. You’ve ruined this for good now.”

“I hope I’m not put in the same part of hell as you.”

“When did you think you could hurt me again? Today? Tomorrow?”

“You’re back in my life and I want to die again.”

“You only ever brought me pain and I’m sick of it.”

“I hope you got what you wanted.”

“You made me miserable and I still loved you.”

“When you die, I’ll be the first to dance on your grave.”

“Don’t underestimate me, I have more power than you can even comprehend.”

“If only you knew what you’d brought upon yourself.”

“We’re never going to have a happy ending, just remember that.”

“Everytime something goes well, I momentarily forget how much I despise you.”

“Don’t pretend like you’re not happy to see me like this.”

“There is nothing worse than seeing you get what you want.”

“Your mind must be a horrible place.”

“You can cut me, bruise me and skin me alive, but you will not take her from me.”

“How is it that we always end up in this predicament?”

“I want to wipe that grin of your face with my sword, but my mother taught me to play nicely.”

“Did anyone ever tell you how pathetic you are? It’s incredible how low my standards are for you.”

“Ah, well if you want them back alive, I suggest you lay down your own life.”

“Don’t be ‘smart’. The battlefield is no place for Math Scholars.”

“You shouldn’t have come. You can’t be-”

“Stop talking or tomorrow won’t come.”

“Hand me the gun and I’ll kill him myself.”

“I shouldn’t care for your life, but I’m starting to and it’s becoming an inconvenience.”

“If you live to see her, please send my best regards and this box of her father’s ashes.”

“It would’ve been nice to get to know you better, but I’m afraid I don’t care.”

“I can’t help but think you’re a terrible person.”

“Seeing your face has unconventionally made me want to die. I wasn’t quite prepared for this feeling.”

“You could have loved me, I’m quite good at seducing, but you’re actually vile.”

“I hope I see you in a bodybag sometime.”

“Let’s pretend you didn’t cheat on me with my sister and be good people for a few minutes.”

“We should probably stop talking forever.”

“If I hated you anymore, I think I’d probably be crowned as satan’s right-hand man.”

“To say I ‘tolerate you’ is a vast overstatement.”

“You broke her heart and came back for more, you bastard.”

“This isn’t fifth grade, this is a courtroom, you whore.”

“I think you’d be the perfect match for my ex-husband. He loved to sleep with multiple people.”

“I’m not coming home, don’t look for me.”

“Time was always a measurement of this relationship and we finally ran out.”

“Please don’t look at me with such hatred.”

“I could’ve died and you couldn’t have cared less.”

“Just get out. I- I don’t want you here, just leave.”

“You’re not the same person I married, don’t tell me I’m wrong.”

“I wish you wouldn’t beg for forgiveness, it has the opposite effect of what you want.”

“Don’t hate me for this. You would’ve done the same.”

“This could’ve been the end and you were ready to let me go.”

“You should’ve left me, you could never deserve the person I’ve become.”

“Hate me all you want. I know I’m right.”

“Today you broke my arm, I hope tomorrow it’s not my heart.”

“Nothing can justify this, you’ve ruined him.”

“You live with so much guilt, I hope it drives you mad one of these days.”

“My life was ruined because of one mistake. You were that mistake.”

“You are everything I hate, don’t ever come back.”

“Evil doesn’t come close.”

“Your wrongdoings are becoming your pastimes.”

“I wish you had of just done it for the thrill of it, but now you’re in deep shit.”

“Next time, I won’t be here to salvage your wreckage. This is the last time.”

“You should have ruined me when you had the chance.”

“No one will keep your name alive. Once you’re gone, everything you once stood for disappears too.”

“Don’t pretend you haven’t thought about your life without me.”

“This is always how it ends.”

“Break my heart once more, I dare you.”

“Forget how you loved me once, I mean nothing now.”

“This isn’t Romeo and Juliet, this is real life and I can go on without you.”

“You don’t own me, I don’t belong to you.”

“I should’ve died. That would’ve made you happy.”

“Are we going to carry on like this or are you going to give him back to me.”

“She drowned and he lost his mind.”

“We shouldn’t. You’re married and I’m pregnant.”

“You’ve never been loved, I can tell.”

“Who told you I needed fixing and what made you believe them?”

“You’re almost as far-gone as I am.”

“Maybe it’s best that we don’t go home.”

“Roaming the streets was never safe for her. What makes you think it’s different for you?”

“I think you’re going to ruin me. Am I right?”

“Do you remember our last feud? I wouldn’t want someone to lose their life again, would you?”

“Kiss me quick and leave them be.”

“I hate seeing you so sad. It’s just so dramatic how humans show emotions and being sad is such a boring one.”

“Will you ever forget my number? No? Ah, because you still love me.”

“After the funeral, let’s surrender.”

“What made you think I cared for you?”

“It’ll be fun explaining this to your sister. I hope she likes horror stories.”

“Don’t act as if we’re friends. I know how much you want to slit my throat.”

“Let’s not get angry. Let’s calmly and sensibly take this outside so I can ruin your face.”

“Please ruin yourself for me and I’ll watch in adoration as I fall apart as well.”

Fluff Prompts

“I missed being with you like this,”

“I’ve been excited to see you all day.”

“You’re my perfect match,”

“No one else can compare to your loveliness,”

“The way you smile like that always turns me on,”

“Can I at least shut the door before you decide to pounce on me the moment I come home,”

“I know you said you didn’t want to be late, but you look amazing, and I’m trying not to kiss you senseless right now,”

“I’ll keep you warm. Hold me closer.”

“Kiss me again, like you mean it.”

“Can I have a message?”

“Truth or Dare?” “Dare”

“Move away if you don’t want this kiss.”

“If you keep kissing my face like that I’ll have to retaliate.”

“Are you my secret admirer, the one that’s been sending me all the flowers and notes?”

“Does this kiss tickle~? Haha. Why are you laughing so much?”

“You’re supposed to be washing my hair, but this feels more like a massage.”

“Hold my hand tight. I’ll protect you.”

“When do you think help will come?” “Not for a while, I guess we’re stranded here alone for the time being.”

“Can you pretend to be my partner for my friend’s wedding? I told them I’d have a plus one.”

“I’m in love with you.” “Are you finally confessing to me? Because I feel the same way.”

“Apparently all our friends have a bet going that we end up together.”

"I want you back."

"You need to stop calling me that."

"You did not just boop me."

"You lost me in a crowd once!" "It's not my fault you're so short!"

"We should get a puppy."

“Hurry up! It has eight legs and therefore will crawl faster than normal!"

"Kiss me." "Not with that morning breath."

"So, will you marry me?"

"How'd you do that?" "Magic."

"It's my happy juice."

"You did not just mimic me."

"I'm on my period and I want chocolate. Now go."

"I left you for five minutes."

"Tell me why I deal with you again?"

"Kiss it better. Please.”

Smut Prompts

“Try to stay quiet for me. Can you do that?”

“Spread your legs. I want to feel how turned on I made you.”

“You can add another finger. I’m ready,”

“I want to watch you take off your clothes.”

“You’re so turned on already? That was fast,”

“Lay back and touch yourself. I want to watch.”

“You want to do this right now? Even though we could get caught?”

“You’re nipples are so sensitive today,”

“Do you want to continue this in the shower?”

“You look so beautiful tied up to my bed,”

“I want you to be rough with me, please leave marks on my skin,”

“Say my name,” “Louder,”

“You say you want me, but your body seems to like it when I tease you,”

“Call me ‘Sir’ when we’re alone like this,”

“No, I’m the one that’s supposed to be making you feel good,”

“Don’t stop, whatever you do. I like that, a lot.”

“I love hearing you moan,”

“Blindfolds heighten your senses, maybe that’s why you’re whimpering louder than usual.”

“I was wondering how long you two were going to make out like that before you realize you weren’t alone.”

“Sorry, did that hurt?” “No, I’m just a little sore from last night.”

“I want to hear you beg for it.”

“I’m not wearing any panties,”

“I want to kiss every inch of your body before I fuck you,”

“I don’t have the patience to remove your clothes right now,”

“Your pussy tastes so sweet,”

“I can’t wait until we’re alone. There are so many things I want to do to you right now.”

“Bite me,” “Where?”

“Were you just touching yourself?”

“What do you want for breakfast?” “Why are you asking me that at 10 o’clock at night-OH.”

“The game is, either of us is only allowed to touch the other with their mouth.”

“I love how your body loses control when you cum.”

“Fuck me like a starved animal or leave.”

“Spank me,”

“Show me how you like to be touched.”

“Harder, Deeper…”

“I want to fulfill that fantasy you’ve always wanted.”

[vventure]

Happy Without Me

Pairing: Ukai Keishin x f!reader

Summary: Keishin invites you over to have a talk just a few months after your break-up, sharing with you how he’s changed.

Warnings: semi-dark, obsessiveness, stalking (ish), delusions, kidnapping if you squint, mentions of alcohol

Word Count: 1050

A/N: This is for the @haikyuucreations Valentine’s/White Day Collab! You can find all the pieces here.

A/N 2: This is something completely outside of my comfort zone in terms of feel and genre. It is inspired by the song Happy Without Me by Monsta X, and I decided to take a darker route with it rather than angst. I hope that you guys like it/give it a shot. I’ve been feeling really uninspired lately, so it was nice to get the brain working again. :) (also i didn’t proof-read this and it’s obvious how much of a kpop hole i’ve been in that my recent come back is based on kpop)

The heel of your shoe clicked crisply against the shining tile of the small convenience store as its fluorescent lights washed over you, immediately driving daggers into the backs of your eyes as your vision adjusted. In the years you’d frequented this place, your body had never become accustomed to the artificially bright atmosphere. It was something you didn’t miss now that it wasn’t part of your daily routine.

Was this a mistake, coming to see your freshly-ex-boyfriend? What was his angle in getting you to come over? To apologize for what happened? To rekindle what once was?

The text made you restless; instead of laying peacefully in bed you paced your apartment until the rug was warm to the touch. In the end, the battle within you crowned curiosity the winner over sense. You just had to know what Keishin wanted to talk to you about and you’d pick up the pieces of your heart and self-esteem later.

“Y/N.”

The voice was familiar, yet foreign in it’s newly gruff, worn-down timbre. One glance at the blonde-haired man behind the counter had your eyebrows knitting. His hair was greasy and all over the place, his jaw perpetually set even as he mechanically inhaled and exhaled the tobacco smoke created by the lit cigarette between his lips.

Dark eyes drank in your figure, still visible through the wisps of smoke obscuring his face. An unpleasant sensation slithered along your spine at those small black pools, sending waves of goosebumps along your skin.

“Keishin…?”

“You look lovely,” he said--no more than a murmur--as his tongue lapped over his dry lips and his nimble fingers squelched the cigarette into oblivion in the ashtray.

“Hmm?” 

“Nothing,” he inhaled, rubbing his hand over his face and beckoning you forward with two yellowed fingers.

Something in the way his eyes were locked to yours, coupled with the silent command, compelled you to step forward. The edges of your vision blotted out your surroundings as you approached the low counter Keishin always seemed to be perched behind, today being no exception. This close, you noticed the circles beneath his eyes and how much he smelled of his bad habit. Had it gotten worse? When was the last time he’d done laundry or taken a shower?

“Ar-Are you okay? You look sick,” you ventured, instinctively stepping through the swinging door that granted access to the back of the counter, your steps stuttering when you noticed the small reading nook you’d created many months ago was still intact. A fresh blanket was carefully folded atop the dented bean bag as if waiting for your return.

“I’m great,” he responded without emotion, turning in his chair to peer at you again. “Can we talk upstairs? This is too...public.”

“There’s no one here,” you said, scanning the computer screen that projected the view of the myriad of cameras adorning the ceiling. “We’re alone.”

