#not to mention the parallels when they leave splinter behind in the finale

[raphmybeloved]

Thinking about raph and splinter and going insane a little. Raph trusts and leans on splinter more than his brothers do. Raph has seen his father cry and comforted him reliving the worst day of his life. Raph is the only of the kids to not get a splinter bonding episode. Raph has old school hamato martyr vibes. There’s just so much there and so much potential

[starshipsofstarlord]

𝑅𝑂𝑃𝐸𝑆 𝑂𝐹 𝑆𝑇𝐴𝑅𝐷𝑈𝑆𝑇

Summary: Kaz had faced two of his fears - almost watching you die and going against his touch aversion. And now he has to deal with the consequences that not only burden him, but also yourself

Pairing: Kaz Brekker x reader

Warnings: mentions of death, mentions of violence, touch aversion,

Word Count: 3255

Masterlist Link

The night, it’s integrity toiled with you, as you say at the camp, with Inej planning on abandoning you all, and Jesper missing that bleating goat. It made you wonder of what direction that you should pursue going in, as you ogled up at the glittered sky, the sequinned stars glinting mischievously back at you. You were nothing other than a speck in the world, as they were in the laminated skyline, the Saints and dark generals were the ones that whisked you down such demeaning paths. The crows were to scurry from their brash threats and existences, the journey of catching the sun summoner had been all for nought.

Not a kruge had been earned in your name, the small bump of adventure had inevitably ended up as being a waste of both resources and time. And now the task of returning through the dreary and life threatening fold lay at your feet; such a plain that was created from pure evil was nerve wrecking. You’d never be considered as one of the goods that served the gods, but you were nowhere close to the Darkling’s maleficence. Had he not only taken hostage of a symbol to all geisha, but your veins were adeptly black, and the toxic venom was spreading with each hour that sourly passed. None of your fellow murder knew of the state that was combusting you; you had saved Kaz, with no regrets of doing so. That dagger had landed in Aleksander’s shoulder, and he had spread his shadowing cloud over to you, tormenting you with the image of complete destruction.

You were lucky to have escaped from his entrapment, Kaz had saved you, whisking your from the overbearing plough of suffering, even grabbing you with his glove covered hands, pressuring himself to do such an act to keep you alive. Though, you didn’t know how much longer you would remain so, and that was why you were gazing up at the constellations; hoping that you’d end up in their blazing glorification. Perhaps you’d survive, nothing was known of your current condition. Or you’d be cursed, turned grisha or something significantly worse. One thing that you’d learned on this gruelling mission was that anything was possible, even Kaz had made a step in his discomfort to rescue you, hauling you away from your inevitable doom by the arm, and stepping into the shrouding darkness. If it had not been for him, then you’d surely have composed into a defiled corpse, ripped apart by the darkness that Aleksander exhibited, and had enhanced through ancient looms that had been integrated onto absorbable parchment.

“I see that you’re less tense; does this mean that you are no longer mad at me?” His voice rang in your ears, prompting you to grind your teeth together as though you were mashing up crystals of salt. Eternally, you were grateful for the risk he had taken to ensure that you would not meet whichever saint you believed in once you travelled through the ropes of pitch and certain demise. You refused to give him the source of satisfaction of giving him your undivided attention; most feared him enough to comply and give him all the attentiveness he demanded as he struck his cane upon a surface, however, unlike those commoners, there was nothing about Kaz Brekker that struck fear in you. He were merely a man, whilst albeit had done some unforgivable things, had suffered same as everyone else, but terribly more so. “I’ll take your silence as a no then, should I?”

In turn, you crossed the folding origami of your arms over the expanse of your chest, and continued to ogle your pupils up towards the passageway of luminescence that hung like a chain in the velvet sky, causing Dirty Hands himself as he had been known, to release a heartfelt huff of frustration. It had taken quite the toll on him to oppose his own serious paranoia, and yet here you were, ignoring him after the cold events. Gulping, you couldn’t help but have annoyance seed in you as he continued to hover his presence beside you, he was using the tactic on purpose, full well knowing that it would eventually have you splintering until you cracked. You’d always had a soft spot for Kaz since the day you had met him; he was so brutally concurred with the ways of making a victim squeal like a sow giving birth, yet there continued to be an innocence within him, of which he hid from most. It was quite the contrast, as were his child like eyes that bore into you like his wish was to make you frail from poised embarrassment until you disappeared into a fine speck on the shoulder of his coat.

That was an irrational thought though, Kaz Brekker simply wanted to know, and not for the first time, why you disposed of reciprocated speech, and chose to pretend to be deaf to his consolation that he was attempting to reprimand with you. “Because if you remain to be angered with me saving your life, then, I would like to know. I’m not going to scoundrel around your presence all evening, we’re going to have to start moving sooner rather than later if we ever hope to get upon the route that I have planned. As useful as your combat is, and irreplaceable as I may think you are at times, I will allow you to go on your own path as you wish. You aren’t the only one that wants to part from the crows; Inej also has intentions to. If this is also because of the sun summoner, then they are freely your beliefs, though I certainly think you have the strength to strive towards something controversially more.” Inej leaving - that was news to you, and thus you finally surrendered, turning to him with spite written upon features, and commenced in supervising his lean form with integral eyes.

“To where do you have plans to go Kaz?” In turn, the volume of your sound increased, as you marked him as your target of choice. “And you’re right, I am pissed that you decided to save me rather than prioritising your own life; if anything were to happen to you, I’m not sure how I’d handle it. I have an inkling of a feeling that I wouldn’t even be able to. That’s because if you weren’t here I’d probably go crazy and envelop myself in a spiralling madness of which I’d be averted onto a path of nothingness. You are the one that has gifted me with a purpose, and time and time again you continue to preserve my life and I’m not sure I can cope with that. Just knowing that you are willing to throw yourself in the eye of danger to ensure that I do not meet my eventual end that is coming anyway. And worst of all, you faced off against that no good, dirty grisha, murderous General. Do you have any idea of what he would have done to you if he were to explicitly, and cruelly as are his routines, contort your body into the whim of his Darkling abilities.”

“I have an idea or two.” He admitted, toying with the fingers of his gloves, relieved to not see what lay beneath the leather. He stared at you in the face, feeling sickened from the sight of the creases that promoted your frown that was directed thoroughly towards him. It wasn’t a good feeling to be on the other end of your diverging glare, it was making him conflicted with the perishing of his emotions. A part of him was laughing inside that he was intimidated by someone, a woman no less, the other was rather impressed with your ample stubbornness. Now that was one thing that the two of you had in common; you both stood like stone, shadowing behind your beliefs or there lack of, as though Medusa had fixed the pair of you with her grey glazed glare, and forced you to be the way that you were. “And it was in fact you who decided to save my life first, I was merely returning the favour.” He now took it as his shift to allow his eyes to travel up into the beyond, the highlights that flawed his irises being triggered by the ambience that strobed in the frustrated sky, that was getting more antsy by each second that passed.

“I saved your life because I care about you, not because I value your skills and require them. That is a vast difference that separated us from being merely a single detail in a rope of stars. We’re separate in thought, and consolably close in real time and space, that fate has chosen us to be. We were both close to death in that second, he could have tarnished us both if that were his main priority, and we should be thankful that he realised that we were not lying when the admittance of not knowing of Alina Starkoff’s whereabouts fell off our tongues like misconducted liquor.” Your voice cracked, thinking about Kaz dead was the last thing that you wanted to obscure your mind, however it was the only thing that was roaming around the space like a moth darting around in a light fixture, having fallen captive to its own instinctive nature to fly too close to the example of fire. “Never, and I mean this Kaz, step in the path of death that narrows in my sights; I’d rather it be me than you of whom takes a fall into such a never ending abyss. You’re the face of this operation, and I am merely a killer that you decided to take under your wing whence times got too tough for either of us to cope alone.”

