#maybe she doesn’t realizes they are bounding over torturing a dude

[chloesimaginationthings]

Abby let’s Cassidy meet her FNAF movie friend!

[mimik-u]

Togetherness

Summary: The aftermath of Steven transforming into a huge reptilian monster brings back old memories for Pearl, who remembers another time Steven was scared so many years ago.

A/N: This piece was written for the Pearl-focused I am a Pearl! mini-zine a couple of months ago! It was a great opportunity to get to explore Pearl's mind space after the events of "I am My Monster" and how her friendship with Greg has evolved over the years. ;w; Thanks to the mods for a great zine experience! <3

AO3 Link / Zine Tumblr Link / @iamapearlzine

—

Steven is sixteen years old when he erupts into a scaly, pink monster—fifty-foot tall and inconsolable.

Everyone tells him that they love him, but because words are rarely ever enough, they show him that they do; they embrace him; they hold him; they press their fingertips into his reptilian skin. His scales are cold and sharp against Pearl’s palms, keratin hard and impenetrable. She tells him that he shouldn’t have to keep anything from her, all the while burning with shame that he’s kept so much from her.

He’s felt responsible for her fragility and loved her enough to tiptoe around the Diamond in the room.

His mother.

His mother and the complicated history between them.

The love.

The torture.

The grief.

The love.

(Because what is grief after all but a manifestation of love? A reminder, its echo, and its painful, lingering, lovely ghost.)

Connie kisses Steven, very lightly, very softly, and he falls from the sky, a boy again. 

Pearl wraps him in a blanket.

Garnet carries him into the wreckage of their home.

And approximately one hour later, they’re all standing on the deck, waiting for Priyanka Maheswaran to finish her professional assessment of him as the sun sinks into a honey-colored sea.

Pearl cradles her face in her hands, elbows sinking into the railing, trying to retrace every missed sign in the blackness of her own head. She sees his skin glowing pink in the darkness—at the Reef, in Little Homeworld, just moments ago in the living room…

So many flares in the night.

And Pearl had watched them all fizzle.

—

Steven is six years old when he moves into the newly minted beach house, and he tells Greg that he’s afraid of the silence. Nearly all of his life, he’s been surrounded by noise—the gentle rumble of the van’s motor, the susurrant murmur of the sea, wind, rain, buskers playing guitars on the Boardwalk, the whoosh of the rollercoasters at Funland. 

His dad’s snores echoing off the tin ceiling.

His dad’s laughter.

His softly-sung lullabies, too.

The beach house is really quiet at night, Steven tells Greg who tells the Gems, and he doesn’t like that…

He’s trying really hard to like it, though.

Maybe things’ll get better next week.

Pearl never looks at Greg as he delivers this news, tapping her fingers against the side of her leg as she sits at the kitchen table, ankles primly crossed. He stands in the doorway—right beneath Rose’s painted image—wringing his hands and looking too awkward to be allowed. She resents him for this—for his awkwardness, for his intrusion into their lives, and for everything else, too. 

(Namely for Rose.)

She inwardly knows that she’s being unfair. 

That loathing a person on the basis of his existence is morally suspect.

Wrong.

But what are rightness and wrongness to emotions? To the sheer primality of grief?

Grief is irrational, she rationalizes to herself—she self-justifies; it knows nothing of ethicality.

“Why didn’t Steman tell us this?” Amethyst asks, absently scratching her nose. “If it’s noise he wants, I got an old drum set he can knock himself out on.”

Pearl frowns, well-remembering the ten straight years Amethyst played the drums through the nineties. Rose loved it; Pearl spent many hours alone in her room to decompress. 

“He’s still intimidated by you three,” Greg shrugs kindly. “And shy. You just have to give him reason enough to trust ya with stuff like this. Tucking him in at bed at night, y’know. Checking under the bed for monsters.”

“There aren’t monsters under his bed,” Garnet says, practical as ever. “They wouldn’t fit.”

Greg chuckles, running a flat hand across the back of his neck as he peers between the three gems. When he and Pearl lock eyes, she meets his stare coldly, her mouth pressed into a thin line.

“But Steven doesn’t know that,” he mumbles, glancing away, his cheeks flushing. “You gotta shine a flashlight down there and show him there’s nothing there.”

“Doesn’t that seem patronizing to you?” Pearl asks, taking little care to disguise the condescension in her voice. Across the room, Garnet’s visored stare finds her—blank, inscrutable, and arcane—but Pearl knows her fellow gem well enough to understand that this is chastisement, silent and brutal.

Arching a thin brow, she ignores Garnet.

She demands an answer from Greg.

“Maybe,” the man concedes, but when he acknowledges her gaze again, there’s a little defiance in his eyes, an edge in his scratchy voice. “But maybe not. That’s what being a parent is sometimes. Patronizing the kid! Playing along. Showing him that you’re listening to what he needs. Letting him know that you’re there… haven’t you ever been afraid before, Pearl?”

“No,” she protests immediately, bristling.

“Pssh,” Amethyst snorts. “Last week, you jumped ten feet in the air ‘cuz you saw a snake.”

“You did,” Garnet smiles wryly. “I was there.”

Pearl scoffs, trying and failing to ignore that her cheeks are suffused with blue blush…

… and that Greg is staring at her with an almost distinguishable emotion in his eyes.

If she didn’t know better, she would say it was pity.

—

Dr. Maheswaran tells them that Steven is okay; he’s tired and sore—transforming expended a lot of his energy—but he’s ready to see everyone now. She tells them to be quiet and to maybe go in one by one, so he doesn’t get too overwhelmed.

Firmly, she warns them that it’ll take more than a good night’s sleep for him to heal .

And she doesn’t mean physically.

“Here’s a number of a good therapist I know,” she says, placing a card in Pearl’s hand. “Her office opens at nine.”

Pearl folds her fingertips over the edges of the glossy card stock but doesn’t quite glance down to look at the name—too fixated on watching Greg stand in front of the doorway, palming the screen door as he seemingly steels himself to go in. 

He’s aged so much in the twenty-something years that Pearl has known him—from his nearly bald head to the branching lines creasing the corners of his eyes—but for some reason, it is only now, in this ephemeral moment, that she realizes how old he is.

She doesn’t mean physically either.

As the others gather around Dr. Maheswaran, asking her questions, voicing their concerns, Pearl takes one deliberate step and then another.

—

Garnet tells Steven that it’s okay—there are no monsters under the bed—and when she shines a flashlight beneath the mattress, Amethyst is there, shapeshifted into a tiny kitten, purring at the child sweetly.

“See, dude?” She laughs, bounding out from beneath the bed. In an instant of blurred matter and color, she becomes herself again, her bangs sweeping inelegantly over her eye. “No monsters under the bed, only cute kittens.”

“Only kittens?” He repeats, grinning that famous gap-toothed smile that everyone adores. His legs are nearly swallowed by his oversized shirt.

“Kittens and dust bunnies,” Amethyst confirms, knuckling his curls playfully and smiling broadly when he laughs. “G’night, Steman.”

“Night, Amethyst!”

“Goodnight, Steven,” Garnet murmurs, lifting the six-year old into her arms and gently placing him onto the bed. She tucks him beneath the covers. She tenderly kisses him on the head.

“Nighty night, Garnet.”

And then it’s Pearl’s turn. Garnet and Amethyst head towards their temple rooms, and Pearl settles down on the edge of the comforter, balancing her left ankle on top of her right knee.

“Don’t forget about M.C. Bear Bear!” She teases softly, reaching over and placing the stuffed animal next to Steven’s arm. “He needs a snuggle buddy.”

Steven nods in agreement, his brow furrowed seriously over his eyes.

“Yep,” he says importantly. “I’ll be sure to hug him tight.”

“Excellent,” she says primly.

“Excellent,” he echoes playfully.

She lightly skims her knuckles across his soft cheek, smiling when he giggles a little, always ticklish…

… but then, when she withdraws her hand, letting it fall away from his face, the moment that immediately follows is quiet.

Too much so.

So quiet that Pearl can hear the softness of Steven’s breath, quiet enough that Greg’s words from earlier haunt her in the absence of noise.

Haven’t you ever been afraid before, Pearl?

Contrary to what Garnet and Amethyst may believe, she isn’t afraid of snakes —pestilent creatures though they are.

She’s surprised by snakes.

And afraid of much bigger things—five-thousand-year old secrets and equally ancient insecurities, for instance.

Six thousand years ago, after all, she was coded to believe that her highest order in life was to be a slave.

And sometimes—if only sometimes—she fears that her weaknesses were ingrained then, in the very moment she emerged from a shell and was called a pearl

One of so many.

Disposable.

Programmable.

Objectified.

Sometimes, she barely knows what it means to be herself, much less what it means to be a parent .

Indeed, Greg Universe of all people seems to have the idea down better than she ever could.

So, yes, Greg, she is afraid.

(Afraid of failing Steven.)

(Terrified that she’s already failed her. )

Patronize him, Greg suggested.

Play with him.

Show him that you’re listening.

Let him know that you’re there.

—

“Greg?”

Pearl places a light hand on Greg’s arm, startling him from his trance as he turns around to face her.

“Pearl!” He exhales, his breath coming in short bursts. “Y’scared me!”

“I’m sorry,” she says sincerely, not quite moving her hand away yet. His skin is warm beneath her fingertips, soft like wave-washed sand. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“Yes,” he returns immediately, and then—taking one look at her imperiously raised brow—just as quickly rectifies himself. “No. I don’t know. I’m freakin’ terrified, Pearl. I feel like a failure of a parent. I don’t know what to tell him. But I gotta go in there anyway.”

He says it all very rapidly, as though he’s talking to himself.

Encouraging himself.

And putting himself down to do it.

“I’m his dad,” he concludes, his voice breaking, tears standing in his dark eyes. “I’m his dad, and I didn’t… I wasn’t there for him, and I should have—“

“ Shh, ” Pearl cuts across him gently, patting his arm as tears threaten to slide down her own face. “Shh. There are so many hypothetical should haves that we’ll all have to face soon when it comes to Steven. But not today, Greg .”

With her free hand, she conjures a tissue from her gem and hands it to him, unflinching and kind, even when he needs to wipe his nose.

“Today,” she murmurs, her voice inhibited, a hundred emotions thick, “we just let him know that we’re here.”

—

“Pearl?” Steven asks.

Pearl blinks rapidly, coming back to herself; she’d been lost in her own thoughts, nearly consumed.

“Hey,” she smiles, placing her hand on top of Steven’s own. His skin is so warm and soft; she absently wonders if her alienness feels sharp to him… hard… cold… “Here’s an idea—how about I sing you a lullaby before you go to sleep?”

“You know how to sing?” Steven’s eyes widen incredulously, his mouth shaping itself into a delighted smile.

“Don’t look so surprised,” she laughs playfully. “When we were younger, your mother and I used to sing all the time—hymns from our home planet and the like…”

A pause, infinitesimal, hesitant. 

“...I could sing one for you if you’d like?”

“You could?” The child dares to be hopeful; the very emotion shapes the pitch of his question, the light in his eyes.

He has his mother’s eyes.

Dark and full of stars.

“I could,” Pearl repeats. “I’d sing as long as you wanted me to.”

“How about fooooorever?” 

“Let’s just start with until you fall asleep,” Pearl laughs. “That’s a part of forever, yes? This moment?”

“If you say so, Pearl,” he wrinkles his nose skeptically.

“I know so, Steven.”

As she sings him to sleep in her mother tongue, Pearl admits that this must be something that Greg knows, too.

The importance of hereness to a child.

Togetherness on scary nights.

[tiefling-queer]

For D&D character ask, for any and/or all of your characters;

1, 5, 8, 15, 23, 29, 64, 65, 69(Nice)

i’m gonna answer these for whichever characters have the most interesting answers, skipping some for repeats:

1. why did they choose their class(es)? their subclass(es)?

kip (wizard, school of necromancy): crisis of faith midway through grave cleric training, spurred on by him sucking at the whole cleric thing (9 wisdom babyyy) while also being a nerd (18 int babyyyy)

baylock (shadow sorcerer/rogue): the sorcerer part is a side effect from being born dead during a cataclysmic event that tore portions of the material plane asunder. the rogue part is because he got in with a bad crowd as a kid. he’s been gaining levels in sorcerer as he traverses the freaky magic wasteland, utilizes his magic more, and gets a little closer to death each time someone hits his squishy arcane caster frame too hard

izak (gunslinger, graveslinger): sometimes you’re a jaded teen-equivalent runaway bumming around the river kingdoms and some dude comes up to you and is like ‘im a neutral evil mercenary, but if you take this gun and learn to shoot, i can also be your dad’. and then later you’re a 20-something equivalent who just realized that you don’t actually want to be an evil mercenary so you run away again and this time some dude comes up to you and is like ‘i’m a priest of sarenrae and an exorcist, and if you believe you can be redeemed, i can also be your dad.’ and then you learn how to shoot ghosts so you can be useful while this guy teaches you about being a better person.

5. do they follow a higher power? what are their thoughts on divinity?

izak: (deep lore dump) izak’s family was, at one point, pious people, and it was some ancestor’s warped perception of what piousness is and what was worth sacrificing in the name of good that led to the entire mess that is izak’s face. izak’s a devout worshiper of sarenrae now and hopes to maybe be the assistance someone needs to put themselves on a better path the way brak was for him, but there’s still a part of him that believes that, because he’s a tiefling, he’s never going to really be saved, and that his soul will eventually belong to the asura it was promised to.

8. what are three songs that suit them?

sydel: buckets of blood by rufus rex (tw for self harm, link goes to spotify because i can’t find this track on its own on youtube), thank god that i’m not you by himalayas, and bruises by fox stevenson (full playlist here)

15. do they trust their party? why or why not?

kip: he trusts them with his life, he just doesn’t trust them to understand where he’s coming from. he’s hiding some really heretical opinions that he knows at least maya (the celestial warlock) won’t agree with. he doesn’t like to talk about his family trauma, his past, or anything that he thinks the party can use to cleverly deduce that the notes he’s been scribbling are about raising the dead and theoretical conduits, prices, and replacements for the soul (he’s a little paranoid and might be giving them more credit than they deserve)

baylock: baylock might trust morgran, but he doesn’t trust surina at all, not since she and the (presumed deceased) swashbuckler tried to use him as a scapegoat when they were being interrogated by evil government warlocks. and even then, he only trusts morgran to not leave him for dead. baylock’s a fiercely loyal person by nature, so he’s been trying to keep his party at arms length so he won’t be betrayed again. the closest he came to starting to trust them was right before he found out that they told the evil government warlock that they’d turn him in in exchange for their freedom when they were captured a while back (whether or not they actually intended to do so is irrelevant for baylock - he spent 5 years in prison after being his old thieve’s guild’s fall guy, he’s not about to let it happen again)

23. how do they feel about nicknames, titles, or labels that have been given to them? how do they feel about their name?

kip: kip’s given name is joffric ravenhall. he’s been going by the alias of ‘greenbough’ on the offchance that people have heard of his family or knew his father at some point, since he really doesn’t want to explain why he’s not a priest of the raven queen by now. ‘kip’, however, is what his family and friends call him, so it was a bit of a big deal to him when he told the party to call him kip, since he hadn’t been around anyone he considered family or friend in a few years. kip’s reeling a little bit over suddenly being called an ‘adverturer type’ - to him, he’s still just a transient weirdo who picks up odd jobs.

baylock: baylock craft’s name isn’t actually baylock craft (not yet anyway lol), he stole his late cellmate’s identity to take advantage of the jailbreak that came a few days too late. his name, ekleipsis caldor, isn’t exactly something he identifies with so much as what he was once called. his father never wanted him but got stuck with him when his mother bounced, so ‘caldor’ is more a formality than anything. ‘ekleipsis’ is the greek root of ‘eclipse’, for the eclipse he was born during - but moreso, ‘ekleipsis’ doesn’t mean ‘to be covered’ - it means ‘a disappearance or abandonment’. an event where the sun abandons the sky. baylock is a walking abandonment issue. he hasn’t taken a virtue name because he thinks it’s performative (which is where him officially taking the name ‘baylock craft’ as his name and not the identity of someone he’s pretending to be comes in - it’s the equivalent of naming himself for the virtue of rebellion without naming himself something stupid and embarrassing like ‘rebel’.)

izak: izak just got done being haunted by a ghost wizard who’s obsessed with names, probably because he’s had 4. izak was born dalethiel oakleaf back when he was an elf, but when he ran away after waking up as a tiefling he went by dally. then he was a mercenary for a while and his edgy mercenary name was viper. and then, when asked for his name by the cleric of sarenrae who rescued him in the wilderness, he said he didn’t have one worth giving, so the cleric told him he’d just call him izak then. that’s who izak is now, as far as he’s concerned, or at least who he wants to be. as he told the ghost wizard who tried to torment him with his birth name, that’s not his name anymore. dalethiel oakleaf was a young elf who died on his 50th birthday. izak’s got a perfectly good name, given to him by a kind man, and he doesn’t want to think about the time in his life he went by dally or viper.

karif: karif always introduces himself formally with his full name, in the family-given-familiar name pattern - ‘ixenvari karifgethisk fraurirthos, er, but you can just call me karif.’ this is because karif’s nickname, fraurirthos, the one his childhood friends and family call him, translates from draconic literally to ‘breathes secrets’. his nickname is snitch. he’s a little embarrassed about it. but ‘karifgethisk’ is a bit of a mouthful for those who don’t speak draconic, so shortening it to ‘karif’ suits fine.

29. who would they save? who would they be saved by? 

this has been a tough one, i’m not sure how to answer it for anyone.

64. do they value mercy or justice more?

kip: this honestly depends on his mood and your definitions of both ‘mercy’ and ‘justice’. he’s very easily led away by his emotions - both pity and compassion that could sway him to lean more towards mercy, and rage that tends to harden his heart and clear his head. he’s more than down to torture someone if he deems them evil, and he’ll destroy creatures like aberrations, fiends, and undead without a second thought, but he views life as a very precious thing - even when torturing an evil demon-summoning spellcaster, he still was trying to find ways out that resulted in that spellcaster getting out alive. this has come back to bite the party in the ass, since it was kip’s insistance that the party not kill all the guards on their little anarchy stunt that got them blackmailed to infiltrate the evil army of darkness, which is something he most certainly DOES NOT want to do.

65. what is holding them back?

kip: kip’s hang-ups about the soul and how he was raised are holding him back from becoming a stronger necromancer, while his grief and refusal to accept mortality hold him back from possibly still being some flavor of raven queen follower.

baylock: baylock’s hesitance and confusion over what he wants are holding him back from either fully embracing the rebellion or ditching it to get vengence

izak: izak’s self-loathing and fear of himself hold him back from interacting with people and forming meaningful relationships outside of the handful of people who’ve found out he’s a tiefling.

69 (nice): how would they describe their party members?

kip:

maya is... complicated. kip admires her pragmatism and her faith - it reminds him of his older sister, and he’s been missing that rock in his life. however, he butts heads with her a lot, because he finds her cold duty-bound outlook to be pointlessly cruel.

meera is wicked smart and talented, if a little misguided at times. he’s very big brother protective of her, always trying to offer her his dagger because ‘it’s a nice dagger’ (it’s +1)

amity is a good kid, and smarter than some may give him credit for. he’s fun to be around, and usually a level-headed presence, which makes it even more surprising just how ok he is with killing.

baylock:

morgran is an asshole, but is also probably the only person in the group who believes in this whole rebellion thing, so that counts for something. he’s decent people, can probably be trusted to see a mission through and not do anything completely stupid, but since he’s decent people he’s probably going to insist on staying on this path of lunacy with delusions of ‘taking down the Summit’. also, morgran shouldn’t be allowed to talk to anyone they meet, because he’s an asshole, and doesn’t bother pretending to be personable like baylock does.

surina is insane. she’s deranged, like everyone who tries to live outside the sanctums is. also just racist at times. when their cover gets blown or when they get mixed up with people they should be talking down, she’s gonna be the reason they all get killed.

porthos is was an idiot and a liability and just proved him right by running off and doing something rash and probably getting himself killed and also maybe compromising the whole rebellion which baylock doesn’t care about, so why does he feel like he should have done more to stop Porthos’ demise?

[devil-in-the-d3tails]

It’s the End of the World As We Know It - Chapter 5

summary: During the international quarantine in your first-ever pandemic, the people around you slowly begin to disappear. As the world grows quieter and quieter, you find yourself all alone-- no power, no friends, and only one goal: to find whoever of your friends might be left and reunite with them.You're naive to think anything can be that simple. As you're faced with ever-increasing loneliness, you run into some boys who apparently went to the same high school as you. Will you join forces with them to figure out your strange circumstances together, or will you brave loneliness in a world that is slowly crumbling apart?

Link on AO3!

words: 5,453

rating: M - Mature

genre: angst/humor, romance, adventure, apocalypse AU, reader-insert

warnings: sort of depressing content, a smidge of violence, cursing, drug use, alcohol consumption

a/n: thank you for reading! <3

- It’s Loud in Here -

When the three of you make it back and hide your car in the same place as before, the gym is empty, except for an excited Indie, who comes bounding up to greet you, Bokuto, and Kuroo with kisses and a wagging tail. You’re a little alarmed at the lack of Kenma and Oikawa, but Kuroo and Bokuto aren’t too worried.

“Kenma’s probably wandering around the school, he does that sometimes. And Oikawa… eh, I dunno, he probably bothered Iwaizumi enough to hitch along with him and Akaashi.” Kuroo explains, and flops down on his bed. “We can move all your stuff in here after a quick nap.” He declares, and you’re in agreement with him-- you desperately need to shower, so you retrieve your toiletries from the car, and head off to the girls’ locker room.

Unfortunately, the water doesn’t get warm at all, but you can’t find it within yourself to care at the moment. You watch as the water cascades down your sore body-- you’ve been manhandled way too much today, and you can already feel the bruises forming around your ribs where that creepy red-head grabbed you. Squirting shampoo into your hair, you furiously scrub at your scalp in an attempt to clean yourself of all the shit you just went through this morning.

The image of your dad’s car won’t leave your mind-- it’s like you see it right in front of you every time you blink, a constant image in the back of your mind that you know you won’t be able to shake. How could someone just disappear like that? And why was it only the adults? Callie had said that her sister disappeared, but her sister was at least thirty…

Your head hurts, but you can’t stop thinking about it. Is there a way to reverse whatever happened? Is there an age limit as far as who disappears? Is it aliens?

You laugh a little to yourself at that thought. While you run the conditioner through your hair, you brush it out, too, and you sigh in absolute happiness as you wash your body with your usual soap from home. It’s pretty nice taking a shower in these dreary locker rooms, since nobody else is here to bother you.

Having washed hair and a washed body truly makes you feel like a new person, and you sigh happily after drying off and slipping on fresh, warm clothes. You even pull on your fuzzy socks, and as you pad back into the gym, you’re met with Kuroo and Bokuto, passed out on their respective beds, and you chuckle to yourself, opting to take a nap on Akaashi’s bed for the time being.

You’re not sure what time it is when you wake up, but Kenma has since returned, as you’re woken up by the sound of pages turning. You sit up, rubbing at your eyes, to find Kenma sitting on his bed, munching on some chips while he reads the book in his lap. He looks up at you, blinks in greeting, and goes back to reading.

“Um… hey,” You say awkwardly, as Bokuto and Kuroo are still very much asleep. Kenma looks up at you again, and you feel sort of scrutinized under his intense, calculating gaze.

“Hey,” He responds, and again, goes back to reading.

You frown-- you don’t want to bother him, so you decide to get the rest of your shit from your car. Bokuto and Kuroo have done enough heavy lifting for today, you decide, as you exit the gym to retrieve your groceries, bed, and all the other supplies you packed.

Kenma’s gaze follows you occasionally on your multiple trips to and from the gym. You pretend not to notice, because you have no idea if you should talk to him or just ignore him-- he seems to only really like Kuroo, and “like” is a strong word for him.

You huff as you stand in front of your open trunk, your mattress resting on top of two of the folded down backseats. Hands on your hips, you narrow your eyes as you work out the logistics of hauling this thing inside-- it’s just a twin bed, really not that heavy, and the gym is literally like five feet away. But with a sigh, you look down at your feet, battered shoes covered in mud and grass-- it hasn’t completely stopped raining all day, though it’s only drizzling right now. You know that if you try to drag your mattress inside by yourself, you won’t be able to hold it completely off the ground, so one side will get all muddy and gross.

You bite the inside of your cheek-- it’s probably better to wait for Kuroo and Bokuto to wake up. They’ll be glad to do manual labor for you, and you’ll be glad to let them show off or whatever. It’s a win-win!

You reach up to close the trunk when Kenma’s voice pipes up behind you.

“Need help?”

You turn in surprise, eyes wide. Did he just talk to you? And, offer you help?

Kenma leans against the open gym door, arms crossed, same expression as always. “You’re letting in all the cold air from outside.”

Oh. He just wanted you to hurry up, not actually help you because he was feeling nice. You laugh a little to yourself, and nod at him with a smile.

“Yeah, that’d be great, actually.”

The two of you haul your bed inside with little trouble-- Kenma’s actually stronger than he looks! When it flops to the floor between Kuroo’s and Akaashi’s beds, the dark-haired boy finally stirs awake. His head was sandwiched between two pillows, you realize, and snort out a laugh.

“Good morning, sleeping beauty.” You tease, and Kuroo just grumbles in response, still not completely awake as he squints up at you and Kenma.

“You moved your bed in here?” Kuroo mumbles, rubbing at his eyes.

You nod, and gesture to Kenma. “Yeah, Kenma helped me.”

“Really?” Kuroo huffs out a laugh. “Dang Kenma, are you actually warming up to someone?”

“She was letting cold air in ‘cause she was taking so long.” Kenma rolls his eyes, and flops back on his own bed to continue to read.

“Thank you, Kenma,” You say sweetly, and lay on your bed with a happy sigh, wrapping yourself up in the blankets you brought from home.