“Please? For me?” Soft, chocolate eyes scanned your face, his pallid complexion brightening for a moment. Just a moment.

Something small--something ignorable--tugged at your stomach, but your head was already bobbing a yes, and Keishin’s hand was already clasped securely around yours, and you were already in his small loft apartment letting him close and lock the door behind you. 

“Please, sit,” Keishin prompted, using his hands to gesture to one of his dining chairs sitting facing the door. The rest of them were nestled soundly against the table, indicating he’d pulled this out for a special occasion and you couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled past your lips.

“Are you going to interrogate me? Where’s the lamp?” 

“Please sit, I just want to talk.”

His hands were wrapped tightly around the back of the chair, knuckles chalk-white through the cracked skin of his hands.

“‘Shin, you’re scaring me.” This time your laugh was more strained, less jovial.

“You’re safe here with me, princess, don’t worry,” He cooed, releasing the chair to stroke down its wooden sides softly, as if to show that he meant his words.

Heaviness settled upon your chest, making each breath a little more difficult to obtain as you walked towards him once more, hesitantly turning your back and sitting.

You reasoned that this was Keishin after-all. Up until the last months of your relationship he was a sweet, caring boyfriend who would protect you with his life if it came to it. What reason could you have to doubt him now? He’d always been a safe place for you to rest your heart.

“I saw the pictures you posted,” he nearly whispered, stepping around the chair to squat before you. “You looked like you were having fun.”

“Pictures? On instagram?”

“Mhmm, the ones you posted for me,” his hands crept up your thighs and fiddled with your fingers, distracting you from his words for a moment until they registered. 

The man before you when you looked up was not Ukai Keishin. A gleam had found purchase in his once-warm eyes; a malicious, even malevolent, gleam. The corners of his lips were tugged up haphazardly, uneven and almost...unhinged.

“For you?”

“I get the message you’re sending, Y/N. You drink to forget how good you had it, yeah?”

“What are you talking about--‘Shin are you sure you’re okay? I’m scared,” you replied, a tremble lacing your voice. The beating heart within your chest threatened to shatter through your ribcage and out into the open air as your hands instinctively ripped away from his.

“I’m great, princess. I figured it out, even though you’re really good at hiding the code. I knew you missed me.”

“‘Shin, I-” He wasn’t wrong on that part. A small section of your heart would always be reserved for him, but missing him outright? He had to be mistaken, gravely mistaken. And what was this about a message?

“I missed you so much, I never stopped thinking about you. About us, about what we had and still have. That’s why I asked you over.” The words came tumbling from his mouth like wasps out of a disturbed hive, crawling and stinging over your exposed skin as confusion manifested into fear.

“I need to leave-” Came your faint squeak, punctuated by the cold press of metal around your wrist.

“I hate to see you happy without me.”

[theartofdreaming1]

Advent Calendar Fic Rec 2019, Day 21

This time, it’s not a Batfam-based one-shot... But I finally finished the next chapter of my DickBabs Fanfic, “Partners”, a police officer AU! :) You can also check this chapter out on Ao3.

Partners - Part 7: Revelations

Pairing: DickBabs

Rating: T

Summary:  Barbara finally tells Dick what that mysterious letter contained.

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The Revelation

“Huh?” Dick stared at Barbara, a look of utter confusion on his face.

Barbara took a deep breath, steeling herself for what she was about to do. She then repeated: “There is something I’ve got to tell you.”

At this point, Dick had recovered from his initial reaction and the expression of bewilderment that had been displayed on his face before was now replaced by a more serious one, wordlessly urging Barbara on to continue.

Before she could begin, there was another gust of wind of the chilly night air and while Barbara tried to hide the shiver it caused her, it didn’t escape Dick’s notice.  

“Let’s get back inside,” he proposed, gently ushering Barbara into the pleasantly warm bedroom.

Once inside, Barbara sat down on Dick’s bed with a sigh, ready to begin and get this pesky, not-so-little something off her chest.

“I hadn’t meant to bring this up tonight because I didn’t want to ruin the evening,” Barbara began nervously, feeling a little defensive.

But when she caught a glimpse of the expression on her partner’s face, Barbara was relieved to find that there was nothing judgemental in the way he looked at her, only honest curiosity. With her heavy heart feeling a little lighter now, Barbara continued:

“There is something I’ve been neglecting to tell you - something I’ve been trying to ignore for my own sake as well, if I’m being honest…”

The redhead halted, not sure how to go on.

Since she was being honest about this ugly little thing that was bothering her, Barbara figured that she might as well be honest about the nicer things, too. It only felt fair.

“Dick, you inviting me to this party as your plus one really meant a lot to me and I was really looking forward to tonight,” a shy smile appeared on her face before she resumed more gravely, “which is why I haven’t told you about this before. But I just realized that it’s not fair of me to keep this to myself - not when you have been so open with me this entire time, and here I am, keeping secrets from you-”

“Secrets?” Dick knitted his eyebrows.

“Well, one secret,” Barbara clarified, nervously picking at the bedspread, “but a big one. I should have told you sooner, but I just… I just wanted us to have good time tonight, not being weighed down by my stupid mistake-”

Dick still looked confused.

“I have no idea what this is about,” he admitted haltingly, before assuring her, “but you can tell me. No matter what it is.”

The earnest expression on Dick’s face was all the encouragement Barbara needed to lay bare the source of her distress:

“The day you invited me to this ball, I found an envelope from anonymous in my locker, addressed to me personally, telling me in big black letters to “open in private”.

Dick’s eyes widened, but he didn’t say anything.

Barbara then went on:

“Inside the envelope there was a letter - more of a message, actually: Telling me that the author of this note had been watching me closely and in light of recent events wanted to give me a chance to prove my loyalty to my badge. If I was seriously dedicated, I am to come to Saint Dennis church this coming Wednesday evening, where it will be decided if I am to join their ranks.”

Dick stared at Barbara.

“‘ Their ranks’ ?” he repeated carefully.

Barbara nodded.

Her partner quirked an eyebrow.

“That seems to imply that there are multiple people involved.”

“Yeah,” Barbara agreed, “it certainly sounds like it.”

Dick took another moment to mull over what he had learned so far.

The expression on his face was most serious when he addressed Barbara again: “You think that ‘in light of recent events’ refers to-” “My entanglement with Richter’s ‘early retirement ’? Yeah, I think so.”

Deep in thought, Dick only nodded wordlessly, still processing, before asking Barbara: “Do you think that the sergeant from the 1-9 has something to do with this?”

“Rohrbach? I think it’s not unlikely.”

Intense concentration was etched on Dick’s face. Then, he looked at Barbara, his dark blue eyes razor-sharp:

“This could be a trap. To get you to admit to what you have pulled on Richter… To get rid of you.”

Barbara returned Dick’s stare calmly: “Yes.”

“And you’re going to go?” Dick asked, his eyes never wavering from hers.

Barbara already knew that Dick wasn’t going to like her answer.

“Yes.”

Dick closed his eyes, turning slightly away. He hunched over and let out a long and deep groan, his hands dragging over his face.

“Goddammit,” Barbara could hear Dick mumble under his breath.

She gnawed nervously on her lower lip, dreading what had to come next:

“There’s more,” she said haltingly.

Dick gazed up at her, incredulous: “More?”

“The message also said… it said that I could bring my partner - mentioned you by name - if I chose to; but nobody else was to know about and come to this meeting.”

Dick just kept on looking at Barbara as if he was still waiting for the other shoe to drop: “And?”

“Didn’t you hear me?”

But Dick remained unperturbed.

“Yeah, it means that I can come with you if you let me - that’s the least distressing thing you have told me so far…”

Barbara couldn’t believe how Dick could be so oblivious to the distressing implications of what she had just told him: “They mentioned you… By name!!! Whoever they are, they know all about you!”

Feeling responsible for getting her partner involved into this mess, Barbara hung her head in shame, a stray strand of hair falling in her face.

Her voice sounded small, even to her own ears:

“I’m sorry, Dick, I didn’t mean to drag you into this. Richter was my mistake, not yours!”

“Babs,” Dick said softly, gently cupping her face, “you didn’t drag me into anything - I was the one who didn’t listen to you and went into that abandoned building without any backup in the first place...  I was the one who got caught in the line of fire… You were the one who stopped me from saying something stupid to Richter that could have made everything way worse… I’m in this as much as you are.”

“You don’t have to-”

“Sure I do - we are partners. You have my back and I’ve got yours.”

He’d said all of this completely matter-of-factly, his voice now adopting a more pleading quality: “And as your partner, I’m asking you to please let me come with you to that meeting - I’d rather stand by your side than have you face this alone - if you’re okay with that.”

A wave of relief washed over Barbara. Despite her fierce resolve to go to that meeting and deal with whatever consequences that it would bring with it, she hadn’t realized how much she had hoped to have Dick’s support through all of this. Still, it was important to her to make one thing clear:

“You really, really don’t have to come with me,” she insisted forcefully.

She could see Dick getting ready to protest against her assertion most fervently, making it impossible for her to suppress the fond smile forming on her lips as she reached for his hand, “But I’m more than okay with you coming with me - there’s nobody I would rather want by my side.”

The indignation in Dick’s eyes turned into something softer, warmer: “Good.”

For a short moment, the two of them just looked at each other, tender smiles on both their faces.

Soon, Dick’s smile turned back into that goofy, endearing smile Barbara had come to love over the months of their partnership.

“Now, since we still have plenty of time for you to let me in on that great battle plan I’m sure you’ve already formulated over the course of these past few days-”

Barbara couldn’t help but chuckle: “You know me so well.”

“- and the entire point of today’s evening was to enjoy ourselves and forget about your mysterious message for a moment-”

“Very true.”

“I’ll venture to ask: Could I interest you in some more kissing before we resume our tour of Wayne Manor’s best sock surfable hallways?”

Despite the bravado of his words, Barbara could see the shy nervousness in Dick’s eyes.

A bright grin stretched across her lips.

“You can.”

***

The Circle *²

It was early Wednesday evening, mere minutes before the mysterious meeting was about to take place - Dick and Barbara were sitting in her car, right across Saint Dennis church, eyes fixed on the imposing architectural structure in nervous anticipation.

“You’re sure you want to do this?” Dick asked gently. “If you want to call it off, that’s fine, too.”

Barbara’s eyes were still glued to the neo-gothic building.

“No, I’m sure… I want to know, I need to know where this is all gonna lead to,” she found herself saying, her voice carrying far more conviction in it than she currently felt.

She finally tore her gaze away from the church, looking over at her partner instead:

“How about you? I meant it when I said that you don’t have to come with me.”

Dick smiled.

“Well, and I meant it when I said that I’d rather stand by your side than have you face this alone.”

And with that, he reached over the console and took her hand in his. Barbara gave Dick a nervous smile. She glanced once more at the church, then looked back at her partner, when she felt a gentle, reassuring squeeze around her fingers. Her fraying nerves calmed a bit at the gesture. No matter what awaited her behind the church doors, it was nice to know she didn’t have to face it on her own.

She squeezed Dick’s hand in return, earning her an unwavering, warm smile from her partner.

Go time.

Entering the church, they found it to be empty except for the two people talking quietly to each other in the chancel, the area around the altar. Their quiet conversation came to an immediate stop when the heavy door thunked shut, announcing Barbara and Dick’s presence. Barbara could feel her heart beating faster. Nevertheless, she kept on walking towards the two individuals, the sound of her and Dick’s footsteps on the stone floor echoing eerily. Upon their approach, Barbara recognized that one of the people they were heading for was Sergeant Amy Rohrbach, causing the tension in her muscles to lessen.

Suspecting that Rohrbach might be involved with the mysterious message she had received, Barbara had put in the time and effort to find out more about the sergeant from the 1-9. After digging through a plethora of files and reports, she hadn’t found anything that would even remotely suggest that Rohrbach was not an exemplary police officer. Indeed, only one incident in the track record detailing the sergeant’s career had caught Barbara’s eye - and interestingly enough, it had involved officers Hicks and Richter.