“I am not bound to make any promises, especially when you speak of accepting death so gracefully. And to answer your prior question, we are returning to Ketterdam, and I- i um-“ he fidgeted, his jaw contained to clench and release in a rhythm as he attempted to get the words out. “I need you to come with me on this, trust me, I have a plan, one that does not involve you dying. There will be no funerals that parallel this task ahead of us, if anything happens, you are my priority.” The heart felt ropes of words interlocked, much like the passage of beaming stars that made a blanket in the material of the sky; they shon stirringly in the abyss of the above, daring to deter you as its source of focus, causing you to freeze up as Kaz spoke his difficult to say words. “And when we get the one million kruge, that is when I will allow you to go out on your own, then you will have the expenses to protect yourself, and disappear if we cannot manage to end this eternal wrath that the grisha and hierarchy establish through the existence of the fold, they turn the tides of where whomever can go, and if they are gone, you shall have the freedom to venture to the place that your heart most desires, you’d no longer have to be trapped by my side similarly to my cane.”

“Everything that you are saying is tipping my head upside down; that I out of everyone, am your priority and that you are to set me free like a bird that has been trapped in a cage? Perhaps, this is a situation that it seems not you have enquired to think of, but I do not want to leave your side, even if I can. If I so much as wanted to, I’d have taken the chance to wrangle free in the midst of the journey from Ketterdam to these exasperating lands that want us to be persecuted for this job that we have taken underneath our midnight wings, though if you hadn’t noticed, I remain here. And whilst I wouldn’t have been peripherally if you weren’t to have saved me from my possible annihilation, I still have no intentions of abandoning you in any way, although that resolutes from you openly willing to take the risk of your own life in order to preserve my own. Never, and I compensate that with defiance, do that again.” You swiped your finger towards him, watching as the crease between his brows stiffened and grew deeper like a crescent that exhibited itself in the lawns of time, he poised his head back at your jurisdiction, clearly offended by your selfless demand.

“I cannot make that promise, there are little to no things that I have connective nurturing for; money and wealth stomp on nearly anything, but to me your life is priceless, even if your opinions do not retrograde the same reflection of worth.” His palm was shaky beneath its armour of leather as he went to reach for your hand, it took him a minute or so until he paid the dues of contact, but he faced his greatest fear, and denied avoiding contact. The prospect of Kaz touching anyone, let alone it being you, stirred a strange sensation through your body, as though you were being electrocuted via a storm, more specifically, a bolt of lightning that shot down from the angry clouds, shooting adrenaline and a high pulse through every limb of your form. “Do not mistake me for not having care towards Inej and Jesper, but without you I’d lose the path of succeeding through all my personal struggles, because you are the one thing that reminds me to continue to fight all of the harms in the world that wish to prosecute us, as though we are rodents that climb out from the sewers and run through the streets, poisoning them. There is a strong suit that wraps around me, stubbornly suffocating my interests, so that I have an avoidance of ever allowing anything to proceed to happen to you - get that through that steel skull of yours, you are smart and strong and my number one mine of gold for me to protect.”

“Kaz…” it felt like a forbidden sentence slipping off your tongue, simply by saying his name. You gave his hand a squeeze, noticing how he stiffened for a moment, and then relaxed a second later, getting used to the notion of silent amorist exchange; his blue eyes scalped every inch of your face, staring at the skin that compressed against your bone structure, the twinkle of the stars illuminating each distinctive feature that condoned your image. “I don’t know what I should say it’s - it is like we have been risking everything for nothing. And I am no gold mine, I cannot get us all that kruge, and I sure as hell can’t beat against the most powerful grisha known to man. I may be strong, but I am not strong enough. I may be smart, but certainly not smart enough. Overall, to everyone I am missing something, and it makes me wonder what else you see in me rather than an opportunist that can bring men to their knees in a second by sweeping beneath them, ready to swipe anything of value that they carry within the income of their pockets.” Drifting on their own accord, your eyes diverted once more to gaze up into the magnificent scenery that stroke above; each star was different within its placement, as well as how much it glowed under the pressure of insistent staring. It was as truly beautiful sight, and as you accorded your eyes to focus on the chord of light, Kaz’s eyes remained tuned upon your perseverance.

“The fact is you could bring any man, including myself,“ he gulped for a moment, feeling just how cheesy his words were as they spewed out, before he continued. Each word he spoke with giving you a new light that you saw Kaz under, he was not just a ruthless killer that likened to getting his hands dirty on a job, he was human like everyone else, many people seemed to forget that. But he had never appeared more humane as he did in the second with you, his hand clasped foreignly in the clasp of your own, and his eyes void of all intent, they were pure and for a second juridical with the haven of content. He wasn’t envisioning good, he was allowing himself to see what was right in front of him. “To their knees.” He finished his sentence, only to go on and elongate the mercenary like talk that he often had a problem with discussing. Though now could be the last moments that he could open up in such a way; it was uncertain how the turn of planned events would turn out, sailing through the fold was a danger all in itself, a toiling threat that was pushing you all forwards with a stern hand on each of your backs. “And you don’t even have to lift a finger to do so, every emotion you make me emit makes me possess a vigil weakness that I try to keep hidden, but in order to get the last of my strength through it, I acquire to get this off my chest before we venture to our next route. I care deeply for you, when I’m around you it feels like I am beneath water, the liquid gurgling in my lungs like sickening liquor. I have never felt this way, not have I ever had a desire to be monitored by these virtual sources, but they’re here, as are we.”

Taking a sturdy breath, you raised Kaz’s gloved hand and aligned it with your lips, gently pressing a kiss to the material that separated your skin. “You will not lose me Brekker, I’m not going anywhere. We’ve gotten this far, and that’s impressive all on its own. The trip back to Ketterdam cannot be as difficult as our journey here, we endured betrayal from that oaf that helped us cross the border, we got in and out of the Little Palace unscathed, and escaped the General on another account. I’d say that’s quite impressive, and behind every ploy you have been the grand mastermind. So let’s go home, and we can pick this up from there. ‘Tis a shame though, the stars don’t quite shine as bright back there, but we’ll have each other, and that is enough to brighten and guide me through the nights.” His lips stretched at the sides, depositing an appearance of relived thought. There had merely not been much of a fight between you on the situation, if he were to have pried any further about your safety he was sure there’d have been, but things had settled before they reached that stage. The primary battle though was to be against one of the most powerful grisha to walk the earth, of whom was keeping the Sun Summoner hostage. But as you had supposed, things would work themselves out. “I’m going to check on Inej, I won’t be a second.” He remembered the smile on your face as you trekked off, it was a notion to which he analysed that you were one of the few people who were kind to him. Once you were out of his vision, he looked up at the stars. There may have been no saints resting up there, but it sure was a peaceful view.

[siriusmydeer]

Hey! Could you do a Regulus fluff with the prompt 17. “This reminded me of you.”

from a boy, to a man

regulus black x fem!reader

summary: regulus finds his way back to you after destroying the horcruxes.

word count: 2.0k

warnings: mentions of self harm (bleeding, scratching, scabs), insinuations of depression, mentions of anxiety, self hatred, poor mental health/not taking care of ones self, angst-fluff

a/n: amelia amelia i wanna kiss u thank u sm for helping me baby @fives-cup-of-coffee

dark stygian swirls. the infinite markings submerged in his pallid sickly flesh that had healed prolongingly into a lustre of peach. but the black branding lay delineated, every curvature, every edge lay as detailed as when it had first been cursed into his complexion.

the relevance of scrubbing his nails against the dermis until it scalded the nerve endings in his left forearm had become insignificant. the carmine scabs fading over time but the reminder of his baleful past prompting his memory.

the branding was the only thing that could make him clutch his arm in a bashful sense. yet the only talisman evoking his senses to remain his strong demeanour was the minuscule silver-plated band that lay on his thumb tightly.

jewelry. it was your familiarity.

necklaces, rings, earrings, they all somehow coordinated with you, your essence. something complimentary to you complexion, soothing important to your family as they were heirs.

when strolling the corridors you received the compliments, it was rather flattering. it was something people began to notice over some time, but you never had owned a bracelet. it was common to own bracelets such as heirlooms but you had never received such an entity until the age of eleven.

august 28th, 1971

the sun was fading into the familiar evening hues of feverish vermillion and a slow fading shade of apricot blending into the sky. the prelude to dawn at its beginning while you gaped at it intensely, the fresh pricks of grass hitting your bottom under the shell-pink dress you had been dressed in as well as the small gusts of wind looming through the air as a small reminder of where you had been rather than slipping into your mind into an abyss of daydreams.

the wind began to increase, hitting the delicacy of your skin. the little nips at your skin producing a small shiver from the curvature of your spine to the muscles in your legs. the moment was serene, like something you read about in fairytale books about a princess awaiting her prince, almost silent. until a faint boyish voice had interrupted the tranquillity.