“Man, I miss waffles.” You complain aloud, seemingly out of nowhere. Your thought process to lead you to that statement was: raining -> warm, lazy mornings -> mornings = breakfast -> breakfast = waffles, but waffles = not here anymore because toasters don’t work anymore. Maybe you could roast one over a fire? But all the frozen ones are probably weird now because they’ve been thawing out for days on end.

Kuroo laughs beside you. “Like, Eggos?”

“Yeah,” You sigh wistfully.

“I miss Crunchwrap Supremes.” Kuroo says, and it’s your turn to laugh.

“I miss Baja Blast.” You agree with a sigh.

Kuroo groans, and you meet his gaze with a grin. “Man, don’t torture me like that.”

“Maybe we can raid a Taco Bell? Baja Blast doesn’t expire, right?” You say, and Kuroo nods thoughtfully as he tucks his hands behind his head.

“If we’re gonna preserve one thing from the remnants of society, it better be fuckn’ Baja Blast.” Kuroo says, and you crack up at that.

“Yeah, fuck the pyramids or whatever--” You say,

“Dude, fuck the pyramids!” Kuroo interjects, and you laugh even more.

“-- fuck the pyramids, for real!” You smack your first into your palm. “All my homies hate the pyramids.”

“Society has advanced past the need for pyramids.” Kenma says from his place on his bed. You and Kuroo’s eyes light up, and you both sit up to hook Kenma with gleeful expressions, elated that he’s joining in on the fun. Kenma looks up from his book, and smiles a little as you and Kuroo laugh along with the joke.

Your rambunctious laughter wakes up Bokuto, who sits up with a start, even though his eyes are still squinty as he slowly regains consciousness.

“Baja Blast…?” He mumbles, and you and Kuroo can’t help but crack up even more at Bokuto’s delayed response-- even Kenma laughs, and as the rain falls heavier outside, the four of you go around naming all the things you miss from before the world ended. Video games, heaters, washing machines, all kinds of fast food, TV shows you’ll never know the ending to, movies that will never be released-- it’s all a little sad, but it’s fun to reminisce with the three guys as they crack jokes and raid your grocery haul for snacks.

“Awww, man, remember those things at like, huge malls where you could go in and fake sky-dive?” Bokuto says, and you and Kenma exchange a glance of wild confusion.

“No??” You say, and Kuroo and Bokuto exclaim in surprise.

“What?! You never went on one of those things?” Bokuto is astonished, but so are you, because you have no idea what he’s talking about.

“How does that even work?” Kenma wonders, and glares at Kuroo as the latter steals some chips from him with a grin.

“You go into this like, giant cylinder--” Kuroo starts, but Bokuto cuts in as he leaps to his feet.

“Yeah, and there’s this grate floor, and a giant fan underneath you, and you wear like, goggles and shit, and then they turn on the fan and you just get fuckn’ blasted in the air for like five minutes.” Bokuto howls with laughter, “I remember one time, me and Akaashi tried it, and holy shit-- his face--!” Bokuto can’t continue, he’s laughing so hard.

You all three join in, because Bokuto’s joy is contagious, and you can kind of picture the situation-- the prospect of seeing Akaashi as anything but calm and collected is hilarious to you.

The sun begins to set, and you’re roped into a game of toss-the-volleyball with Kuroo and Bokuto, while Kenma watches on in mild amusement.

“Check this out!” Bokuto yells as Kuroo tosses the ball up. The gray-haired boy grins wide, eyes fixated on the ball, and he leaps, only to hit the ball over an imaginary net to send it careening to the polished wood floor with a loud SMACK!

“Woah!” You exclaim, eyes wide as Bokuto’s chest puffs with pride.

“That is called a ‘spike’.” He says, hands on his hips.

You raise your eyebrows, deciding to humor him. “No waaay, tell me more!”

“Okay!” Bokuto excitedly retrieves the ball, and tosses it back to Kuroo. “Send me another one!”

“Man, I’m not a setter.” Kuroo huffs, sending a quick glare to Kenma as he tosses the ball up to Bokuto once again, who leaps up, and powerfully hits the ball so that it flies parallel to where the net would have been, and another loud SMACK! fills the gym.

“Hey, hey, hey!!” Bokuto exclaims proudly as he lands on the floor.

“Dang!” You exclaim, actually very impressed with that move. “How’d you do that?!”

“Ahh, there’s no explaining talent.” Bokuto laughs, “I’m just kiddin’! Basically, I just jump up and hit the ball like, bam! Instead of, wham! You know?” He nods, hands on his hips, and you share a quick glance with Kuroo, who just shakes his head with a smile.

“That’s kickass.” You concede, and Bokuto seems to glow with your praise.

“Hey, maybe we can show you--”

“Yoho~!”

Bokuto is cut off by a cheery Oikawa pushing the gym doors open, a dazzling smile on his handsome face like always. As Oikawa enters, he pulls his hood off of his head-- how is his hair still perfect?!-- and a soaked Akaashi and Iwaizumi follow, carrying about five bags total.

“Welcome back!” You say, inwardly relieved to see their safe return. You didn’t want to admit it earlier, but you were growing more worried with every hour that passed and they didn’t show up.

The three guys set down the bags in the designated “stuff” corner of the gym, and you, Kuroo, and Bokuto walk up to meet them there, with Kenma trailing behind.

“Well, we found some pretty useful shit this time.” Iwaizumi says proudly, and fishes around in one of the bags for a moment before procuring some walkie-talkies.

“Walkie-talkies?” You and Bokuto exclaim at the same time.

“Radios?” Kuroo corrects, and you and Bokuto roll your eyes.

“Yes to both.” Akaashi says as he helps Iwaizumi hand them out.

“This way, we can communicate easier when we go searching in L.A.” Iwaizumi says as he hands you yours.

“Oh? Are you coming with us now?” You say with a grin.

You don’t miss the quick blush that dusts Iwaizumi’s cheeks as he quickly looks away with a frown. “Oikawa begged me to.” He explains.

“Um? No, I convinced you.” Oikawa defends himself.

“Whatever. Point is, after what happened to you, it makes sense that we should all stick together. Splitting up is a bad idea, especially since… y’know, people are still disappearing.” Iwaizumi says, and a solemnity passes over the group.

Oikawa clears his throat. “Here, I got this for you.” He hands you a bag of cotton balls and nail polish remover. Your eyes widen-- you looked everywhere in the grocery store for this stuff, but couldn’t find it a few days ago.

“T-thank you!” You say as you take the items from Oikawa. He gives you a dazzling smile in response, which brings a blush to your cheeks, having all his attention on you.

“Your nails were looking pretty bad this morning, I noticed you picking at them-- so I figured this would help!” He explains, to which Iwaizumi punches him in the arm. “Ow! Hey, I’m just being honest!”

“Gee, thanks.” You deadpan, your appreciation now replaced with irritation. You decide to shrug it off, though-- this shows that his heart was in the right place, at least.

“We haven’t even shown you guys the best thing,” Oikawa recovers pretty quickly, and reaches into his own bag, to reveal a plethora of Four-Lokos and White Claws. “It’s time to get fucked up. It’s the least we deserve.”

“Dude!” Kuroo exclaims, and fishes around in his pocket to pull out his hefty sum of weed, to which Oikawa’s eyes light up. The two boys grin at each other, and shake hands warmly at their shared train of thought.

[-]

The boys lead you to a barren spot behind the gym outside, where a fire pit has been set up. You’re surprised at how quickly Kuroo and Iwaizumi can get a fire started, considering it’s still cold as hell, even though the rain has stopped for now. Pretty soon, they’re warming a kettle of water over the crackling flame, and you and Kenma are sitting side-by-side underneath one of your blankets on the chairs you brought outside, while the rest of the guys huddle around the fire in their own chairs.

Instant ramen is passed out, and soon, your hands are warmed by the boiling water heating up your styrofoam cup of noodles. You blow on it gently, and soon, all of you are wolfing down the most delicious instant noodles you’ve ever eaten in your life.

After dinner, the fire is put out, and you all retreat back inside the gym just as the rain begins to pick up again.

“Aight, I don’t have too much paper, so we’re just gonna pass it around, is that cool?” Kuroo asks as you all settle on the floor, sitting on your respective pillows in a circle. He’s already preparing the joint, packing it so it’s a little thicker than what you’ve seen in the movies. After expertly rolling it up, he licks the edge of the paper, and seals it before lighting it. He takes a drag, and exhales happily as Oikawa, sitting next to him, cracks open a Four Loko. You’ve decided to go with a White Claw for now, since you’re a bit of a lightweight on account of your inexperience.

Kuroo passes the joint to Oikawa first, who passes it to Iwaizumi, then Kenma, then Akaashi, and then you. You frown, and laugh a little as you sheepishly ask, “Um, how do I do it?”

Bokuto laughs beside you, and gently takes it from you. “You just breathe in, hold it for a second, and then breathe out.” He shows you, and coughs a little at first, waving away the smoke. “Here, try!”

You nod with a smile, and do as he says: wrap your lips around the blunt, breathe in, hold it--

You almost cough up a lung on step two. The boys around you laugh, not making fun of you, just amused at your naivete.

“Try again, try again.” Oikawa encourages, and you do, and actually manage to do a successful hit. You’re still coughing a little, your eyes watering, but you’re having fun.

You take a sip, and the blunt is passed around once again.

“So, you got all your stuff back, I see!” Oikawa says as he takes another hit. “What happened there?”

“Shit was insane, dude.” Kuroo shakes his head and runs his hand through his hair.

“Yeah, those assholes that scared her before were hiding out in Asahi’s house!” Bokuto says, “They had guns, man!”

“What?” Iwaizumi exclaims right as he’s about to take a drag.

“Yeah, it was insane!” You chime in after taking a few more sips of your drink. “That red-head grabbed me right as I was about to run back into the car, but then I punched him!” You say proudly, and hold up your bruised knuckles as proof.

“Yeah, and you know what she said when she did it?” Kuroo laughs, “She goes, ‘Fuck outta here!’”

The entire group is impressed and joins in on your laughter, and you just blush with a shrug.

“What can I say? I’m a badass.” You toss your hair over your shoulder.

“Yeah, you are.” Kuroo affirms warmly, and you share a smile with him for a moment before Akaashi hands you the blunt.

“He was a redhead?” Kenma pipes up, and you nod as you exhale. The musky smell of weed is starting to stink up the whole gym, but you don’t really care. You’ve only taken two hits, but you’re already feeling warm and tingly-- your mind is a little fuzzy, and paired with your drink, you’re generally just feeling amazing.

Kenma must’ve said something, because he’s looking at you expectantly.

“Hm? Sorry.” You say and sit up straighter.

“I said, he sounds like a kid from my history class. I think his name’s Tendou?” Kenma repeats, and glances at Kuroo, who just shrugs.

“I don’t know a lot of juniors.” He says, taking another glug of his drink.

Kenma just hums thoughtfully, and takes a hit before passing it back to Kuroo.

“Okay.” Oikawa says with a grin, and turns to hook you with his chocolate brown gaze. “So, how come we’ve never seen you before? You went to Karasuno, right?”

“Yeah,” You laugh sheepishly, and are surprised to find you’ve already finished your drink. “I wasn’t really part of any clubs or anything. I mean, I went to Yearbook Club every once in a while, ‘cause I liked to take pictures.”

“You ever go to any volleyball games?” Oikawa asks.

“No,” You say with a big sigh. “Don’t hate me!”

“Ugh!” Oikawa exclaims in disgust. “That’s it, get her out of here.”

You laugh along with the others, and decide to play along with the bit. “Alright, bet.” You say, and rise to your feet, but immediately stumble back down, right into Bokuto’s surprised lap.

“Woah--hey, hey, hey!” Bokuto exclaims, his voice jumping a few octaves as he flings his arms above him to avoid touching you in any disrespectful way.

You dissolve into a pile of giggles, and reach up to snatch the blunt from Bokuto’s hand, taking another drag before leaning back to look upside down at Kenma, passing it to him, who grins down at you.

“Did your boyfriend disappear, too?” Oikawa asks out of nowhere, and you look over in time to see Iwaizumi smack Oikawa’s arm. “Ow! Come on, we were all curious!”

You just huff out a laugh, and sit up with a bit of trouble, leaving behind a furiously blushing Bokuto.

“I didn’t have a boyfriend. Never really have, ‘cause I don’t count elementary school.” You answer with a shrug, and glance at Kuroo, only to find him staring at you intently. You raise an eyebrow, exuding confidence as you smirk at him. “What?”

Kuroo just blinks, and shrugs as he takes the blunt from Kenma. “Nothin.” He says, and takes a drag, finally breaking eye contact with you.

The blunt is passed around-- you’ve lost count by now-- and Kenma suddenly stands, his eyes shining with excitement.

“I almost forgot-- I found something really cool today in one of the classrooms.” He says, and stumbles over to his bed to reach into his backpack, and pulls out an actual boom box.

“Wooaaahhh!” Kuroo and Bokuto say at the same time as Kenma brings it over.

“There’s even some cassette tapes for it,” Kenma says, and puts the boom box in the middle of the group, then pulls out some cassettes from his jacket pocket to view the options. You lean over to Kenma, across Bokuto’s lap-- which makes him blush again-- and you’re pleasantly surprised by the options.

“Dude, they have Black Sabbath?” You exclaim. “Where did you even find this?”

“Mr. Little’s classroom.” Kenma answers, and grins when he finds a specific tape. “Got it. Check this out.” He inserts the tape, and presses play.

After a second, ‘hot girl bummer’ by blackbear starts playing, much to everyone’s surprise.

“What the-- how did that get on a cassette?” Oikawa exclaims, and Kenma grins.

“I made this tape for Mr. Little earlier this year to prove to him that newer music is pretty good-- but he said he’d only listen to it if it was on a cassette. So, I made a cassette tape with a lot of modern songs on it.” He explains, looking down at the boom box with a smile, like it’s his little baby-- his creation that has managed to survive past the end of the world.

“Kenma!!” You coo, pouting your lip out as you look at him with so much unfiltered adoration. “This is so cool! And this is so exciting! Thank you so much!!” Tears actually well up in your eyes, and Bokuto quickly hurries to wipe them away with his thumb.

“Oh, God!! Oh, no! Why are you crying?!” He exclaims, cradling your face in his hands to bring your gaze up to his.

“I’m just--” You sniffle. “I’m really happy, and like, I’ve just had such a shitty day-- or like, life, lately. And, like--” You sniffle again, and wipe away some snot with your sleeve as you turn to look at the group of cross-faded guys around you, who all look extremely worried at your sudden cry-fest. “It’s just… I care so much about you guys, and we barely know each other! But, like… I don’t know, you guys have just taken care of me, and you’ve been so nice, and I just… I’m just really happy!” You babble, and in an instant, Bokuto wraps you up in a bone-crushing hug.

“We care about you too!” Bokuto affirms, and then suddenly hauls you up to your feet, still hugging you fiercely. He spins you around with a flourish, and you’re extremely disoriented, but happy nonetheless. “Let’s dance!” He says, and grabs your hands, and starts swaying around in a really dumb way.

You laugh, but join in anyways-- and soon, the entire group is dancing like idiots. The entire experience is a bit of a haze, as your head has grown fuzzier, your limbs heavier, and your heart lighter. You feel so at ease with yourself, like you could say or do anything, and you wouldn’t have any regrets. You really should’ve smoked weed a lot earlier in life if it made you feel this good.

The songs that are on Kenma’s playlist are really good, and really fun to dance to-- you think for a moment that this experience is even better than prom, apocalypse included. You don’t quite feel your feet as you stumble and dance around, but pretty soon, you feel a really strong urge to pee. Two-- or was it three?-- White Claws seem to have gone right through you, so you mumble something about needing to use the bathroom and that you’ll be right back to Iwaizumi. Or maybe it was Akaashi.

In no time at all, you’re relieved and washing your hands at the sink. Being in the school bathroom with the lights off is once again a strange experience-- especially since you’re very high and pretty drunk. This moment sort of feels like a liminal space-- a save point in a video game, so that you can collect your fuzzy thoughts, only to watch them float down the drain with the water that’s running over your hands. You’re not sure how long you watch the faucet run, but you’re amazed at what you’re seeing-- indoor plumbing really is the most underrated thing about society.

“Man, fuck the pyramids!” You laugh to yourself as you remember your jokes with Kuroo earlier. Man, he really is cute. All of them are-- you’re really the luckiest girl in the end of the world. You finally turn off the faucet, and float out of the bathroom, out to the dark hallway that leads back to the gym.

You’re surprised to find Kuroo leaning on a wall, hands in his pockets. He looks up when he catches sight of you, and smiles sweetly. He doesn’t grin, or smirk like usual-- he looks like a young boy right now, and you can’t help but smile back.

“Hi,” You say, surprised at your quiet voice and how it seems to cut through the silence of the hallway loudly. The sound of music is still coming from the gym, but this hallway still feels very removed from reality, like a little pocket that only you and Kuroo exist in.

“Hey,” He says, and licks his chapped lips as he looks away, and rubs the back of his neck. “Um, sorry, just wanted to check on you ‘cause you were taking a while.”

“Ohhh,” You say, and smile sheepishly. “I was just… watching the water.”

“Cool.” Kuroo nods, and you both stare at each other for a moment. Kuroo’s eyes are a little glazed, a little red, and you’re sure you look the same. He swallows, and you watch as his Adam’s apple bobs with the motion. “Um, I wanted to apologize.”

“Huh? For what?” You’re surprised, to say the least. He helped you out so much today-- he actually risked his life for you (and your groceries).

“For doubting you.” He says, and shoves his hands in his pockets even further. “Earlier, when I didn’t tell you your groceries were in Asahi’s house. I didn’t tell you ‘cause I didn’t think you could pull off getting them back. And, like… I dunno, that wasn’t cool of me. So, I just wanted to say that I’m sorry. And, that, uh…” He shrugs, and finally glances at you. “I believe in you.”

You’re struck dumb as your mouth drops open in surprise-- you’re not sure what to say. Even if you were sober, this would surprise you. You quickly close your mouth, and realize you need to say something, because you don’t want Kuroo to feel weird, or like you hate him.

But, you can’t think of anything to say at the moment-- so, you follow your feet as you walk up to him, and proceed to wrap your arms around his middle, resting your head against his broad, warm chest.

“Thank you, Kuroo.” You say, and squeeze him a little tighter when his arms wrap around you after a moment. He rests his chin on the crown of your head, and laughs out a sigh of relief. You two stay like that for a while-- you could fall asleep standing up, with how at peace you feel right now. Your high, combined with Kuroo’s warmth, and how safe you feel bundled up in his arms, makes the world melt away. With a happy sigh, you pull away a little bit to look up at him with a dumb, happy smile. He looks down at you, just as dumb, and just as happy. “Hey, I believe in you, too. Even though you piss me off sometimes.”

You feel the rumble of Kuroo’s laugh from his chest, and you lean your cheek into his hand as he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear.

“I’m always gonna piss you off.” He mumbles, and you roll your eyes with a grin. You watch as he licks his lips again-- it’s a subconscious thing to do, a normal tick that anyone and everyone does, but for some reason, watching Kuroo do it right now, it’s the most captivating thing for you. Your gaze slowly travels from his lips to his bright, hazel eyes, only to find that he’s been gazing at you just as long as you’ve been gazing at him. He takes a deep, shaky breath, and seems to have a stream of conflicting thoughts go through his head, but you’re very sure of yourself as you reach up, and cradle his face between your hands. You gently rub your thumb back and forth over his cheek-- he feels so warm, and it’s only then that you notice that he’s blushing. One of your hands travels further, into his dark hair, which you’re surprised to find, is extremely soft.

You giggle then, which surprises Kuroo, and you bite your lip as you try to hold back your laughter. “Your hair’s always so messy.”

Kuroo huffs out a laugh, and rolls his eyes. “Gimme a break, it’s the end of the world.”

Your smile just grows wider, and you can’t help but stare at him-- something about this moment makes you feel so vulnerable, but so incredibly safe. You wonder if Kuroo feels the same-- and he’d never tell you, but he does (just because it’s you).

Kuroo gently reaches up to grab your wrist, and pull it from his hair. Your hand drifts from his grasp, to trail your fingers along the lines of his palm-- you watch your fingers gently ghost over his skin, and he watches, too, completely engrossed in your movements. Somehow, his fingers ghost over your own, and travel to your bruised knuckles. His fingers ghost over the blue and purple skin, a frown pulling the corners of his mouth down as his eyebrows knit together the longer he stares at your bruised hand. You lazily intertwine your fingers with his, and look back up at him as he looks back to you. You’re both holding your breaths-- for the first time, Kuroo looks nervous. Is it nervousness? Anticipation? His eyes flit to your lips when your tongue darts out to lick them, and then back to your eyes.

You’re both leaning in to each other, subconsciously or intentionally, you’re not sure which-- but you know that you’re super okay with it. Your eyelids flutter when you feel Kuroo’s breath fan over your lips, and you feel Kuroo’s grip tighten around your waist, which sends sparks of excitement coursing through your body, and you feel electric and buzzed, and you flutter your eyes closed as the two of you move closer. Your nose brushes his, and he inhales sharply at the contact, and you feel his thumb rub up and down against your back, and he presses you against him, closer, closer, and your heart is thundering in your ears and all throughout your body, and--

Just like that, it’s all gone. Kuroo takes a step back, blushing furiously just like you, and you’re surprised and really cold from his absence.

“U-uhm…” He runs a hand through his hair, and clears his throat as he looks away. “Sorry. Uh-- yeah. Sorry.” He mumbles, and quickly turns away to walk to the opposite end of the hallway to disappear into the boys’ bathroom.

You’re left standing there, lips parted, heart hammering, the cold slowly seeping back into your bones, and as Everybody Talks by Neon Trees starts to play in the gym, you slowly begin to feel the sharp sting of rejection.

[ziracona]

The tendency in fandom to take every white girl with short hair, regardless of the status of their canonical interest or lack of interest in women and explicit interest and/or sexual history with everything but, proclaim them a lesbian queen, and then ignore or absolve them of every single horrific act they take in fiction because of this. Is not doing feminism. Women. Lesbians. Or anyone. Any favors. It’s just bad.

Somehow. Some people really do apparently need to hear that...being any specific sexuality...is not a personality trait.

And also. Women aren’t inherantly less vile than men (or anyone non-binary, agender, fluid, etc, else), and whatever bad deeds they do should be judged based on just that—on the deeds, and their context. Not their sexuality, imagined sexuality, or their gender. Becuase none of those things effect whether committing murder is bad. At all. Not even a little. And none of them. Is even a personality trait. Affecting the character’s value as a person.

It’s cool, and good, to see characters with minority identities. And it’s real nice. When it’s whatever you are. But them being whatever. Is not a personality trait. Just a fact. And sometimes. People of any type. Are not good. Pretending any minority status—gender, sexuality, race, disability, neurotype, etc—is a get out of jail free card? Is not. Doing them. Or anyone. Any favors. Personality disorder. Doesn’t make you bad. Also doesn’t make you good. Your actions do. Acting like Amy from Gone Girl did nothing wrong when she date rapes her boyfriend & then frames him for doing that to her & ruins his life, then blackmails her husband who is terrified of being murdered by her into staying with her for the sake of the child she made at a fertility clinic with his sperm without his consent, bc she’s a woman. Isn’t good. Men aren’t more deserving of violence than women. Neither is anyone else. Jane. Left an infant child in an unheated car in subzero weather in a snow storm with zombies around that easily would hear it cry and go eat it. So she could lie and say she already let zombies eat it to bait a man with easily triggerable PTSD who had just lost his family to zombies for the second time into starting a fight. Because he was injured, unarmed, weak, down an eye, and 50, while she was fit, mid 20s, healthy, and armed with a hunting knife. Because she wanted an excuse to kill him without looking bad, because she wanted the 11 year old girl she was co-parenting with him, all to herself. And her immediately responding to the dude throwing a punch by stabbing him in the stomach to escalate the fight from brawl to life or death, then losing her knife, and instead of telling him the baby was alive & she’d made it up to start a fight which could have at any point ended the fight, begging the 11 year old child to gun down her oldest surviving friend with her own hands in cold blood so that she’d get what she wanted? Is evil. As is crying on the 11 year old and using pity as a weapon to get her to stay with her if she gets mad and wants to leave when she realizes Jane staged the whole thing for an excuse to murder, and so is after realizing like a month later that she is pregnant, committing suicide, and leaving the 11 year old that she just manipulated into killing her oldest surviving friend/completely isolated on purpose so she could have her to herself, totally alone in the apocalypse to care for an infant. Jennifer’s Body? Is a fantastic film. And Jennifer didn’t deserve any of what happened to her. But not one single boy she kills during the course of that film deserved it—and explicitly so. Even the guy who could easily have been a meathead jock bully is outside alone crying becuase his best friend just died and he loved him before she decides to lure him off and eat him alive. And acting like it’s totally fine & Needy should have just let her keep eating boys instead of killing her? Is fucked up. None of them deserved to die. And no one deserves death innately more because they are or are not something that is just a factual designator of their makeup as a human. The exchange student was scared and alone and nice, the catholic kid was sweet and Needy’s friend, Chip is a bad boyfriend but he meant well and being stupid doesn’t mean you deserve to die. And this girl ate them alive. That’s not funny. Or cool. Or fine becuase they were dudes. Gertrude Robinson? Chose again and again to betray people who loved her, or trusted her—sold out victims of awful trauma to their worst nightmares. Killed friends in the worst possible ways, like it was nothing. Michael loved her, and trusted her, and tried to care for her, and she without faltering fed him to his worst nightmare and forced him to become it. There is nothing excusable about that action.