The most peculiar thing about said report was that there was nothing concrete to be gained from studying it: The case had involved busting Juan Ricardo Banez, a known drug dealer, at his girlfriend’s home. Simple enough - but the exact circumstances of said bust were shrouded in mystery. All that Barbara had been able to find out was that some shots had been fired from both Rohrbach’s and Richter’s guns, the perp had wound up dead and Richter had taken a medical leave subsequently. It was the bag with half a million dollars that had been filed as evidence, her thorough knowledge of Richter’s history of taking bribes and collecting money for the mob, as well as her and Dick’s own run-in with Richter and Hicks just a few weeks ago, that allowed Barbara to piece together a pretty plausible scenario of what must have gone down that day… And if she was right, Barbara had no reason to think that Amy Rohrbach was setting her and Dick up right now…

“Gordon! I knew that you wouldn’t pass up on this opportunity,” the sergeant greeted Barbara friendly, her keen brown eyes soon flickering over to Dick - “and as I can see, you’ve decided to bring your partner along.”

Dick took this statement as a cue to introduce himself, shaking hands with Amy. On the outside, he was all friendly smiles and easy-going charm, but Barbara knew her partner was actually on high alert, making note of the smallest detail that could be helpful in unravelling the enigma their current situation proved to be.  

After shaking Dick’s hand, Amy went on to introduce the elderly man next to her as Father Mike, who greeted Dick and Barbara warmly.

“He was kind enough to offer the back room of his church as our base of operations,” the sergeant explained, unfortunately neglecting to mention what this “base of operations” was actually for.

“Well, now that you’re both here, we might as well get started,” Amy said energetically, making a parting gesture toward Father Mike before motioning for Dick and Barbara to come along with her: “Follow me, the others are already here.”

Dick and Barbara exchanged a meaningful look behind Amy’s back.

When it came to Rohrbach herself, Barbara felt she had a good understanding of the sergeant’s character - the company that police woman kept, however, was still a different story.

Rohrbach lead the two partners to an unassuming door to the side of the room. The sergeant opened it, revealing a small, dimly lit room, with four indistinct figures already inside. The four shadows were seated along the long side of a medium-sized table that had been squeezed inside the small space, making Barbara feel like she was at a really bizarre film noir job interview.

The trio’s arrival was met with unintelligible mumbling, that soon was replaced by complete silence.

Dick was the first to speak, breaking the uncomfortable silence that was hanging in the air like cold cigarette smoke: “Soo… what is this, exactly?”

One of the silhouette-like figures stirred, a rough, deep voice rasping: “It’s an initiation, son.”

“And if you don’t pass, it’ll go hard on you,” another voice was quick to add.

A third voice practically growled: “We don’t like taking chances.”

“But Amy vouches for you,” chimed in the last person of this mysterious quartet, the voice suggesting a female.

Barbara strained her eyes, trying to recognize any of the people they were facing – why was it so damn dark in here? And why, for the love of god, could nobody get to the effing point?!

Fortunately, Amy seemed to have taken pity on Barbara's thinly-worn patience:

“We’re like a police force inside the police force, you see,” the sergeant said, sending a wry smile in Dick and Barbara's direction,”as I'm sure you have noticed, there are a lot of cops in this town that appear to be under the impression that they can do as they please – as long as the price is right. But our little group here,” Amy gestured towards her fellow conspirators, “we have made it our goal to remind those who abuse their position and privilege that they are not above the law.”

Barbara felt relief rushing over her - she had been right in trusting her gut; Amy Rohrbach was one of the few good cops in Blüdhaven. And even better - there were more! Certainly, they weren’t legion, but even a small group had a better chance at cleaning up the corrupt police force than she and Dick on their own.

“It's a risky business, though,” Amy was quick to remind them, continuing in a warning tone, “should our plans come to light before they are seen through, anyone involved with them would be dead meat.”

The sergeant looked sternly at the potential new recruits for her cause.

“Just, keep that in mind… Now, are you guys in?”

Barbara's eyes darted over to Dick's, the two partners sharing a single, determinant look that  left no room for doubt that they were on the same page-

“Yes,” was their unison reply.

Amy smiled triumphantly: “I thought so.”

“Welcome aboard,” the raspy voice from before piped up, now sounding a lot friendlier than it had before.

With the flick of a switch, Amy turned on the bare light bulb of the tiny back room, finally revealing the four other members of this little circle.

“Please, let me introduce you to Blüdhaven’s few proud and, most importantly, honest cops.”

And just like that, Dick and Barbara made acquaintance with tall and gangly Officer Zircher from the 15th precinct, Sergeant Dixon from the 2-3 (his kind eyes and friendly smile a stark contrast to his hulking physique and gravelly voice), tough-as-nails Lieutenant McDaniel from the 1-8 and young, but fiery Officer Leonardi from Amy’s precinct (the young Italian American woman had started her stint at the BPD only three months before Dick had joined Barbara’s precinct).

Dick and Barbara were readily welcomed by their more seasoned teammates.

“The more cops we bring into the circle, the stronger a case we can bring to the feds,” Zircher pointed out eagerly, his slim face adorned with a lopsided grin.

“You guys have joined us at a very opportune time,” Amy informed Dick and Barbara energetically, ”we finally have found a DA who is willing to pursue this, as long as there is enough evidence to build a solid case-”

“A case Chief Redhorn won’t be able to slip out of,” McDaniel grumbled darkly.

Amy nodded.

“Exactly. Since the problem of corruption reaches up to the very top of the chain, Flores won’t make his move until we have an airtight case that will allow him not only to go after small fry such as Hannity and Hicks, but also make it possible for him to indict Redhorn for his crimes.”

Amy paused for a moment, then turned to Dick and Barbara, fixing them with one of her piercing stares:

“And this is where you two come in.”

***

Teaching Moment *³

Even with their secret mission going on, Dick and Barbara still had to deal with the usual day-to-day of their job.

Today, they had the pleasure of sorting out a reported noise complaint. What should have been a simple affair, was dragged out unnecessarily once the neighbors of the offender had felt compelled to weigh in on the whole ordeal, leading to a heated dispute on the stairs - which, ironically, ended up being way louder than the music blasting from inside the respective apartment.

Once the situation had calmed down and all the inhabitants had returned to their apartments, Dick and Barbara finally left the building, ready to get back to their cruiser.

On their way back to the car, Dick and Barbara could see that a group of four boys had gathered around it - or rather: three of the approximately eleven-year-old kids were standing around the car, while the fourth one was standing atop the hood.

Seeing the two police officers coming their way caused a certain amount of commotion among the kids.

“Kenny, get down! Here they come,” a boy in a red hoodie warned his friend.

But Kenny appeared to be unfazed.

“I ain’t doing nuthin’ wrong!”the kid insisted, his balled up fists raised as if to fight.

Barbara suppressed a sigh; she really didn’t feel like quarelling with an eleven-year-old today.

Dick, apparently, didn’t seem to mind:

“Actually, you are,” he argued with Kenny, gesturing towards the kid’s hands, “if you take a swing at me like that, you’re gonna break your thumbs.”

Surprised, the boy looked down at his hands, inspecting the way his other fingers curled around the thumbs of each hand.

Meanwhile, Dick approached Kenny calmly and Barbara couldn’t help but be impressed by the way her partner had managed to defuse the tense situation with a simple remark.

By the time Dick had gotten to Kenny and his friends, the kids gathered around the cruiser only stared at him curiously, their resentment from before - gone.

“Keep ‘em out, like this,” Dick explained, gently adjusting the position of Kenny’s fingers, making sure that the thumbs were outside the balled fist.

He then put his palms up, facing the boy: “Okay, now try”

Excitedly, Kenny punched against Dick’s palms.

Dick grinned approvingly: “There you go! Good job!”

He then lifted Kenny off the car hood. The boy smiled widely.

“Thanks.”

The boys scampered off soon after, although Barbara could still hear their delighted chattering until they rounded the corner down the street: “my turn!”, “hit me, Kenny, hit me!”

Barbara quirked an eyebrow at her partner while they were both getting back into the car, a teasing smirk on her lips: “Making the world safe for disciplined violence everywhere?”

Dick just shrugged his shoulders.

“I prefer to think of it as teaching finesse and self-respect.”

Barbara smiled and started the engine to resume their patrol.

“You were really good with those kids,” she acknowledged in a more earnest manner.

Again, Dick simply shrugged, making a dismissive gesture with his hands, “Practice - when I was still bartending at Hogan’s, waiting and hoping to get into the BPD, I spent some afternoons at the gym in zee mores, teaching kids some basic self-defense lessons.”

Barbara only shook her head, smiling fondly at her partner.

“How do you manage to fit your halo under that hat, Grayson?”

Dick grinned flirtatiously: “Same way you fit all that brain power under yours, I presume.”

“Flatterer.”

Dick gave her a playful wink, then went on to look out of the window to keep an eye on the street.

“So, what are the plans for the evening?,” he asked casually.

Barbara’s eyes flitted over to her partner.

“Well, I kinda planned on spending it checking out some stuff for Amy - why, did you have any different ideas?”

Dick grinned.

“Well, actually... I thought we could spend a nice evening in, something along dinner and a movie - but how about we combine those two?,” Dick proposed, continuing quickly before Barbara could disagree,”You could focus on working on the thing for Amy while I’m fixing us up some dinner, then, during dinner, you can fill me in on what you’ve found out and, depending how late it’ll be by then, we can check out something on Netflix or something along those lines-”

“Something like the new Brooklyn Nine-Nine episodes?,” Barbara suggested teasingly.

Dick ducked his head sheepishly.

“That could be an option... if you insist on it.”

Barbara let out a laugh: “Sure, because I’m the one usually insisting on it.”

She was met with a goofy smile.

“But you know what,” Barbara said, after carefully considering his suggestion,”I think that’s a really good idea.”

“Don’t know why you sound so surprised,” Dick said with a fake pout,”I’m full of good ideas.”

Barbara nodded knowingly,“You’re full of something, all right.”

“Hey!”

They spend the rest of their shift bickering back and forth.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

to be continued... here

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Notes

*² Nightwing #60: The "initiation" at Saint Dennis Church happens in this issue (although Dick thinks that he gets a chance at infiltrating the corrupt cops after acting like taking a bribe wouldn't be too bad - Amy immediately sees through Dick's tough-guy-act, seeing him for the goody-two-shoes he is and instead introduced him to the circle) Nightwing #69: The "incident" between Amy and Richter is from said issue (meanwhile, Dick is in Gotham, helping out Alfred and Tim in the "Bruce Wayne - Murderer?" story arc); Amy is part of the raid out to get Banez, but once Richter suggests taking the money for themselves, hinting that killing Banez and his girlfriend would rid them of any potential witnesses, the situation escalates into a shoot-out between Amy and Richter, during which Banez dies and Richter and Amy get slightly hurt; DA Flores: Mateo Flores, the DA working together with Amy and the gang. He's also the brother of Catalina Flores, the new Tarantula... who is not going to make an appearance in this fic because... no. Just no. (I did not like that storyline at all.)