“’ve got a gift for you.”

your body slightly sprung at the sound interrupting the deep prolonged silence. You began to crane your neck behind you, a short boy awaiting for you to glimpse at him, your eyes were met with deep aquamarine irises that swirled in the hues of virescent green and cerulean blue. a small twinkle found carved into his irises in them at your attention.

“regulus,” you muttered, viewing as the boy sat next to you with something particularly large clutched in his hand.

he held up a gold circlet with intricate detailing that had been engraved in the brass item. as well as an emerald gem placed directly in the centre. the main focus of the bracelet, if you will. your brows began to force together into a pronounced frown, your optics glancing from his digits clutched around the object to his features, his shell-pink lips fixed into a quirk as well as a small gleam of virtue flaring in his irises  

“what’s this for?” you began to query, taking the rather dense manacle into your palm and staring at it for a moment. “it’s a bracelet, i know that you don’t have any so i got you one.” he retorted faintly, a small sense of pride and adoration swelling in his belly. but he wasn't of age to particularly identify those feelings yet.

“think of it as a present, before school starts.”

your face steadily began to upturn at his endeavours, a scramble of letters trying to escape the cavern of your mouth in a enliven venture to thank him for his doting thoughts about you.

the memory becomes a slow fading blear as recollects his thoughts and narrows his eyes in a sneer at his maimed reflection. the caliginous imprint taunting regulus through the obstruct mirror, his hand beginning to clutch over the mantle flesh ensuing the laceration that had been flung under the downpour of searing water minutes prior.

he recollected every detailed moment of that night, the way your eyes glimpsed at the bracelet every couple of seconds in elation. even at eleven years old in a floral shell-pink dress, in the distance you looked so angelic. he didn't know as an eleven-year-old boy and now only loathed himself for realizing so much later in life.

following his departure, he had glimpsed down at the silver ring that was clung onto his thumb that you had gifted following the bracelet, a ring he had to move around several fingers till it fit perfectly again. this incident similar to a parallel between scenarios. the small band holding himself together in a way that couldn't be understood by another.

the girl he had loved, adorned, the girl that was now a woman who had let him weep into her shoulder, the woman who made sure that he would take care of his body to keep it in a healthy state, the girl that was now a woman that would cheer for him amid his quidditch games till her throat was raw, the girl who was now a woman whom he still had loved wasn’t there to clutch onto his arm and whisper to him that everything was going to be alright.

the subconscious that laid embedded into your skull was subsequently pivoting in rapid twists till it was firmly knotted without anymore pondering to be completed. the footprint of where the boy had once been subtly faded without a trace as to where, the boy who grew into a man with mangled black tendrils that sat in entangled twists, the man with a structured jaw whilst he was old enough to spew out curse words to his mother, the boy who was now a man who you loved had vanished beneath your fingertips without a trace.

the man that was once a boy had taken a vow that potentially concluded his life and vanished for, ‘your safety,’ as he pronounced before departing from your vapid figure. the last i love you escaping from his lips as a final message in case it would be the last time you would hear it from him.

then you became alone, all fucking alone.

he huffed whilst pacing almost becoming nauseated, crackling at his knuckles due to the submerging coarse of anxiety running thickly through his blood. it was enough to swivel into the crevices of his spine and sprawl into his brain like sporadically placed letters in an intense game of pool, his mind configuring ways on how to address you after almost a year of his blatant absence.

the minuscule of a second he had after the duration of his completed mission, regulus had ventured to find almost every piece of detailed information that had been absent in his mind for the last ticking days where he hadn’t spoken to you. almost as if he hadn’t played the recurrent memory of you laughing at his foolish jokes in the slytherin common room in the deep hours of the night following a few hushed whispers, in a recurrent loop to the point where he could recall every faint characteristic that you had worn with pride.

your thumbs were absentmindedly twiddling in an abyss-like daydream, similar to the ones you had as a young girl, the collision of decrepit wood and firm knuckles splintering the perpetuating silence that had sunken depressingly into your flat. a look of puzzlement contorted onto your features, you paused and speculated as to whom was at your apartment as you weren't used to having such visitors.

opting to leisurely trudge to the door in exhaustion, the door had revealed regulus arcturus black with an ivory box clutched in his hand and a nervous grin quirked on his lips. you stopped, taken back for a moment. a revelling thought peering into your conscious mind to ultimately shut the door closed and pretend this moment, the moment that you had dreamed of till the early hours in the morning wasn’t occurring. instead, grappling at his hand and pulling him into a close-knit embrace till you could feel like hast respires in his chest along with the palpitating beats of his trembling heart against your sternum.

he sighed in relief, his hands melding into the curvature of your waist. the tension in your frame gradually disentangling from the days that had surpassed without the boy who was now a man, a man with a sallow complexion and sickly carved features stood in front of you with now a tearful grin that was almost quivering awaiting forgiveness that he was frightful he would never receive.

“what have you done to yourself, regulus?” your hands melded into the sharp curvature of his cheeks, the balmy embrace of your hands warming his figure like a camper that had created fire without months of warmth. his optics began to gape at the floor of your flat, ignoring your question with the clearness of his throat.

“nevermind me, this reminded me of you.” he clarified while bringing the box into your viewpoint. “regulus.” you pardoned him but taking a grasp on the box and setting it down on the oak-wood table with a small ‘clink.’

“what’s happened to you— why didn’t you come back for me?”

“i was scared, i didn’t want to leave you. i promise you that, i just— i didn’t want to come back and you would hate me.” regulus confessed with a stutter, a mild nervous tic he had obtained when he was young. as well as when he ventured to drag his slender fingers between his swoop of curls but found it rather difficult as they were mangled together.

you frowned disquietly. the boy that had endured your whines, and your tantrums as to when a fifth-year hufflepuff had ticked you off rather irritatingly. the boy who was now a man, whom you had loved, and he knew you had loved. continued to think that you had hated him when that had been opposite.

"I don't hate you, reg. I never have, I don't think you can hate the person i love the most." his hands fell back in place to the contour of your waistline, the palms of his hands steadily dragging themselves in a comforting motion while your fingers delicately pushed into his hair.

“your hairs a mess, reg,” you observed with a sated smile, the smallest of a chuckle escaping his lips after his mouth had almost been sewn shut by voldemort himself. the thought of regulus laughing could’ve turned heads now because of how unusual and unfamiliar the sound was. but it was the same child-like giggle he expressed on the hogwarts train several years ago.

“yeah,” he chuckled again, louder this time. he felt the small indulging swirls coming up from his eyes, the downpour of tears almost cascading down his cheeks before he brought his digits to slide them across his sockets, “brush it for me? like old times?”

he wasn’t sad anymore, he didn’t feel dejected, he didn’t feel the urge to lay in a bed that was poorly made with creased sheets and never get up again, the tears threatening his face were delightful ones. they were tears of elation, that the girl who was now a woman had remainingly loved him.

he was home, an unfamiliar concept now wrapping him in an unyielding enclasp. regulus was home.

he sat upon a bench, looking at a reflection no longer splintered with guilt, or narrowing eyes. his eyes moved in an upward motion, his irises seeing the way you languidly dragged a brush through his tuffs and a small smile quirking at your lips.