Jude Perry? Has 0 redeeming features. Didn’t even stay faithful to her poor gf & was creepy obsessed w Agnes. Literally murdered her co-worker friend just because he was happy, and she wanted to destroy things: that’s it. She didn’t even dislike him. Murdered him because he had a wife and kid and house and it seemed fun, then burned down his house, took his wife’s money, and now checks in on his kid every so often in case he ever recovers from the trauma she inflicted enough to be fun to kill. There is literally nothing good about this woman. Yes. I mean that. Because being a lesbian? Is just a thing. There is no g/b tag, there is no tag at all. Amanda Young? Got kidnapped and tortured and forced to choose between killing a man who couldn’t resist but was conscious to watch her, and letting herself die, and she killed him. Then, instead of responding to that trauma with guilt or responsibility or anger at her captor, joined up with him and started helping him kidnap people just like her. She was not forced, she was not lied to. It does not matter if John was manipulative; she is a grown ass woman and like all grown ass adults, responsible for her own actions and choices. She did not get manipulated pitifully into this—she did not go unwillingly. She volunteered, with a happy vengeance, became obsessed with John and in love with him, despite his complete lack of interest. And she did not even just do what he did. She decided on her own that no one deserved redemption, & she killed them for fun in traps that wouldn’t let them go even if they did whatever awful thing the trap demanded as a price for life, just for the fun and power trip of watching them die helpless & in agony. That was all her, & her alone. She sat in a house full of people slowly dying from organ decomposition over the course of a few hours, for no crime worse than drug addiction—the thing she of all people should have been most sympathetic to—knowing full well at any time she could have saved them and stopped the game, and did nothing. She held a woman in her arms and stroked her head lovingly while she let her die in one of the most inhumane ways possible for the crime of having not been able to break an addition. She got saved by a 16 year old child multiple times, who had done nothing more than shoplift, and stood by while he had to watch a man get his brains blown out, another burn to death in an oven. As his organs slowly dissolved too. Watched the kid kill another human being & massively traumatize himself to save her life. And responded to that by attacking & knocking him out, tying him up, locking him up for days in a tiny safe bound and gagged with an oxygen supply to keep him alive, to be a piece in another game. Left his father, who had shown up to try & save him, to starve to death in chains in a horrible abandoned rotting room, & never even told him his son was alive. Let every other addict die horribly, let that kid sustain permanent damage to his organs that will kill him young, antidote taken or not, took his dad from him, & went back to torturing without a second thought. Kidnapped a woman whose worst crime was being a doctor & dating someone while maybe separated instead of divorced from her husband, put her in a trap that would take her head off with shotgun blasts, threatened her for fun, & then killed her even after she did everything she was asked, because it was more important to her that the old man she was obsessed with think she was special and great, than for the other woman to get to stay alive another day & go home to her daughter. There is nothing sympathetic about Amanda. She’s just not only evil, but too spineless to take responsibility for her own choices & actions, & tries to hide behind a “UwU I am sad & lonely & damaged & having trauma means I can literally torture people to death to feel special & it’s really tragic and sympathetic about me, not evil. Uhm. Some people??? Commit torture-murders?? To cope??” And acting like she’s somehow a victim in this becuase she is a pretty white girl with short hair? Is fucked. Up.

But every. God damn. Time. I see this. Please. It needs. To stop. People go: “UwU pretty girl short hair want” & I go “Ok. I see where u. Come from. Indeed.” But then. They go. “Girl pretty I like. So she was blameless. For this atrocity.” Those words...

Every day. I wake up. Thinking of Janic saying. Iconically. “At least me and Regina George know we’re mean,” and I weep inside. Because I cannot fathom. Or stomach. The lack of responsibility. I will kill. Characters who cannot admit they are bad. Myself. But somehow. They become. Flames. To moths. Of the “UwU pretty white girl short hair. We stan. Victim. Queen. Love her. Never done wrong.” Boy. We all done wrong. Even all my faves. At least once. I think. ...not if we count dogs probably, but people, yes. Ok. Anyway. All this is to say. Characters. Should be judged. Based on what they did. And why. And the aftermath. Not a grouping tag. I don’t mean any of these. Make bad characters. At all. Amy is a great character. So is Jennifer. So are most of them. I have quite affection even. For Jeneffer specifically. But you can like. Character. Without proclaiming. Them perfect humans. Who never did a thing wrong. Or their acts somehow. Justifiable. And ok. And you better stop saying. Ok. Because done. To men. Men do not. Deserve violence. Any more. Than anyone else. No one deserves violence defacto for factors. Outside their control. Wtf. Really people. It’s ok too. For character. To do much bad stuff. And still like character. Villains. And often just complex characters. Sometimes just characters. Do stuff. That is bad. It’s not supposed to be not their fault. Or ok. Also. Women are not a sisterhood. Of flawless beings. Who never hurt anyone or do any bad stuff. They can. And are. Often purpotrators. Of awful acts. And when they are. It is still. Very bad. Still. An awful act. Same level. Even. Of awful. Wild.

In conclusion.

Having short hair. While a girl. Doesn’t make her a butch queen. Who is absolved of all responsibility for that murder she committed. It just makes her a girl with short hair. That did a murder. I’m gonna. Kill someone. Too. And if I chop my hair off. I guess I can get away with it.

[fictionerd]

Good to see you, friends!

Oh boy... This is LATE getting out, huh? Oh well I’m covering so few series at this point things are bound to get a little sloppy. My apologies for that. Still that’s enough dwelling on my problems let’s talk about the show.

Synopsis: So Nurse Magical girl transferred to Asuka’s school as we saw at the end of the last episode. Now you may think that this was done by SDF guy who is acting as Asuka’s guardian. Maybe he thought having her old comrade-in-arms around would convince her to join up with the new spec-ops group. However, you would be incorrect. See, Kurumi actually twisted SDF guy’s arm into getting her transferred there by threatening to quit her post. (Yeah, real solid morals you have there.) She again lays on a nice big slathering of guilt for Asuka. Telling her the enemy obviously thinks she’s still a part of this and that it’s best for them to be together as often as possible.

[takes a deep breath and exhales]

Then she goes so far as to say it’d be good if they could live together too, but that gets interrupted by the arrival of Sporty and Bookish. This is when we start to get the very clear picture that Stalker Nurse is completely infatuated with Asuka and is a jealous bitch on top of it all. She starts strutting around like some sort of territorial animal trying to simultaneously reaffirm her relationship with Asuka and let the other two know that she’s the Alpha-Bitch in this scenario.

Believe it or not this is not helped knowing how she was recruited to become a magical girl, and it’s also not helped by the flashback we see this episode that reveals Stalker Nurse was bullied in her younger days. Apparently getting drafted into the magical war effort was the best thing to ever happen to her. 

I’m sort of skimming over points so let’s back up a bit. Stalker Nurse officially joins the group as I said before and the four of them start hanging out. Stalker Nurse gets petty and jealous and is kind of obvious about it, but I guess Sporty and Bookish are too kind to mention it. In the lunchroom one day a sound like a suppressed gunshot is made. I couldn’t really tell how the people were making the sound, but it triggers Bookish to have another panic attack. Sporty, having seen Asuka help bring Bookish down once walks her through it herself this time. 

They discuss how intense things have been lately, and Sporty spouts off that if things get really bad then the Magical Girls would appear to save them. This visibly irritates Stalker Nurse who seems about to say something dumb when Asuka interjects by quietly putting her hand on Kurumi’s under the table.

I like this. It sort of harkens back to how she’s been handling questions about Magical Girls. It’s a move informed by her character and the secrecy she has to uphold. Quietly telling her friend to just smile and nod because in an ideal circumstance: YES they WOULD show up.

Picking up on the awkward vibes Sporty is quick to try and think of a way they can all get back to some normalcy and invites them all swimming. Asuka and Stalker Nurse agree (Largely because Stalker Nurse starts fantasizing about Asuka in a bikini) and they all end up meeting up for this. We get to see a bit of them hanging out at the pool, swimming, and Bookish climbs up to the tallest diving platform and jumps off as a way to symbolically face down the fear she’s been dealing with. I’m hoping that this doesn’t magically make said fears go away. It works to show she’s moving forward and to feed into Asuka’s character. She really is a lot like Bookish. She’s letting her fear and weariness keep her from truly moving forward. Whether to officially put her foot down about not being a magical girl, or to step into the fight where people need her.

After the swimming trip the four decide they should hang out like that more often and Sporty suggests they all catch a movie together and of course picks what appears to be this universe’s equivalent of a SyFy original: Samurai Cheerleader vs Megaton Shark. She buys them all tickets and the four part ways presumably because the tickets are for another day (Do movie theatres work that way in Japan?)

Now, I’d like to introduce a secondary section: WORLD SYNOPSIS. This is specifically for this show (And any future ones I cover) Where I feel world events need to be addressed separate from the main cast’s progression. So without further ado.

World Synopsis: In world events for MSSO this week we get to see a bit more detail of what the one magical girl in Mexico has been up to as she raids a drug cartel’s den. There she and her team find a barely-alive guy reciting numbers over and over who makes mention of something called “Babel” and “A more terrible war.”

SDF Pops introduces Asuka to the magical combat specialists in training from his group which, naturally ticks her off since she doesn’t want to get involved in the law enforcement stuff (At least not without having her arm twisted into it by necessity). He conveys to her that the world has been forever changed by interacting with other realms. There are criminals from the Magical realm trading magical items to people in exchange for valuable materials. Thus giving us an explanation as to where Babel is getting their toys. Finally he drops the bombshell of illegal Magical Girls. Asuka, of course, is still hesitant to join the fray.

Cut to the foreign affairs department of the Japanese police. Sporty’s dad has apparently been personally torturing mophead from episode one until he spills a few choice tidbits.

“Magical Girl..” “Prey..” “Remake the world” “New Organization” “Library of Babel” “Babel Brigade”

And the repeat of that phrase from the guy in the beginning.

“A more terrible war.”

Sporty’s dad speaks to some one who I assume is his partner in the investigation or a subordinate or something. He says that regardless of how big this is they’re police officers. It’s their job to uncover the truth and do everything in their power so normal people can live peacefully.

The final World Synopsis event of the episode which kind of coincides with the Character synopsis is Sporty, on her way home from hanging out with the Protagonist Posse, gets abducted by shady looking dudes working for Babel. Obviously they know who’s been interrogating their man Kim, and have decided to get to the officer through his daughter.

The episode closes with Asuka receiving a text (Presumably earlier) from Sporty saying she’s looking forward to seeing the movie. CLIFFHANGER!

Thoughts: I think this series is okay. Just okay so far. It still feels a bit rocky in places, but so long as you aren’t coming to this expecting the usual sugar and sweetness of a magical girl series you should be fine. I feel like the focus of the story is a bit scattered, but that could be helped as the world plot and character plots become more wound together in future episodes.There is, however, one thing that bugged me in this episode. To explain I need to introduce you to some one.

This is Kuroko Shirai. She is my favorite character in A Certain Scientific Railgun (And to a lesser extent in Index since so far she’s hardly shown up there). She is a blatant lesbian in love with the main character. I often refer to her as “The Teleporting Lesbian Stalker” because she really is one. She is viciously jealous of time Misaka spends with other people. Is suspicious of any guy Misaka meets or shows even passing affection for. Pulled strings to get herself assigned as Misaka’s roommate. Basically worships the ground Misaka walks on, and a running gag with her is her throwing herself at Misaka.

Now you may be wondering to yourself “Aren’t these qualities strikingly similar to Stalker Nurse Kurumi?”

Very astute you are correct, and yet I do NOT like Kurumi in the slightest. Why do I find Kurumi’s actions detestable when I see them as charming from Kuroko? I think the reason is that in the case of Kuroko and Misaka there’s a level of obvious friendship and trust between them. Between Kuroko’s delusional fantasies and inappropriate behavior we see that their relationship is one of friends. One might even say confidants. It also helps that Misaka is able to easily bugzap Kuroko if she gets too hug-happy. Underneath the over-the-top antics there’s a healthy relationship burried away.

So far there’s no indication of that with Kurumi and Asuka’s relationship and that’s a problem. I pointed out last week how Kurumi seems to be positioned as some one meant to manipulate Asuka into working as a magical girl again. Now it seems that she personally needs Asuka to rejoin the fight in order for her to function. She’s desperate to... well I’ll just out and say it. She wants to get in Asuka’s pants. She has this ideal of Asuka built up in her head it seems, and I can’t exactly blame her. 

The problem is that Kurumi makes a big deal about her being “Asuka’s Best Friend”, but she doesn’t seem to be able to read Asuka at all. She’s not picked up at all on why Asuka doesn’t want to fight anymore. She doesn’t even have a mistaken impression as to why. She just thinks it’s wrong for Asuka to be trying to sideline herself, and while that opinion isn’t precisely incorrect she’s not exactly coming across as some one concerned about a close friend. 

Now I’ll grant: If all this is intentional. If Kurumi’s arc is to realize that she’s been selfish. To learn to love who she is without her powers, and to see Asuka’s flaws instead of this ideal she’s built up. This will all have been worth it. I could enjoy that sort of story for Kurumi’s character. She’s supposed to be the support unit, and she needs to learn better how to support others.

My fear, as it has been for the first two episodes, is that I’m seeing potential which will ultimately not be fulfilled.

Until next post keep talking fiction, friends. I’ll see you soon.

[pixelpolaroid]

Till the End- Chapter 7

(These chapters are getting  a little longer, sorry about that)

Chapter 6

Show of Power

The cabin was left in silence, Schneep was sitting on the couch, reading over his texts from her. Jamie watched in sadness, he sat next to the doctor, placing his hands over the phone. Schneep looked up at the silent ego. He just shook his head. He knew it wasn’t helping anyone to just read over those messages. Schneep nodded and put down his phone, staring into the tea Jamie made for them. Jackieboy sat on the other side of the doctor. “It’s okay, Marvin will find her,” He just nodded, turning away. Jackie looked over at the closed door to Marvin’s room. Come on Marv. He thought.

“Try it again Marvin,” Chase scolded. The magician was rubbing his forehead, kneeling on the ground. Chase was standing over him, with a stressed out expression on his face.

“Chase I’m trying! Can I please just take a break? It’s starting to hurt,” Marvin looked up and his green eye was bloodshot red. His breathing was heavy and he felt exhausted. They’d tried amplifying his reach by giving him something of Cynthia’s to hold onto. Schneep had a diamond necklace he’d planned on giving her with him so Marvin had been close, but all he was getting was past vision of Schneep and her together.

Chase shook his head. “Come on Marv! We don’t know what Anti is planning we have to find her. Go again!” Marvin exhaled heavily, closing his eye.

Before he even tried anything, Marvin stood up and threw the necklace down. “I can’t do it Chase! It exhausting! I still don’t even know how this works.” His face dropped with his shoulders. “Please understand.”

Chase stared at the ego’s blood shot eyes. “I…” Chase stepped forward, gently holding onto his shoulders. “I know, I’m sorry Marvin. I just can’t help but feel a little guilty. He probably would’ve been with her tonight  had we not invited him.”

Marvin sighed. “I’m the one who found him in the first place. How do you think I feel?” Chase had a moment of sudden realization. He nodded, taking a step back. Not saying anymore, he left the magician alone to join the others in the living room.

Once he was alone, Marvin collapsed on his bed. He closed his eyes, quickly drifting away, but he wasn’t asleep. He found himself in a familiar room. It was just a regular apartment, but he couldn’t put his finger on what he knew about it. Marvin began walking around until he heard a muffled sound coming from another room. He walked into what seemed like a bedroom. The room was trashed and in the middle was a girl with long silvery hair tied to a chair, beaten and blindfolded.

The magician’s blood went ice cold when Anti came in, walking through his Marvin’s apparition form. He stood next to her, running a knife across her cheek. “Don’t worry sweetie,” He said mockingly. “Henny will be home soon and maybe he’ll save you. Or maybe he won’t. We don’t know,” Anti’s maddening laugh filled the air. Cynthia weeped behind her restraints as the demon ran the blade over his skin.

Marvin’s eyes widened, he jolted up from the bed sweating heavily. He looked over at the clock. He’d only been asleep for a few minutes. Good. The magician rubbed his eyes, trying to recall the events of the dream. The places was familiar. What had Anti said. The memories rushed back to him, he stared off in disbelief. “No way…”

Chase was pacing in front of the other egos sitting on the couch. Henrik was rubbing his temple, trying to comprehend the news he’d just heard. “Und you’re sure dat is vhat Anti said?” He questioned.

Marvin nodded his head. “Positive.”

Chase finally sat down staring down at the floor. “Why would Anti take her to Henrik’s apartment?” He couldn’t believe it was that simple there had to be more to it.

“Maybe it’s a trap,” Jackie suggested. “Maybe he planned on Marvin being able to find her and wants us to go there so he can get the jump on us.”

“I don’t really care if it is,” Schneep finally stated, standing up defiantly. “We’re going to save her whether it’s a trap or not. Cynthia has nothing to do with this. And Anti doesn’t care if something happens to her. So we need to act now,” He stared down each of the egos, a fiery rage in his eyes. “Is that clear?”

The egos had never seen Schneep this way before. None of them objected. They knew he was right. Cynthia didn’t deserve this, so they needed to act fast. “Alright,” Marvin said nodding. “Let’s get going.”

Chase stood up, placing a hand on the magician’s chest. “No way, not you,” Marvin tried to object. “You are way too weak to be fighting that glitch. I’m not having anyone else getting hurt.”

“Even I can agree that you look pale dude,” Jackie added in. Marvin just dropped his head in defeat and nodded.

So it was agreed. Jamie and Marvin stayed at the cabin while Henrik, Jackie and Chase left to save Cynthia. The three of them expected a fight. That Anti would be torturing the poor girl when they came in. They were prepared to go hand to hand with the monster finally, but when they got there, the apartment was dead silent.

Chase stood in the front, gun in hand, cautiously leading the egos through each room. Finally, there was only one door left to look behind; the guest bedroom. When Chase charged through, Schneep pushed passed him upon seeing Cynthia unconscious, tied to a chair. Jackieboy ran to his side, helping him untie her bounds. Chase peered around the corner. Could it really be that easy?

“Where is he?” Chase muttered.

He didn’t get a response though, Henrik was too busy checking her vitals and Jackie was running to get Schneep’s medical bag. “Thia, sweetie? Can you hear me?” He asked. The girl didn’t make a response, but he could see she was breathing still. Jackie ran back in setting down his bag by the bed. “Jackie, help me lift her onto the bed,” the hero took off his mask and nodded, grabbing her legs and lifting her onto the soft blankets.

He took a step back to allow Henrik the room he needed to work. Jackie and Chase left the room and investigated the rest of the apartment. It was completely empty. No sign of a break in or anything. No sign of a struggle, nothing broken. And no sign of the glitch.

Jackie approached Chase after making sure the doors and windows were all locked. “No one’s here,” He muttered.

Chase stared at the guest bedroom. “Why would Anti kidnap her, tell us, then not be waiting when we show up to save her?”

Jackie shrugged. “He did everything but tell us exactly where she was. What was the point of all this?”

“It was all for show,” Schneep suddenly came out, pulling down his face mask. “It was a brag. This is nothing more than a game to him. He just wants us to know who’s in charge. It was nothing more than to prove his power.”

[thesharkapologist]

ангел

Chapter One: Nightmares

Pairing: Bucky x Reader (eventually)

Characters in chapter: reader, Darcy Lewis, 

Word Count: 719

Summary: 

Nightmares and amnesia plague you. You know nothing of your past. Thankfully, with the help of your best friend Darcy, the infamous Black Widow, and the Winter Soldier himself, maybe you'll be able to recover what exactly happened to you, and wether or not these nightmares are actually memories.

Warnings: mild depiction of torture, swearing.

Marvel Masterlist

AO3

“Свеча” a gruff, tenor voice pierces through your skull, saying the word lovingly, like it’s a prayer.

You can’t move. It’s dark, and you can’t move. It takes a moment to realizes there’s something over your eyes, obscuring your vision. After another second you realize your sitting in a chair of some sort, wrists, forearms, ankles, and calves bound to it.

“Зеленый” you can hear him moving around you, pacing a tight circle. His gloved hand brushes your bare shoulder and you wince, crying out. He doesn’t hurt you, not yet at least. The pain is coming though. Soon.

Slamming your body forward, you scream in a language you didn’t even know, “Нет! по��алуйста! Стоп!”

Unfazed, he continues, caressing the next phrase like a mother would her infant, “летать”

Pain explodes through your head, robbing you of your voice. It shuts down your vocal chords, only letting you choke out a small whimper. It was all downhill from here.

“Девять”

He’s taking his time, you realize. He loves this part. Why though? Why does he love this? You can’t remember.

“Зима”

Suddenly there’s a blast, you can hear it distantly, the whole places rocks once. You captor doesn’t speak, but you hear his footsteps stop. He runs to somewhere else in the room. After a few moments you can feel his whole air shift. Something’s gone wrong.

“гало, война, два, соло, гордость” it’s rapid fire, desperate. This is the quickest your body has ever shutdown and rebooted. You briefly wonder if you’ll make it out alive.

You do, sadly.

You feel your mouth open, your vocal chords banging together separate from your will, “готовы соблюдать”

“Аварийная кнопка”

Suddenly your world is on fire.

“Блядь!” you screamed, jolting awake. A thick sheet of sweat poured down your face as you gasped for air. It took a few moments for the phantom pain to leave your body. Once it did you can begin to settle your heartbeat.

“Russian, you’re screaming in russian.”

You flinched, eyes darting to the source of the voice. It wasn’t the gruff tenor from your dreams though, it was a soft alto, laced with concern.

“Jesus, Darcy, don’t do that to me.” you groaned, yanking the covers from around your legs. Darcy leaned against the door frame, phone in hand, “how do you know it’s russian?”

“I’ve been writing down phonetically what you’ve been saying. Asked Jane to take a look. Doesn’t know a lick of russian but she was able to send off my awful scribbles to one of Thor’s friends. Nat says your speaking russian.” Darcy walked into your room, sitting on the side of your bed.

“But, I don’t even fucking know russian.” you muttered, head in your hands.

“Dude, that’s what I told her. I stayed awake, kind of creeped around your door once you went to bed, sorry,” she didn’t look even remotely sorry, “I turned google translate on when you started panting. Look,”

She showed you the phone, where a series of words were displayed in the translated box.

“You started off by literally screaming, ‘No! Stop! Please!’, then you said in the creepiest monotone ever, ‘ready to comply’, followed by your ever graceful, ‘fuck!’”

“‘Ready to comply’?” you repeated, staring at the phrase, “what does that mean?”

“Dunno, I sent it to Nat though, maybe she can tell us something? Maybe it’s a common russian phrase?” Darcy shrugged.

“I’m not russian.” You deadpanned, rolling your eyes.

Darcy copied you, placing her hand on your knee, “You don’t know that. All you know is that you woke up in a fucking jail cell with a shotty ID, a bank account stuffed with money, and no memory.”

You rubbed the back of your head, you had to give her that. Who knew what you were or weren’t?

“Wouldn’t I be able to speak it outside of my dreams though?”

Before Darcy could comment her phone lit up with a call. She swiftly answered it, realizing something was up.

“Hey Nat, yeah I was just wond . . .  Yeah, I’m sure, that’s what google translate told me . . . are you sure? Jesus christ, now? Uh, okay, I’ll pack our things.” Darcy hung up, her eyes wide and kind of scared, “Apparently we’re going to the compound. Right fucking now.”

[faithandfairies]

OUAT 7x09 Thoughts

I’m so excited! This episode was great, aside from its lack of Regal Believer scenes. They managed to do a Regal Believer road trip episode without any Regal Believer in it!!! Bad move, I think. Last night I was surprised at not seeing any Regal Believer road trip GIFs or any real mention of the episode on Tumblr. Imagine my surprise when I realized it’s because there was no Regal Believer in what I thought would be a Regal Believer episode. It’s a crying shame. A crime I tell you! Makes you wonder why they did that.

But having said that, this episode was awesome!

Throughout all of it I was like

(x)

While my brain was like

(x)

My brain has been doing that a lot in relation to this show lately.

I’m really loving this season. And it’s because I feel like I’m understanding the actual story so much more this season than I did before. In part probably because I actually care about the plot more instead of just sighing over Swan Queen and the plot directly involving them, while Swan Queen sigh at each other.

I mean, this was me vs. OUAT before season 7:

OUAT: Huge story line about things that are connected!

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Also, OUAT:

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Me, looking at Swan Queen while paying limited attention to everything else:

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So, I’ll admit it’s probably partially my fault that I didn’t start putting more of the pieces together before. And...it’s partially because I think at some point the characters started outshining the plot by a lot, which made me not care about the plot that much. But now we’re here. And let’s be honest, the only reason I still care is because this is still clearly Swan Queen’s story. Even if they’re not personally in it the way they used to be. 

Let’s get into it, shall we?

I feel like scene-by-scene-ing this review because everything felt important. I also feel like I might have to make a lot of GIFs for this. Let’s see how it goes.

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So, we get introduced to a little family of four, that I think is actually a little family of three. 

There’s Marcus, whom I think is Henry due to this.

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OUAT, 4x20

On the top left of Lily’s picture there’s the birth announcement of Marcus. I think it says:

“Michael and Emma are delighted to announce the safe arrival of Marcus on August 14, 1983. Marcus is welcomed with much love and excitement by his proud grandparents David, Anne, Michael and Anne, his aunties, uncles and cousins….thanks to the staff of the Minneapolis Medical Center Hospital for their care and attention.”

(This show though. It’s like two truths and a lie. They weren’t kidding when they said they were giving us a twisted version of the truth.)

Rapunzel is Emma.

Then there’s Anastasia and Drizella.

Drizella is Regina.

And I think in the first part of the episode Ana represents Emma before she goes dark. Later Ana represents Henry. Ana basically represents the pure of heart.

Its interesting that Henry was sick here. It’s also interesting that Emma didn’t go looking for a cure, she went out looking for food.

But the scene reminded me of Henry (sick and) dying and Emma and Regina trying to save him by going to Rumple/ Gold.

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And how Ruth and her husband ended up giving up one of their babies because the babies were sick and their parents didn’t have the means to keep them warm and healthy. And so Rumple offered resources for both of them if they gave one of them up.

Then there’s of course Emma going into Lily’s boyfriend’s place to get Lily’s necklace. Then leaving Lily behind right after that when Lily just wanted to run away with Emma.

Not to mention the way in which Robin and Rumple met, that probably reminds the most of this scene. Robin goes to steal from Rumple to save his pregnant wife and unborn child. He gets caught and tortured by Rumple, only for Rumple to let him go when he finds out his wife is pregnant. But did he really let them go?