Zircher, Dixon, McDaniel & Leonardi: I don't think the police officers in the circle are ever mentioned by name, so I just chose the names of some of the most important Nightwing writers and artists from the Pre-New 52 run (and I made Leonardi into a woman, because... well, there are just too few women in those stories and that just won't do ;)

*³ Nightwing #71: Dick interacting with Kenny and his friends is a cute scene from that issue, I just had to include that here; Dick giving a self-defense class in zee mores is also from that issue, although that one is aimed at adults and where we meet Catalina Flores and... well, I decided to change it up Nightwing #142: We see Dick teaching kids how to fly on the trapeze during his time in New York, so I combined both of these instances of Dick teaching into him teaching self-defense to kids

[wynilthyrii]

Morpheus’s Curse

Burrowed into the familiar covers of her bunk at the Keep, Wyn should have gotten the best night of sleep she’d gotten in weeks.  Even the impending encounter with Nerophax—the clock was set; they knew the outer limits of the timeline, if not the details—should not have impeded her rest.  Even the lingering questions about the sword were only a minor annoyance as she crawled into her bed, exhausted from the long day but reassured that all at least seemed well at Dawnglory, that the Dragonhawk’s warden was alive and well, that the Eye had not returned to those lands—at least not yet.

Sleep should have been easy. It came easily.  It clung to her like a lover’s embrace too long denied.

But, like the worst of scorned lovers, the comfort of sleep was no comfort at all.

The nightmares—old and new—came an hour after her head hit the pillow.

------

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

All she could smell was death, but it no longer affected her.  Where once the bitterness of bile crowded her throat, threatening worse, there was only numbness.  It had been too long and she’d grown used to the stench of death and dying, of blood and ichor and decay.  In the corner hung a half-assembled abomination, strung on hooks, black dripping from a dangling coil of entrails.  It was one of their half-abandoned projects, forgotten in the midst of others.

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

It had been a long time, but she no longer counted the hours, the days—the weeks.  It was too hard when she could only number her existence by meager meals, experiments, and the trackless comings and goings of her tormentors.

Tormentors was too kind a term.

Pain spiraled through her arm as a finger twitched.  For a second, she squeezed her eyes shut, pressing her cheek against the rough wood of the table she could not escape.  She’d been lying there for days, she guessed.  Even the gnawing hunger had passed, leaving her numb but for the pain. Maybe they had finally abandoned her, too, like the abomination in the corner.  Maybe she would die here.  Maybe it was punishment for the ice she’d thrown at them the moment before they’d broken her fingers.

There had been a fel-green tint to that ice that had left her queasy, but at least her magic had worked.  She had been voiceless and powerless for so long that she’d feared magic lost to her. It wasn’t.

But what could it mean? If she died, would she become one of them?

Death would have been a mercy if not for that fear.

Voices echoed in the hall, bouncing along the stone walls and coming closer.  She squeezed her eyes shut.

They’ve not forgotten after all.

The door creaked on hinges that needed oil, the sound of the wood and metal discordant, setting her teeth on edge.  Tears threatened for a second—frustration, discomfort, even fear—but she would not let them come.

The one that still had a jaw had come today and he crouched down enough to grin at her and look into her eyes. If not for the gray-green pallor of his flesh and a gaping rent in his cheek that offered glimpses of ivory cheekbone, he might have passed for something still human—a horrible, twisted one, but still human.

“Still with us, Mistress Ilthyrii,” he purred softly in a voice that perhaps had once been comforting, maybe even alluring—assuming one had not grown used to his lies or his purpose. There was nothing but the promise of pain in that voice, in his gaze.

She just stared back at him. He did not deserve the satisfaction of a response, nor did he deserve to see her pain, pain she buried behind a blank mask.

He stroked a gloved hand over her hair as he straightened, smiling.  “You’ve done far better than any of the others.  It’s a good thing.  A very good thing.”

“I’m so glad I could please you,” she rasped.  Her throat was raw, ached.  Her voice came as nothing more than a whisper, but at least it was a voice.

“A lie, but a pretty one. Soon enough, though, it will be truth.” He glanced back toward the door.  “Amos, did you bring it?”

The Forsaken’s hand drifted to her back, scraped against the raw flesh there in a way that could be nothing other than deliberate.  Pain splashed through her nerves like acid, molten, spreading down to the marrow of her bones and arcing like lightning.

The scream came without prayer of stopping it, like it had so many times before.

------

It was so cold, cold enough that she should have been numb, curled in on herself.  But her hands throbbed as they had when they’d been broken—long ago, now, and long since healed.  The memory, though, was sometimes too much.

The days were trackless, though she knew that many had passed since the night when her mother had told her to flee, to run, to be quick and silent and escape the men who had come to kill them all.

How long had it been since she’d failed?

Something buried in her bones twisted, pain splashing and running like hot oil.  She grit her teeth, curled aching hands into fists.  It felt like something was there that shouldn’t have been, but she couldn’t—

She heard screams somewhere beyond the room where she lay, screams that echoed off the walls.  They sounded familiar, like something from long ago—something from before this.  But it wasn’t possible.

They’re all dead and I am here.

She squeezed her eyes shut against the bitterness of tears.

She couldn’t let sleep come. Her tormentors could come back and catch her unawares and that was the last thing she—

—the last thing?

What had happened the last time?

Why can’t I—

Bile rose in her throat and she swallowed it down hard.  Don’t. Just don’t.

There were voices in the hall.  The echoing screams seemed more distant now, as if they were a memory from a dream or perhaps something else—a hallucination?  It was possible.  Anything was possible.

She could just barely make out a few words from her captors.  Something about phase one being completed.  Something about what was required.  Something about displeasure.  Reassurances.

Darkness nibbled at the edges of her vision.

The door creaked open as it closed in around her.

------

The shouts of rough men echoed off stately walls and through the well-tended gardens, steel ringing off steel.  The cries of the dying overpowered the sounds of battle, of rushing footsteps.  Her older brother gripped her hand tightly as they ducked through a hidden door into those gardens, each breathing ragged, searching for an escape.

Her eyes lit on the gazebo where her mother stood, defiant and shouting.  A man in dark clothing stood before her, blade bare, gaze steady.

“Never,” her mother said.  “Tell him that the answer remains the same.  I will never join him.”

Her world shifted.

Gone were the sounds of combat.  Gone were the men that had killed her family all those years ago.  The feeling of her brother’s hand around hers was gone.

The old blood stood on the stones, though, bright crimson as if it was fresh.

“You have a choice, sister.”

She spun, staring blankly at Atila.

“No,” she whispered.  “No, I don’t.”

“You can chose a different way,” Atila said.  She seemed washed-out, even in the darkness, her armor hanging heavy on a thin frame—too thin, frighteningly thin.  “You don’t have to walk that path.”

“I have already made my choice.”

“It is the wrong one,” Atila said, stepping closer.  “You know it’s the wrong one.”

Flesh seemed to flake away from her friend’s face.  Wyn fell back a step, swallowing hard.

“You’re not real.”

“I assure you, sister,” Atila said softly, her approach inexorable.  “I am quite real.”

“No,” Wyn breathed.

The scent of charnel and rotting flesh started to fill her nostrils.  Wyn fell back another step.  Atila’s form continued to melt, flesh falling away, hair falling away, armor hanging loser and loser on her form.  Her lips blackened, her eyes began to bleed.

Wyn swallowed hard, knees buckling over the edge of the dry fountain.  She barely caught herself before she toppled.

Atila was there.  Her eyes were gone, now, replaced by a swirling mist of gray and silver and violet.  Her teeth clacked against each other, bones of her jaw scraping against her skull, barely held in place by wisps of flesh, her voice echoing from somewhere far beyond the grave.  She leaned in.  “Make a different choice.  Tread a different path.  Join them and save the rest.”

“I can’t.”

“You can.”

“I won’t.”

Another voice boomed from somewhere beyond the gardens.  “You will not be allowed to make the mistake your mother made.”

Atila reared back, began to shake.  She stumbled back, one leg folding beneath her, then the next.  Tremors wracked her and she seemed to both melt and fade into dust all at once.  One hand reached out toward Wyn, toward her friend.

Wyn’s heard lodged in her throat and she lunged for that hand, which for a second seemed real, seemed alive.

Her fingers passed through the space where it had been just as it faded to dust.

Shadows closed around her as she crashed to the knees on the brick path of her family’s gardens—roiling, slippery things like oil on glass, like smoke in a bottle.  Faces flickered through the mist—some dead, some still living.

Her heart lodged in her throat.

“You will fail them all,” the voice said.  “Just as you have failed everyone who came before.  You are weak and sentimental.  That will be your downfall.”

“That’s what gives me strength,” Wyn rasped, fingers curling into fists.  The very marrow of her bones felt like it was on fire, like the screws were still there, trying to melt their way through her.

“We shall see.  I look forward to seeing you broken.  As does he.”

Shadows swallowed her whole. The Light she had called vanished. Every fiber of her being screamed in pain, as if something was trying to drag every ounce of her magic, of her very essence through each pore.

“Until then, our regards to your family.  We shall see how much you have to lose.”

She heard something crack distantly, heard a scream, then knew nothing at all.

[guksauce]

✨Paradise✨

Description: Ryung Nam-joon finds herself caught in a dream she never thought she’d have after receiving an invitation from her older brother Kim Nam-joon, to join him and the 6 other members of the worldwide famous K-Pop group BTS, on the road to start a new chapter in her life.

Word Count- 3,727K

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Chapter 2 •Here We Go•

When I woke the next morning, the overwhelming smell of freshly brewed coffee seeped in through the crack at the bottom of my room door and right under my nose. Warm, enticing, and begging me to leave the comfort of my bed.

“Good Morning Sis.” Namjoon. I smiled hearing my brothers voice and groaned in response after joining him at the counter, pulling the rope to my robe tight around my torso. He set a piping hot mug of coffee in front of me and handed me the cream.

“I know, I know. Come on, drink up sunshine, we got some beaching to do.” He ruffled my hair after my lack of response from being sleepy and walked to the door, calling the others. Instructing them to come to my room for breakfast, I shivered and hugged the coffee closer to my body, inhaling deeply the honey scent lifting in billows of steam. Trying my best to come to life.

“Morning Ryung-ssi.” Jimin, as perky and bright as always, pushed through the door and came straight to me and began to rub his hands up and down my arms. I thanked him for shaking away some of my sleepiness before taking a seat next to me. Namjoon made quick work behind the counter, busy cracking open eggs and whisking them in a bowl when Jin walked in and helped him prep the bacon after greeting the rest of us with heavy sleep still in his eyes. Third was Jungkook who, shuffling through the door rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand, plopped onto the chair next to me and rested his head on the counter in protest of being awake.

“Jungkook-ah. How do you want your eggs?” Namjoon asked and Jungkook closed his eyes, his face turning to me as he answered.

“Omelet. Please.” His voice was deep and thick with remnants of his uncleared throat, gravely and low and oh so-...! His eyes flashed open to me then and I realized I’d been staring like an idiot at his face since the moment he’d sat next to me. “Morning Princess.” He spoke quietly under the small conversation the others were engaging in as the last 2 members joined us. Every blink felt like it was all in slow motion while listening to him call me the pet name he’d given me in his rough voice. His hair fell over his sleepy eyes and his lips were just visible over his arm, a kind smile on his face.

“What about you Ry. How do you want your eggs?” Joonie asked, grabbing another plate from the cabinet, his silver hair shifting to one side as he reached high.

“Um…” I started and tore my gaze away from Jungkook and instead raised the mug to my lips to calm the butterflies in my stomach, sipping down the liquid relaxation before answering.

“Ill have one over medium please. Thank you Joonie.”

“You got it kid.”

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The day was only just beginning but the sun was already high in the sky and baking us as we gathered our things from the backs of our cars. My hands and arms and anything else that could hold something were becoming fuller by the second; floats, sunscreen, towels, chairs, beach balls, you name it, I brought it all to ensure that we all would have fun while we were here.

“Do you need help, Princess?” I heard Jungkook ask from in the distance. I looked up and snickered to myself watching him hold his hand up as a visor over his eyes and scrunch his face up adorably, and noticed the others had already gone without us as I dropped one of the many items trapped in my grasp. He laughed shaking his head and ran to me.