“i love you, too. i didn’t want you to think i forgot.”

taglist: @fific7 @kittykylax @wisedreamcatcher @ronbrokemyheart @amourtentiaa @five-cups-of-coffee @serenitywilderness @i-love-scott-mccall @artemis1orion @miss-starkov @siriusbarnesslut @famdomhideout @hufflepogue @kirascottage @luvvninaz @miraclesoflove @black-like-my-soul @slytherclawbitch @90steaology

[shadlad24]

More Funny Little Moments #1: Season 1, Episodes 1-12

So, I decided to do this post after all. Halp. LOL Because I apparently LOVE giving myself a bunch of unnecessary work, I decided to choose two to three extra moments, per episode! SUPER halp! X’D Anyway, these are moments that didn’t make the cut for my FFLM series because: my sense of humor is a little weird, they were gonna be too much work (LOL/Siiigh), I like to highlight patterns, and I don’t like a lot of repetition. [Links to each FFLM along the bottom of the post. :)]

Let’s start with something I originally agreed with other fans on but have since changed my mind. A lot of people didn’t like this part of “Chariots of War” because it seems so ludicrous that Xena would forget her chakram anywhere. Well, let me tell you! This lady has left her weapons behind most episodes thus far. I didn’t note it every time here (and especially didn’t bother with her whip) because that’d really overrun the post buuuuut… You’ll see. XD

1.01 Sins of the Past

Xena’s shift being so much dirtier than the little boy’s clothes though she’s high up off the ground, and he lives in smoked-out rubble.

Yup. Xena forgot her sword (and later, her main saddlebag) at her mother’s tavern. Pft.

Sorry these were kinda lame, but I didn’t want to re-use any more of the original fifteen points I made about this episode... Ah well. Moving on! (heh)

1.02 Chariots of War

Xena loses her sword after the chariot crash, taking up and discarding Sphaerus’s but walking off without her own. (See her front and back and both of Argo’s sides.)

Gabrielle chewing Xena out, Xena being bummed about it, and Argo being surprised. X’D

1.03 Dreamworker

This got me good. Gabrielle does Xena’s war cry so well here that I really thought it was Xena for a few seconds. Realizing it was GabbyWabs only made me chuckle more because she apparently can’t do it when it really counts in “The Greater Good.”

Argo NOT being on Team Gabrielle. XD (Their feud is a little funny to me.)

1.04 Cradle of Hope

Xena tossing aside her sword after killing Nemos. Extras even dance and celebrate right on top of it! Wut thuh?

I decided to avoid mentioning Hope in the FFLM because Xena’s quote here is more ironic than comedic, and Gabrielle’s little face is just so sad, but I didn’t want to let it pass by entirely unremarked upon. At least GW gets to show off her oracle skills again? :’)

1.05 The Path Not Taken

So, Xena and Gabrielle walk into a bar… Heh. No, but really, they enter this tavern for the first time ever, yet the bartender not only knows what they want, he knows that they’re coming and has their drinks waiting for them too. All Xena has to do is knock on the counter and nod to get her fire-breath alcohol/oil, and Gabrielle barely has the word “cider” out of her mouth before the guy hands it to her. Xena, like me, is duly amazed.

Lucy, through Xena, making another timely anti-peanut statement. I just didn’t want to do the same thing twice back-to-back in the FFLM. X)

1.06 The Reckoning

Gabrielle thinking along the same lines Xena and I did about this poor excuse for a judge.

Me not being well-versed in ancient Greek heroes and picturing the fool who Draco killed so handily in the first episode. heh

1.07 The Titans

I’ll let Xena explain this one. …Mostly. I can’t believe Gabrielle not only sassed the Titans such that she unashamedly put Xena and Phyleus in danger too, but also kinda got this (admittedly awful) town demolished and didn’t lift a finger to actually help anyone in the temple. Tsk tsk. XP

So… Hyperion here can smash homes and businesses that were probably well-built and reinforced and all, but he can’t get his hand out of a stocks-cuff that was made in a single evening with scraps from those destroyed buildings. He also, inexplicably, has no use of his left hand or the power-breath that he used to knock Gabrielle over. Okie. XD

1.08 Prometheus

Is this really a thing? I was giggling quite a bit in disbelief that severed windpipes can heal. Like, perforated is one thing; completely bisected? Yeah, I don’t think so.

Gabrielle being incredulous upon learning that Xena has other friends, realizing what the warrior princess means, and then wondering if that could be her one day. 

   1.09 Death in Chains

Gabrielle enjoying watching Xena kill someone for the first time, then quickly realizing that fact. Whoops.

I found this moment really odd and then kind of hilarious. This poor dying old woman begs for water and goes ignored not only by the hospice workers, but also Talus and Gabrielle. Then Talus decides to be helpful. Gabrielle goes to the woman and lets her talk a lot (undoubtedly drying her mouth and throat even more), hears that Xena might be in danger, and then just… leaves. Talus goes with her, not having gotten water from the well after all. What a couple of jerks! XD

1.10 Hooves & Harlots

I really don’t know why Gabrielle kept making this face as Terreis died, but it tickled my funny bone too. So, I provided alternate subs to go with it. [Did you notice how she kind of cringes when Terreis tries to hold her hand and then just lets the Amazon flop once she’s died, flinging her hand aside like, “Ew, get it off me!”? What was that all about? X”) Hm… maybe she has an aversion to dying people, and that’s why she abandoned the old lady last episode?]

Gabrielle being a smart aleck, just like me, because Phantes’s complaint here is so ludicrous. But then you see the close-up of little hoofies in cuffs too, and, if you’re anything like me too, kinda just topple over laughing. The poor actual horse they did this to, though, man! What even?

Gosh, this episode was chockfull of hilarity, eh? Why did this happen? Gabby, take it away!

1.11 The Black Wolf

I laughed at this too. But now I wonder. Is Xerxes related to Caesar and/or connected to Rome or something? Because Xena does this twice around them too. In “When in Rome,” she jokes that the two guards lost playing tag with her, and in “A Good Day” she informs Pompey that if there were more guards hiding around their meeting space, then she would have had more helmets. heh Oh, Xenie. I think I know why Gabrielle’s turning out to be such a little punk ...or vice versa? Is Gabrielle actually a bit of a bad influence on Xena? XP

So, this fight just struck me as really odd. Xena passes her sword to Flora though she (Xena) needs to battle the big boss of the episode, and… actually, is totally right. The king throws a single wide-ass punch, waits while Xena kicks the guy behind her a few times, lets himself get kicked in the face a couple of times, and then comes at her with a little piece of chain, presumably from the restraints that were intended to keep Flora in place during her execution. Sir, you have a sword! A giant sword, right there on your hip! What are you doing? Then, when Xena kicks him a final time and sends him flying, his (supposed-to-be) metal armor is no match for the splintered wood of the axe she broke earlier. …Okie. XD XD XD   *gif below*

Xena once again leaves her chakram somewhere. …And I am now imagining this being part of Gabrielle’s maid duties: the poor kid has to go find Xena’s weapons each night and bring them back to her. I’m especially imaging the fluffball hilariously, adorably struggling to get the chakram out of things like this wall, as she did with Xena’s sword in the tree stump in “Dreamworker,” but more parallel to the floor. Cuuuute! XD

This plus this 

*pic + GIF below*:

1.12 Beware Greeks Bearing Gifts

This scene too really made me wonder, though amused as well. Why is Gabrielle so surprised that the only city nearby, that they were headed to, is the one they find? Is she really being that loud? Is Xena goofing around with the bootlaces question? Why startle Gabrielle and then yank her into enemy territory screaming, when what you want is quiet? What’s with the trapdoor-spider soldiers? Xena’s pose throwing the chakram. XD Gabrielle mostly featherlight dance-y moves through the battlefield. XD XD XD Why is it that when Xena tells Gabrielle to stick right behind her, Gabrielle disappears? And what was with the bucket-sitting soldier? Gabrielle is like, “Oh; no, thank you!” when she sees him and turns tail. Then Xena ...follows her. “We’re goin’ this way! Now we’re goin’ that way!” But they still end up dead-ahead from where they burst out of the bushes. XD That was ridiculous and nonsensical, and I’m very confused but had lots of fun. heheheh  *gif below* [ETA: Darn! The original file was too big, so I had to remake the GIF and cut quite a few things out. :( Sorry]

Xena’s outta-nowhere crusade to emasculate Deiphobus coming full-circle. What was that all about?