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There’s a carriage and everything.

It makes me wonder if Emma and Regina did run away together. While Emma was pregnant with Rumple’s baby Henry. And while Emma might have thought he didn’t know about the pregnancy he found out and got her back. Henry’s birth signifies the beginning of the Dark Curse or part of it at least. If Rumple let Emma go when he didn’t know she was carrying his child, maybe finding out that piece of information was like a prison sentence for Emma. Maybe something he could use against her? We see Rook (Emma) stay with his child once its born because his child can’t leave. Leaving Regina to run away on her own when he was meant to go with her. 

(x)

OUAT, 7x07

It also reminds me of Ruth saving Snow’s (future) child’s life over her own. That also involved a carriage (that Ruth was lying in). In fact, I think Snow and Charming got married in front of Ruth while she was dying in the carriage/cart thing.

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I immediately made the connection between the above and Rapunzel getting bound and imprisoned right before this. I didn’t think they’d actually make it more clear than that though that Victoria was Rapunzel. That they’d actually tell us Victoria was Rapunzel. But I’m glad they did. It was time.

But also, I’m so excited because I made this call in my review of like 7x02 or 7x03 or something. And if I’m right about Victoria being Rapunzel and therefore Emma, it must mean I’m right about Cora being Emma as well.

Victoria also says something interesting to Lucy in this episode. She says that Tremaine was the name she got when she married her husband. Which also makes sense for Cora. We know Cora as Cora Mills. But it’s also Henry Sr.’s name. They also pretty much tell us that Emma has had a lot of aliases throughout her time, through Victoria.

I also loved the OITNB reference. This show is getting gayer by the episode, I’m telling ya.

You know, I wondered if this show was on ONCE’s radar. Because the group home Emma was in, or the location of it was Richfield. Combine that with Lily saying she and Emma were in a group/foster home together and it immediately made me think of OITNB’s Litchfield Penitentiary.

It’s interesting though, because Rapunzel was imprisoned by Gothel. Whom I think is Rumple. But Victoria was imprisoned by Drizella. Which once again emphasizes that Regina had something to do with Emma getting hurt/locked up. Both.

Then Rapunzel(Emma) gets free and...

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She doesn’t even look at Drizella. No eye contact whatsoever. She might as well be air. Hell, even air is acknowledged because it’s breathed in.

(x)

I kid you not, Rapunzel hugs Ana for-ever, then she runs past Drizella and hugs Henry. That’s cold. She’s like “You get a hug and you get a hug. No, not you.You can choke.”

But I mean, if you consider what I think Drizella (Regina) did to Rapunzel (Emma) I don’t really blame her. She leaves for years and most likely because of something that involves Drizella (Regina). And then on top of that when she comes back she has to hear that Drizella (Regina) has pretty much given up on her. That can’t be a good feeling. Not to mention that Drizella never acknowledged her after that. I wonder how Drizella went from that to suddenly trying to get Rapunzel’s approval again as an adult. Or if that was always the case, but she never got it and so she was thankful when she was given someone else to love who loved her back.

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Dude remarried. I can’t even. 

This is like Absentia: OUAT edition. Actually that show reminded me of this while I was watching it. The new wife was even named Alice and the kid’s name was Flynn.

No, but seriously, I think if we’re following the story of Emma and Regina trying to run away together only for Rumple to kidnap Emma, does it then mean that Regina moved on with someone else when Emma went missing for years?

What is the story? Am I even on the right track? Some days I’m sure I am, other days I have no idea.

And how does Henry even fit into this? It makes sense for Henry’s birth to have caused Emma to stay with Rumple. But then how did Henry end up with Regina? I mean we see Rumple bring him to her. And Rapunzel’s story seems to tell us Henry had already been born and that Rapunzel left him with Drizella (Regina). But then what made Emma stay with Rumple if not her child? Did she even stay with Rumple? Or was she in jail for a crime Rumple committed? Or did Rumple threaten her family? Or save them? Save her son’s, her family’s, life in exchange for her staying with him? Kind of like how he saved the life of Ruth’s babies? Could it be possible Emma had more than one child? One that ended up with Regina while the other ended up with her?

I mean, in this version of events Rapunzel has two children. One she supposedly hates and one she loves. Ruth had twin boys. And then there is the Hansel and Gretel story line.

We also know Daniel disappeared from Regina’s life and she was then forced into a marriage with someone she didn’t love. How much truth is in that? I’ve headcanoned Daniel as being Henry. But it could still be part Emma and Regina’s story.

What I believe is true is that however it happened Emma sacrificed her own happiness for Regina and Henry’s and I think when she finally found her way back to them they, or at least Regina, seemed to have moved on without her.

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They did the thing!

I actually made this story line connection back in June, after I’d read Regina’s book, Regina Rising. They hint at this scene, but Regina is on the outside looking in, kind of like Drizella is here. Of course, Ella is also Regina. 

But that goes back to this.

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Another take on the sacrifice.

In the book, Cora and Regina are on their way home, I believe. And Regina sees children skating on a frozen lake or something. So she asks her mother to go too, only she doesn’t have her skates with her.

So Cora being Cora, says yes, stops the carriage, then asks several children to either borrow or buy their skates so Regina can skate. They all say no. So Cora and Regina leave, but as the carriage rides away, the ice breaks and children fall in. Regina tells herself it wasn’t Cora who broke the ice but she still wonders and feels guilty.

I, being me, ended up connecting this universe and story line to a lot of different ones. From Frozen, since I had already made the connection that Emma is the Anna to Regina’s Elsa. And we know from that that Elsa unintentionally got Anna hurt. 

(x)

To Rise of the Guardians because I remembered how Jack (Frost) lost his little sister and I thought “What if?”.

I’m not saying this is what actually happened, because I don’t know, but they used it!

It’s also interesting that they’re actually talking about a guardian, one that can give Rumple Belle back. And given Rise of the Guardians was all about guarding children against evil and losing their belief in good, not to mention that we had Rook pretty much “guard” his daughter in the tower until Gothel made it impossible I’m guessing the thing that needs to be guarded is a child and their innocence/their belief.

It’s also interesting that the thing Ella chases that puts her on thin ice resembles the Hatter’s hat. Which connects this sacrifice back to Rumple and him being the actual danger.

(x)

Lucy letting go of her belief.

I think I might have figured out why Emma and Regina didn’t end up together in season 5. I mean, did this remind anyone of anything?

(x)

OUAT 5x05, Camelot

This is where Henry’s heartbreak supposedly happens. And he cries the tear that frees/resurrects Merlin (whom I think is Rumple). But I think this is only the beginning of Henry’s heartbreak.

(x)

OUAT 5x05, Storybrooke, roughly 6 weeks later

Rumple: “You will always lose the ones you love the most.”

This is when Henry’s heartbreak is complete, I think. This is when both he and Regina have just found out what Emma did. To Regina Emma has turned into Cora and is beyond help. And so this is where Regina pulls away her support from Emma completely. By the time Regina and Henry are back on Emma’s side I think it’s too late.

(It’s interesting that Rapunzel was missing for 6 years.)

What this means in real world terms I’ve no clue. I’ve never understood the “tear of heartbreak” metaphor. All I know is that Lucy was helping her parents get together. And now, seeing her mother with another man, has made her stop believing in her parents getting together at all. And I think Lucy has that in common with Henry. Only for Henry with his parents. Seeing Emma be with and then marry Hook made Henry lose hope that he could find happiness as part of a family with his mothers.

Then there’s this parallel.

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Emma kisses Henry in season 7

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A tear ends up on Henry’s face in season 7

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Regina sees him awake and walks away in season 7

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Emma kisses Henry and cries on him in season 1

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Regina sees him awake and walks away in season 1

Basically I’m pretty sure it’s the same scene with the same people (sort of). I have no idea what it means. But I’m not sure if it’s anything good.

The only thing I can come up with is that in order to help Henry Emma and Regina went to Rumple. And his help is never free. So I’m guessing whatever he asked in return tore Henry’s family apart and broke some hearts. 

Did Emma wake up? Did Henry? Did someone else die for it to happen? Was love lost? I mean, Lucy seems to have taken Ana’s place in her near death/coma state so, I don’t know. Even that parallels Henry in season 1 when Henry takes Emma’s place in the sleeping curse the way Lucy has now taken Ana’s.

And I feel like Henry was supposed to take Emma’s place in “the tower”, in whatever deal Emma had going on with Rumple. The way Ana was supposed to take Rapunzel’s place. Only she might have sidestepped it somehow. Using blood magic. A move I also don’t understand. Whose blood was used? 

It reminds me of Zelena collecting Regina’s blood to get into her vault/magic, only to sell her the “We’re biological sisters” story.

Then there’s the fact that when Emma kissed Henry the first time she gained belief. And the last time someone (Emma) lost belief the entire show’s world almost fell apart. And they’ve already lost magic. I feel like Shady predicted this. But I’m curious to see what happens.

[scarletscreamo]

Baby Steps (Ash Williams)

I smiled slightly at Karen as she showed me how to work the computer on my desk, “Thanks for helping Karen.”

The pink haired girl giggled, “No problem!”

Mike came in and clapped gaining everyone’s attention, “We got a new case.”

Everyone immediately stood up and came around to look at the main screen in the office. I stayed off to the side of everyone to be safe. Even after the first test run case, they still didn’t trust me, not that I blame them. Who would trust an ex gang leader on probabtion as a plea deal?

Emmett pressed a button on his tablet causing a two pictures of two different black haired girls with green eyes to pop up, “Two girls in Ridgewood were found murdered just outside of town. Both were in there early 20’s with black hair and green eyes. They were found just a week apart, making local authorities believe it was the same killer. They also both had this carved into the back of their right shoulder,” He brought up two pictures of almost identical marks, I knew what they were instantly.

Matt furrowed his brows, “Aren’t those the symbols for Alpha and Omega?”

Ray frowned, “Why would he put the first and last letters of the greek alphabet?”

“I am Alpha and Omega, the First and the Last, the Beginning and the End,” I recited from memory. Everyone turned to me in confusion. I sighed running a hand through my hair, “Revelation 22:13. It’s a quote said by Jesus. They were used as holy symbols in very early Christian practice.”

Danny frowned, “How do you know that exactly?”

I shot him a dull look, “I was raised in a Christian household. I was forced to read the bible when I did something they considered a sin.”

Mike cleared his throat getting everyone’s attention, “If this is based on a religious thing, then what could these girls have done?”

I bit my lip hesitated for a moment before speaking, “Do you have any photos of the bodies when they were found?”

Emmett nodded tapping on his tablet bringing up two crime scene photos. They were both in black club dresses.

“Thou shalt not commit adultery.” I shrugged my shoulders up a bit, “I could be wrong but my guess is they went out to a club and went home with the wrong guy.”

“So you think these girls were out partying and our killer decided to play god and kill them for it?”

I raised an eyebrow at Ray, “You got a better hypothesis?” He simply glared at me.

Emmett spoke causing his little glare to fade, “Actually these girls were seen at the same club the night before they were found.”

I smirked a bit causing Ray to scowl at me.

Mike chuckled, “Okay, so we know where he’s getting his victims. Question is when will he strike again?”

“Probably tonight,” Karen estimated, “The victims were found a week apart and it’s been a week since the last victim was found so he’d probably go looking for a new girl at the same club tonight.”

Danny sighed, “How do we stop him?”

“I could go in.” Everyone turned to me in shock. I raised my eyebrows motioning to the girls, “I look similar to the girls he’s going for, plus I can act my way out of almost anything. Give me a black club dress and send me to the club. I’m bound to get the guy’s attention.”

Mike frowned, “You… really want to go undercover like that?” I nodded. “It could be dangerous. You could get seriously hurt or worse killed.”

I saw Danny and Ray glance at each other, almost excited at the prospect of me getting killed.

I smirked flipping on a bit of my gang persona, “So what? There’s no one around to miss me. Plus it’s not like you guys can’t find another, probably better suited agent.”

Karen frowned, “But… you’re part of our team now.”

I chuckled giving her a small smile, “It’s sweet that you consider me a part of the team, but no one else here does.” I motioned around us, “Look around, not one person in this room would care if I dropped dead. Hell they’d probably enjoy it.”

Mike frowned, “Now Ash-”

“Save it Mike.” I smiled at him crookedly, “I know what your team thinks of me and they have every right to think it. I mean, come on. Who in their right mind is going to trust an ex gang leader? The same one who got their last team member killed.” I shook my head in a sad amusement, “Just let me go.”

Mike sighed, “We’ll send you undercover. But Ray is going to be in the club with you and we will all be connected with wires.” I nodded in agreement. “Alright, Karen take her and get her ready. We only have a few hours before night time.”

I followed Karen up to the costume room we had. She handed me a black club dress which I easily changed into but still put my black jean jacket over it.

“You know that the others will warm up to you, right?” She said as she began doing my makeup.

I chuckled, “I highly doubt they will ever trust me with anything. Face it. To them, I am nothing but Diana’s killer.”

“That’s stupid though!” She protested, “You weren’t the one that shot her! You worked with her on a case! You told her about your life before the gang! She saw something in you that no one else did…”

“And no one else will see Karen,” I said softly smiling at her sadly, “I don’t know why Mike decided this would be a good idea but he was wrong.”

“But… You’re trying to right your wrongs. You’re trying to be good again. You are a good person-”

“Mercy was the good person,” I interrupted softly, “Mercy tried to do good for herself and others… Ashi did not. Ashi didn’t care about anyone.”

“That’s not true. You cared about Vanessa. You tried to help her and-”

“And I got her killed.”

“And you did your best to keep her safe,” Karen said firmly, “You may not have been the best person as Ashi but you aren’t her anymore. You’re Ash now. You’re trying so hard to fix what you’ve done.”

I smiled slightly as she finished my make up, “Thank you Karen. For being so kind to me.”

She took my hair out of it’s ponytail letting it fall around my shoulders in waves. She smiled at me through the mirror, “Everything will work out in the end. I promise.”

+_+_+_+_+_+_+

I looked around the club as I stepped inside. Ray was already at the bar observing everyone.

“Time to catch a killer,” I said with a small smirk as I walked to the dance floor and began dancing with everyone else.

Danny chuckled through my earpiece, “Didn’t take you as the type for dancing.”

“A lot of the gang members liked going to clubs to pick dudes and chicks up.”

“Don’t look now. You’ve caught some guy’s attention,” Ray said before sipping on his drink causally.

I felt hands on my hips before I was turned. I gave the blonde guy a smirk as I began to dance with him. I noted that he was wearing a cross necklace and had a tattoo of the word Faith on his forearm.

He smiled at me, “You look pretty hot in that dress.”

I bit my lip seductively, “Maybe I’ll look hot out of it too.”

He smirked, “What’dya say we get out of here?”

“Sure, honey.”

He grabbed my hand and led me out a side entrance of the club into an alleyway. He turned to me easily flipping a switch blade open and holding it to my neck as he pinned me against the wall.

“If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just to forgive us our sins and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness.”

I smirked slightly, “Cute prayer you have. But I’m afriad I’m not into playing rough.”

I kneed him in the stomach pushing him away from me just as Ray slammed through the door aiming a gun at the guy. Two cops came down and cuffed him taking him away.

Ray sighed, “You realize you could’ve gotten killed right!?”

I smirked at him before raising my gun and shooting over his shoulder. He jumped turning in time to see the Web gang member drop to the floor with a bullet wound in his chest. His eyes went from the man to the gun he had been holding and finally to my eyes.

I chuckled lowering my gun, “I don’t know how many times I have to tell you. I’m on your side.”

“Why? You could’ve just gotten out of your plea deal and shot me.”

I raised an eyebrow, “When the past calls, let it go to voicemail. It has nothing new to say.” I shrugged smiling at him crookedly, “I’m done with my past as a gang leader. No matter how much everyone tries to force it back in my face, I’m not going back. I want to right my wrongs. I want to do good in this world. And I don’t care if you or anyone else doesn’t like it.”

He furrowed his brows at me before he brushed past me.

We got back, everyone actually congradulating me on how well I did. But soon our party was over and everyone was leaving for the day. I was finishing up typing my report when an open file was dropped on my desk along with a very familiar red bear.

I stopped glancing at the open file of Mercy Williams before looking up at Ray, “Congrats. You’ve found who I used to be.”

“Mercy Williams, a runaway teenager who was arrested for an aggravated misdemeanor for theft and got tried as an adult. She was put in an adult female prison where she was repeatedly assaulted by other inmates until she started to fight back and became cold to everyone. She got out a year later and dissappeared. Not even a few months later Ashi popped up as a new Web gang member.”

I smiled at him amusedly, “What are you trying to accomplish? You’ve figured out how I got involved in the gang. So what?”

His brown eyes never left my green ones, “Why’d you run away? You had a perfect life. Mom was a lawyer, dad was a vet, you had money to spare. From what I’ve read, you were very close with your dad. So what happened?”

I shrugged, “I had a girlfriend, I was bisexual. When I came out to my parents, my mom began to research conversion therapy camps. There was no way in hell that I was going to be put through that torture. So I left that night, leaving a small note for my dad confessing my mom’s infidelity and saying how sorry I was for leaving. When I was on the street, I had nothing. So I tried to steal some food and got caught. Since I resisted arrest, it was put as an aggravated misdemeanor and I was tried as an adult despite being 17. Mercy was too weak to survive in prison… So I became someone else. Someone ruthless and cold.”

“Diana was always interested in this case. I never got why. It didn’t hit me until I heard you and Karen talking when you were getting ready to go undercover.” He sighed taking the file back, “I don’t know how she saw it, but Diana saw what a good person you were under that ruthless and cold persona. I just hope her judgement was right.”

He turned and began walking away.

“You forgot the bear! It’s evidence isn’t it!?”

He turned back with a small smile, “Keep it. I got it out of evidence as a sentimental item.” With that he turned and walked away.

I gently picked up the red bear and smelled it. It somehow still had the very faint smell of cherries. I smiled softly as I looked at it’s black button eyes.

Maybe everything will work out in the end… Just maybe…

[marshmallow-the-vampire-slayer]

MTVS Epic Rewatch #168

BTVS 6x16 Hell’s Bells

(aka the Xander-and-Anya-were-having-it-way-too-easy-this-season-and-it-was-high-time-they-got-their-lives-ruined episode)

Stray thoughts

1) 

WILLOW: Buffy, it's hideous. Oh my god, Buffy. Look at its arms! BUFFY: I know. But it's my duty.

Why did Anya get them these awful dresses, though? That’s such a crappy cliché - the bride having awful bridesmaid dresses made because she’s the only one who can look beautiful at her wedding - and I hate that they had Anya do that. Also, notice that Buffy’s dress is slightly less awful, so I’m guessing Sarah pulled her weight to have it that way.

2) Yet another example of how people in Sunnydale are bound to believe anything in order to remain oblivious of the supernatural.

BUFFY: I just can't believe everyone bought that story about Anya's people being circus folk. Did you see the guy with the tentacles? What's he supposed to be? Inky the Squid Boy?

3) Why did they want these people at their wedding, though? 

WILLOW: And Xander's family. I haven't seen them that bad since my bat mitzvah. Ugh, did you see how much they drank? BUFFY: Kinda. Mr. Harris threw up in my purse

4) Of course, following Anya’s declaration of how that day was the happiest day of her life, we see the going-ons at the Harris’s household… and this is what we get a glimpse of…

His uncle Rory half-naked suggesting Xander should use Velcro in his cuffs.

His uncle Rory trying to make himself an Irish coffee (in the morning…) and then pretending to get electrocuted.

Xander’s father giving him a hard time because he’s not ready yet

Xander’s mom guilt-tripping him about her not getting to be in the pictures (why did she think that?)

Krelvin recalling how Xander’s father had compared him to his mother-in-law and then proceeded to hit him and insult his heritage

Xander’s father making fun of Anya’s whole family

Xander’s cousin Carol asking him to get her date with “Kevin” while wearing Xander’s cufflinks as earrings. 

I ask again, why did they want these people at their wedding? Except for Krelvin, he seemed like a cool dude.

5) I love how Buffy takes care of Xander and then shows how truly happy she is about him and Anya. 

BUFFY: Look at you. You look great, Mr. About-To-Get-Married. Glowing.Oh my god! Maybe you're pregnant!

XANDER: Maybe. I dunno. Maybe I'm just happy. Teary.

BUFFY: Oh! Good. Good teary. XANDER: Happy teary? Not frustrated with bow-tie teary? BUFFY: Yes. Happy. Happy for you. That makes me happy for me. You and Anya give me hope. It's like... you two are proof that there's light at the end of this very long, long, nasty tunnel.

6) Ugh these two flirtatious vixens!

7) Anya’s vows attempt #1

ANYA: 'I, Anya, promise to love you, to cherish you, to honor you, but not to obey you, of course, because that's anachronistic and misogynistic and who do you think you are, like a sea captain or something?  I do however entrust you with my heart. Take care of my heart, won't you please? Take care of it because it's all that I have. And, if you let me, I'll take care of your heart too. I'll protect it and tend to it, like a little stray.' Wait, no. 'Like a, a little mangy stray that needs a home.'

And as funny as each of her attempts were, there was always so much of her heart in them, which makes everything that happens afterwards so much more heartbreaking.

8) “It's just I'm so excited and I want to share it all with my best friend. I get to be with my best friend forever! Yay!” 

9) Why would D’Hoffryn attend Anya’s wedding, though? Don’t weddings go against everything he believes in, sort of?

10) My trash son being his usual trashy self… 

11) Let’s be real, Xander was unconsciously looking for someone to tell him  this and confirm his fears and doubts…

OLD MAN: You can't get married today. It's a huge mistake.

12) Xander’s dad is all like “I paid for this so shut up” or something, and I’m like ?????? He paid for the wedding? 1) Why? Really, why would he? He didn’t care for his son, he had Xander pay for rent the minute he turned 18 and have him move to the basement. 2) How? I always got the impression the Harris’s weren’t exactly can-afford-a-wedding wealthy...

13) So these are the glimpses we get of Anya’s and Xander’s “future”…

Xander has decided to follow his dad’s footsteps and become a drunk.

Anya is a cosmetics salesperson for some reason. What happened to the Magic Box?

Xander had broken his back trying to fight a battle alongside Buffy. Buffy died in said battle. She wasn’t brought back, apparently.

Anya thinks Buffy’s death ruining their lives. 

Anya owns a pink car.

Pretty early into their marriage, Anya cheated on Xander with a demon and got pregnant. They stayed together, and Xander raised the girl as his own.

Xander and Anya stop having sex after Buffy died, for some reason...

In spite of everything, they were married for 30 years.

It really does seem like this fake future is a mixture of Xander’s own fears about marriage, his insecurities and his misconceptions about who Anya is.

14) I both love and hate that these two started acting mature once they were broken up. She’s finally being honest and treating him with respect, and he’s acting out but he still shows he cares about her feelings… 

SPIKE: It's a happy occasion. You meet my friend?

BUFFY: No. Not yet. But she seems like a very nice attempt at making me jealous. SPIKE:  Is it working? BUFFY: A little. It doesn't change anything... but if you're wildly curious, yeah, it hurts. SPIKE: I'm sorry. Or, Good! You want us to go? BUFFY: No. No, I... you have every right to be here. I pretty much deserve... SPIKE: That's not true, you... God, this is hard. BUFFY: Yeah. SPIKE: I think we'll go. BUFFY: Go where? To your place? SPIKE: Yeah, I suppose. That was the idea. BUFFY: Yeah. SPIKE: Evil. BUFFY: Of course. SPIKE: But I won't. Or I...  I'll just go. Give 'em my best or whatever. The happy couple. BUFFY: I will. SPIKE: It's nice to watch you be happy. For them, even. I don't see it a lot. You, uh... you glow. BUFFY: That's because the dress is radioactive. I should... SPIKE: Yeah. But it hurts?

BUFFY: Yeah. SPIKE: Thanks.

BUFFY: You're welcome.

15) I love the callback to “Homecoming”…

WILLOW:  You're getting married. My little Xander. XANDER: All growed up. WILLOW: It's a good thing I realized I was gay, otherwise, hey, you, me and formal wear...

16) Anya’s vows attempt #2

'I, Anya, promise to cherish you...' Ew, no, not cherish. Uh, 'I promise to have sex with you whenever ... *I* want, and, pledge to be your friend, and your wife, and your confidant, and your sex poodle...'

17) I LOVE YOU BUFFY, YOU PRECIOUS UNICORN.

BUFFY: Uh, sorry about that. Um... there's just gonna be a little bit of a delay. ANYA: Why? What's wrong? BUFFY: Nothing! Nothing's wrong, it's just, um, it, the minister. He had, uh... to g ... and perform an emergency C-section. ANYA: A C-section?! 

BUFFY: Yeah! You know, he's, uh, not, not just a minister, he's also a, a doctor. You know, he's half-minister, half-doctor, he's a mini-tor. Not, of course, to be confused with a minotaur! Because he's all, you know, man, this doctor minister man, no bull parts whatsoever.

18) Anya’s vows attempts #3 

'I, Anya, want to marry you, Xander, because... I love you and I'll always love you. And... before I knew you, I was like a completely different person. Not even a person, really... and I had seen what love could do to people, and it was... hurt and sadness. Alone was better. And then, suddenly there was you, and... you knew me. You saw me, and it was this... thing. You make me feel safe and warm. So, I get it now. I finally get love, Xander. I really do.'

19) Buffy trying to stall the wedding is my favorite thing ever, okay?

And Clem being a supportive marshmallow…

20) Also, I low-key ship these two. 

21) These two are super horny amidst the whole family feud, love it.

22) It’s actually odd that there weren’t more people coming to get their revenge on Anya, don’t you think? 

DEMON: You did this. You brought this on. I've waited a long time for this, Anyanka. ANYA: Who are you? DEMON: Remember Chicago? South Side, 1914? Stewart Burns. Philanderer! You'd think you'd remember. I remember you. But then again, you ruined my life.

ANYA: You were a ... I punished you. DEMON: That's right. Some hussy I'd been taking around summons you, next thing I know, I look like this and I'm being tortured in another dimension. ANYA: I forgot. DEMON: Well, I didn't.