“Yes please.” I surrendered some of the items to him and he happily took them, carrying everything he had as well with ease. Together we trailed behind the others, our feet kicking up the baked sand under our toes.

“I love the beach.” Jungkook expressed with an ever-growing smile on his face as he stared out to the horizon, tiny frothy white swells washed up onto the shore under the clear sky and became crystal sheets when it retreated to the deep blue. I watched his face as we finally stopped and laid all our accessories on the ground. The sun kissed his skin, his eyes closed, and his long lashes brushed his cheeks while he grinned as though nothing else in this world made him happier. I was envious of the way he saw things sometimes. A special kind of admiration I would never quite understand. I had a moment of thinking that I wished he would look at me like that.

“Ryung.” Namjoon called from his spot 3 chairs down and I spun to look at him. I knew I was blushing and I hoped he would mistake it for sunburn, but I looked up at him anyway and raised my eyebrows in question, too embarrassed to say anything.

“Have some water.” He demanded and glanced at Jungkook who also had looked to my brother when he’d called my name.

“What?” He asked Namjoon. My brothers shoulders were rigid and his eyes bore into Jungkook’s before flicking back to me.

“Uh…nothing.” He smiled and brought me the water bottle in his hands.

After setting up my towel and chairs, making a little area for myself to lay out on, I glanced at the men around me.

“Aiishh…” I was suddenly and awkwardly aware that undressing in front of them was something I hadn’t fully thought out. I cursed myself under my breath, remembering how revealing my swimwear was. It was a green and black striped bikini I had bought last summer for when hot days like this required a dip in the pool.

I took one more glance around at the guys as they all already started stripping from their street clothes, revealing different shades and patterns of swim trunks and muscular chests. A light breeze ruffled Jungkook’s hair as I turned to look at him and watched him pull his shirt off. The rare site of his abs made me shiver, causing me to look away before he could notice my stare and shimmy out of my shorts. Reaching up to let my hair down, I noticed a pair of side glancing eyes looking my way as Taehyung ran his hand through his own, the platinum strands catching the sunlight in all the right ways. I shook out my waist long waves and smiled to myself as I bent down to pick up my beach skirt from my bag. When I stood back up to wrap it around my hips, Jungkook’s eyes were also on me and his hand rubbed the back of his head innocently as he tried to hide that he was staring. He looked away after his eyes trailed from my legs to my face, only to catch Tae looking at me as well.

“V!” He called and Tae jumped, walking over to him. They traded words that I couldn’t quite make out from this far away.

“Here, Ill get your back.” Joonie offered and I turned my back to him as he squeezed some sunscreen onto my shoulders. Jimin was in front of me then, his hair billowing in the breeze when he swiped a little of the sunscreen from Namjoon and put some on the apples of my cheeks, rubbing it in with his thumbs.

“Thank you.” I said and poked his belly. He giggled adorably, as expected, and spun away from me toward the water with his arms out.

“We don’t want you to burn your pretty face so, you’re welcome.” He called with his whimsical voice and smiled up at the sky.

“Let’s go snorkeling.”

High noon was good to us today. The sun was shining and warm, the sky was an incredible blue, and the water felt amazing. Though I was beginning to worry my skin would be burnt if I stayed in the water any longer, the fun I was having with the guys made it worth the risk. Some of them were competitively tossing a ball to each other while Jimin, Yoongi, and myself picked up seashells off the ocean floor and showed our findings to each other to admire.

“There’s a shop at the end of the pier that takes people snorkeling. We should do it.” Jin followed up. It sounded more like a demand, but his face showed no signs of seriousness as he crossed his eyes at me and stuck out his tongue. I shook my head and laughed but nodded at him.

“I think that’s an awesome idea.” I said and looked to the others to see what they thought.

“Then let’s go.” Jungkook said, looking back at me. I looked away immediately and glanced at Joonie. Thankfully his attention was on Hobi, their arms were thrown over each other’s shoulders, flaunting their bromance.

“Did I do something wrong?” Jungkook asked warily as he swam up next to me. His eyes were soft and sad. I shook my head no.

“No. No, of course not. You didn’t do anything wrong.” Liar. What’s wrong with you.

“Ok.” Was all he said, his smile not reaching his eyes as he nodded and swam ahead of me to catch up with the others.

The walk to their pier was long and awkward for me. Joonie’s expression was different when he looked at me again and I wished I could read his mind just to see how he was feeling. I was a little bit scared, to tell you the truth. It wasn’t that I was afraid of my brother, rather afraid to disappoint him. And this look…I couldn’t tell if it was disappointment or not. But I’ve only looked at him. Why would Joonie be disappointed that you’re looking at him? Relax. Not only that, but Jungkook seemed particularly awkward as well as we all pulled the fins onto our feet.

I linked arms with Jungkook and Joonie, hoping to get rid of some of the tension and smiled to all of them before we jumped into the water.

“Be careful guys. Ready!? Jump!”

The bubbles settled and the pier disappeared behind us along with the sound of everyday life. There was a whole other world down here and I felt my eyes grow brighter the more we saw. Hobi held my hand on the way down and a tiny school of fish swam around our body’s as we got closer to the reef below us. It was alive and busy, fish of different shapes and sizes wove in and out of undulating plant life, and the starfish were vibrant pinks and oranges glowing against the blue of the water.

Out of the corner of my eye I spotted some crabs, bobbing their bodys inside huge shells and I swam to them, admiring one shell in particular. It was white with fiery red spikes spiraling down the sides and came to a sharp point at the end. Jungkook was there then, his hand around my wrist as he admired the same shell before looking to me, raising his eyebrows and pointing at the shell and then back at me.

My eyes widened and I nodded, understanding what he was asking, and watched him swim to the shell and grab it, checking the inside to make sure there wasn’t a crab in it and swam it back to me. He took a moment to look it over and then held it out to me. I locked my eyes with his and tried to express how much I loved it by holding it up to my face and hugging it. Bubbles floated from his mouthpiece as he laughed at me and I too laughed, letting some bubbles escape before hugging him to me. When we pulled away from each other, my hair got caught in his goggles and he laughed again. I blushed, embarrassed by my ability to get myself in small messes like this all the time and held his shoulder while he untangled me. He jerked his head in the direction of the others and I nodded to let him know I was ready. Pinching my chin softly, he offered me his hand and I hesitated before taking it and looked around for Joonie. I gave in and he pulled me along with him.

The 8 of us explored for a bit longer, the underwater paradise seeming to have raised everyone’s spirits. The colors we saw were exquisite and the fish we saw some of us had never heard of before. When we got back to the surface, everyone immediately started talking about everything they had seen and collected. Jin was in awe of the Sand Dollar he’d found laying in between some coral, waving it in front of Joonie and Yoongi’s face as they laughed. Jimin was carrying handfuls of tiny seashells he’d collected and Jungkook ended up finding a dead starfish, turning it over in his hands next to me. I, however, could not look away from the massive shell in my hand, its red spikes glistening in the sunlight as I looked it over. Beside me, Jungkook walked close, his arm brushing against mine every couple of steps. I tried not to freak out and kept my focus on the shell, pretending that every time his skin touched mine it didn’t send sparks through my body.

“Thank you again for getting this for me. It’s so beautiful.” I didn’t look up at him, afraid he’d move away if I did.

“No problem Princess.” He said and I smiled as someone ran into my shoulder walking the other way, their voice obnoxious as they spoke too loud over the small crowd that walked around the pier.

“Where shou- OWE.” I stumbled into Jungkook and gasped as the shell fell from my hands and crashed onto the floor and broke into 5 big pieces. “Awwww my shell!” I whined and bent to pick up the pieces and Jungkook kneeled to help me.

“What an asshole…” He started and then yelled to the guy. “HEY, WATCH WHERE YOU’RE GOING!” I grabbed his arm and pulled him back down.

“Ah, what the hell man.” Yoongi said to the guy as well.

“No, don’t. It was my fault. I wasn’t looking either.” I said, my eyes starting to water as I stood, cradling the pieces in my hands.

“Hey, its alright. Ill fix it for you. Don’t cry Ryung-ssi.” He cooed, wiping away the straggler tear that fell over my cheek. “Here. Put it in my bag. Ill fix it I promise.” He said, stuffing the pieces of my shell between his clothes so it wouldn’t break any more than it already had, throwing the backpack back over his shoulder. “Hmm? Ok?” His finger lifted my chin to look up at him and wiped my cheek with his thumb to get the last tear as he grinned and I nodded, smiling. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Namjoon with his arms folded over his chest, watching our interaction. I cleared my throat and stepped away immediately, bowing slightly before thanking Jungkook again and walking forward, passing the others. I stole a peek in his direction once id got to the front of the group and frowned seeing the hurt expression on his face. I almost walked back to him to hug him because I couldn’t bear being the reason for his pain, but Joonie walked next to him with his arms still crossed over his chest.

Me: Can we go for a walk?

Dinner came quickly after our day at the beach. We currently all sat around a bar at the end of one of the piers sipping mixed drinks and beers, snacking on seasoned fries from the board walk. While the others laughed and drank too fast, I couldn’t help but think about Jungkook. Even though he sat just 3 chairs down from me, he felt too far.

Kookie: Sure, 😊 to the beach?

I smiled down at my phone reading his text. He was too good to me for the way I had treated him today. I didn’t deserve it.

Me: That sounds wonderful 😊

I left the table first and started down the walkway, looking over the edge into the clear water. He didn’t say anything when he joined me, holding his arm out for me to hold. I smiled and took it happily.

“You’re such a gentleman.” The compliment made him look down and chuckle as we stepped onto the sand and walked down to the shore. The water was warm and quiet as it gently rose and fell, washing over our feet. “I’m sorry for breaking the shell you got for me.” I said once we had walked for a bit.

“Don’t be sorry for that. I promised you id fix it. Its not broken that bad.” His reassurance was golden, making me lean against him as part of my tension melted away.

“And I’m sorry for…walking away earlier.” He stayed quiet and I began to worry.

“I’m sorry.” He said finally, his eyes never parting with the horizon before him.

“What? For what?” I asked, watching his face as a couple different emotions rolled over it, deciding what to say.

“The only explanation I could think of for you shying away from me for the second time is because I’m crossing a line. I’m sorry for whatever line I am crossing. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable. I think it’s because I’ve spent so much time with the guys, I just get comfortable around people really quickly now and-.” He was rambling and it was cute, but I had to tell him why before he assumed, he wasn’t being a total gentleman.

“Stop. Stop explaining.” I demanded, stopping in front of him, shaking my head. “You are an absolute gem. Don’t ever think anything less of yourself. Especially not on my behalf. It isn’t you. You’re perfect. It’s…my brother.”

“Namjoon? What about him?” He asked.

“He’s…I don’t know. Every time you and I so much as even look at each other, he’s giving us or me this look. Like he’s unsure of what to think about you and I talking to each other.” I said trying to keep it as general and unromantic as possible.

“Hmm. I guess I haven’t noticed…But you can’t blame the man for being protective of his little sister.” He smiled placed his hand on my elbow, pulling me back next to him so we could start walking again as I hooked my arm back with his.

“You aren’t wrong. But I’m not little anymore. I don’t need him to make decisions for me. I don’t know how to separate being his little sister and being my own person without hurting his feelings. I don’t want him to be upset.” The clouds in the distance were wispy and moving quickly over the water, the breeze growing cooler by the minute.

“I think you just said exactly what you need to say to him.” My eyes found his, already pulling at the corners from the smile on his face and I let my gaze drop down to his lips before smiling back.

“Can I ask you something?” After several minutes of just enjoying the last little bit of the setting sun, I dug back to the memory of us meeting. The uninterest it seemed he first held still crossed my mind from time to time.

“Shoot.”

“Was something wrong when we first met?” Out of the corner of my eye I saw Jungkook’s head turn to look at me before looking down at the ground.