Welp, I hope you had as much fun as I originally and then later did. Not so much in the middle with the collage-and-GIF-making and editing and redoing, but; y’know. XD Wouldn’t trade it for …Hm… Nevermind. LOL

If you missed any of the FFLMs, then please click on the corresponding number-links below. :D

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[stones-x-bones]

Slayer? I Hardly Know Her || Dani and Bex

TIMING: Current PARTIES: @surmamort and @inbextween SUMMARY: This is why we use the buddy system on campus. CONTENT: Domestic abuse mentions, Blood

The soft patter of rain on Dani’s windshield would have sent her to sleep had it not been for the roll of thunder and the flash of lightning across the ever darkening sky. For the most part, she found thunderstorms relaxing, but not when she had to drive in them. The tires on her truck were balding, and though she had been told time and time again by both of her mom’s that they would get her a new vehicle, she had bought Cleo with her own money, and the last thing she wanted was to sell it as scrap metal. She’d keep her truck for as long as she could-- besides, getting a new vehicle would mean installing a plethora of new secret compartments, and the only person that Dani trusted to do that was herself. 

She lifted the cup of half-empty, too-sweet coffee to her lips, disappointment following at the lack of heat from the liquid. The sugar coated her tongue and her stomach churned. She wouldn’t need to stay much longer-- just until she saw the parking lot clear of any vehicles. Though UMWC was notorious for late night stays, especially in the library. Dani would stay until she saw the lights turn out, and then she would head home. What should have been an easy thirty minute wait stretched into an hour, and then two hours. It wasn’t until Dani saw the door finally open did she perk up. Hands on the steering wheel, she leaned forward and watched as a girl who couldn’t be much older than herself, came into view. The only problem? There was somebody else watching her-- just parallel to where Dani was currently parked-- something she hadn’t immediately noticed. Had they always been there? 

Bex hadn’t meant to stay so late, but she’d been doing that more and more lately. It was getting harder and harder to concentrate on a degree she didn’t want to be in. She was realizing that more and more, with each passing day she had to attend classes that put her to sleep. She just kept thinking about other classes, like Professor Beck’s class, and maybe even taking Professor Campbell’s Classics lecture. But she wasn’t in a position to do anything about it yet, so slogging through essays about criminal law and business law was her life right now. She had an exam soon, too, that she needed to study for, and it was all just piling up. Not to mention that she had been out for over three weeks of classes, thanks to the stupid dream curse thing, and then her injuries after. 

But when she looked up today, she found that all the lights were almost out and it was dark outside. “Shit!” she swore quietly, slapping her books closed and shoving them into her bag. She knew she didn’t have to worry, she was still staying at Morgan’s and she wasn’t going to be mad if Bex came in late-- but at this point it was just second nature for Bex to worry. She slid on her backpack and dashed out the door. The parking lot was empty save for one car, and the street lights were flickering. That meant the busses weren’t running anymore, either. She’d have to call someone for a ride. Sighing, she pulled out her phone and went to dial up Mina when something made a noise behind her. She spun on her heel. “Hello?” she called out, but there was no answer. Oh, this wasn’t good. This was like the start to a horror movie. So instead of waiting around outside for the killer, Bex turned and started running up towards the library doors again-- only to find that they were locked. She spun around again and went to dial quickly when she spotted someone just down the stairs from her. She was staring at Bex with hollow eyes and a wide grin. “Locked out?” she asked, and it was then that Bex noticed her teeth were jagged and sharp. Bex looked to the one car in the parking lot. If she ran, maybe she could make it and hope there was someone inside. Without another word, she bolted, but whoever this person was had known she was going to do that. A hand grabbed the back of Bex’s bag and yanked her down. She hit the sidewalk hard and her phone went flying from her hand. Oh, this wasn’t good. This was bad. This was very, very bad. She tried to scramble away, but the woman was much stronger than her. Like way stronger. She lifted her up and smiled at her again. “Where you going? I asked you a question.”

Dani stayed still, her breath barely audible to her own ears. The way that they had moved, it was unhuman like. The grip she had on her steering wheel tightened, and without missing a beat, she was reaching underneath of her seat for the stake that was hooked there. She threw open her car door as soon as she saw the brunette make a run for it, only to be jostled backwards. “Hey!” Dani bellowed out, her voice loud and commanding, just as Jeanette had taught her. “Just what the fuck do you think you’re doing?” She held the stake against her palm, careful not to let it show. She could see the girl’s face clearly, both shock and horror contorting to create something out of a horror film. 

There was no fear in Dani’s heart, only annoyance. “Don’t you know campus is off limits?” Dani asked as she reached into her back pocket, grabbing the flask that was there. In it, holy water swished as she brought it before her. There’d be no way for the vampire to know what was inside, not until she splashed her with it. “I think you ought to let the student go,” Dani motioned towards the brunette with the flask, “she’s just studying-- no reason to create a scene.” Dani prodded her tongue against the roof of her mouth, “or you can make a meal of her, and then I can kill you-- but I’m pretty sure I’ll have you to dust before you can even blink.” She finally revealed the stake, brandishing it like a knife, “do you want it in the neck, or the heart?” 

She winced sarcastically at her own words, “oops, I forgot-- you don’t have one of those.” Quick on her feet, Dani twisted the cap of the flask and splashed the holy water at the vampire. Her short-ended shriek was loud in Dani’s ears, but it was enough to make her release the girl. She reached out, tugging on the brunette’s backpack just as the vampire had done, only with enough force to pull her away. The vampire lunged at the two of them and Dani pushed forward, nearly losing her footing-- but enough to cause the stake to clatter to the ground. The flask still in hand, she twisted her hand to an awkward angle, letting it pour over the creature’s arm as it tried to reach for the brunette. “Run!” Dani screamed at her, “go to my tru--” Before she could finish her sentence, the vampire knocked her to the ground, her thin fingers finding purchase on the stranger’s backpack again. “I’ll have my meal, and you’ll watch, stupid bitch,” the vampire growled as she repositioned her heel into Dani’s abdomen. 

The first thing Bex registered was fear. It radiated through her entire body and gathered in the pit of her stomach. Whoever this person was, they wanted to hurt her. The second thing Bex registered was that whoever this person was, she was one of those “not quite human” people. The way her eyes were stained red, the sharp teeth in her mouth, the inhuman strength-- Bex wasn’t stupid. But what she was, she had no idea. Because she didn’t know anything about this world, or the people in it. Or the not people in it. She struggled in the woman’s grasp as she grabbed Bex’s head and tilted it to the side, exposing her neck. But then there was another voice and both Bex and the woman looked up.

The things the other girl was saying didn’t make sense. What did she mean? What was she holding? A flask? Before Bex really had time to register what had been said, the other girl was flinging her flask at the woman and shrieked, dropping her. The girl shouted at her to run and Bex was suddenly reminded of when she’d been attacked by the cockatrice with Mina. This was just like that, wasn’t it? Except this was a person, not an angry chicken. And Bex didn’t want to explode a person. She tried to scramble to her feet, but the other girl was yanking her in a different direction again, and she stumbled on her own feet. She’d always been a clumsy person. Palms hit the cement and she winced. Blood pooled under the scraped skin. 

When she looked back, the older woman had thrown the other girl to the ground and stomped on her stomach. “Stop it!” Bex called out. Maybe she could help. Maybe if she concentrated, she could do something. Like Nell said. Pour her energy into something good. She’d done it before, she could do it again. “Stop! Leave her alone!” She felt the energy leave her, but the woman just stared at her, tilting her head. Even with all her nervous energy vibrating under her skin, nothing happened. No explosion, no sidewalk cracking, no headaches. Bex stared wide eyed as the woman descended on her, pinning her to the ground. “Get off!” she screeched as hands gripped at her wrist, slamming it into the ground. She cried out. The woman then lifted Bex’s bleeding palm to her hand and Bex watched, bewildered, as she licked up the blood. She smiled down at Bex, blood smeared on her lips. “Delicious.” She then grabbed Bex’s hair and yanked her head to the side, as she struggled uselessly underneath the woman. Teeth sunk into her neck and she screamed. She hated this world. She hated feeling useless. The library windows cracked and shattered. The nearby fence post splintered. But the woman on top of her remained untouched.