Also, this is a very interesting character moment for Anya. She feels almost ashamed she’d forgotten about him. For so long she had focused on exacting revenge on those she deemed deserved it and yet she had never paused to think of the ripple effect her acts had on those people. She had probably ruined thousands of lives, and they weren’t even an afterthought to her. And more importantly, did all of them truly deserve it? And who was she to decide they did?

23) And I’m always a sucker for Buffy ripping her skirt to fight!

24) So Xander comes back… 

And he helps save the day… 

But the damage was done. Well, it wasn’t “damage,” really. It was Xander owning up to how he really felt…

ANYA: So... we're ready now. Let's get married.

XANDER: I... I'm not. I'm not ready. I can't, An, I'm sorry.

ANYA: But it wasn't real. What he showed you, it wasn't real.

XANDER: I know it wasn't real. But it could be.

ANYA: What was it? Was it about me? 'Cause he wanted you to hate me, Xander.

XANDER: It wasn't you. It wasn't you I was hating. I had these thoughts, and ... fears before this. Maybe we just went too fast.

ANYA: Look, everybody has thoughts. It's natural, it doesn't mean that, that getting married is wrong.

XANDER: I know, I know...

ANYA: Look, you're just shaken up, okay? You just calm down and we'll start over, okay?

XANDER: We can't start over. If this is a mistake, it's forever, and... I don't want to hurt you. Not that way.: I'm sorry. I am so sorry.

And even though it was extremely bad timing to call off the wedding right before it took place, this might be one of the rare moments in which I 100% have Xander’s back. He wasn’t ready, and he knew it for a long time. I think he was hoping that by the time the wedding approached, he’d be ready. But that didn’t happen. I think a lot of it has to do with this line “It wasn’t you who I was hating.” More than anything, he was afraid he’d be his father’s son and become a lousy husband and a despicable human being. And I get why he wouldn’t want to be that person with Anya. He did love her, that much I’m sure of. And he took the getting married thing seriously. He knew he wouldn’t back away, no matter how ugly it got. So, yeah, bad timing. But right call.

25)  But.. this… wasn’t really gentlemanly of him, though… 

Leaving Anya to break the news to everyone all on her own after breaking her heart? Not cool…

26) And this whole scene is so sad and beautifully shot…

D'HOFFRYN: It's time you got back to what you do best ... don't you think?

[karninari]

Puppy Love

Bakugou Katsuki/Kaminari Denki

Notes: Kaminari/Bakugou – modern setting; “I think your dog likes my dog"

also on ao3 (including other notes I didn’t include here, like Kaminari’s dog’s real name lmao)

"Listen, I know you damn well have the bladder of a grandma, but you think you can maybe not shit on my bed for one day?" Bakugou asks in as level of a voice as he can muster, looking down at the family dog that had been dumped in his lap when he went to visit his parent's place.

After being out of the house for a year, Bakugou’s forgotten how much torture it is to take care of a dog that takes pleasure in not listening to her owners.

Baron just stares back, actually losing interest in him and wandering to sniff at the paint caked on his shoes when her silence harbors no response to his initial request. Seven years, and she still has an attitude worthy of being a member of the Bakugou family, a fact that now frustrates the one person left to deal with her.

Bakugou heavily sits back in his chair, looking up at the ceiling, "I'm talking to a dog. Why do I even try."

Grabbing his phone off the table, he scrolls through his contacts before finding the one he needs, pressing dial and tugging Baron away before she could lick at the dried paint.

Kaminari finally picks up at the last second, when Bakugou leaves Baron to her own devices at her bed, "Hello?"

"Hey, you take care of dogs and shit, right?" He asks, keeping the phone wedged between his ear and shoulder as he makes his way over to the laundry room with the soiled sheets from his bed. No way was he leaving it to sit and stink up his bedroom any more than it already is.

Kaminari doesn't seek out the reason for the sudden call, but Bakugou can hear his confusion over the washing machine starting up, "I... do both of those, yes. I mean, I sure hope I'd be able to do the latter," he adds jokingly.

The sound reverberating through the house serves to get Baron up out of her bed and into the hall, tail wagging curiously. Bakugou shuts the door behind him to keep her out, "I don't care. Look, can you watch my dog tomorrow?"

"You have a dog?"

"Yeah. Parents have been busy lately, so my mom wants me to keep an eye on our family dog for who the hell knows how long." Bakugou is shooting for no longer than a month, but beggars can't be choosers when he at least has a backup system in the form of having someone he knows who loves to do this kind of thing fur other people.

Kaminari agrees in a heartbeat, answering excitedly, "Of course I can! Swing by tomorrow, and I'm sure I can squeeze her in with the others."

Bakugou didn't quite get what Kaminari meant by "the others" until he comes around the next morning.

Kaminari doesn't waste time when it comes to dog sitting, answering the door at its first ring. He hardly spares Bakugou a glance before his attention is caught by Baron at his side, "Hi there, Barry! So this is your dog, Bakugou?"

Squeezing himself through proves difficult when there's four other canines that he doesn't remember belonging to Kaminari jumping at his feet. And usually, he wouldn't mind someone going straight to the point with him, but hearing Kaminari greet his dog before him does serve to tick him off a bit. Still, why should he be annoyed by a dog getting more attention than him?

Bakugou sticks his foot out so he can wade through the crowd of fur and shut the door behind him, "Family dog. And her name is Baron, idiot."

Kaminari puts his hands on his knees, smiling down at Baron, "She seems to respond to Barry just fine. You sure your mom doesn't call her that when you aren't home?"

Bakugou's mood sours further as Baron sits down before Kaminari, tail stirring up quite a wind as Kaminari runs his fingers down her trimmed fur, praising her like he's known her all her life. "You're really cute! If I didn't know better, I would've mistaken you with that signature grumpy Bakugou look as Bakugou himself!"  

But her usual disgruntled expression is a thing of the past as she lets her tongue hang out, basking in the attention that Bakugou normally doesn't have the energy to shower her with. Scratching her behind the ears, Kaminari looks up at him assuredly, "I'm sure she'll get along just fine! Where do you have to be, anyways?"

"Work, what do you think? I don't have a stay at home job like you do." Bakugou can feel a headache rising from the thought of the increased workload that's left him even less time to himself, much less to take care of a dog when he's busy  at the studio.

And it's an answer fit for Kaminari, who had taken up dog sitting to avoid this kind of stress, even though painting, as believed by most, should induce emotions opposite to that of stress and frustration. They apparently forget the concept of deadlines. "Okay. So you'll pick her up later?"

"Yeah."

"Have fun!" Kaminari wishes him on his way out, still petting Baron, and Bakugou grunts back an answer.  

"Doubtful."

True to his word, Bakugou comes back to get Baron, later than he would've liked to, but in one piece and with less work on his shoulders after a day of not having to worry about whether Baron had eaten or if she had made a mess of his living room again.

Kaminari appears at the door when he rings, dressed for bed, with it being late at night having to be awake and waiting for Bakugou. Rubbing his eyes, he opens the door wider when he sees who it is, "Long day?"

It's unusual for Bakugou to have someone asking how his day was, usually going straight home and refusing any offers from Mina or Kirishima to have dinner. He raises his shoulders in a shrug, stifling a yawn, "Could be worse. Where's Baron?"

Bakugou lets himself in when Kaminari leaves the door, padding down the hall, looking for his dog. "Hmm, she should be around here somewhe-"

He cuts himself off and stops in his tracks, and Bakugou bumps into his shoulder before stopping too. "The hell are you doing? I gotta get home and-" Looking over Kaminari's shoulder serves to answer his question.

Bakugou recognizes Baron's sleeping form on the dog pillow that Kaminari had placed at the foot of the couch, but the smaller ball of fur that's in her company is certainly a surprise. Last time Bakugou checked, she was a pillow and bed hogger through and through.

Kaminari speaks first, clearing his throat as he glances over at Bakugou, "Umm.... I think your dog likes my dog."

"You have a dog?" Sure, there were a lot of dogs here this morning, but Bakugou had thought they all belonged to someone else, including this Shiba that's currently curled up beside Baron.

"It was bound to happen. I mean, who babysits dogs, but doesn't have a dog of their own?" Kaminari asks rhetorically, pulling out his phone and creeping up to the pair, "I so need a picture of this. Dude, it's like they're best friends."

Bakugou stands to the side as Kaminari snaps away. They do look quite cute together, but perhaps it's Bakugou's partiality towards all dogs that makes him think so.  

Waking them is an easy task, Baron lifting her head up off the pillow before Bakugou had grabbed her leash, like she'd sensed that it was time to go.

He's just clipping Baron to her leash when Kaminari peeks outside and calls him for one last thing, "Bakugou!"

The doorway is a beacon in the night, and Bakugou has to squint to make out Kaminari. "Let me know when you need a dog sitter again! Next time is free of charge!" Kaminari tells him with a grin. "Have a safe trip home, okay?"

Bakugou stands up, holding the leash loosely in his hand. Now that he thinks about it, there was no mention of any kind of charge over the phone in regards to Kaminari taking time out of his day to add anotherーin Bakugou's opinionーtroublesome dog to the batch. "What-"

"Bye!" With his pet under his arm, Kaminari leaves Bakugou in the dark on the cement of the front yard to realize that he'd never been asked to pay up for the whole day of dog sitting in the first place.

"Baron, would you slow down!"

Bakugou digs his heels into the ground as Baron presses forward, unable to contain her excitement at the now-familiar doorstep filled with potted plants. He's had one too many instances where Baron has peed on this exact porch. Last time she did, Bakugou had to clean up the mess per requestーor rather, demandーby Kaminari, who didn't take too kindly to Bakugou leaving it there for him to step on when he came out.

It hasn't even been a day since Bakugou was last here, but Baron sure seems to miss hanging with her now dog friend and co-owner, as Kaminari liked to call himself with how much he spends time with her these days.

He rings the doorbell immediately upon approaching the door, keeping a tight leash so she doesn't get any ideas. After a few rings and no answer, Bakugou sighs heavily before shoving his way in. Unlocked as always, it seems.

Careful of how Baron sticks her nose through the crack before tugging him inside, Bakugou enters behind her. No Kaminari was there to greet him, but the greeting he does expect from his unannounced arrival rounds the corner, barking up a storm at the sound of the door opening.

"Hey Poppy," Bakugou says once Kaminari's dog finally comes to a stop, already out of breath from the short trek from her bed.

He lets go of Baron's leash so she can roam in the dog-proof confines of Kaminari's home. Bending down to remove off his shoes was once a problem in the presence of a hyperactive puppy until he learned that Poppy only went after shoelaces, nipping at his fingers as she does so. Good thing he had some spare boots that weren't in danger of getting their laces torn off at his expense.

It's not long before he picks up one of the chew toys off the ground to hold above her head, too high for her short legs to reach as she jumps for it. "Where's your dumbass owner at, huh?"

"C'mon Bakugou, can't you call her by her full name?" At the end of the hall, Kaminari's head pops out from behind the sofa, sporting the intense bedhead he only ever gets from spending a night in the living room, no doubt with Poppy nestled in his hair every time. She's still at a size where holding her is as effortless as carrying around an arm pillow.

Tossing the toy to some odd corner, Bakugou steps over Poppy as she chases after it, zooming by his feet, "I refuse to acknowledge her terrible name if you don't do the same with Baron. I mean, who the fuck even names their dog after a music genre anyways?"

"I do, meanie," Kaminari responds stubbornly, pointing his chin away from him and in the direction of Baron, who had wiggled out of the loose collar that Bakugou has yet to replace and taken her place at the foot of the couch, scooting closer with every passing second. The frown is replaced by a smile in an instant as Kaminari throws his arms out in welcome, "Barry!"

Nothing is quite as graceless as a sixty-pound German Shepherd scrambling into Kaminari's lap, the mess on the floor somehow making the flurry of movements even more chaotic. Her nails dig into the fragile material of the couch and his pajamas, but Kaminari pays no mind to the inconvenience, ruffling Baron by the ears and greeting her like an old friend. They got along almost too well.

Bakugou feels the brush of fur at his ankles, and sees the toy from before being dropped to his feet by Poppy, who joins the pair on the couch after a bit of trouble getting her hind legs up there.

"How're you doing, girl? I missed you too!" Hardly fazed by the slobber, Kaminari laughs as he's mauled by the mass of fur that is Bakugou's dog. By now, it certainly feels like she's his dog more than just the family dog now, having her around for such an extended amount of time and reliving his old routine as a kid, feeding her and taking her out on walks when his parents were busy.

Finally settling Baron down so she's sitting on him instead of trying to climb on him, Kaminari asks, cheek resting on her head, "So is it the usual?"

"Yeah, I'll be back later for Baron."

"Speaking of coming around later, how about staying for dinner tonight?" Bakugou turns the knob but doesn’t leave just yet, looking over his shoulder at Kaminari beaming ardently. He tugs on his bangs, catching Bakugou’s eye, "Uh, I just have takeout, but we can order some more if you have a problem with leftovers?” He leaves it hanging as a question, contrasting the certainty in his words at the beginning. 

To-go food is all Bakugou’s had this week, but one more day couldn’t hurt."Why not."

Kaminari laughs, as though out of reprieve, "Great! Oh, and one more thing." 

"Say bye, Barry!" Kaminari lifts his hand and waves, and by some miracle, Baron follows, pawing at the air in response to the command. Bakugou can't remember the last time she's done something besides play fetch or sit when he tells her to.

Kaminari proudly puts his arm around Baron, getting a few licks on the cheek as he smiles crookedly at Bakugou. "Nice trick, huh? Either she can still learn some new stuff, or she just you that much every time you go," he elaborates, thinking hard on it. "Sounds like me."

"I'm leaving." Bakugou shuts the door before he can hear an answer, face uncomfortably warm. 

Work is going to prove hard to concentrate on when he can hardly take his mind off of what Kaminari means about missing him when he leaves.

[utukkigirl]

Ain’t No Cure for the Cervitaur Blues, Chapter 6

Ain’t No Cure for the Cervitaur Blues A Gravity Falls Fanfic by Krista Perry I own nothing.

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Chapter Six

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Stanley Pines grunted with exertion as he carried the last large piece of portal scrap metal up the basement stairs. Soos was waiting at the top, leaning against the vending machine, and practically leaped forward to take his burden.

“Where do you—ugh—want this, Mr. Pines?” Soos asked, heaving the metal out of the way and onto the gift shop floor.

Stan held the small of his back with both hands and straightened, wincing as his spine popped and crackled with the effort. “Back porch door,” he said. “Don’t barricade it just yet. And when you’re done, head down to the basement and use that periscope thingy hooked to the totem pole camera to keep an eye on the outside. Let me know if anyone shows up.”

“Yes sir, Mr. Pines. You can count on me.” Soos dragged the metal into the other room, leaving deep grooves in the wooden floor.

Any other time, Stan would have been irritated at the damage, but not tonight.  Tonight wasn’t about making money or cutting costs, or worrying about trivial things like property damage. Tonight was about survival. Tonight was about enemies closing in and threatening to destroy friends and family.

He met Wendy as she came clomping down the stairs from the attic, side-stepping around Soos, who was heading toward the basement. Her face, arms and tank top were covered in dirt and grease. “Well, no one is breaking in up there without running into a world of hurt,” she said, grinning. “I set up some serious traps, and anyone who actually manages to break through will get the full Home Alone treatment.” Her grin turned downright wicked. “Only a lot less family-friendly.”

Stan threw his head back and laughed. “Ha! That’s what I like to hear! If it’s anything like what you set up in the museum, I’m sure any nimrod who tries to break in will get what’s coming to them.”

“Did you see what Soos set up at the gift shop entrance?” Wendy said, wiping her greasy hands on the flannel shirt she had tied around her waist. “He’s not so much into inflicting the pain, but if anyone gets through the barricade, they’ll be running face first into sheets of cling wrap coated with super glue. And then they hit my stuff.”

Stan felt his eyes mist up. “I’m so proud of you guys,” he said.

Wendy shrugged, as if no big deal, but Stan could see the subtle look of satisfaction on her face. “Eh, it’s nice to be able to put some of Dad’s survivalist training to real use for once.”

Stan nodded, then looked over where large pieces of the dismantled portal were piled next to the back door, waiting to be formed into a barricade. “No sign of Ford yet, I take it,” he said gruffly.

“Nope,” Wendy said. “I hope he gets back soon, because I gotta admit, having that one door still open while the rest of the Shack is reinforced… it makes me feel like my back is exposed.”

“I know what you mean,” Stan said. He opened the door and looked out, but beyond the lights of the Shack, there was only the dark forest, the star-studded night sky, and the incessant chirping of crickets. He thought of Mabel and Dipper, off with that weird tree chick to maybe find a cure for Dipper’s curse, and he hoped they stayed away long enough to be safe from whatever crap was going to go down tonight. “Didn’t Ford say he would be back before dark?”

“Yeah,” Wendy said, her voice hesitant. “But… you know how he is. He has a lousy sense of time whenever he gets involved with his research.”

Stan’s face felt pinched. “Not when it comes to Dipper, he doesn’t. He adores that kid. He’d want to get whatever he went after, then get back to his lab as soon as…” He trailed off as he thought he saw something move beyond the tree line, and he squinted, trying to figure out what it was… but a few moments later, a cool night breeze brushed his skin, and he realized it was just branches moving in the wind.

Sighing, he closed the door. Turning to Wendy, he took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. “Wendy… I need to ask you to do something for me. I wish I didn’t have to, but… well, we need to be prepared in case the worst happens.”

Wendy frowned. “The worst?”

“The worst. Let’s face it,” Stan said, replacing his glasses. “There’s a real strong possibility that Ford has gone and gotten himself captured by that demon and Gideon’s goons. And if that’s the case, then there’s no doubt in my mind that they’re gonna come here and try to use Ford to blackmail me into handing over the rift.”

“Dude,” Wendy said, her eyes widening with realization.

“Now, I could be wrong,” Stan said, holding up his hands. “I hope I’m wrong and you’re right, and that Ford just lost track of time. But if not…” He sagged, his head filling with memories of bookies, mob bosses, and Columbian drug lords. He had been lucky in his dealings with them, in that they only had him to hurt. Too many others were not so fortunate.

“I’ve seen it a million times,” he said softly. “If you have people you care about, that automatically makes you vulnerable to the psychopaths who will do whatever it takes to get what they want. That demon, Bill Cipher? He’ll come here with Ford, and threaten to kill him if I don’t hand over the rift. And if I refuse, then he’ll torture him, nice and slow, until I give in.”

Wendy looked pale, her freckles standing out in stark relief against her skin. “But you won’t,” she said.

“I will,” Stan said, looking her directly in the eyes. “I can’t just sit here with him out there being...” He trailed off, looked away, and took a deep, shuddering breath. “Look, I’m tough, alright? But not that tough. Not sit by and listen to my brother get tortured tough. So if it comes to that, I need your help.”

Wendy hesitated for a long moment, then nodded stiffly. “What do you want me to do?”

Stan smiled grimly. “Follow me,” he said, and he led her into his office. He picked up the bullhorn that he used to talk to large tour groups and handed it to her. “You’re gonna need this.”

Wendy raised an eyebrow as she took it. “Not what I was expecting,” she said.

Stan barked a short laugh. “Never give ‘em what they’re expecting, kiddo,” he said.

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By the time Bill and his borrowed flunkies had shoved and dragged him all the way back to his house, Ford felt like one giant bruise. He had lost count of how many times he had stumbled, unable to catch himself with his hands tied behind his back, only to be yanked roughly to his feet as his captors laughed at his latest face-plant. His wrists were cut and swollen from the zip ties. The front of his sweater was a ragged mess. His trousers were torn through at the knees, and he could feel small trails of blood running down his shins.

But all of that was nothing compared to the cramping terror in his gut. Never had he wished for some kind of twin psychic connection with Stanley more than he did now, as he repeated what had become a mantra in his mind during the long hike to the Shack.

Don’t hand over the rift, Stanley. No matter what Bill does to me, please… don’t hand over the rift…

The night had long since turned full dark. Going from the position of the waxing crescent moon, dropping low in the western sky, and the movement of the constellations, it had been almost a full two and a half hours since sunset. Ford felt alarmed to note that all the lights in the Shack were off. Surely Stanley and the kids hadn’t gone to bed, especially knowing what kind of threat they were facing – not just from Bill, but from Gideon’s prison buddies who were not kept at bay by the anti-Bill forcefield. The rift was locked away in his private study on the basement’s second level, and the door was sturdy and warded, but it could be brought down with sufficient physical force.

Before he could follow that thought all the way to its horrifying conclusion, the huge, thuggish body Bill possessed shoved him down on to his knees. Then, in his usual high, manic voice, magnified well enough to penetrate the Shack’s walls, Bill yelled out, “Hey! Stanley Pines! I’ve got your brother out here, and we need to talk to you! Come on out, Fez!”

Bill’s voice was loud enough that Gideon’s goons all cringed and covered their ears. Ford, hands still bound, didn’t have that luxury, and his head ached from the noise.

Ford didn’t know quite what he was expecting. Something along the lines of an interior light flicking on, and then Stan coming out the door in his tank top, striped boxers and slippers.

He did not expect to hear the scratch and squeal sound of a bullhorn being turned on, followed by the sound of Wendy’s voice. What on earth was the cashier girl still doing here?

“Ahem,” Wendy said, and the bullhorn screeched again. “Ooh, sorry about that. Can I help you?” She sounded, for all the world, like a polite receptionist.

“Hey, Red,” Bill said, and Ford looked up at him. If the demon was thrown by this unusual turn of events, he didn’t show it. “I didn’t know you were still hanging around! Go tell your boss that Bill Cipher needs to talk to him!”

“Oh, no can do,” Wendy said, the bullhorn throwing static into her voice. “Stan’s not here at the moment. Can I take a message?”

Bill actually blinked his glowing yellow eyes at that, but his ever-present grin didn’t falter. “Nice try, Red, but I’ve had Gideon watching the Shack to make sure ol’ Fez didn’t leave! Now tell him to get out here before his brother starts suffering some unpleasant consequences!”

There was a silence, almost long enough for Ford to think that Bill had called her bluff, when the bullhorn crackled to life again. “Dude, I don’t know anything about Gideon hanging around, but Stan left about an hour ago to go look for Ford. Sorry you missed him.”

“That’s ridiculous!” Bill said, then turned and shouted at the tree line. “Gideon, come out and tell Red here that she needs to stop messing around, or your prison buddies will be going in there to personally retrieve Stan!”

Ford wasn’t sure what surprised him more – the fact that Gideon didn’t immediately materialize at Bill’s command, or that Wendy’s voice came hissing through the bullhorn, like she was sucking in air between her teeth. “Hoo-boy,” she said, “I really can’t recommend you sending in the goon squad. Aside from the barricades around all the doors and windows, I’ve got the Shack booby-trapped six ways from Sunday, and I can pretty much guarantee that your boys wouldn’t be getting out of the gauntlets intact, if you know what I mean.”

Ford watched as Bill’s grin dissolved into more of a grimace of clenched teeth. “Gideon! Better get out here, kid, or you and I will be having words later!”

Gideon completely failed to appear, and Ford fought the urge to cringe as genuine fury sparked in Bill’s eyes.

“Sorry to hear that your pet vampire bailed on you, man,” Wendy said, with obvious false sympathy. “Maybe Stan drove him off with some garlic or holy water. You know, when he left.”

Bill outright scowled, glowing, slit-pupil-eyes narrowing as he turned to the prison guys. “You,” he said, pointing at them. “Start searching for Stan Pines! Don’t try to take him down alone! Split into three groups of two, find him, and bring him back here!”

One of the prison guys, a man with a spiked mohawk, cleared his throat and said, “Uh… we don’t even know what he looks like.”

“Idiots,” Bill said, and Ford winced as the demon pulled his head back by the hair. “He looks like this guy, only dumber! Now get out there!” He pointed at the dark forest. The men left slowly, whispering to each other and casting uncertain glances back at the Shack as they left.

Ford sat, stunned at the strange turn of events and the unexpected reprieve.

“Well, Sixer, looks like we’ll be hanging out for a bit!” Bill’s manic grin was back. “Just like old times, eh? Since we’re not going anywhere for a bit, hope you don’t mind if I bind up your legs and feet so you don’t try to make a run for it!”

Ford glared at Bill silently as the demon pulled out several long zip ties from his front jeans pocket. Carefully, he slowly adjusted his stance so that he was resting on his knees and the balls of his feet. As soon as Bill leaned over to grab him, Ford shifted to one knee, then leaped up and rammed his head directly into Bill’s gut.

Bill doubled over, wheezing, and, as soon as Ford regained his balance, he took the opportunity to knee him in the face and drop him to the ground. As Bill lay there on his side, gasping for breath, blood streaming from his nose, Ford planted a solid kick into his kidney for good measure, and watched as Bill’s slit pupils thinned almost into nonexistence, his mouth stretched in a terrible rictus grin.

Right, Ford realized. Bill thought pain was hilarious. He wondered how funny this particular pain was to Bill, since the demon seemed to be having difficulty sucking in air.

“It will never be like old times, Bill,” Ford said, bringing his foot up and slamming the demon’s kidney again with his boot heel. Bill made a feeble attempt to move, wide yellow eyes slightly glazed, and Ford had to wonder just how desperate Bill was to hang on to this body -- especially considering it would probably be pissing blood for at least a week.

“You haven’t been in my head for thirty years, and I’ll never let you in again. You don’t know me anymore, and you don’t know what I’m capable of. If I thought that killing the body you’re in would finish you off, I’d do it right now.”

With that, he kicked Bill in the gut one more time; then, without a second thought, he turned and ran for the Shack, hands still bound uselessly behind his back, but breathing a sigh of relief when he crossed the border of the magic barrier.

“Wendy,” he shouted. “It’s Ford! Let me in!”

“Back porch door,” he heard her say, her voice a lot more muffled without the bullhorn. “Less stuff to move out of the way!”