“Ah, you noticed.” He said softly and chuckled. “The guys had been giving me a hard time about getting some of the choreography wrong. I’m not bragging but I usually am not someone who gets things wrong.” He paused, rolling his next words around in his mouth before letting them out. “I’ve been feeling a little self-conscious around them lately. I could be doing a lot better and I’m not sure what’s wrong with me. Its very frustrating.” His smile didn’t reach his eyes this time, much like they hadn’t when we first met.

“Oh. Well I think you do a really great job. I mean you must, or you wouldn’t be as admired as you are. There’s nothing wrong with putting in a little bit of extra work to make things come together. And the guys seem more than willing to help you practice. You’ve got them to lean on, so trust in them that they’ll do what they can.” I said, using my other hand to rub up and down his arm to comfort him, trying my hardest to ignore the way my hand followed the curve of his muscles. His hand caught mine as it ran to his wrist and I looked up at him. His eyes were glued to the view ahead of him.

“Thank you, Princess.” I could feel the brush of his thumb over the back of my hand like fire. “That’s exactly what I needed to hear.”

Now the moon was reflecting onto the water, silver gleaming waves crashing higher and higher up the beach. It had been a busy day and still I wasn’t tired, but I never wanted to sleep again. I could walk with Jungkook forever and never get tired of it. We talked about things I never even knew we had in common; Drawing, traveling, etc. All tiny and general things but we agreed that we would explore them all together as soon as free time became available. Now my mind was swirling with ideas of all the places we could go, the things we could see.

I felt so impatient in this life with these guys now, but more importantly, I felt newly inspired. I felt daring and adventurous. I needed to let myself live and that would start with a heart to heart talk with my big brother.

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, giving in to the fire burning on my hand from his touch and gripped Jungkook’s hand tighter. All in Ryung. Here we go.

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Hello lovelies! ❤️ I’m sorry it took me so long to get the next part out but I’ve been struggling to write this one. Honestly, I’m unhappy with this chapter as a whole but I do hope you all will enjoy it!

I hope you’re all having a wonderful day and night whenever in this world🌎🌍🌏 you are. Know that you are loved and keep smiling. Fighting!

[neo--heart]

Short story draft 1 beneath the surface

I will post updated drafts shortly

Beneath the surface Draft 1 James had left his home to move to university and he’d forgotten how cold Devon is in winter, especially with how warm August was this year. He only remembered when he came back during the Christmas holidays- when his hands grew red and numb from the cold air when he carried his groceries, left at the bottom of the stairs before he had ascended them. At least, in his student accommodation, he didn’t have to worry about paying bills and could turn the heating on for as long as he wanted. Upon reaching the top of the stairs his eyes landed on the open door directly ahead of him and like a car crash, the events of five months ago collided with the sight of the dusty room.

James and Ben had been driving home at around 2 am that Friday. The Toyota Corolla they drove in had belonged to their father, Lance Weaver who had passed it down to Ben after being accepted to his university in 2018. When James joined the same uni a year later, he and Ben would drive each other to campus. Ben would then walk towards the Forum, where his criminology course was and James would walk downhill, where his Film and Television classes were held in the archaeology building lecture theatre.

The two had ended up in the 1987 Corolla after James had discovered Ben was once again working on his summative assessment. It was an essay on international criminal justice and comparative criminology, that wasn’t due for another month and yet he had decided to work on it that night until 1 am with a friend in their student accommodation, a 3-minute walk from the centre of campus and a 10-minute drive from Ben’s private accommodation. When James had finally dragged Ben to the car, Ben looked as dishevelled and manic as the stranger who had offered them coke in a back alley they had shortcutted through in the city centre during James’ freshers week. James assumed Ben’s unkempt appearance was due to the sleep deprivation, the stress that came with Ben’s perfectionist studying style and many, many, many empty cans of Redbull he had caught a glimpse of as he dragged Ben out of the student’s accommodation and to the car parked outside, blinkers on. Ben had put up a fight when James took his study materials from him and delicately placed them in the boot. Now he was slumped in his seat, eyes closed and jacket rising and falling slowly with every inhale and exhale.

Sometimes when he and Ben drove to Ben’s house, the difference in outdoor lighting would catch his attention, especially if it had been raining like the day before. Student accommodation like James’ and Ben’s friend was always so well lit that someone couldn’t sneak up on you, even in the darkness that dusk brings. Ben’s accommodation, on the other hand, had streetlights that focused on the roads, dimly lit up the footpaths outside of his house and more often than not, had damaged lightbulbs or blown fuses.

The road that it had happened on wasn’t extremely dark or well lit, somewhere in the middle. The stoplight was red and as Ben shifted in his seat, James felt the lightweight frame of the car move with him. James tapped his finger on the thin, grooveless steering wheel as he waited, recalling the Bluetooth speaker one of his mates’ parents had on their BMW which could be controlled via voice command. It would take years to save up for that kind of car, so he would have to make do with turning on the cassette player at stoplights until 2023. After turning on the stereo and inserting an old Roxanne cassette that had been stuffed into the visor, he glanced at the stoplights, swearing as he realised they were green and changed gears. He wasn’t sure why- maybe the roads had frozen over, or the wheels were too worn out- but as he drove around the roundabout, he lost control of the car. He could imagine the dark skid marks the wheels drew into the floor as he lost his grip on the steering wheel, car flying off the road.

The next thing he remembered was his mother crying as he woke up in a white room, bed hard and clothing thin, a consistent beeping noise that sounded like it was having a breakdown, and the feeling of a long, hard object shoved deep into his trachea, which he later learned was an endotracheal tube as his lungs couldn’t breathe by themselves for five months with the damage the crash had done to his stomach. His mother had showered him with kisses after the nurses assisted with removing the tube. She told him about the crash and how he was unconscious for five months and she took it upon herself to tell him Ben was still in a coma. He couldn’t process another word. All he could think about was finding Ben. He didn’t think about the numbness in his arms as he tried to sit up. He didn’t think of the pain in his throat and the shaking he felt in his legs as he tried to roll out of bed. He didn’t think of his mother begging him to stop and calling for help. Even as the nurses injected anaesthesia and he fell into a day’s long sleep he could only think of Ben.

James refused to let his memories continue to what happens next. Blinking, he cleared the memory from his head and shut the door, steering his gaze clear from the mirror in the room. He knew the house was empty but out of habit, he shut the door behind him as he entered the toilet next to the room. Upon finishing his business, he flushed the toilet and moved to the sink, making sure to use the hot water. He made the mistake of looking at the mirror, his eyes stared back at him, plain and neutral, before changing to an explosive, unstable image of himself soundlessly screaming, mouth open wide and eyes shut, hands clawing at the sides of his head, before switching back to his emotionless visage like a channel on TV.

He left the toilet, unresponsive to his reflection’s show and headed down to the kitchen, grabbing his groceries as he did. He checked his texts to Aimee. Still unread. She must not be feeling well. Once everything had been arranged or put away he began making his lunch and just as he was about to slice through the onion, his phone rang, the name Nick popped up on the screen. He accepted, putting the call on speaker, “hi.”

“Hey,” none of his usual shenanigans or pop culture references, no insults or attempts to trigger him. Just hey. He didn’t know why he was still noting that after five months, it’s not like Nick had greeted him any different since the accident, “how ya holding up?” Ignoring the empty Kopparberg he nearly tripped on, James shrugged his shoulders, somehow managing to glance up and catch his reflections gaze in the mirror.

“I’m coping,” his reflection made a face as if it was chewing a sour pick and mix candy and looked to the empty bottles of VK, Russian Standard Vodka, Jaegermeister and more just out of sight for James but visible in the reflection on the window. James looked back down at the onion, once again unresponsive, and started cutting.

“How about Ben?” As the blade slid into the onion, James didn’t feel any sting at the corners of his eyes, nor did he feel them heat up or water.

“The same.”

“My mum visited today, she probably just missed you. She said she was just visiting your mother but I guess she wanted to visit your brother and try and bump into you.”

“That explains the clean grave and new flowers. Give her my thanks.”

“I will. She wanted me to tell you by the way, that you’re always welcome at ours. Any time.”

The silence dragged itself out then, inch by inch until eventually, James gave a half-hearted, “thank you.”

“Your welcome.” More silence. Nick was not one for smooth-talking or sugar coating. He would either say something then and there or keep his mouth shut. Though Nick had been doing the latter more and more with James- as if he had turned into a porcelain doll and needed to be handled with extreme care, lest he falls apart. James wasn’t falling. James was fine. His mother’s death was sudden, but it happened 3 months ago. He had processed it and he had healed and he was fine... and Ben will be fine too. Everything was fine. Nick didn’t need to worry. Nick’s mum didn’t need to worry. Aimee didn’t need to worry. Because James was fine. Nick gave some rushed excuse to hang up and the silence stretched on.

The onion was cut now and James’ eyes were still dry. Once his hands were washed, he moved onto compiling the rest of his dinner, with his laptop playing the Titanic in the background, a movie he hadn’t watched since the last time he was curled up in a sofa with Aimee and was one of the only movies that could make him watery-eyed. He checked his phone once more, going through Aimee’s Instagram story from 3 hours ago which showed her and a coffee at costa with her friend. He then went through her posts from the day, adding comments like, “thinking of u,” and “we should go there after the holidays,” or “so cute,” with a heart emoji.

By the time the sauce was cooked and he was waiting for the water to boil, the Titanic was slowly plunging into the icy sea and Jack was holding onto Rose with a grip stronger than life. It was when Jack finally let go that James paused it, seeing the water had begun to boil and he placed the pasta in, before pressing play and Jack resumed sinking into the darkness of the ocean, never to be seen again. Rose’s tears turned to ice on her face as she lay waiting for death. James checked his timer, unaware of his dry eyes and tearless cheeks. His meal would be cooked around the same time the credits rolled down the screen.

The rest of the movie went by slowly for James. It wasn’t as if he found it any less tragic or romantic as when he last watched it or all the other times he had watched it and it had made him melt into a puddle of tears with Aimee following him shortly after. He couldn’t find a reason and he couldn’t seem to care less why he was unable to cry now. As Rose let her priceless jewel slip into the sea, his phone lit up, beeping at him.

“Hi.” The text from Aimee said, below all of his texts that, until now, had been left unread.

“Hey,” five of them said, with varying amounts of kisses after, “want to go Costa?” one asked, “miss you,” another read, with a heart emoji. “I’ve not been feeling well, sorry I haven’t been texting much,” read one he had sent over a month ago, also unread until now.  

He picked up his phone, checking the timer on it as he saw the water simmering before replying, “hey”. The three dots appeared in a text bubble, jumping as she texted.

Finally, she typed, “how are u.”

He thought about what to type, before replying, “ok.”

In another text, he continued, “I watched the Titanic just now. We should watch it again.”

A pause, “Idk.”

In an instant, the message was unsent. She typed, “sorry.” The timer was beeping now and the water boiling, “I don’t want to date u anymore.”

He blinked, looking up from his phone, seeing his reflection briefly as it looked down at him, a sneer plastered on its face before he looked back down at his phone. Two unsent messages. Then her profile switched to offline. He typed.

“Why?” Unsend.

“That’s fine.” Unsend.

Finally, he typed, “If that’s what you want. I’ll not bother you anymore.” Send.

He put the pasta in.

After setting a new timer, he went upstairs. James closed the bathroom door, avoiding the mirror as he did, and went into his room, its mirror covered with a bedsheet. When she died, he found numerous diaries written by his mother, some from as far back as her teen years. Ignoring all the empty bottles on the bed, table and floor, he made a beeline for the box of diaries. He shifted through the ones at the top and opened one he didn’t recognise.