Dani let out a breath at the feeling of the creature’s weight on her abdomen. She splayed her hands out at her sides, trying to find anything to pick up, to lodge in the vampire’s leg. She looked up, towards the girl who was now yelling. “Didn’t,” Dani let out in an annoyed huff, her fingers slipping over the stake that had clattered to the ground, “I tell you to run?” A part of Dani was hopeful that the stranger would serve as a good enough distraction-- it was clear that the vampire hadn’t intended to run into a slayer. The relief Dani felt when the woman finally lifted her weight off of her stomach had her rolling to her side, but it was half a second later that she was back on her feet, swooping down to grab the wooden stake. 

“Hey!” Dani screamed, the sight of the vampire taking in the stranger’s blood almost too much to bear-- how could something so vile exist? It twisted her insides, and it seemed that no matter how many times she had seen it, she would never get used to it. It was something straight from Hell. If she believed in that. “Get the fuck off of her!” Dani’s focus was entirely on the creature who was bent over the brunette now, but the sound of something ripping-- cracking, it played as background music as Dani lunged forward. She gripped the back of the vampire’s head just as she had done to the girl and wrenched it backwards, “time for you to go now, thanks!” Dani let out an uncomfortable breath as she leaned in and plunged the stake into the vampire’s chest. 

In a flash, the creature who had been on top of the girl was gone, nothing but ash laid at their feet. Dani wasted no time in dropping to her knees, ignoring the girl’s possible need for personal space after what had happened. “Tilt your head.” She commanded, looking over the wound that had been created. It wasn’t that deep-- and it certainly wasn’t going to turn the girl. She looked down briefly at the scrape on her palm, blood smeared across it, as well as the pavement. “You’ll be fine. Physically. Maybe not mentally, but--” Dani leaned back, allowing for more room so that the brunette could breathe. “You won’t turn, you won’t crave blood, but you’ll probably have nightmares. Pot helps put you to sleep, but melatonin is what helps keep the nightmares away, at least that’s what I’ve heard.” Dani looked down the collar of her own shirt, the imprint of the creature’s shoe evident on her t-shirt. She would definitely bruise. “You good?” She asked as she got to her feet, doing her best to show no signs of pain. 

In one instant, there was splitting pain in Bex’s neck, and in the next, the weight of the woman on top of her simply vanished. And so did she. The world was spinning but Bex could tell with absolute certainty that the woman above her was gone. There was just...dust. And the other girl. Who was talking. She was talking and she was okay? How was she okay? The older woman had kicked her in the ribs, stood on her, smashed her. Bex’s head was pounding. What the fuck had just happened? “Where did…” she started, sputtering, her voice still quivering from the fear in her throat, “where did she g-go?” But her question fell to the wayside the more the other girl talked. Crave blood? Turn? What was she talking about? 

Bex wanted to sit up, but she couldn’t. The world was still spinning and the girl wasn’t making any sense. Nothing in this world made any sense anymore. She wanted to go back to her old life, where she knew exactly what to expect and how to deal with it. She could take an angry mother over whatever the fuck that was any day. At least she knew the pain her mother caused would go away. “Abso...lutely...not,” she breathed from the ground. She nearly ran her hands over her face before remembering they were covered in blood. Her neck was also bleeding, all over sweater. Finally, she sat up, looking around. “What was that? Who was that? What happened? How did you-- what did you do to her? Why didn’t my--” she stopped herself short and snapped her jaw shut. She didn’t want to say it. She wasn’t going to say it. She reached up and clamped a hand over her bleeding neck. “Do you have a tissue or napkin or...something?”

Dani narrowed her eyes at the girl, then nodded. She needed to stop assuming that everyone knew about vampires-- then again, wasn’t it her job to prevent people from knowing about them? By the look of shock and disgust on the stranger’s face, Dani was sure that the brunette knew nothing about them, and maybe that was a good thing. Only issue was, what could Dani do to keep her from going and blabbing to the newspaper? Maybe they’d pass it off as another screaming moose. That still got Dani laughing-- the idea that people believed that. Lost in her thoughts, she stared across the parking lot at her truck, the phantom feeling of the vampire’s foot on her chest now weighted heavily, making it slightly hard for her to breathe. 

It wasn’t until the brunette started to ask questions did Dani snap her attention from the splintered fence beyond where they were. “Oh, uh--” She shoved her hands into her pockets. Nothing. She picked up the flask from the sidewalk. There was still some holy water inside. “Wash your hands off with this.” Dani handed it over and took off her sweatshirt. “You can use this. It’s not a deep puncture, it should heal in a couple of days, but you’ll want to use some antiseptic and bandage it up, if you can.” She frowned as she dropped the sweatshirt into the girl’s lap. “I don’t know who it was, and it’s probably for the better, and you don’t need to worry about it, she’s gone now.” Dani fixed her frown up into a smile with her index fingers, “see? I’m smiling, which means everything’s all good.” She made an ‘ok,’ sign with her hand before she shoved the stake into her back pocket. “I got rid of her. For you. You’re welcome.” Dani adjusted the collar of her t-shirt, suddenly feeling as if it were too tight. “I don’t know if you’ll believe me even if I tell you, but if you see anything like that again, uh…” Running wouldn’t do her much good, “try and keep some of that on you,” she pointed to the flask, “it’s holy water.” 

Bex fumbled the flask and watched it clank to the ground next to her. Frowning, she picked it up gently with her thumb and index finger, not wanting to get any blood on it. She poured the water over her palms and winced when it burned. “Great,” she grumbled, “more bandages. I just got rid of the first set.” Her hands were still shaking from the fear and adrenaline pumping through her veins, but it was quickly turning into an anger she was becoming familiar with. An anger of ignorance over the world she’d been left out of for so long, despite, apparently, having abilities from it. Everyone around her seemed to decide for her what information she was allowed to. Walking on eggshells around her because she was just stupid, fragile Bexley. She looked at the sweatshirt, then back up at the girl. “I’m not...I know that woman wasn’t a good person, but she didn’t just vanish. People don’t do that. Or, I guess, not people, people. So either you can tell me what she was, or I can just go ask my friend what she was. It would be nicer if you did, though, considering you just killed her, probaby.” She shifted finally, standing on woozy legs. Her heart was still pounding and she hated it. Despite her efforts to seem fine after the encounter, her entire body was on alert and she knew her voice was still wavering in fear. “Wh-why does everyone say that? Like it’s their job to keep people in the dark? How about you let me decide if I believe you or not?” Another fence post crumbled and splintered behind them.

“Well,” Dani placed her hands on her hips, “at least you’re not dead, so there’s that.” If there had been any inclination that this girl would be on her way to turning-- though, it’d take a hell of a lot more than a simple bite, then Dani would’ve staked her on the spot, too. She wasn’t about to let some new blood sucker run around White Crest wreaking havoc, even if she hadn’t asked for the life that was forced upon her. Dani looked at the girl. She was certainly in a fragile state, and the last thing that Dani wanted on her hands was a breakdown in the middle of the college parking lot. She glanced towards the building, looking for cameras. She’d have to take care of those the following morning-- nobody would notice a solid hour missing from the footage. Luckily for her, she knew somebody in the AV club who owed her a favor or two. When the brunette started to speak, her voice picking up in pitch, it was evident that she was growing more upset. “You’re right, she’s dead.” Dani reached up and did jazz hands, “you saw a vampire, I saved you from it-- are you really not putting two and two together?” She arched a brow. Obviously there were people that were blind to what was around them, but to have its fangs in her neck and still be unsure? Dani watched the girl as she got to her feet. She looked as if she’d topple over at any moment. 

“Because,” Dani sighed, glancing over her shoulder at the sound of the fence falling to the ground. She looked back over at the girl apprehensively, “it sort of is my job. To save you, and to keep people in the dark.” Dani observed the girl for a moment, “because if I don’t, then it gets a hell of a lot messier, and I’m not looking for mess.” She scrunched her nose in distaste at the idea of the town succumbing to fear. It was easier to work when nobody knew what was lurking in the shadows, and even if she did relish in the praise given to her when she did something right, overall, it sounded like a nightmare, having to explain what vampires and zombies were-- or any other supernatural creature, really. “Look, I get it-- you just almost died, but I saved you, and you’re going to live a--” she looked over the girl, “I don’t know what kind of life you live, but hopefully it’s a nice, safe happy one, you seem nice enough for it.” She took a deep breath, “now, do you want a ride home?” 