Glancing back, he saw that Bill was already struggling to sit up, narrowed eyes glaring at him, glowing molten gold with rage, and he sprinted around to the back of the Shack and on to the back porch. He wasn’t worried about Bill crossing the barrier, but if the demon managed to call back some of the goon squad before he could get in, his goose was cooked.

“I’m here,” he said, unwilling to raise his voice too loud. He could hear the creak of wood as heavy things shifted on the other side of the door, and the scrape of metal against metal. “Hurry,” he urged, glancing nervously at the darkness beyond the tree line. If anyone came running out of those trees before the door was open, he’d be caught for sure, and this time, Bill wouldn’t need Stanley around as an incentive to torture him.

He stood, back to the door, anxiously scanning the tree line for any movement, when the door opened behind him and he felt himself grabbed by the collar of his sweater and yanked inside. Before he could blink, the door slammed shut in front of him, and Wendy and Soos were there, already pushing the barrier back into place.

He almost stepped forward to help, but froze when Wendy said, “Don’t move. You don’t know where the trip-wires are.”

Ford looked at the floor, trying to spot a trip-wire, but the only source of light was a small electric lantern, on the dimmest setting, sitting on the stairs, and he couldn’t find one. “This is, ah… quite the set-up here,” he said. “You did all this just in the time I was gone?” He took a closer look at the barricade. “Wait a minute… are those pieces of the portal?”

“We worked with what we had, Knucklehead,” Stanley said from behind him, and Ford nearly jumped out of his skin, spinning to see his brother looking at him with that ever-present scowl that seemed reserved just for him. The scowl slipped a little as Stanley took in his ragged, bloody appearance. “Whoa, Sixer, you’re a mess.”

“Stanley?” Ford knew he was gaping like a fish, but he couldn’t help it. “You’re here?”

“Well, yeah,” Stanley said. “Obviously.”

“But…” He looked over his shoulder at Wendy. She and Soos had their backs pressed to one of the large corner pieces of the portal and were straining to shove it into place in front of the door.

Soos grunted with one last push, then straightened. “I think that did it, dawg,” he said, wiping sweat from his brow with the back of his forearm. Wendy raised her hand, and Soos gave her a high-five.

Ford turned back to Stanley, realization making its way sluggishly through his stunned brain. “You… you conned Bill.”

Stanley shrugged. “Well, technically, Wendy conned Bill.  And speaking of…” He grinned at Wendy. “Great job, kid. You did me proud.”

“Proud enough to give me a raise?” she said, a smirk in her voice.

“Ha,” Stanley said. “I’ll think about it. And by think about it, I mean seriously consider it, because that was some first class hoodwinking you did there.”

“You’ll seriously consider a raise?” Wendy said. “Wow, I must have been good.”

“I gotta admit, dude,” said Soos. “That was pretty cool. I can’t wait to tell Dipper and Mabel about it when they get back.”

“Wait, what?” Ford looked at Stanley, only growing more alarmed when his brother let out an irritated groan and covered his eyes with one hand. With rising panic, he turned back to Wendy. “The kids aren’t here?”

“Whoa, just a sec, dude, don’t freak out,” Wendy said, sidling around him. “Let’s get you out of my little death trap first. Step where I step. Oh, and once you’re out, stay at least four feet away from the barricades and the windows. Everywhere else is pretty safe. Mostly.”

Ford did his best to swallow his mounting anxiety over the twins’ absence as he followed Wendy’s instructions. As soon as Wendy indicated he was clear, he turned on Stanley. “Where are they?” he demanded. “Why would you let them leave?” He tried to swallow his dread as he imagined Mabel out in the dark forest with Dipper who, as a newborn fawn, probably couldn’t even walk very well. And with Bill and his allies out there....

Stanley held up one hand. “Hold your horses, Sixer,” he said, and before Ford could protest, he turned to Wendy and Soos. “Both of you, to the basement. Soos, I want you back on periscope duty. Wendy, keep an eye on the surveillance screens in the control room. Let me know if anyone shows up.”

“You got it, Mr. Pines,” Soos said.

Wendy threw them a casual salute. “Try not to kill each other,” she said, before following Soos into the gift shop. Ford could hear their footsteps echoing down the stairway to the lab elevator.

He looked at Stanley, trying very hard not to clench his jaw as he waited for an explanation.

Stanley folded his arms across his chest and didn’t meet his gaze. “Long story short,” he said. “While you were off being captured by Cipher, some dryad chick showed up saying that the Mother of the Wood had sent her to help Dipper. Mabel went with her to break the curse on the kid.”

Ford realized that his mouth had dropped open, and he closed it as he processed Stanley’s words. Dryads weren’t all that unusual, though he had never seen signs them close to town. And he knew dryads were possessed of certain innate nature magics, but not nearly enough power to break a curse made by a black Orb of Olgathag.

The Mother of the Wood, on the other hand… The formal title stirred an old memory in him, from a time before the portal. He tried to remember completely – he had an eidetic memory that had served him well in procuring twelve PhDs – but, like so many of his memories from that time period, it was muddled and foggy. A direct result of letting Bill inside his head.

“I need my journals,” he said, and headed for the door to the basement lab.

Stanley followed close behind. “Hey,” he said, “that’s all you have to say? You need your journals?”

“The Mother of the Wood,” Ford muttered. “I wrote about her in my first journal, I’m sure of it.” He had vague impressions of interviewing some of the more sentient supernatural creatures around the Falls, and hearing her name, her title. One title of many, if he remembered right. And, no matter how belligerent or ridiculous the creature, she was always spoken of with a quiet sort of reverence, which was strange in and of itself. But those were the only details he could dredge up from the mess his mind had been back then.

He hurried down the basement steps, then tapped his foot impatiently as he waited for the elevator, which was still on the third floor, presumably dropping off Wendy and Soos.

Stanley came down the stairs behind him. “So you’ve heard of her,” he said. “Can she really break Dipper’s curse?”

“I don’t know,” Ford said, watching as the elevator indicator showed the car heading back up. “But I may have recorded details about her in the journals that I… I can’t remember.” He glanced back at Stanley, wondering if he would laugh at him, especially since his memory had been such a point of pride when they were kids. Stanley had always tried to catch him out, showing him a page of the sports section at breakfast, and then hiding it while Ford rattled off the scores. Ford had never missed any – something that had always both irritated and pleased Stanley.

“My brother,” Stanley would say with a wry grin. “The genius with the photographic memory!” And when Ford would inevitably try to correct him, saying there was no such thing, and that it was really an eidetic memory, he would find himself in a headlock, getting noogied, while Stanley shouted, “Photographic memory!”

But Stanley was still wearing that scowl. And Ford found that he almost wished Stanley would crack a smile and tease him.

He really needed to apologize. But not now, not when there was a war with Bill going on, and the kids were missing. He would do it later when things were settled. And he would do it right.

The elevator door opened, and he stepped inside. Stanley followed, and the door closed behind him.

“Oh,” Ford said, rubbing the back of his head awkwardly. He hadn’t realized that Stanley planned to follow him the whole way, and he was heading to his secret study on the second floor. “I, uh… you don’t have to…”

Stanley rolled his eyes. “Oh please. Are you going to your secret room?” He emphasized the last two words with air quotes. “I picked the lock on that door less than three days after you were gone.”

Ford looked at him, stunned.

“Don’t worry, I didn’t mess with your machines or your weird Bill shrine. I just looked for the other journals, and when I didn’t find them, I never went back in.” Stanley scratched the stubble on his chin. “Well, okay, I went back in once, but that was only to make sure I wasn’t hallucinating the first time. That room is creepy.”

Ford stared, grappling with the implication that Stanley had known, from the very start, about his wretched dealings with Bill… and had still worked to save him.

“Oh… okay,” he said, finally. “Well, then, let’s go.” He pressed the second-floor button and the elevator lurched into motion.

Stanley’s scowl faded slightly, and one brow raised in surprise. “Wait, you’re not going to tell me to stay out of your stuff and try to kick me out?”

Ford noted the “try to,” implying that Stanley wouldn’t go willingly.

“No,” he said.

Stanley’s scowl diminished even more. “Well… good. Because I wouldn’t let you. Not when the kids are in trouble.”

“Of course not,” Ford said. The elevator door opened, and he found himself standing before the ornate red and gold door he had made in an astounding bout of hubris. Sighing, trying to focus over all his feelings of regret, he reached for the key in one of his inner coat pockets… and cursed as he remembered that Bill had thrown his coat down the spacecraft shaft.

“What’s wrong?” Stanley asked.

“I lost the key,” Ford grumbled, then looked at Stanley. “Wait, you picked the lock—“

Before he could even finish, Stanley reached to the door knob, twisted it, and pushed the door open. Ford stared.

“I, uh, may have gone in a third time,” Stanley said, looking a little sheepish. “Today. I wanted to see this rift of yours that Bill wants so badly.”

“What?” Ford rushed into the room, going straight for the small cupboard where he had placed the rift. “Do you have any idea how dangerous—“

He stopped short as he slid open the cupboard door. There was the rift. And, placed carefully over the crack, was a thick, silver strip of duct tape.

“Yeah,” Stanley was saying as Ford blinked stupidly at the patched rift. “So, I noticed there was a crack, and I figured that was a bad thing, you know?”

Ford gingerly picked up the rift. The low, buzzing tone that set his teeth on edge and indicated an impending breach… was gone.

“Duct tape?” Ford said.

Stanley shrugged. “I figured if it was good enough for Apollo 13, why not?”

“Why not, indeed?” Ford said quietly, a smile tugging at his lips.

He and Stanley had just been kids when Apollo 13, on a mission to the moon, had an oxygen tank explode. They had both been glued to the living room’s tiny black-and-white set, Stanley holding the tinfoil-wrapped rabbit ear antenna just so to make sure they had good reception. CBS anchor Walter Cronkite notified the nation of the disaster, and then kept them updated on the amazing things the astronauts were doing to make it back to Earth alive. When the air system died, the only way to keep the astronauts breathing was to find a way to fit a square filter in a round filter-slot. The astronauts made it work – with plenty of duct tape to maintain the seal.

“Well done, Stanley,” Ford said, placing the rift back into the cupboard and closing the door. “Thank you. I was worried that, without the alien adhesive I failed to retrieve, the rift containment would fail, but you seem to have averted that disaster.”

Stanley was staring at him, mouth agape, eyes wide. “What did you say?”

“Uh…” Ford thought back on his previous words. They hadn’t been that shocking. “Without the alien adhesive—“

“Before that,” Stanley said, interrupting.

Ford frowned. “I was worried?” The growing scowl on Stanley’s face said he was off again. “Thank you?”

“That’s the one!” Stanley shouted, pointing at him.

Ford couldn’t help his bemused smile at the first genuine hint of happiness that he’d seen on Stanley’s face in nearly forty years. “Really? Thank you?”

Stanley clapped him on the shoulder, grinning from ear to ear. “You’re welcome!”

Ford stared at his brother, uncomprehending his strange burst of gleeful enthusiasm, until a memory suddenly surfaced – a memory of his first day back in this dimension.

You really aren’t going to thank me, are you.

Oh. Oh.

He felt incredibly stupid. Was it really that simple? Was it possible that all it would take to repair his relationship with his twin were those two small words? He didn’t see how it could possibly fix everything, but maybe it would be a start.

But apparently that start would have to come later, because Stanley had already crossed the room to the book shelf and was pulling out his first and second journals. “Okay,” Stanley said, walking back and putting both books on his research desk, side by side. “You said you thought you wrote about this Mother of the Wood in the first journal, but I can tell you, I read that thing a million times, and never read nothing about that. Maybe it’s in the second one.”

Ford winced at the double negative, but held his tongue. He was astounded at the change in Stanley’s demeanor. It was as if, just by saying one small thank you, he had dispelled the aura of anger and resentment that had seemed to shroud his brother ever since he had greeted him with a punch to the face. He wondered what it would be like to sit down with Stanley and actually talk to him, apologize to him for treating him so poorly, and thank him for… well, everything.

But now was not the time. He picked up the first journal and began to flip through it. “That can’t be right,” he said. “I was sure…” He trailed off as he came to a page that was completely scribbled out with jet black ink. Barely visible between the scribbles, he saw snatches of his handwriting. And on top of the scribbles, as if burned into the page itself, an ashy grey symbol cipher that he recognized as Bill’s. “What…” he said, incapable of articulating his horror further.

“Yeah, there are a few pages like that,” Stanley said, looking over his shoulder. “All scribbled out, with that stupid demon’s code on top. Mostly it’s just him saying, ‘Ha ha, look what I ruined while using your body.’”

Ford glanced back at Stanley in surprise. “You broke Bill’s code?”

Stanley gave him a flat look. “Thirty years,” he said. “Of course I broke the code. I kind of had to, since he wrote some of the portal instructions.”

“Wait,” said Ford, looking back and forth between Stanley and the journal. “Did you break my code?”

“Thirty years?” Stanley reminded him, crossing his arms in irritation. “Don’t look so surprised, Poindexter. I’m not a complete idiot.”

Ford cleared his throat, embarrassed. “Right…. Sorry.” He turned his attention back to the journal, his dismay growing as he saw more pages vandalized by Bill. His memory was hazy, but not so hazy that he didn’t recognize where his notes on the Mother of the Wood should have been. It was a double page entry, and completely blacked out. Aside from Bill’s grey code, the demon had drawn a smirking doodle of himself in the margins. Ford groaned, setting the book down and stepping away, removing his glasses to rub at his face.

“I’m guessing that’s it,” Stanley said, looking down at the ruined pages.

“Yes,” Ford said, grimly. “Unfortunately, that has the only information I gathered on the Mother of the Wood. Now it’s lost. Useless.”

Stanley snorted. “Whaddya mean, useless?” he said, and Ford was surprised to see him grinning again as he gestured at the journal. “This tells us everything we need to know!”

Ford blinked. “It does?”

“Of course it does.” Stanley picked up the journal and held up the destroyed pages for him to see. “Bill seemed to take extra special delight in scribbling these pages out. What reason could he possibly have for not wanting you to have your research on this Mother chick? I can only think of one reason – she poses some kind of threat to him. And if she’s enough of a threat to him that he doesn’t want you knowing about her…” He trailed off meaningfully.

“… then maybe she is powerful enough to break Dipper’s curse,” Ford whispered.

It was too much to hope for. This was still a curse created by an Orb of Olgathag – not a power to be taken lightly. But at this point, she might be Dipper’s only hope of being human again.

“So,” Ford said, replacing his glasses and slumping against his desk. “That’s why you let the kids leave.”

Stanley nodded. “Exactly.”

“So now we wait.”

“Ugh. I hate waiting,” Stanley said, collapsing into his office chair.

They sat in silence for a moment.

“Stanley,” Ford said. “Bill said that Gideon was watching the Shack. But when he called for him, he didn’t show.”

Stanley sighed. “You’re worried that he followed the kids and that tree girl,” he said.

“It crossed my mind.” It had done more than cross his mind. It had taken the place of honor, first among all the worries that were gnawing at his gut.

“Yeah,” Stanley said, and Ford heard the dread and weariness in his brother’s voice. “Mine too.”

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

Within the first five minutes of riding on Al’s back as she sprinted through the forest, Mabel came to the conclusion that piggybacking on the dryad was not going to be quite as delightful as she imagined.

For one thing, they were going so fast that the brisk night air had become a cold wind that numbed her cheeks. She found some relief in shielding her face behind Al’s long green hair, but that brought its own set of problems, first and foremost keeping the dryad’s hair out of her mouth. Bleah.

For another thing, riding on Al’s back was like riding a piece of wood. Well, technically, Al was wood, and, living and moving though she might be, she could in no way be considered soft or comfortable. Mabel had a feeling that, when all was said and done, she was going to be more saddle-sore than the time she went to a two-week horseback riding camp when she was ten.

She almost envied Dipper, his tiny fawn body wrapped in a blanket in her backpack as he rested in a magic-induced sleep.

She decided to distract herself from her discomfort with conversation. “Hey Al,” she said, her voice slightly muffled from the wind and the flowing hair in her face. “I like the gold tips on your hair. Did you dye it that way, or is it natural?”

The dryad laughed, not sounding in the least bit tired or winded in spite of their pace, and Mabel wondered if she even needed to breathe. But then how would she be able to talk without lungs? Maybe it was just magic. Yeah, that was probably it. Dryad talking magic.

“It’s natural,” Al replied. “My hair changes color to match the leaves on my tree, and autumn is just around the corner.”

“That is so cool,” Mabel said, but then she paused. “Wait, does this mean your hair falls out during the winter and grows back during spring?”

Al laughed again. “You know, that would actually make sense? But no, my hair just turns kind of a mousy grey during the winter.”

“Oh, that’s good,” said Mabel. “Not that you couldn’t totally pull off a bald look. You have the perfect cheekbones for it.” She frowned. “Wait… cheek… you don’t have bones, do you. Cheek-wood?”

And so it went for a little while. Mabel found herself completely distracted from her discomfort while chatting with Al. She was just thinking that maybe this four-hour journey wasn’t going to be so miserable after all when Al came skidding to an abrupt halt.

“Al?” Mabel asked.  Al had half crouched in a recognizably defensive manner, and Mabel looked around, alarmed, wondering what had spooked the dryad. “Al, what’s wrong?” she whispered. The forest was dark, but her eyes had adjusted, and she couldn’t see anything moving. Just the faint, pale trunks of a birch grove, and their dark foliage blotting out the starry sky.

Al made a soft, anxious sound, taking a few hesitant steps backward.

“Al?” The dryad’s fear was contagious, and Mabel felt her heart begin to race.

“These trees,” Al said, her voice low and hoarse. “They are all hollow.”

“Hollow?” Mabel echoed.

“Empty,” Al said. “Dead, but… not. Living, but stripped of life. And so full of eyes.”

Dead, but not? Wait, did that mean they were standing in a grove of undead trees? Was that even possible? Mabel swallowed hard, her throat suddenly dry. “What do you mean, full of eyes?” she asked.

“Eyes that look out and see everything,” Al whispered. “Eyes that look inward and see only madness.”

It was then that Mabel noticed that every single knothole on every single birch tree looked like an eye. And every single eye was staring at them.

She inhaled a shaky breath. “So… that’s bad.”

Al nodded.

“We should probably leave and go around the grove of creepy eye-filled undead birch trees, right?”

Al nodded again, taking a few more steps backward, before turning completely and sprinting back the way they came.

They came to a stop again in stand of Douglas fir, with nary a birch tree in sight. Al stood, her hands clenched and pressed to her chest.

Mabel gave her a few moments to gather herself. “Are you okay, Al?” she asked hesitantly.

“Yes,” Al said, but her voice was thin. “No,” she corrected, then sighed. “I will be okay. It’s just… I’ve never felt anything like that before.”

“You didn’t run across that on your way here?” Mabel asked.

“I… took the scenic route, remember?” Al said, looking sheepishly over her shoulder at Mabel. She faced forward, closing her eyes. “Those poor things. What could have done that to them?”

Mabel frowned. “I have three guesses,” she said, “and they all start with Bill.”

“The demon,” Al said, clutching at the anti-Bill bracelet clasped around her wrist as if with new-found appreciation. “You’re probably right.” She straightened and adjusted her grip on Mabel’s legs wrapped around her waist. “Ready to go again?”

Mabel suddenly felt as though a pair of eyes was staring right at the back of her head. She looked back and saw nothing but the dark forest. Creepy. It was probably nothing. Probably just her imagination getting the best of her after the birch grove. She took a moment to adjust the straps of her backpack and make sure it was secure. Dipper was a small, but comforting weight against her back. She could feel his warmth though the material of the backpack, and the steady rise and fall of his breathing.

She glanced back again as that being watched feeling refused to dissipate, then shook her head. Imagination or not, she had somewhere to be. “I’m ready,” she said, and Al took off running.

Mabel made a few half-hearted attempts to start another conversation with the dryad, but Al still seemed shaken by their encounter with the undead birch grove. She couldn’t blame her. She was pretty sure she’d never be able to look at a birch tree the same way again.

Mabel rested her head against Al’s soft hair, noticing that, with her head turned to the side, she didn’t have nearly as much of a problem with hair getting in her mouth.

She tried distracting herself from her discomfort by listening to the incessant chirping of crickets. Dipper had once told her that you could tell the outside temperature by how fast crickets were chirping, and she had been excited about learning such an amazing skill until she found out it involved math. Math took the fun out of everything.

“Oh, don’t be that way, Mabel,” Dipper had said. “It’s not that hard. You just count how many times a cricket chirps in fifteen seconds, then add 37, and that’s the approximate temperature in Fahrenheit. The more chirps, the warmer the temperature.”

So Mabel had tried it, and it worked, and maybe, she conceded to Dipper, math didn’t take the fun out of everything.

She tried the temperature trick now, but found that it was a lot harder to count cricket chirps and keep track of fifteen seconds at the same time without a stop watch.  After several tries, she concluded that the temperature was either 42 degrees, or 67 degrees. That didn’t seem right, so, rather than count chirps again, she took the 25-degree difference, divided it in half, added the 12.5 to the 42, and came to the average of 54.5 degrees. It was still probably way wrong, but she thought Dipper might approve of her math-y method of getting her answer.

She resolved to tell him about it as soon as he was human again.

As Al ran on, Mabel started to lose track of a lot more than just fifteen seconds. How long had they been travelling? An hour? Two hours? The soreness in her legs told her that they’d been going for at least a million hours. Ugh, she was never going to be able to sit again. Or stand, for that matter.

Mabel watched how fast the trees went by, and decided they were going at least freeway speeds. Sometimes flashes of night sky, glittering with innumerable brilliant stars, would burst through the tree cover, taking her breath away at the sight. Every now and then, Al would run through a clearing or a meadow, giving Mabel an uninterrupted view of the sky, and it seemed to her that the stars were so bright and close, she could reach up and touch them; so shimmering that she could dip her fingers in the winding, rippling Milky Way and pull them out, covered with stardust.

She was admiring one such view when Al came stumbling to a halt for the second time that night. “What’s wrong?” she asked, looking around, hoping they hadn’t found themselves in a birch grove again.

“Mabel,” Al said, releasing her legs, “you’re bleeding.”

Mabel looked down and, sure enough, below her skirt, the skin on her bare thighs and knees was worn away and trickling blood.

“Oh,” she said, removing her arms from around Al’s neck and sliding to the ground. She collapsed onto her rear end in an ungraceful heap. “Ow,” she said. “Everything hurts.”

She wished she was exaggerating but, aside from her legs, her arms, shoulders, back and neck were stiff and sore from being in one position for so long. The weight of her grappling hook and holy water super-soaker hooked to her belt was making her hips hurt. She didn’t even know she had hips, but apparently she did, because they were hurting. The straps of her backpack seemed to dig into her shoulders, and she gently slid it off, biting back a moan of pain. Carefully, she pulled the backpack onto her lap and lifted the flap.

Dipper was still sleeping, peaceful and completely oblivious. Mabel smiled. Dork, she thought.

“Why didn’t you say something?” Al said, her voice both anxious and scolding.

“I didn’t want to slow us down,” Mabel said. “I still don’t.” She reached up, wincing at the ache in muscles she’d never known existed until now, and pulled her sweater over her head, leaving her in just a t-shirt. “I’ll use this as padding for my legs for the rest of the trip, but we’re not going to worry about Mabel and her owies until after your mother turns Dipper back to normal.”

Al frowned in obvious disapproval, but didn’t argue.

Mabel grunted as she struggled to her feet. She fumbled with her belt before letting it drop to the ground, then started tying the sleeves of her sweater around her waist. “Hey, Al, since we’re stopped for a bit…” She gestured to the backpack. “Do you mind checking on him? See how he’s doing? You know…” She tapped the side of her head.

Al sighed, then smiled a little. “Might as well,” she said, “though I doubt a sleeping fawn’s thoughts will be—“

She broke off, her eyes widening almost comically, even as her gaze seemed to stare off into nothing. “Dipper?” she said.

“What?” Mabel said, freezing in shock.

“Dipper, you’re… I don’t believe it… Mabel, he’s right… yes, she’s right here... Hold it!” Al held up her hands. “Just give me a second to explain. I can’t talk to both of you at the same time.”  She looked at Mabel. “Dipper is in there,” she said, pointing at the fawn in the backpack. “You remember the light-shining-through-the-paper metaphor I showed you back at the Shack? When he’s asleep and I try to communicate, it’s like I’m on the other side of the paper!”

“Oh my gosh, that’s amazing!” Mabel practically squealed. “How is he? Is he okay? What is he doing?”

“He’s… just kind of wandering through a forest in his mindscape,” Al said, before getting that far-off stare again. “What? But you are. Oh, pardon me.” Her gaze focused on Mabel, a barely concealed smile tugging at her lips. “He is striding with great purpose through a forest in his mindscape.” Far-off gaze. “How is that not better? I specifically rephrased so it wouldn’t sound like you were aimless and lost.” Al focused on her, openly grinning. “Mabel, you never told me how delightfully easy it is to tease your brother.”

Mabel laughed, her heart feeling free of a great weight. Dipper was still in there, whole and completely himself, from the sound of it. “That’s because people usually find that out for themselves first,” she said, smiling so wide, she felt tears gathering in the corners of her eyes. “Tell him that we’re taking him to your mother to break the curse!”

Al nodded and relayed the message. After a moment, she frowned as if puzzled.

“What?” Mabel asked. “What is he saying?”

Al waved at her to be quiet. “He says he already knows.” She stared off into the distance. “A strange, pale man told him. He was wearing—“

Mabel waited for Al to finish. When she didn’t and just stared blankly into space, Mabel prompted, “He was wearing?”

“Nothing you need to worry your pretty little head about, darlin’,” said a voice behind her and Mabel turned to find herself facing Gideon, who was floating about four feet off the ground, looking down at her with burning eyes and a mouth full of too-sharp teeth. His usual ridiculous sparkling suit was shrouded in writhing shadows, and for the first time, Mabel looked at Gideon and felt an icy shiver of genuine fear.

She moved, faster than she thought her aching body was capable of, and snatched the backpack holding Dipper off the ground, clutching him to her chest protectively. It was only a moment later, as she felt Al’s solid wooden hands grab her upper arms, effectively holding her immobile, that she realized she probably should have grabbed the holy water super-soaker first.