“Lance was with Mabel again. He showed off the new car he told me his dad had bought him and took her for a ride. Elsie and I walked to her student house. I told her that she should tell Arthur she-.” James flipped the pages, “Arthur and Lance got into a fight. Mabel couldn’t pull Lance away and Elsie was crying. They wouldn’t stop fighting each other until I banged their foreheads together. Someone told the teacher who was called over that they were pranked as someone else hid Elsie and gave her some water. I yelled at Lance and Arthur who had half a brain cell between them. Mabel gave Lance the silent treatment.”

James checked his timer. The pasta was cooked. He rushed downstairs to turn off everything before it burned. He drained and mixed the pasta into the sauce, before pouring it carefully onto a plate, which he then brought upstairs. As he was about to dig in, his phone started ringing, the name Dr Morgan popped up. He answered it, holding the phone up to his ear.

“Hello?”

“Is this James Weaver?” James put the diary down.

“Yes.” James nodded his head, “I see,” he replied, “I understand. Yes. Yes. I’ll come over tomorrow. Bye.”

He pressed the hang-up button, putting the phone and pasta safely on his bedside table. He walked over to the larger table covered in glass bottles and swung his arms at them. The screams of glass breaking into hundreds of shards filled his ears. Gripping onto the table, he refused to turn around when he heard the sound of glass shards being crushed underfoot.

“Get out.”

“I didn’t say anything,” a voice replied, continuing before James could reply, “but I didn’t need to. Right?” James glanced into the window, seeing the reflection looking back at him with his expressionless face.

“Get. Out.” James hissed, refusing to turn around and refusing to look up.

“Make me.” His reflection replied, “make me leave like you did that night.”

James covered his ears, “shut up.”

“You can do better than that. ‘You can wait until next month. You’ll drown in Redbull before you finish the essay. Come on-’”

James slammed his fists on the table, “shut up, Ben!” The reflection stopped.

“James,” it said, appearing across the table from him, “its time to move on.” As it said that, a notebook appeared on the table, open on a page with his mother’s handwriting.

“Lance refused to let me help him, locking himself in his room. I heard him hiss with every stitch he sewed into the cut. James hid behind me, holding his Thomas the tank engine plushie in one hand and mine in the other.”

The pages turned, revealing another entry, “I wish Ben would stop trying to do everything himself. I don’t want James to do the same when he grows up. Ben said he was fine with helping me iron and do the dishes, but he wouldn’t stop until he had done everything. I can hear his music now at 1 am. He said he’d finish the essay soon, but he said that at 10 pm. I told him I could do the chores, but he said he wanted to help again. I can’t let James think he needs to do everything himself. I don’t want him to end up like Lance too.”

Ben, identical to James in life and death -from his dark chocolate eyes to his fair hair- looked him in the eyes before the pages turned once more, “Ben was so quiet during Lance’s funeral. He disappeared before I could tell him that it wasn’t his fault. Now he’s locked up in his room. I tell him through the door. Lance’s death had nothing to do with Ben. Ben did nothing wrong. I don’t know if he was listening, or if he was even awake. I hope he comes back.”

James looked at Ben, “I should’ve left you at Gene’s. None of this would’ve happened if I had just let you work.”

“You were right to worry. You knew I hadn’t slept and you knew I wasn’t eating. It was my fault you had to look after me. I should’ve been looking after you.”

James stared at Ben, who continued, “why do you insist on tormenting yourself when all you did was the right thing?”

“If I did nothing you wouldn’t have flatlined today and mum would still be here!”

“Mother’s cancer had nothing to do with you or me. She was in stage four long before the accident. My death is not on your hands either. I don’t blame you for it.”

“You should blame me!” James yelled, “you should be driving me insane or making me kill myself! I killed you!”

“My death was an accident. No one killed me. No one blames you but yourself.”

The diary flipped to another page once more.

“When he was finally stable,” it read, “James told me what happened. He looked hollow when he told me the story- like he wasn’t fully here. No matter how much he insisted he caused the crash, I knew he was innocent. He must be in shock from everything to blame himself so boldly. Ben was the same when Lance passed. It took him years to recover. I need to help James process all of this. I need to help him realise that it wasn’t his fault, even if that’s the last thing I do.”

Before James could read any more, he wiped his eyes, blurry with the tears that melted down his cheeks, unable to look at Ben.

“The only thing we can be certain of in life,” Ben said, “is death. Nothing we tell ourselves can ever change that. All we can do is treasure what little life we’re given.”

James took a deep, shaky breath, “Ben, I-” as he looked up, Ben had vanished and the book was gone.

James turned to the box of his mother’s possessions and there it was, on top of everything else.

He ran to it and opened it once more, wiping away the last of his tears.

“I’m so proud of James,” it read. James could almost hear his mother’s voice, “it feels like only yesterday he was learning how to say his first words. Now, he’s a university student and has just passed his first summative assessment. I love him so much and I will always love my darling boy.”

James looked at the mirror next to him, reflection hidden from view. He pulled off the cover.

“Ben?” Only his reflection stared back, reflecting his still figure. He felt himself doing something he hadn’t done in a long time, he smiled. Looking up, he said silently, “thank you.”

END

[wendylewis-blog]

05.14.2020 /MamasDay+M-Th

Mamas’ Day

My friend Annie sent me a link this morning. I’m embarrassed that I never knew the actual history of Mothers’ Day.  I’ve made the grave mistake for years, it appears as of this morning, dismissing the event as just another Hallmark holiday created to ramp up national consumerism—out of sincerity or duty. Actually, the bigger story has been omitted from American history. The patriarchy (not YOU, men I love) strikes again! There is real feminist significance attached to this day, which deserves not only our attention—but also, our reverence. 

Teaser. “Mothers’ Day”—with the apostrophe not in the singular spot, but in the plural—actually started in the 1870s, when the sheer enormity of the death caused by the Civil War and the Franco-Prussian War convinced American women that women must take control of politics from the men who had permitted such carnage. Mothers’ Day was not designed to encourage people to be nice to their mothers. It was part of women’s effort to gain power to change modern society.  

Thank you, Heather Cox Richardson. I suggest following her with an easy click at the end of the link and/or follow her on Twitter. She posts daily, is politically savvy and keeps it concise/in-depth/readable. 

After canceling the initial Mothers’ Day plan with H/G/bbE/K because of bad weather, which would have put us inside the house, Kitty ended up in CF anyway to grab items I’d purchased for her at Costco. We spent an hour outside in the chilly grey afternoon by the fire pit after gathering kindling and firewood. She brought me brownies, a herby Italian verde sauce she’d made and a bottle of rye whiskey. H/G/bbE surprised me an hour later with a request via text to come into the yard in five minutes and brought tomato and pepper plants (woot!) for my garden. We all watched Ezra TV in the driveway for an hour. We especially enjoyed the episode featuring him teething on the steering wheel. Creative work, little man! 

After they left, I poured myself a stiff drink and stared out the studio window into early evening. A gentle rain was falling. I let circumstance go, let sadness and angst go. I washed my turgid blackboard down and tried to embrace some peaceful emptiness. I was in bed long before 10pm, sliding willingly into the time warp sleep provides for me lately. It was another bittersweet time with my people—not touching, not sitting at a table together, not able to relax into each other the way we would have a couple months ago. But, they are my family and it is never a diminishing return to be with them. Thank you for driving down to see us even though we had called the gathering off. It was a good Mothers’ Day. I love you all more than I can express!

My dreams that night were flush with all things post-apocalyptic. I was in an office building transformed into a flophouse of endless lonely cubicles, bare mattresses thrown down on synthetic grey carpet, bland tan fabric divider walls too short and porous to provide any privacy, a random empty chair here and there—askew, the bathroom’s flickering florescent light pulsing numbly through its plastic diamond-textured ceiling panel. I felt a disconnected calm inside me—a dead calm as I moved through the building. Everyone I saw in there was a stranger—except for an old bandmate I ended up in bed with— so impossible and surreal. It wasn’t the act, gratefully omitted, but the aftermath scenario instead—exposed, mannequin-esque bodies, no desire, no connection, no tenderness—only his crushing possessiveness after I explained that I had many other lovers even though I knew they didn’t matter either. I turned his noise off undramatically, easily as his panic escalated—the click of a switch—like turning off bad radio. He vanished, seemed to dematerialize on the dark street, leaving only strangers hanging on the corners, propped against buildings, inert yet somehow, guardian—but I felt nothing—nothing at all. Alive but dead inside. 

Mon

I woke up at 4:30AM. Shared dream details with B before he headed off to a fresh pot of coffee and work. I always benefit from his insightful (often hilarious) perspective on my intrepid darknesses, asleep or awake. In a previous issue of Lockdown, I’d queried how the virus and physical distancing might affect our intimacies going forward, the dream standing as the latest metaphor. I laid back down, folding into the quiet of my bed and may have slept awhile longer, still rising before dawn. 

Hours were spent in my garden that morning turning over soil in the crisp air, laying straw tiles separated from the bale in the wheelbarrow after cutting the blue plastic string. I laid them over the mulch that had cooked over the summer of 2019, which I’d lovingly spread a few days prior, prepping the ground for seeds that are en route to me: bush beans, marigolds, arugula, mustard, zinnia and nasturtium seeds from my sister, cilantro and basil from Etsy and those MD tomato and pepper seedlings from H+G. It’s been difficult to find non-GMO seeds around here—the same way it’s still hard to find TP, hand sanitizer, and lately, yeast and flour. I planted cilantro, Mexican tarragon, and basil plants I’d found in Northfield in pots, thyme and mint along garden edge that meets my front stoop. 

The morning felt hushed, orderly—my act of civility engaging with living things that don’t speak but offer company and require only my willingness to share a piece of earth with them. Before the sun reached over the garden, I decided to put in one cherry tomato plant because a tomato cage represented future sustenance. I could imagine the little plant growing tall to fill the cage, yellow flowers appearing before the fruit. It felt romantic and I succumbed. I watered everything, filled the bird feeder and headed off to Redwing to run an errand.

It felt good to drive the winding two-lane roads between overwintered, as yet unturned spring fields, slipping down the bluff lines along the Cannon River, the sun all full of itself. The sky was cerulean blue with tiny cotton ball clusters of clouds. The world beyond my windshield seemed serene and normal—even pastoral—a momentary ruse worth believing against the numbing dripdripdrip of our internment. Returning home, I cleaned the kitchen with a similar communion felt with the garden and highways. FaceTimed with a friend and planned a fire pit hootenanny with him and a few friends soon, walked the dog and sat on the stoop overlooking the yard. We ate soup from B’s mama for dinner (thank you, Helen), brought in the tender herb pots for the night and was ready to sleep before 8:30, a rarity for me. I have to say, it felt like a pretty good day! I count them all, good or not. 

Tues

It dipped just below freezing again last night and I really thought that sweet li’l cherry tomato plant that looked so sturdy yesterday could handle it but, ooof!—it’s droopy, quietly murdered overnight. Another casualty of Corona Times, like a broken promise, a breach of trust. I jerked it out of the ground without any tenderness and tossed it into the yard where it will eventually make love with mower blades and clipped grasses. I was mad at myself, of course. It’s just one tomato plant and I have more perched on the radiator under the south facing window, lined up like fresh recruitments ready for service. Still, each seedling, especially this year, feels like an individual. 

I’m alarmed with the message being conveyed by the White House in recent days—normalizing the loss of life, the US population being at least encouraged and possibly forced back into a virulent world with the expectation that we can save the collapsing economy. The grim reaper is leaning casually on his sickle next to my dead tomato plant, the one I exposed to the elements too soon, the one I planted with careless impunity to serve my immediate desire. 

Please listen to this conversation on Pema Chodron’s book When Things Fall Apart. I ordered it after years of intending to and it’s on the way. I will set it on the bookshelf next to my worn copies of Rilke’s Letters to a Young Poet, the Tao te Ching and Dillard’s For the Time Being. Reference books for being alive, human and uncertain. 