A vampire. Of course it was a vampire. She’d been thinking that, hadn’t she? Bex wasn’t stupid, like this girl seemed to be implying. Who else had sharp teeth and red eyes and drank blood? Her brain was just spinning at the time. “You sound like someone else I know,” Bex muttered. At least Mina was nicer about it. She still didn’t know how Mina was involved in this world, but she was, and she figured, with time, Mina would tell her. Right? Her eyes wandered back over to the other girl, who looked annoyed. “A vampire…” she repeated quietly, holding her hand to her neck where the two puncture wounds were. “First magic, then demons, now vampires are real…” She felt nauseous again. She didn’t want to be a part of this anymore, it all felt like too much. Her brow furrowed in anger again. “Forgive me for not knowing right away that vampires are real. Apparently I wasn’t privy to this knowledge while everyone else seems to have been.” She knew she was getting unfairly upset at this girl, she had saved her after all, and she was grateful-- but her attitude after was picking at the insecure parts of Bex that had begun growing the second she’d accepted that she wasn’t just normal. 

Happy was a strange word for it. This girl didn’t seem all too perturbed by the fact that she just killed someone, but Bex wasn’t sure on the rules here. Were vampires people? Did they deserve to die? God, there were too many questions again. She was still shaking from the encounter, too, and the adrenaline was beginning to wear off, which meant the fear was setting back in. Bex really was just defenseless in this world, wasn’t she? The thought made her stomach churn again. She looked over at the other girl and resigned herself. “Yes, I would,” she said quietly. “And, um-- thank you. For...saving me.”

The look on the brunette’s face told Dani that she was beginning to process the information. It was as if a light had been turned on, because the ashen look that had run across the girl’s face only grew. Dani cleared her throat, “well, if I sound like someone else you know, you should probably listen to them, they probably know what they’re talking about.” Dani offered an attempted smile, careful to keep her movements slow. She looked over at the girl as she began to mutter under her breath, an eyebrow arched. So she knew about demons and magic, why had she been so surprised about vampires? Dani bit back the words threatening to crawl out. Of course she’d be surprised-- nobody was actually supposed to know. That was a part of the whole, ‘keeping the supernatural world a secret from people who were vulnerable to it,’ thing. “Look, I’ve been dealing with them for a long time-- sometimes I forget that not everyone else has.” 

A silence settled over them and Dani used it to glance towards her truck. The door still hung open, the cab light on-- as if a beacon to their safety. She looked back over at the brunette and shrugged, “it’s what I’m here for.” The girl had been lucky that Dani had decided to patrol the school that night, otherwise there’d either be a new vampire on the prowl, or they would’ve found her body come sun up. “Well, come on,” Dani said as she approached the brunette, offering to support her from the side. “You look like you’re about to pass out. I have some ginger candies in my glove compartment, I’ll grab you one.” She helped guide the brunette towards her truck, then after a moment, “what was your name?” The sound of her door creaking loud to her ears, she waited until the stranger spilled herself into the passenger seat before moving around to slowly lift herself into the driver’s seat. “I’m Dani,” she finally said as she leaned over, ignoring the weapon in the glove compartment, finding a candy in between papers. She pulled back and dropped it into the girl’s lap before putting the pick up into drive. 

“Yeah,” Bex sighed, “she probably does.” More so than Bex, at least. Bex had no idea what she was doing in this world, or if she even belonged in it. She let out a shaky breath and felt the exhaustion she normally did whenever she accidentally used her magic, looking over at the other girl with a tired glance. Her neck hurt, her palms hurt, even her head hurt. With a resigned sigh, she followed after the girl, letting her lead her along. She tried her best not to flinch, she didn’t wanna be a dead giveaway to everyone she met, but muscle memory was often hard to overcome. She pulled away from her when she tried to help her, gripping the strap of her bag tightly, despite the pain in her palms, and forgetting about the blood still seeping from them. “I can walk on my own,” she muttered, even though it was difficult with the shake in her knees. 

When they made it to the car, which wasn’t far but felt like ages, Bex crawled in gratefully and sagged in the seat. “Bexley,” she muttered to the other girl, “my name’s Bexley.” Her eyes locked onto the knife in the glove compartment. I protect people, the girl had said. Mina had said that to her before, too. She swallowed hard. Was Mina like this girl? “How did you-- do that?” she asked into the quiet hum of the car’s engine. “How did you know how to do that? How to-- get rid of the vampire?”

Dani’s lips formed a hard line as she glanced towards the fence posts that were caved in as if some frat boy had tried to make a point of how strong he was and barreled into them. Only, there had been no frat boy-- only herself, Bexley, and the vampire who was long gone. It’d be hard to believe that anything watching them from the outside would have taken them down while watching the situation unfold before them. The only logical explanation was that Bexley had something to do with it. Hadn’t she mentioned something about magic? “How did I know…” Dani glanced over at Bexley as she pulled out of the parking lot, glancing both ways before pulling into traffic. It was then that Dani realized she never remembered a beginning to her lifestyle-- it was one she had always been in, so even though there was life on the other side of the parking lot and trees, it didn’t feel odd going back into it. 

“You’ve never watched a movie?” She asked with a laugh, stealing a glance of Bex out of the corner of her eye. She rested the heels of her hands against her steering wheel and mulled over how to explain it. It was obvious that she knew what she was doing, but confirming she was a hunter? That could put her in a vulnerable situation. “I’ve had to defend myself a few times,” she said instead, “you sort of learn.” She didn’t bother mentioning the heightened sense of vision, or the fact that she could move quick-- quicker than the average human, or that she was immune to the undead’s bite. “I did what I had to do.” She could feel a smile pulling at the corner of her lips. Though she knew the girl was scared, Dani felt a sense of accomplishment in having so many questions thrown her way about the situation. “Where do you live?” She asked after a moment, realizing she was driving in the direction of downtown. 

“Uh, not particularly about vampires, no?” Bex said. “Also isn’t like-- most of the information in movies incorrect?” She pulled her sleeve up and dabbed it against the wound on her neck, resigning herself to another sweater ruined thanks to blood stains. She looked down at the candy that had been dropped into her lap, and tried to not let herself think too much about what had just happened. She didn’t need to have a breakdown in a stranger’s car. “Guess this place is more dangerous than I thought…” she muttered. This must’ve been why her parents kept her locked away in the house, instead of letting her free in the town. Maybe they were just trying to protect her from all the dangers of this town. She picked up the candy with her free hand and put it in her pocket. “Well, still...you didn’t have to, technically, so...thanks for not letting her um-- eat me?” She swallowed the lump in her throat. She hated that she’d had to just say that. Her legs felt numb again. “Harm-- err--” she’d been so distracted, she’d almost given the girl her actual address instead of Morgan’s. “East End.” 

“They get some shit right,” Dani admitted. “Maybe not all the time, but sometimes.” She looked over at Bex and how she began to care for the wound on her neck. She had to have some napkins somewhere, right? As they pulled up to a red light, Dani began looking through the bag that was between them. “Here,” she said absentmindedly once the light turned green. She placed the napkins on top of her bag for Bex to take. “Dangerous?” Dani asked with a raised brow. “That’s an understatement.” To be honest, she wasn’t sure why her community still allowed humans to move there. In Dani’s opinion, they should get all of them out, then take out all the Supes. It was a plan-- not a good one, but one that Dani dreamt of perfecting. Imagine saving an entire town, she had told her mom. Only, she had been told, we save who we can. Big whoop. “I wouldn’t have let her eat you, even if I hated you.” Dani turned her blinker on once she drove into the correct lane. She pulled up behind a string of cars waiting to do the same. “But you’re welcome.” Dani looked over at her. “Take my number, that way if you run into any shit again, you know--” She shrugged, “you can call me for help.” She didn’t want to be a hunter for hire, or a hero for hire, but it was clear that this girl was going to have steady nightmares about this for weeks, or months to come. 