“Y’all just made it so easy for me,” Gideon said, floating closer, and Mabel couldn’t help but notice the low, demonic echo to his voice that hadn’t been there before. “This silly wood sprite, just staring at nothing, it didn’t take any effort at all to meet her eyes and snatch her will away. Now she is mine to command.”

Well, Mabel thought, at least Gideon’s terrifying new visage didn’t seem to be stopping him from spouting cheesy B-movie dialogue.

Somehow, she still wasn’t prepared when he reached out and grabbed hold of the backpack holding Dipper’s still-sleeping form. “No!” she yelled, holding on to the backpack with all her strength as she strained to break free from the dryad’s immovable grip. “Don’t you dare touch him, Gideon!”

“But Mabel, my buttercup, don’t you see? He’s only ever stood between us.” And with that, Gideon wrenched the backpack out of her grip and threw it carelessly to the side with his inhuman strength. It impacted with the trunk of a tree with sickening crack, and Mabel screamed Dipper’s name as the little fawn fell from the pack in a crumpled tangle of limbs, broken and bleeding.

Gideon stared at Dipper, stunned, and for a moment the writhing shadows around him faded. “I… I didn’t mean—“

Mabel cut him off with a shriek of grief and fury. “You monster!” She thrashed ineffectually against the hypnotized dryad’s hold, helpless tears leaking from her eyes. “I’ll kill you!”

Gideon turned back at her, and Mabel gasped as she saw ten-year-old li’l Gideon, looking lost and terrified out of his mind. “Mabel,” he said, and it was almost a plea, before he closed his eyes and shuddered.

When he opened his eyes, Gideon was gone, and in his place, the grinning, shadowy demon. He glided up to her, close, too close, until she could smell the death coming off him in black waves and he could whisper right in her ear: “Not if I kill you first.”

Then he sank his teeth into her neck.

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

A/N: Almost there.

 Whew. Longest chapter yet. Last week I promised a few people I would post this by the weekend. Well, where I am, it’s now Monday morning and the sun is still a couple of hours from rising, so… technically still the weekend? -_-

I hope this is coherent. I stayed up all night finishing this and I’ve tried to catch any errors, but I do not trust my tired brain. If anyone catches a mistake or something that just doesn’t make sense, please let me know, and I will fix it.

A huge, grateful Thank You to everyone who has supported me with likes and reviews. You are the ones who keep me writing. I wish I could give you all hugs. :)

[hannahindie]

Not What She Seems-Chapter 3: The One Where Sam Is Right

**Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural or any of the characters, although if I did, that would be pretty sweet. This is rated M for language, violence, and sexual situations, both consensual and not. The non-consensual will not be very graphic, but the rest will be eventual smut and I don’t want you to be uncomfortable. If any of that offends you, this might not be for you. I really have enjoyed creating Sebastian, and I hope that you guys enjoy it too…even if he is a grade A jerk. Hope you enjoy!

Chapter Description: Sam and Dean finally see what carnage is being left behind and Sam makes a realization that Dean is not happy about. Sebastian lets his temper show, and Ava finds out more about Ben.

Dean had been quiet the entire drive. They’d barely spoken while they packed the car, and when Sam noticed the smell of alcohol on him first thing in the morning, Dean was quick to tell him to sit and spin on it before Sam even said anything. So, they’d spent the three hour drive to Wichita in silence. Sam had spent the time combing through reports to see if there were any patterns he’d missed the night before. The car slowed to a stop and Sam looked up to see they had arrived at the coroner’s office. Sam dug around in the glove box, pulled out two sets of credentials, and tossed one to Dean.

“FBI?” Sam nodded.

“Yea, Agent Tyler, sure are.” He paused. “Are you okay?” Dean rolled his eyes and popped a couple of aspirin and chased them with a mint.

“I’m peachy keen, brother. Let’s get this over with.” He strode off towards the building and Sam had to jog to catch up.

“Fine…right,” Sam muttered and Dean stopped short.

“You got something to say, Dr. Phil?” he snapped.

“What is your problem? We have taken cases with way less information and you’ve been fine. Hell, you’re the one that usually insists on it. Why are you being such an ass about this?” The muscles in Dean’s jaw clenched as he tried to keep from tearing into Sam.

"Sam, I am tired. We have gone non-stop since the trials and the angels falling. Why does it always have to be us? Fun fact, it doesn't need to be. Yet here we are, chasing after some sick bastard that just kills for the hell of it. So can we just go in here, get this over with, and go home?" Sam looked like he wanted to argue but instead he shoved past Dean and into the building.

“You must be Agent Perry, ” the coroner said as he shook Sam’s hand and turned to Dean. “And Agent Tyler?” Dean nodded. “Well, it’s nice to meet you, boys. I’m Dr. Jim Meade. This one is a doozy. Could use all the help I can get.”

“Well, we sure hope we can help. We don’t want to step on any toes, but six bodies is a bit of a body count to ignore.” Dr. Meade nodded.

“We have a decent department here, agents. They’re good at what they do. But this…this has been hard for even the most tenured officers. It’s been…brutal.” Dean cleared his throat.

“Have you ever seen a murder like these before? Could they be related to anything, a cold case or something?” Meade shook his head.

“No, sir, nothing like this. We’ve had our fair share of violence, mostly gang related, but even the one-offs can’t compare to these last six. I’ve never seen anything like it.” His voice broke and Sam glanced at Dean. The coroner cleared his throat and walked over to one of the slabs. A sheet covered it, and Sam tensed, knowing that if the seasoned coroner had a hard time dealing with it, it wasn’t going to be pleasant. He swept the sheet back and Sam heard Dean groan. The brothers had seen a lot of violence, their own friends torn apart, blown up and tortured, not to mention what they’d been through and had to do. But nothing prepared them for what they saw. This wasn’t a monster randomly tearing into someone, or a ghost looking for revenge. The injuries to this man were deliberate. He had obviously been beaten; both eyes were swollen almost completely shut, his lips were both split, and the right side of his face was a rainbow of black, blue, and purple.

But it was more than that. The man had practically been filleted. And not just random strokes, but expertly made cuts that caused the most damage while drawing out the torture. Large strips of flesh were missing, exposing the muscle and nerves beneath. Deep cuts covered the flesh that hadn’t been removed and were deep enough to strike bone. He had been split open from sternum to belly button. Sam leaned forward to look at the wound.

“Was there anything missing?” Meade pulled the skin back further and Dean had to look away.

“Nothing is missing, but take a closer look. What do you see?” Sam stared for a moment, brows knitted in concentration. Meade gave Sam a grim smile when he looked back up at him, a mixture of confusion and horror on his face.

“Really? Did the killer do this?” The older man nodded. “Dean, you need to look at this.” Dean looked at Sam sharply at Sam’s casual use of his real first name.

“I don’t think I need to, it seems like you have it under control-” Sam nudged him forward, interrupting him.

“Look.” Dean sighed and looked down. He wasn’t well versed in anatomy, but he’d seen enough to be dangerous. Despite the roiling, uneasy feeling of his stomach threatening to rebel against him, he stared, trying to spot what was wrong with the gruesome scene in front of him.

“Isn’t the appendix supposed to be on the right side?”

“That’s not all. Every single organ is exactly where it is supposed to be, but on the opposite side. All the cuts were made with surgical precision and missed every major artery. Even the pieces that were flayed were down with an extremely sharp scalpel, and then were cauterized before he moved to the next section.” Dean looked up in surprise.

“You mean to tell me he was alive when this was happening? The entire time?”

“Yes, for a majority of it. I’m not sure how he managed to keep him alive while he switched the organs, but all signs point to him being so. Although it’s my professional opinion that he didn’t last long after that. The throat being slit seems to be an afterthought. I think Benjamin here eventually went into shock, and the suspect got bored.” Dean snorted.

“Oh, sure, get bored and slit someone’s throat. Jesus.” Sam gestured to a group of markings near his throat.

“Are those bite marks?” Meade sighed.

“Son, I honestly…I don’t know. I’m inclined to say yes, but I’ve never seen anything like it. That’s what is going on the report, it’s the only thing it could be.” Sam and Dean exchanged looks.

“What about the girls? Were they tortured like this guy?” He shook his head.

“Not quite. Don’t get me wrong, they went through it. They’d been beaten, cut up, bitten. Each one seemed to get worse. The flaying and the organ swap were missing on all the women, but the last two girls were sexually assaulted, probably multiple times. Mr. Taylor had been bound, but more like to a chair or something upright a majority of the time. There was some rope burn and bruising around his torso and wrists. All five girls appeared to have been shackled to something while lying down. Their wrists and ankles were deeply bruised, but I believe he is using something soft, like leather cuffs.” He threw the sheet back over the body. “Like I said, you have your work cut out for you.” Sam smiled gently and Dean had to hold back a grin. He could always tell when Sam was getting ready to turn on the charm, those patented puppy dog eyes that almost always got him what he wanted.

“Dr. Meade, we need to get all the files you have for these cases, is there any way you could help us with that right now? We have some other interviews to conduct.” He nodded.

“Sure thing, son. It’s going to take awhile, there’s a lot.” Sam smiled in earnest now.

“That’s not a problem, sir.” Meade left the brothers, and before the door could even fully close behind him, Sam had flipped the sheet back again and was looking closely at the bite marks on Ben’s neck. Dean made a face.

“Dude, how? How are you not ralphing all over him? That’s disgusting.” Sam rolled his eyes.

“Someone had to do it, and since you’re being such a bitch about it, I thought I might try,.” He covered the body back up. “Well, they look like vamp bites, but I don’t think they are. And you aren’t going to like what I think it is.”

“You’d better say human, Sammy.” Sam shook his head.

“I’d love to, but no.” Dean narrowed his eyes.

“I’m getting real sick of you making me guess. What the hell is it?”

“I think it might be a vetala.”

“Rise and shine, Ava! It’s time to get some food in you!” Ava had to practically force her eyelids open. They were gritty and dry from crying, and all she wanted was to go back to sleep. Sebastian had laid the tray across her lap. On it sat a glass of orange juice, a bowl of oatmeal, and a small vase with a single lily in it. He smiled. “It’s not much, but I thought we should take it slow. You haven’t eaten in days.” He helped her sit up and placed a pillow behind her. “I hope you like oatmeal. I added honey and cinnamon…one of my favorites.” He settled in next to her and picked up a spoon. “May I?” Ava nodded weakly, sickened by the thought of him feeding her but so hungry that she forced herself not to care. He carefully spooned oatmeal into her mouth. Ava had to admit that it was delicious. She closed her eyes and sighed. “Delicious, isn’t it? It’s been…passed down, you could say,. Simple, but very tasty. He held the orange juice to her mouth and she grimaced as the citrus hit her throat. "Whoa, slow down.” He sat the glass on the tray. “Maybe we should have stuck with water. He smiled and tucked a rogue strand of hair behind her ear.

"What happened to Ben?” Ava looked at Sebastian and he looked away, absently swirling the spoon in the oatmeal. “What happened? Sebastian sighed.

"You don’t really want to talk about that right now, do you? I thought we’d have a nice breakfast, talk a little bit before…” He trailed off.

“Before what? Why am I here and what did you do to Benjamin?” Sebastian looked at her for a moment, dark eyes narrowed. He slammed the spoon on the tray and shoved it off the bed and into the floor. Everything scattered as it hit the stone floor, glass shards and food going everywhere.

“You are determined to ruin this wonderful day I had planned, aren’t you?” he snapped. “Fine. If telling you will get it out of your system, then I guess we will just have to go out of order. But don’t blame me if you’re too upset to enjoy the rest of the day.” He pulled a cell phone out of his pocket and to Ava’s surprise, it looked familiar.

“Is that-”

“Ben’s? Yes, I ran out of storage on mine. I’m a sucker for those Candy Crush games and selfies.” He unlocked it and began scrolling through pictures. “I adore this one.” He flipped the phone to face her and she bit back a sob. It was a picture of her and Ben on a recent hiking trip. Ben had taken it, his long arms the only way they’d both be in the picture. Ava was smiling at the camera, eyes squeezed shut as she laughed at something he said, her long blonde hair blown back by the wind. He wasn’t looking at the camera, but at Ava. His eyes shone as he watched her laugh, and Ava remembered never having felt so loved. “That’s happiness. I bet most people don’t appreciate that enough.” He turned the phone back and flipped through more pictures. “I wonder, did you appreciate it, Ava?” He smiled. “Here we go!” He turned the phone around and Ava immediately closed her eyes. Sebastian gripped her face tightly. “I will not ask more than once. Look.” Ava slowly opened her eyes, and the scene that greeted her was far worse than she could have anticipated. Ben was tied to a chair in their kitchen, just like in her dream, but was far more bloody and beaten. His head hung against his chest, and his arms, which had been tied when she had seen him, hung limply by his sides. They were covered in blood and she could tell that he’d been cut up badly. It was hard to tell if he was still alive in the photo, but for his sake, she hoped that he hadn’t been. She shook her head.

“But why? Why do that to him?” Sebastian began scrolling through pictures again.

“Well first, he hit me. Of course, he really didn’t do much damage, but it was annoying. And also it was just rude. Second, I wanted you. And boy, let me tell you, he did not like that. I even told him that we could share, but that didn’t seem to interest him either.” His face lit up. “I forgot about this one!” He turned it to her one last time. Ava felt as if she would be sick. Ben was laid out on a table, his midsection bare and bloody. Sebastian stood behind him, holding his head up by the hair, smiling his cold style, holding a scalpel and giving a thumbs up. He had taken a selfie with Ben as he laid there dead or dying. “Selfies, I told you! I can’t get enough of them. I guess technically it’s not, it was on a timer…you know what, that doesn’t really matter.” He shoved the phone back into his pocket.

“I think I’m going to be sick, ” Ava muttered. She leaned over the bed and retched, the meager breakfast she’d had leaving just as quickly as she’d eaten it. Her shoulder ached as she leaned as far as her binding would allow, nothing but bile left to ride herself of. Sebastian looked at her with a combination of confusion and disgust.

“See, I knew that could have waited. I forget your kind have that unfortunate…function.” He grimaced. “Very unpleasant.” Ava leaned back and fought to catch her breath. She glared at Sebastian,.

“What did you expect? You killed…no…tortured and killed the one person that meant anything to me, and then showed me-” Her head snapped to her right as he slapped her, hard. She looked at Sebastian with wide, wet eyes. He sighed.

“I’m sorry, Ava. It’s just…that’s negative talk. I supposed you don’t realize it yet, but I’ll mean something to you soon, too. More than you know. Maybe even more than Ben. I’ll explain soon, I promise.” He ran his fingers gently over the red mark his slap had left. “This will be worth it. You’ll see.” He leaned in and kissed her, much more gently than before, and sighed. “Now,” he said as he bent to pick up the discarded tray and pieces of glass, “I’m going to get you some supplies. Ava hated to ask, but he was looking at her expectantly and her face was still stinging from the last slap.

"What supplies?” He grinned.

“Drawing supplies, of course! I’d like for you to draw my portrait. If you’re very good and you do that, I may let you have a little more freedom. I’m sure that this room is getting a bit boring, isn’t it?” She nodded. “That settles it then. Behave yourself, and maybe we’ll have ourselves a little field trip.” She had already begun thinking of ways to use it to her advantage when he paused and looked back at her. “I’d be careful how much plotting you do while I’m gone. It’s going to be much easier to care for a child if you still have all of your limbs.” With that, he quietly left, and Ava stared after him with eyes wide, wondering what he meant.

@wheresthekillswitch @sassyspn67 @trexrambling

Chapter 4: The One Where Dean Is Taken By Surprise

[adapted-batteries]

Day 7: Free Day

Finally, here’s that fic I’ve been talking about for the past week or so.

“Dooooggg Boooiii”

Fandom: The Librarians

Rating: General audiences/sfw, a little language in one bit

Ships: Jazekiel, mention of Fleve

Word count: 5339

also posted on my Ao3 

Summary: Ezekiel struggles with lingering effects after being cured of his lycanthropy, and Stone offers to help. Set after episode 2 of season 3 “And the Fangs of Death.”

_____

It’s been about a month since the whole “werewolf” ordeal. Of course there was teasing when the full moon came around a couple weeks after that mission, mostly from Stone, but it’s not like Ezekiel went full dog or anything. Maybe he had been a bit irritable, but the wolfsbane tea had cured him, like it was supposed to, well mostly anyway.

There were some impulses that lingered, like weird desires for belly rubs or ear scratches (not that he asked anyone to do that). He collected sticks that one time they were in the forest, and didn’t realize it until they got back, dumping them all out of his backpack onto the table in the Annex. Perhaps it was a bit unnecessary for him to dive into that mud puddle when they got attacked by actual ninjas in Beijing, and weirdly enough he didn’t want to shower right away. That stupid blue rubber ball Stone had became the bane of his existence; his focus would zero in on it, and he’d actually chase it if Stone threw it, though Jenkins banned him from doing that in the Annex when he broke a light.

Of course that didn’t stop Stone from taking that damn ball on missions. Thankfully he didn’t bring it out while they were working, but Stone had his fun afterwards. After the last mission, Stone brought out the rubber ball when they went to a bar, right as Ezekiel attempted to hit up a girl, keeping it low enough in his lap that she couldn’t see, but Ezekiel could. The girl probably thought he was wasted by his sudden distraction and walked away, either disgusted or suddenly uninterested.

“Dude, that was not cool,” Ezekiel hissed. Stone was clearly drunk enough that he was ignoring personal boundaries.

“It’s still there?” Stone said, mildly shocked that it worked.

“Yeah it’s still there, it’s not gone away and it’s been at least a month now,” Ezekiel snapped. “The least you could do is lay off. It’s annoying.”

Stone looked down at his drink, like a kid scolded by a parent. “S...sorry, I didn't mean...it was just a joke,” he stammered, ears going red in embarrassment.

Ezekiel hadn’t drank as much as Stone had, but he was still a little buzzed. Now all he could think about was the werewolf incident. “Do you think the wolfsbane didn’t work?” he suddenly asked Stone.

The drunk man’s head snapped up. “Well...uh...I don’t know, actually. We could go ask Jenkins?”

“Yeah, let’s go ask him,” Ezekiel decided, getting up from his barstool and dragging Stone by the arm to the exit.

    Fortunately, Jenkins was still up, reading something at a desk. He merely looked up over his reading glasses when the two somewhat clumsily entered.

“Late night history or magic question?” he asked dryly. “Or maybe you didn’t want me to have one peaceful night to myself.”

“Uh actually, yes, magic question,” Ezekiel responded, ignoring the sarcasm.

Jenkins sat up, not expecting them to answer seriously. “Well then...what is it?”

“Is it possible that my werewolf-ness won’t completely go away?” Ezekiel asked. Jenkins sighed, closed the book, and stood up, walking towards the main table constantly littered with historical documents.

“For some people, the wolfsbane doesn’t eradicate the lycanthropy completely,” the immortal knight said as he thumbed through some old manuscript.

“But you said it was a cure,” Ezekiel countered.

“Well, it mostly is. It will keep you from completely turning, and you can’t infect anyone via biting either. It made your lycanthropy inert, but that doesn’t mean it’s completely gone,” Jenkins clarified. “It will take time for your body to revert back to your human self, especially where it affects your neural tissue.”

    “So he’s stuck with dog brain?” Stone snorted, seemingly forgetting the bar incident until Ezekiel glared at him.

Jenkins just rolled his eyes, uninterested in the petty teasing. “In theory, you can drink more wolfsbane, with some other things, but I gave you the most your body could handle initially. If that didn’t get rid of most of the lycanthropy, there’s not too much else that will.”

At first Ezekiel thought that “time” meant a few weeks, maybe another month, but after two months, it was still there. He could control it more now, not give in to the impulses so much, but that ball still got to him. Stone didn't bring it out much anymore, which was nice, until he did again.

They were doing their various studying in the Annex for a new mission the clipping book sent them on (fair folk showing up around an Irish university, causing issues and occasionally taking people). Ezekiel lounged at one of the desks, feet up, searching through old blueprints and local geographical maps. Stone leaned over an old leather-bound book at the main table, absorbing folklore, and Flynn was upstairs doing the same thing. The girls had gone to do reconnaissance in the town nearby, and Jenkins was in his lab, working on some protection charms.

By pure luck, Ezekiel looked up the exact moment Stone pulled the ball out from under some papers, apparently a subconscious act since he still seemed totally absorbed in the reading. All thought flew to the back of Ezekiel's mind as Stone squeezed and rolled it around on the desk, not realizing the torture Ezekiel felt. No, focus, he chided himself, to no avail. He fought himself for several minutes until the worst thing happened: he whined. That finally startled Stone from the book, especially as Ezekiel shot up from his desk, hand still over his mouth, running through the double doors.

Stone looked up to the balcony; Flynn must've been somewhere against the back wall oblivious to Ezekiel’s speedy exit. He then looked around the Annex, at the desk, trying to figure out what made Ezekiel leave, a question easily answered as soon as he looked down at his right hand. “Shit,” he mumbled, stuffing it in his pocket as he stood up, chasing after Ezekiel.

Once outside the Annex, Stone saw him running up into the park across the street. Stone stayed back, giving him space, calmly walking up to the bridge pillar he had went behind. Ezekiel sat against it, elbows on his knees, head in his hands.

“You alright?” Stone asked softly.

Ezekiel didn't look up. “Do I look alright to you?”

Without answering, Stone sat down next to him, waiting until Ezekiel looked up. He then took out the ball, studying it like it was a specimen. “How do you feel when you see this? Before your annoyance at your reaction, what do you first feel?”

“I feel, well, excited, focused, I forget what I’m thinking about,” Ezekiel answered, breathing uneasily as he looked at the ball. Stone then put it back in his pocket; Ezekiel slumped forward, hugging his knees. “It’s so hard to keep it all at bay. You don’t know how much I want to do “dog things” all the time, it’s unbearable.”

“I didn’t know it was still affecting you so bad still,” Stone responded. “I didn't even realize I had the ball out until you left.”

Ezekiel glanced back at him, judging how sincere Stone seemed, before looking towards some trees. “It’s not like you could do anything about it.”

“That doesn’t mean I didn't want to know. Maybe we can find something,” Stone countered.

“If Jenkins couldn’t, how could we?” Ezekiel sighed in defeat.

“Well that’s a stupid question,” Stone snorted, prompting Ezekiel to look at him.

“I...I know,” Ezekiel said, too lazy to keep the pain off his face.

“Look. If you need somewhere to cool off, I’m sure there’s something the Library can do. You don’t have to suffer alone,” Stone suggested. He looked pretty serious about helping Ezekiel.

“You sound like some counselor,” Ezekiel laughed bitterly.

“That’s apparently what you need right now,” Stone quipped, raising his eyebrows.

“No I-” Ezekiel stopped himself from shutting off again. “Well I guess I do.”

“And if you need someone to throw the ball, well, I wouldn't mind obliging,” Stone added, cracking a smile.

Ezekiel gave a small smile back “Just don't let Jenkins catch you or he'll kick you out of the Annex,” Ezekiel cautioned jokingly.

Stone chuckled, then went serious again. “What all does “dog things” entail?”

“Uh, well, the fetch thing is pretty obvious,” he started, suddenly embarrassed.

“And?” Stone prodded.

“Um, there's, uh, an annoying desire to be petted,” Ezekiel continued. Stone raised his eyebrows again, biting back a smile. “God, this is stupid. I shouldn't have said anythi-”

“No, it's not!” Stone cut him off. Ezekiel looked at him, confused. “I mean I'd…” he trailed off.

“What, you'd pet me?” Ezekiel scoffed, thinking Stone was pulling his leg for another laugh. That is, until he really saw the sincerity, and the blush, on Stone’s face. “You're...actually serious?”

“Forget it,” Stone said, flustered. He started to stand up but Ezekiel grabbed his arm.

“No, don't leave,” Ezekiel said as he pulled him back down. He didn't have to pull much, Stone seemed eager to stay. “Can I take you up on that offer?”

“You really want me to?” Stone asked, watching him.

“Well you're still here, aren't you?” Ezekiel answered. That earned a smile from Stone.

“So, um, how do you want to do this?” Stone questioned.

“Head first, no belly rubs or anything, it's too soon for that,” Ezekiel chuckled nervously. Stone laughed under his breath and nodded.

After a few seconds of silence, Stone hesitantly reached up to Ezekiel's head, watching him intently. Ezekiel tried his best not to seem so eager, but quickly found himself leaning into Stone’s hand as it ran through his hair. “Is that good?” Stone asked him.

“Mhmmm,” Ezekiel breathed, eyes fluttering closed. Stone failed at biting back a laugh. “Hey, don’t mock me, or you don’t get to do this again.”

“I’m not,” Stone paused, sighing before continuing, “it’s...you’re really cute right now.”

Ezekiel opened his eyes, mouth slightly open. “I...didn’t know you felt that way,” he muttered, suddenly looking away.

“You didn’t? Really?” Stone said in disbelief. “Didn’t notice I basically went out of my way to touch you?” He nodded to his hand still in Ezekiel's hair to emphasize his point.

“I thought that was just you,” Ezekiel countered. “And the whole teasing for months, that really threw me off.” Stone was about to say something, but Ezekiel continued. “I guess you were the first to take care of me after I got bit.”

Stone chuckled. “It's been longer than months.” He moved his hand from the back of Ezekiel's head to behind his ear.

“Oh,” was all Ezekiel could manage before a smile appeared on his face, eyes half closed.

“If I'd known earlier, I would've jumped at the chance to do this,” Stone hummed, clearly enjoying himself just as much as Ezekiel was.

“Should've asked instead of teasing me then, hm?” Ezekiel quipped, a smug look on his face.

“I'm sorry, alright?” Stone spread his hand out so he could get both behind Ezekiel’s ear and the back of his neck. “Does this make up for it?”

“Ah, yeah, mostly,” he stuttered, melting under Stone's hand, eyes closing again.

“Mostly?” Stone questioned, eyebrow arched.