JFTR. On Being continues to win me over. Here’s another one if you decide to check it out. She’s really smart and this guest, Ocean Vuong—brilliant. 

Wed 

A beautiful essay penned by Gabriel Garcia Marquez’s son Rodrigo. Thanks, C, for sending—and for the seeds which arrived today. I didn’t plant more today because still freezing overnight. 

My college roommate long friend Toni linked me to this article over the weekend. It was SO fkn HELPFUL. It breaks down how the virus gets spread in a very practical way that you can use every day. This article is exactly why my fam and I reeled ourselves back from having lunch inside my house on Mothers’ Day. Everyone agreed.

Colbert has been killing it, as always and this one—so spot on. Also, Seth Meyers’ latest episode—I mean, please! Trump’s Mothers’ Day bit is truly—uhhnbelievable. Waking up to the absurdity of what is happening right now as it rolls and rolls. I also truly live for these socially distanced performances with Jimmy Fallon and The Roots. They make me joy-cry. 

There are good ppl out there doing their best. We are all trying to do our best, even on our hardest days. Beating the zombies back one by one. Don’t believe that the angry gun-toting ppl are coming for us. They are few. We are many. It’s time to activate.

I’ve noticed lately I’m getting a sense for when Jimmy Fallon or Stephen Colbert, for example, might be having a bad day. They aren’t on stage anymore, they don’t have a responsive audience to pump them up, they are people like we are, broadcasting from their homes. They struggle with life under the pandemic just the way we do. I can feel when they are having to get up for another broadcast from home or lapsing in attention, disengaging or losing the thread with someone they are interviewing. It’s an subtle nuance to notice, and it makes me feel as if I am getting a brief peek into their humanity instead of simply watching them put on the show.

I’ve also been making... um, haha... bread—the kind of bread you have to knead and let rise and punch down and knead and let rise again and so on. I finally got some active dry yeast and made two sandwich loaves a week ago. On my second round yesterday, I pushed my 20+ year old Kitchen Aide stand mixer beyond its limit. Smoke drifting from the housing, dough hook seizing up, goodbye trusty appliance. 

While the dough was going through its rising process, I searched DIY fixes which were plentiful and also searched for parts through the Kitchen Aide website, discovering they—are—not—selling—them. Really? Boo on you, Kitchen Aide. You won’t force me to buy a $400 mixer ever again. Double boo on you, assumed capitalism. Until I’m able to find the parts I need via Etsy or wherever (NOT Amazon ever again), I’ll use the mixer my mother-in-law offered me since she doesn’t use it much and remind myself of the days when I used to knead bread by hand—that ancient task. Again—get it together, Lewis! 

I’ll leave you with this brilliant essay from The Paris Review called Fuck the Bread. The Bread is Over. Thank you, Byrdie, for tagging me on this one. I’m still gonna make the bread one way or another because it saves money but I’ll keep the wise words from the authors mother closest to my heart, which translates loosely into stop holding on so tight to what you think you need.

Thurs

So, I’ve been writing today and editing and writing more and editing more. It’s all about thinking and re-thinking everything with nothing on my plate but time staring up at me. There is a strange blessing that has a chance to bloom inside this isolation. 

Go gently, my friends, family and any strangers who may be stopping by. Thanks for being here with me. I really appreciate you, wherever you are today.

Stay safe. Be strong. Fall apart. Know you aren’t alone. Lovelove. 

[agentnefarious]

Freedom Rises

here’s a short story i wrote.

There was blood under my nails. I could feel it, caked around the edges. I cut them short usually but lately I haven’t- I haven’t been myself. I wash my hands though, all the time. I didn’t today. I started too, but when I reached for the soap- I couldn’t. I couldn’t touch it. So now, as I run my fingers over her soft skin, I noticed that there was still blood under my nails. I don’t think she noticed, but suddenly- I slid my hand across her mouth. I gave her a look, and she opened her lips- they were soft, plump. I wanted her to taste it, the blood. I knew she wouldn’t know what it was, but she still would do this thing for me. She just didn’t know it yet. I could only imagine the flecks of blood on her tongue as she sucked on my finger, and it sent shivers of ecstasy through my body. When had I become this twisted? I didn’t know. But I liked it.

And so did she. She didn’t know it yet, but that was the thing that was different about me, the thing she could sense because she had once and would always feel my heart. A poet would say that even though my heart beat differently, it still beat for her, it was still a sound only she could find beautiful. I of course have always hated poetry, but people change all the time. I had changed so much in just a few short days. She would change with me. Anaya Fantine, as she is called. She could be my wife, if there is still a future for us. My name is Jack Ross, and tonight there is blood under my nails. Tomorrow there might still be some left. I don’t know if I’ll wash my hands.

Tonight, I could see things differently. I could see her differently. I think I loved her differently. I don’t know if that meant I didn’t love her before or if it meant I loved her more, but I knew- when my finger was in her mouth- that I loved her differently. There was something so complex about her beauty. Her eyes, such a vibrant shade of brown… as pure as her skin. And there she lay, on my bed in my room in my overpriced apartment that I paid for anyway because she sold it to me. I didn’t keep candles because I thought they were a fire hazard- I thought I’d fall asleep with them on and somehow they would burn down the world. The world buried in flames, all because of one candle. It could happen, as implausible as it seems. But now I kind of wished I did, because I could see she would be even more complex in candle light. This woman who held so much power over me because I wanted her body and needed her heart. And then there was what lay between her eyes; she was the most intelligent person I’d ever met. She was cut throat- lethal. Selling real estate was something she did for fun, that and being with me. I could see it in her eyes now, what I never thought to look for before. It was clearer than the blood under my nails. She enjoyed being around me because she thought she knew what I was capable of. She thought I was predictable. And I used to be, and I reveled in it. She used to be the most unpredictable thing in my life, but now that had changed. Not because she was any less unpredictable, but because I had now become something she couldn’t foresee.

“Darling; I killed someone.” I knew that she heard me but she didn’t respond right away. She did slide my finger from between her lips. But then she took my hand, and placed it over her breast.

“I know. I could feel it when you walked in the room.” She was calm, and her hair fell around her face. All shadows and secrets.

“You know?” I had wanted to be the clever one, be eloquent with my words, but she was still Anaya. Her hand cradled my chin and she rose to her knees on the bed. She stared at me, eye to eye. I saw an endless sunrise.

“I know your heart, Jack. There was a time when I thought you couldn’t be the man that I could love with all my heart, but now I know I was wrong. Do you think I’ve never tasted blood before?” She smiled, beautiful enough to wake the angels.

“I guess I thought wrong,” to underestimate your opponent is perhaps the most common mistake of all, and I had again made it. There was a fresh wound on my side to prove it.

“I am a woman, Jack. There is a whole different world to be seen from my eyes,” the next thing I felt was her lips against mine, and I realized instantly how different she kissed me now. It was like she’d blossomed, and I could finally taste how beautiful she truly was. I could feel it, when I picked her up and she wrapped her legs around me. I heard it, when the crystal statue by my bed crashed to the ground. And then again, when I bit her neck and she moaned in my ear. There was a moment when I stopped to consider what it meant that she…was who she was. It passed, because it was followed by another thought: who did that make me?

 In the year that I’d known Anaya, this was the first time she spent the night. The sun hadn’t risen yet. I stood in the doorway, realizing that I’d never once seen her sleep. She used to sneak out around four- I was always awake when she left but I never said anything. I didn’t want to make things uncomfortable. But now I could stand here and watch her sleep, and I had for the past thirty minutes. She was a peaceful sleeper; she looked more comfortable in my bed then I did. I wanted to stay longer, and almost got back in bed with her, but the pain in my side that woke me up grounded my mind with a dose of reality. My fingers were wet and sticky- more blood, but this time mine. So I left her alone and ventured into the darkness of my apartment. Honestly I was embarrassed with the hackneyed stitch work I’d performed on myself. It was a mockery of the white coat that hung in my closet, flecks of piss on the eight years I’d spent in medical school and the four that I’d been a practicing neurosurgeon. I was proud of that, at least it was something to be proud of.

I stood in front of the full length mirror in the living room, the mirror set into the exposed brick wall. The stitches looked even worse now than they had a few hours ago. It looked like the work of a special effects guy in a horror movie, not that of a skilled surgeon. A shot of lidocaine from my medical kit and I was pulling them out, knowing it should hurt but not feeling anything. And then I regretted that, giving myself that shot; somewhere inside of this new person I was becoming, there was a place that liked the pain. But this wasn’t the time for that. I had work to do. And now that my blood wasn’t racing and my heart wasn’t filled with adrenaline, I could focus. My hands moved like a pianist fingers, every bit as elegant and flawless. I’d honestly considered being a plastic surgeon, but then I thought how much more noble it would be for me to use my skills to help save lives instead of giving sixteen-year old’s nose jobs that they’d go to their graves denying ever happened.

“You know I could have done that for you,” I saw her reflection in the mirror, and I knew she’d been standing there for a while- watching me, the way I’d watched her. “I’ve gotten really good at it.”

“I prefer to do it myself. I’m a lot better at it than you,” she laughed and walked over to me, draping her arms around my shoulders.

“You don’t know all there is to know about me, Jack, but you will,” her voice in my ear was so…determined. I’d never wondered if there was stuff I didn’t know about her, because who does?

“So what, you’ve been lying to me?” I asked, in the way that you joke about something that makes you uncomfortable.

“I let you get to know what you wanted to know. What you could handle. But now…now there’s no limit to the world that lies before us.”

“You sound like a villain from a superhero movie,” I remember when we first started dating, she used to make me nervous, the way she would look at me. I’d moved past that but now it seemed like old habits were creeping back.

“And what’s wrong with that? Villains have all the fun.”

“Anaya…”

“What did you do with the body?”

“I cleaned the clothes and dropped them off at a few of those things for clothes. The body…is dissolving,” I told her, focusing more on my stitches than the conversation.

“Still? Well this is your first time. You’ll get better at it. Look at us, Jack. Do you see what I see?” I stopped and I looked. What I saw was a woman who was clearly so much more then she let on, and a man who was only just figuring it out.

“I doubt it.” She smiled and wrapped her hand around my waist. She started toying with my belly button, getting closer to the fresh stitches I’d done.

“I see someone becoming exactly who I’d hoped he’d be, and the woman who will help him get there. I see a future where I don’t get bored with you and kill you. I see a man where I once saw a boy. A man ready to be loved by a woman in a way that no one else has been loved. There’s no turning back, Jack. You and I…we will taste blood, together.”

“I could turn myself in,” I said casually, half-heartedly, though it’d crossed my mind. I felt cold metal and I looked at her other hand in the mirror. She was holding a knife; she dragged it up my side and rested it at my throat. She dug the tip in a little, so that a drop of my blood slid down the knife.

“And I could kill you. But I won’t, just like you won’t turn yourself in. It’d be a waste of time,” she kissed my cheek, but she didn’t move the knife, and for a second I thought that she just might kill me right here.

“Then what comes next?” I asked, my heart beating faster despite how hard I tried to stop it. She stared at me through the mirror for a while, kissing on my ear and dragging the knife back and forth across my throat. I got bold and grabbed her hand and she stopped. She let the knife fall out of her hand and onto the floor. I turned around, facing her, and then pushed her against the mirror. There was this fire in her eyes, taunting me, daring me to go farther, so I did. I wiped my other hand across her cheek, leaving streaks of my blood on her face and kissed her. I bit her lip and ran my fingers through her hair and she dug her nails into my neck. If I hadn’t already been hard, I definitely would have been now. She pulled me in closer, toying with the draw string on my shorts, and I knew that if I wanted to I could fuck her right now, bloody hands and all, but I pulled away. “What comes next?”

             She bit her lip and smiled.

             “Freedom, Jack. Freedom comes next.”