“One time isn't gonna cut it,” Ezekiel responded, opening one eye to look at Stone. “Not after months of torture.”

“Fair enough,” Stone said.

“Stone?! Jones?!” a voice called from the entrance to the Annex, Flynn. “I heard footsteps leaving a bit ago. The girls are back, time to go over things.”

Ezekiel’s eyes shot open, panic on his face. “Hey, it’s fine,” Stone soothed, giving him one last scratch behind the ear. “It’s not like he knows why we left.” With a smile he stood up, offering a hand to Ezekiel.

“Don’t tell anyone, ok?” Ezekiel said, trying his best to compose himself once he was on his feet. He didn’t let go of Stone’s hand, though, and Stone didn’t drop his either.

Stone smiled, shaking his head. “I would never.” Turning around partially so his voice would carry back to Flynn, Stone responded, “We’re coming!” He then turned back to Ezekiel, biting his lip like he was thinking about something.

“We should head back,” Ezekiel said, trying to get Stone to move. Not that he didn’t want to spend the rest of the day out here with him, but Stone’s look dripped affection, and he didn’t think he could last long under it.

“Yeah, but before we go,” Stone started, a corner of his mouth curling up like he had a surprise. He looked around before locking eyes with Ezekiel again, closing the already small space between them. Ezekiel watched him with almost nervous anticipation, watching Stone’s eyes dip to his lips then back up to make eye contact, asking a silent question.

Ezekiel had already been way more vulnerable today than he preferred, but he’d be lying to himself if he said he hadn’t wanted to kiss the cowboy ever since he met him, so Ezekiel answered Stone with his own lips. Sadly they didn’t get long as Flynn called for them again. “Guys?!?”

Stone pulled away, albeit reluctantly. “Probably should go now,” he said, voice lower than it had been before. He chuckled at the slightly dazed look on Ezekiel’s face. Ezekiel nodded, still not letting go of his hand, so Stone turned, pulling Ezekiel with him. When Flynn was in view, marching up the slight hill to find them, Ezekiel dropped their hands. Stone glanced at him, giving a sympathetic look, before replying to Flynn. “We were coming, alright? No need to hunt us down.”

“You were sure taking your time about it,” Flynn quipped, looking at both of them. Ezekiel tensed, thinking Flynn was going to say something, but thankfully Flynn added, “Cassandra found some runes running all throughout the town, over doors and on foundations.” He was already turned back around, walking down the hill to the Annex. “As you know, the town existed centuries before the university did, and didn’t incorporate the protection runes, leaving the campus open to the fey.”

“So we have a reverse Wexler situation?” Ezekiel asked, trying to sound casual.

Flynn turned looked behind himself at Ezekiel, brain processing the analogy. “Um, yeah, in a way,” Flynn responded, looking forward again as they crossed the empty street. “A little more complicated though, and not Lovecraftian.”

Once inside, the team devised a plan, gathered supplies, and used the backdoor early the next day. Ezekiel acted like nothing happened the day before, but he noticed Stone watched him more than usual. Thankfully the plan went relatively well, safety runes in place around the campus, and some bargains were made for people who got stuck in the fey.

When they got back to the Annex, it was only two in the afternoon. Ezekiel was tempted to call it a day and go home, but Stone’s persistent eye had made his urges even harder to control it seemed. As everyone started going their separate ways to relax, he pulled Stone to the side. “Hey, you said the Library had a room we could use,” he whispered, trying to act casual, and failing miserably.

“I said ‘probably,’ but we could go hunting for one, if ya want,” Stone responded, voice low, but not a whisper.

“Hey, Stone, Jones, wanna go get a drink?” Flynn asked. The boys look up, startled, thinking everyone had left.

“Uh,” Stone started, glancing at Ezekiel who literally gave him puppy dog eyes. Eve, however, had a much more annoyed look aimed at Flynn. “I think I’m gonna turn in early, ya know. Busy day and all.”

“Oh,” Flynn said, pausing when Eve tapped his elbow, “yeah, on second thought that’s probably a good idea. See you two tomorrow!” He then offered his arm to Eve, and the two walked out the double doors.

“Alright, let’s go hunting,” Stone smirked to Ezekiel, offering his arm to him to mimic Flynn.  Ezekiel gives him a slightly confused look, but takes it anyway.

They made their way to the wall of doors, unsure of which to open. “Why don't we label these?” Ezekiel said, hand hovering over a metallic door.

“No! Don't open that one!” Stone shouted, pulling Ezekiel away by the shoulders. “That's the sunroom...the literal sunroom.”

“See?” Ezekiel commented.

Stone just smiled at him. “I'll be sure to pass it on to Jenkins.” Determined to find something useful, Stone turned right, opening a door every so often. After several minutes and not really useful rooms like “rock room” (a load of rocks on displays), “cave room” (possibly a backdoor to a cavern, but it was dark and there was squeaking so they promptly shut that door), and what looked to be a long abandoned “insect room” (based on dust and empty spots for displays, and the ominously empty habitat tanks), they came to a simple oak door with words inscribed on it.

“What one requires, I shall provide. What does that mean?” Ezekiel said.

Stone stared at the door, thinking hard, before he laughed. The laugh confused Ezekiel even more. “Of course the Library has it's own room of requirement,” Stone clarified, still chuckling to himself.

“What, like from Harry Potter?” Ezekiel asked. He wasn’t gonna get an answer out of Stone though; the cowboy was suddenly really giddy.

“Ok so what type of room do you want? Think about it, then open the door,” Stone instructed, grin on his face.

Ezekiel concentrated for a moment, looking at the door, then reached for the metal door handle. Before he touched it, he looked back to Stone. “Don’t joke, ok?”

“This was my idea...I’m not here to make you a laughing stock,” Stone replied, mildly exasperated. Ezekiel opened his mouth, but instead shook his head and grabbed the handle.

The door swung towards them with unnecessary creeking, revealing a long room with indoor running track material on the floor, walls of simple cinderblock, and lights set inside the ceiling. Against the right wall near the door was a rack with various types of balls, along with some rope and rubber toys.

Ezekiel stepped in first, with Stone close behind. “Woah.”

“So I guess you wanna play fetch?” Stone said as he looked at the rack.

“Uh, yeah,” Ezekiel responded, distracted. If he had a tail, he would’ve been wagging it so hard.

“Which one would ya like first?” Stone asked, watching Ezekiel with amusement.

Ezekiel’s eyes flicked over the whole rack several times. “I can’t pick, I dunno, you pick one.”

“Well,” Stone started, pulling out the rubber ball from his pocket, “I still got this.” Ezekiel’s eyes zeroed in on the ball, mouth slightly open again. Stone smiled, pulling his arm back, ready to throw, pausing to toy with Ezekiel.

“Oh come on, just throw it already,” Ezekiel complained, not quite a whine.

With a snort, Stone threw the ball as hard as he could, and Ezekiel went flying after it. The room actually expanded as his throw reached the far wall, tripping up Ezekiel for a moment before he continued his chase. To Stone’s amusement and mild disgust, he slid down on his knees, grabbing the ball with his teeth before sprinting back to Stone.

“Um, do you have to use your mouth?” Stone asked when he returned. He stuck his hand out anyway for Ezekiel to drop it. He barely had the ball in his teeth, jaw open as wide as he could.

Once he dropped the ball, Ezekiel stretched his jaw, massaging one side. “I couldn't help it, but I’m not gonna do that again.”

“You wanna switch to something else, or keep the ball?” Stone asked as he wiped the ball off on his jeans.

“One more with this, then I wanna try out the tennis ball,” Ezekiel answered, knees bent and ready to run. Stone obliged, throwing just as hard as last time. Ezekiel returned with the ball in hand this time, breathing quicker than before.

After going through a few of the different balls, Ezekiel jogged over to the rack, sweat dripping off his face. “I wanna do one of these rope ones,” he said, picking up a two-foot white rope with knots at either end.

“So like tug-o-war or throwing?” Stone asked, eyeing up the rope.

“Tug-o-war, but like don’t rip out my teeth please,” Ezekiel responded, biting down on one end of the rope.

“Uh, alright.” Stone hesitantly reached out, taking his end of the rope in one hand. “Don’t go at it too hard from your end either.” Ezekiel nodded, rope still in his mouth, then braced himself, pulling slightly at the rope. Stone tensed as well, giving a bit more resistance. After a few moments Ezekiel pulled harder from his end, growling slightly. “Oh, there’s more in ya,” Stone teased, pulling a bit harder. The corners of Ezekiel’s mouth curled up as he growled again and pulled harder. Stone didn’t increase his pull, but he wiggled the rope, giving in to Ezekiel’s pull a bit.

After a few rounds of tug-o-war, switching ropes each time, Ezekiel was dripping sweat. Stone was a bit sweaty as well, but nowhere near as much as Ezekiel. As Ezekiel wiped sweat off his forehead, a small table with two glasses of water appeared next to them. “I can’t believe we haven’t found this room before,” Ezekiel said as he downed the water.

“I’m surprised you hadn’t found this,” Stone replied, drinking water as well.

“I...actually never went this far, at least not after I found my side entrance,” Ezekiel answered. “And when the Library was mixing everything up, kind of halted explorations.”

Stone nodded in understanding. “So what do you want to do now?”

“Um, a shower would be nice,” Ezekiel started. The room shifted; the far wall suddenly much nearer, with two doors in it.

“Well I don’t think you need me to do that...I’m not scrubbing you with flea shampoo,” Stone snickered.

Ezekiel rolled his eyes, but his ears went redder than they were from exertion. “No, but, if you still want to-” Stone’s eyes went wide, but Ezekiel continued, “After I shower, I wouldn’t mind a...pet sesh.”

Stone relaxed a bit, but still chuckled. “Is that what we’re calling it now? ‘Pet sesh’?”

“What else would you call it?” Ezekiel retorted.

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe just cuddling? I mean that’s how I’d describe having the family dog next to me or on my lap while I pet ‘em,” Stone answered.

“I’m not getting on your lap,” Ezekiel scoffed, mildly joking.

“That’s entirely up to you to choose,” Stone added, completely serious.

“I’m, uh, gonna get in the shower then,” Ezekiel stammered, backing towards the doors.

“You do that, I’ll just wait here,” Stone replied, giving him a smile. “Take your time, darlin’.”

Ezekiel’s eyes went wide at the pet name; he gave Stone a weak smile before disappearing behind the door. He didn’t have a hard time relaxing in the shower. The Library was apparently really good at doing exactly what Ezekiel imagined, which was one of those super fancy showers with six body jets, rainfall shower head, stone tiles, and even a loofa.

While Ezekiel showered, Stone sneaked out of the room, making his way to the locker room next to the combat training room. He wasn’t sure about the room of requirement, but the locker room did have magic to keep it and its contents clean. Lucky for Ezekiel, he had his sweats in there. By the time he returned to the room of requirement, Ezekiel hadn’t gotten out yet.

“You havin’ a good time in there?” he asked to the pleasant sounding water.

“I know you left,” is all Ezekiel said.

“I wasn’t tryin’ very hard,” Stone countered.

“Sure you weren’t,” Ezekiel laughed from the shower.

“Anyway, I got a change of clothes for you, so you don’t have to wear your sweaty clothes. They’re my workout sweats, clean of course,” Stone said.

The water shut off as the bottom foot foot or so of the door disappeared, revealing Ezekiel’s feet. “You can hand them under.” Once the clothes were transferred, he added a meek thanks.

A few minutes later, Ezekiel stepped out. The sweats were quite big on him, but he looked comfy. The wall behind him shifted, removing the doors and leaving Ezekiel's pile of clothes on the floor. “This room is amazing,” Ezekiel said as he stepped, barefoot, toward the center. He concentrated for a few moments, making the room shift again.

The room became much darker, lit only by a flickering fire in a stone fireplace in the left wall. A plush-looking couch materialized in front of the fireplace as the walls shifted to dark wood paneling, and the floor changed from running track material into soft, light beige carpet.

“Ok this is amazing,” Ezekiel said as he surveyed his mind's creation.

“Um, where'd you come up with this?” Stone asked looking around the room as well.

“A house I broke into a long time ago had a den like this,” Ezekiel replied as he walked over to the couch and plopped down.

“It is cozy,” Stone added, sitting down next to Ezekiel, leaving a good half of a foot in between them. “So, uh, same as last time?”

Ezekiel shifted in his seat, sitting sideways so he could face Stone. “Yeah.”

Suddenly hesitant like the day before, Stone reached out, weaving his fingers through Ezekiel’s somewhat damp hair. Ezekiel’s eyes fluttered closed, content smile appearing on his face. He looked so relaxed, content, happy, that after a few minutes Stone quit petting, leaving his hand around the side and back of Ezekiel’s neck. Ezekiel’s eyes opened at his stop, a concerned look appearing on his face. “What’s wrong?”

Stone stared at him for a moment before realizing he needed to respond. “No, nothin’,” Stone stammers, flashing a smile at Ezekiel, before leaning towards him. He paused several inches from Ezekiel’s face, expression suddenly serious. “Is this ok?”

Ezekiel furrowed his brows at him. “Why would it not be ok? I haven’t told you to stop.”

“I’d rather have an explicit ‘yes’ than just go off you not stopping me,” Stone sighed.

Ezekiel was truly touched by Stone’s care. “I’ve not had that before,” he mumbled.

Now it was Stone’s turn give a look of almost pity. “Well I’m not gonna do anythin’ without your ok, ok?” He lowered his head slightly, waiting for Ezekiel to respond.

“Ok,” Ezekiel answered, mock exasperation in his voice. “You’re more than allowed to kiss me.”

“Heh, that’s more like it,” Stone replied, closing the distance between them. Ezekiel was shocked about how caring, how gentle Stone suddenly was. It’s not that he didn’t think Stone capable of it, but Ezekiel didn’t usually have it “gentle”  like this; it was a whole new thing for him.

The exhaustion of the day finally hit Ezekiel after a few minutes. He pulled away, but not far, smiling at Stone. “I’d like some more petting,” he stated as he laid out on the couch, head on Stone’s lap, watching the fire.

“Alright,” Stone chuckled, letting him get settled before resuming the petting. Ezekiel hummed, content. “Can I go past shoulders?” Stone checked in with him.

“Yeah,” Ezekiel sighed, breathing growing quite regular.

Stone let one of his hands run up and down Ezekiel’s arm slowly, massaging a little bit, knowing full well he was putting Ezekiel to sleep. He silently thanked Ezekiel’s imagination for conjuring up the comfiest couch he’d ever sat on as he felt himself being lulled by the crackling fire.

They probably would've slept the whole night if Jenkins hadn't opened the door. “What the-” the immortal said as he stepped inside. “So this is where you two went.”

Stone jumped, shaking Ezekiel awake and pushing him off his lap. “What are you doing here?” Stone demanded as he stood, trying but failing at being nonchalant.

“I happen to live here…” Jenkins deadpanned. He was wearing a plush looking robe over some pajama bottoms, and slippers.

Ezekiel became aware of the new situation as he sat up. “How come you never told us about this?” he asked, not even bothering to look embarrassed like Stone was.

“Well, this is a big reason,” Jenkins answered. “I would like to go to sleep myself, without roommates preferably.”

“There's no bedrooms in the Annex?” Stone asked, curious.

“The Library was not intended to be lived in. It's a workplace first. I just happened to adapt it to my needs,” Jenkins replied. Ezekiel didn't seem like he was going to move on his own, so Stone grabbed him by the upper arm, pushing him towards the door. “At least get his shoes,” Jenkins sighed, looking at Ezekiel's clothes still sitting in a pile on the floor.

“I would like those,” Ezekiel yawned, walking on his own to his things. He slipped the shoes on, not bothering with socks, and scooped up the rest. He then walked towards the door, Stone following behind him.

“Goodnight, boys,” Jenkins nodded, ushering them out of the room. “Don't forget to lock up behind yourselves.” As soon as they stepped back into the Library, the door creaky swung shut on its own.

“Well that was weird,” Ezekiel said as they started walking back to the Annex.

“That was the only weird thing?” Stone teased, still a little tense from Jenkins’ sudden appearance. Ezekiel only glanced at him from the corner of his eye in response.

They stayed silent the rest of the way until they were standing outside the entrance. It was night now; Ezekiel's phone said it was almost 1 am. “I can give ya a ride home, if ya want,” Stone offered as they walked to his pickup truck parked on the side of the road.

“Can I come home with you?” Ezekiel blurted, streetlights thankfully not bright enough to show his sudden blush.

“Don't ya think it's a little early for that?” Stone asked.

“Well I never thought whatever...this..is, was normal,” Ezekiel retorted, using his head to motion in between them since his arms were occupied. “And that doesn't mean we do anything, either. I just,” he paused, looking down at his clothes, “sleeping alone doesn't seem as great of an option after that.”

Stone stared at him for a moment, studying him carefully, before shrugging. “If that's what you want, then I'm more than happy to oblige,” Stone answered. “I just want to make sure you're fully on board with whatever we do.” For a split second Stone thought Ezekiel was tearing up, but he quickly forgot as Ezekiel kissed him, short but meaningful. “Alrighty then,” Stone started when Ezekiel pulled away. He smiled at him before turning around to unlock his truck door. Ezekiel stood there, unmoving. “Well, come on then, I'm more than ready to go back to sleep.”

“Sleep sounds amazing,” Ezekiel replied as he walked around to the passenger door, opening it and tossing his clothes in the middle before sliding in himself. Stone had already gotten in on the driver's side and was fiddling with the seatbelt. “You're a really good petter,” Ezekiel said as he put his own seatbelt on.

“Uh, thanks?” Stone said, a little thrown by the compliment as he started his truck. Before he shifted into drive, he looked over at Ezekiel, almost seductive but not quite. “Maybe when we get home you can have some more.”

“I hope that's a promise,” Ezekiel snorted, amused at Stone's expression.

“It can be if you want it to,” Stone returned, lowering his voice.

“Then hurry up and carry me off to bed, cowboy,” Ezekiel practically purred. Ezekiel's sudden shift in intensity made Stone flustered.

“As you wish,” Stone replied with a bow of his head, punctuated by a wink. He then shifted into drive, more than ready to get home.

[roughentumble]

a freaky and disorienting thing is that ive realized that, as i accept more and more that i am a trans guy and thats ok, the more i sympathize w/ male characters that are just........ objectively The Worst. like i suffered through the ENTIRETY of Just Friends(2005) for Ryan Reynolds, and-- actually, hold on a sec, before i get back to the point i gotta take a quick sidebar to explain the pain, the TORTURE that is Just Friends, the 2005 film starring Ryan Reynolds and Amy Smart, and written by Adam 'Tex' Davis. 

i had to watch it muted for like 90% of the film. the intensity of the “cringe” aspect of this film that bills itself as a “cringe “”””comedy””””” was so off-the-charts that i physically could not stop myself from vocalizing my discomfort through groans and screeches. i would mute the film, turn the screen away, play on my phone for a minute because i literally could not handle seeing the rest of the scene, only to turn my computer back around and find it STILL ON THE EXACT SAME SCENE. i skipped entire swathes of the film. it literally got to the point that i could not handle what was happening and i just--

i gave up! i gave up and i just skipped forward until i found scenes i thought i could handle, or that featured two people Talking instead of some Event Happening, and i’d watch that, and then the scene would change and i’d be in Suffer Town again, population 1: me. Me is the only inhabitant of Suffer Town. so much of the movie hinges so thoroughly on like-- like. A Person Failing At A Thing They’re Good At. and it made me want to die. i think this movie gave me depression, on top of my preexisting depression. it squared my depression. 

OKAY, back to my original point. or like, a mixture of explaining The Film, and explaining why my own reaction to it startled me so much. anyway.

so, ignoring the intense amount of Suffering you’ll have to live through if you’re bound and determined to watch ryan reynold’s entire filmography and you get to this monstrosity, the gist of the plot is thus: ryan reynolds plays a man who was a Stock Dweeb Character in high school. overweight, very low self-esteem, “uncool” hobbies, a very uncomfortable fixation on the one pretty girl who is nice to him and hangs out with him(who herself is dating a Stock Jerk Jock Football Player, who we’ll call SJJ, because I can’t remember his name and he doesn’t matter). on their graduation night they throw a party, he signs her yearbook with a Love Confession, and intends to give it to her.

something something The Yearbooks Accidentally Get Swapped, something something She Reads The Wrong Note And Goes “Um. Wtf My Dude????”. cue him going “NOO I DIDNT WRITE THAT WHAT? WHAT? WAIT OH NOOOO!!!”. cue him running downstairs and seeing SJJ reading his confession aloud to a chorus of twittering classmates.

so yeah, he’s embarrassed, the whole school’s laughing at him because of Course. he runs from the party yelling that he’s going to “be somebody” and also something about how the rest of them will never be anybody. ya’know. that usual thing you see Generic Stock Nerds saying when their feelings are real hurt in movies. 

cut to the future. he looks like ryan reynolds in 2005, so, you know. Really Fucking Good. like, Only Reason To Watch This Garbage Film levels of good. like, They Should Have Given Him Shirtless Scenes As Payment For Me Sitting Through The Rest Of It kinda’ fine. anyway. he’s hot and beautiful and is a talent manager for celebrities. he’s all rich and attractive, and he’s a complete sack of garbage to women. 

he’s actively horrified of the “friendzone”(im cringing right now just writing the word. its so awful) and he’s really not interested in women above a surface level. we see a woman at a bar who’s clearly his date telling him that he’s the Worst and that he needs to see women as people. as she talks he is disinterested at best. she walks away and another lady, who’s overheard the conversation, looks him up and down and decides she doesn’t really care what he’s like because he’s pretty, they flirt, and suddenly he’s been broken up with and acquired a NEW date in the span of about a minute of screentime.

he gets women basically wherever he goes, because he’s only really interested in a specific type of person and(i promise this is the last time i say it) because he looks like 2005 ryan reynolds. 

so because of some Plot Devices, he ends up back in his hometown and unable to get a plane out. he sees SJJ who is now a washed-up drunkard who wears his old varsity jacket around because Of Course. ryan finds him offputting, as do i, and it’s one of the few nearly funny scenes in the film, just because i enjoy juxtaposition and so(despite it being the most boilerplate, run-of-the-mill, dull point to make in a film) it actually was something i didn’t hate to see. 

he also sees Pretty Girl From High School. they semi-hit it off. she’s shocked that he looks Like That(i know i promised not to mention it again but it’s a legit plot point this time leave me alone), he’s shocked she still looks Like That. they agree to get food the next day. 

ryan acts like a bit of a dick, name-dropping celebs he works with left and right, and getting really aggressive when a waitress drops off a plate of his old usual(a really fattening pancake... thing. it looked gross tbqh.) and like, ok, so, i just, here’s where i--

okay. okay. okay. okay. in Ye Olde Days, i wouldve written him off as a douche, and hated him, and, i. i

i couldnt help but, feel, SO bad for him???? like. okay. he just. he had NO self-esteem as a teen. he felt extremely bad about himself, for a TON of reasons, so he literally ran away and reinvented himself entirely and, found a marginal amount of enjoyment from his life???? like, was he happy? no. but he was... he hated himself a little less maybe? he worked really hard to feel good about his body, he worked really hard to get a job he felt any semblance of pride in, he worked REALLY hard to eventually get to a place where he could feel... literally anything positive at any point. he genuinely truly put in real effort to become healthy and have a good career.

and then he, he gets stuck back at his old house, and people are trying to force him to eat food that makes him feel awful and then mocking him when he gets defensive about it, he gets injured and needs to go back to wearing his retainer again, he openly fails at a BUNCH of stuff that he’s specifically been working REALLY FUCKIN HARD AT, for YEARS, because he was insecure about being bad at it in high school(like ice skating, he’s really good at it now because he sucked in high school and he wanted to overcome that), and then also receives more mocking for failing at it, and. you just.

you’re watching someone who was at the bottom of a pit of despair, who clawed tooth and nail at the clay walls of their misery-prison in order to haul themselves all the way up to the lofty height of “misery pit again, but different this time”, as they get caught in a downpour that completely erases all their progress and they slide right back to where they started. you see him completely regress and it K I L L E D me. he gets stuck back in a place where every single flaw he tried to overcome is just! shoved! back! on him! all over!

and, yeah, he’s. not great to women. he’s not beating them or anything, i don’t think he treats them SUPER badly, or actively thinking of them as lesser. but it doesn’t change the fact that he is BAD to them, and he thinks of all interactions with attractive women as transactional. and thats TERRIBLE. but i just!!! i cant help myself man i cant stop i just i look at him and all i feel is like!!!!!!! 

leave him alone!!!!!!!!!!! get the boy therapy or something!!! dont tear him down like this!!!!!!! we cant just tear someone down every time they make a semblance of an attempt at being Not Miserable!!!!!!!! just!!!!! he doesnt need this, man!!!!! hes literally just The Saddest Person with The Lowest Self Esteem Of All Time, so he uses his newfound ability to find people willing to sleep with him, as a way of raising his self esteem. is he the Best Person? not on your life. but he’s just! a sad little man! who’s trying his best! i dont wanna see him torn to shreds, man. i just want him to realize that his self-worth doesn’t have to rely entirely on whether or not he’s sexually appealing.

because at the end of the day, i think that’s his major problem??? his own self-worth is so thoroughly wrapped up in whether he perceives himself as someone who’s sexually appealing to others. 

which like! fuck you! thats considered a Big Problem and So Sad when it’s a girl, if she feels her only self-worth comes from being sexually attractive to men, but, it feels like every time i see a dude goin thru somethin similar, its like “oh hes just a Bad.” and i get it, not only do men have the societal power in this equation, but also when theyre dealin with this same problem, dudes tend to externalize it in really unhealthy and sexist ways, and im not. im not saying every sexist dude just needs a manic pixie dream girl to waltz into his life or some shit!!! im just!!!!!!!!!! idk!!!

i just cant stop sympathizing w/ the dude. and wanting him to get Help. and suffering immensely when i see him literally regressing into a place of misery right before my very eyes. 

when really all i was supposed to get from the movie is “man was Fat and Gross. he grow up 2 b Sexist Womanizer. now he see old crush and learn Sexism Bad. then kissy”