“Even if they do, how is anyone supposed to parse out the correct information?” Bex asked back, taking the napkins Dani dropped in her lap and putting them against her neck. She bruised easily, and as well as all of that, she always bled a lot. Something to do with her thin blood or something like that. She hadn’t bothered listening when the doctor’s told her. Now, she wished she had. “Okay...maybe more than dangerous. Deadly? I guess this...explains the high death rate.” Why did anyone live here? She ruffled her nose. Why did her family want to live here? And for so long? It seemed strange. None of them had ever gone missing or been killed by strange circumstances. Maybe it was because they simply stayed out of the way. Her parents were very good at ignoring those in need.  “How many vampires are there? Are there like...a lot? Do I need to be worried about walking home at night now?” God, that sounded like a nightmare. Just another thing to add to her growing list. She sighed, pulling the now soaked napkin away and grabbing another. She was beginning to feel dizzy. “I mean, I’ll take it, but I’m sure you saw how handy my phone was. And now the screen is broken, too.” She frowned down at the shattered screen. She was beginning to hate this pattern of things that were happening to her. “Sorry I’m bleeding all over your car. I can pay to have it cleaned.”

“It’d be a lot higher if it weren’t for--” She looked out the window of her truck and flipped off the prius that had tried to cut in front of her, then turned her attention back to Bex, “you know, people who protect other people.” She wasn’t about to dive into the mechanics of hunters, and though Dani was sure this girl was human, there was definitely something different about her. The splintered fence posts came to mind as she pulled down the street. One of the many advantages that Dani had was that she knew where everything was. For the most part, at least. Dani glanced over at Bex again and let out a short laugh, but nothing was funny about her question. “If I knew, I think I’d be sick.” Dani continued to drive, tapping her fingers on the steering wheel, “there are more than even I know about I’m sure.” She quirked her lips to the side, then looked down at her lap as her own phone flashed a text message her way. “Huh?” Dania asked as she looked back over at Bex again, “nah, you’re fine-- do you see that stain there?” She pointed towards where Bex’s feet were, “I once lost an ounce-- I think they said, just right there.” She grinned widely before she took another turn. 

Bex couldn’t help but think of what Adam had said, that his family had been protectors since the beginning of humanity. Was Dani’s family like that, too? She kept her mouth shut, though, because it seemed as if the other girl didn’t want to talk about it. She jumped a little at the laugh, looking over at the other girl in confusion. She hadn’t thought something like that would be funny, but she truly was out of her depth here. But how was she supposed to know? She rubbed her eyes with her free hand, making sure to not touch her still bloody palm. Morgan would be so upset-- no, not upset. Worried. She looked down at her palm again, then to the floor where Dani pointed, lifting up her feet. She felt a shiver run through her, at the girl’s casualty around her blood loss, around Bex’s. Maybe this wasn’t a world Bex wanted to be a part of. Maybe it was a world she’d never fit into. She swallowed. “So vampires are...if the movies are right, they’re people. Or they...once were. Is that, are they still-- like us?”

Dani had been told by Lauren that she needed to be kind to the people she helped, but Dani had questioned how much more kind could she be past having already saved their lives? As she got older, she began to understand what her mom had meant. Not everyone was aware of the things that she was-- not everyone would deal with it in the same way. She had people go into shock on her, as well as insist on calling the police because she had ‘murdered,’ somebody. Every person Dani saved was different. Bex? Well, she fit into the mold of the usual. Shocked, terrified, unsure of what was around her. Only difference was, she had fences that had splintered around her. “They’re not like us, and anyone who says they are, is a fucking liar.” Dani said it nonchalantly, despite the command in her voice. “That’s how they get you. Some of them are straight up monstrous, like the one that got you.” Dani tapped her finger impatiently on the steering wheel as she pulled up behind another car. “Others act like they have your best interests at heart.” She looked over at Bex. “Just…” It wasn’t like the girl would know what to look for. “Keep alert, y’know?” 

“So,” Bex started, “just practice stranger danger. Got it.” The other girl’s advice wasn’t really helpful. Bex wanted to know how to spot a vampire. What were their natural habitats? Did they actually explode in sunlight? Obviously the blood eating thing was real. Were they all that aggressive? What had made that woman choose Bex? How had she known she was alone in the library? Did they have superstrength, superhearing, supervision? Why were her eyes red? Instead, she just looked over at Dani and furrowed her brows. “Are you a hunter?” she asked, remembering the conversation she’d had with Morgan now that her head was more clear. Well, at least her mind wasn’t panicking anymore, and really, that was the best Bex could ask for right now. If she was lucky, she could slip inside and clean up the wound without anyone seeing. She didn’t need Morgan or Mina worrying over some stupid little incident. “Look, I...might not know everything about this world, but I know some things. Like, that, magic is real. And that there are people who aren’t human. And that there are hunters who think those people are monsters, sometimes. And now, apparently, that vampires are real.”

Dani chewed on the inside of her cheek. She knew that it was up to her so that Bex would never have to worry about the undead, or any other kind of monster, really. The silence that filled the cab made Dani uneasy, but it was Bex’s question that took her by surprise. She shifted in the driver’s seat and put a little too much weight into her foot. Her truck lurched forward and she winced, “sorry.” She quickly restarted her truck and turned, ignoring the sound of a car horn from behind her. “So you know about hunters, but you didn’t know for sure about vampires?” She looked back at Bex, her grin slowly replacing the grim line that had formed. “Of course magic is real,” White Crest was full of magic-- an unexplainable kind. She knew Nell, ever since she was a child, and she knew that Nell had magic. She had been aware of it from the very start. It’d be naive to believe that with the undead, wolves, fae-- anything else, that magic would not be real-- all of it, after all, was some kind of magic. “So,” Dani said as she finally pulled down the destination street, “you believed in all of that from the get go…” She let out another laugh, this time less sarcastic. She looked for the correct address, and when she finally pulled in front of the house, she cut the engine. She looked past Bex towards the house and began to speak, “carry garlic, some holy water, and some wood if you really want to make yourself feel better.” She looked back at Bex with a small smile, “and obviously you can call me if you get yourself into any other situations.” 

“To be fair,” Bex started, “I literally just learned about hunters the other day.” That was an entirely different situation for Bex to stress over. “And, I don’t know...who’s to say what’s real or not? How am I supposed to know? No one taught me anything about this. I’m pretty sure my parents specifically kept me away from all of this.” Like they were hiding her, or maybe hiding her from this world. She glanced over at Dani as she declared magic was real as if this fact was just normal and true for anyone and everyone. A casual reminder of what Bex had been deprived of her entire life. She replaced the napkin on her neck again-- at least the bleeding was slowing now. “I don’t know what I believe, really. But it’s kind of hard not to believe in things when they, well--” she shrugged, wincing, “for lack of a better phrase, bite you in the neck.” Bex turned to follow Dani’s gaze up the drive to see Morgan’s house, a few lights glowing on in the bedrooms. She chewed her lip. “Garlic? Seriously? That works?” She let out a long breath, rubbing the back of her hand across her eyes. Turned to glance at Dani one last time. “Um...thank you. I uh-- don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone about you. I know it can be dangerous.” She rubbed her palms. “I would shake your hand, but--” held up her hands and stiffly wiggled her fingers. “If there’s any way I can repay you, though, just lemme know.” She opened the car door and slid out stiffly, grabbing her bag and her broken phone. “It was nice to meet you, Dani. Even if uh-- circumstances weren’t great. I hope your ribs are okay.”

Logically, Dani knew that Bex was right-- if she had just been learning about all of this, the probability of her knowing vampires were real was slim. Still, it was her own duty to ensure that people were aware-- maybe not of the specifics, but that they weren’t alone. She wasn’t about to go into the other creatures who frolicked around White Crest, as if it were their own, personal playground. “So if your parents know, then…” She looked at Bex, wondering if she had been right to believe that the girl was a witch. “Well, you know now, so…” Dani flexed her fingers against her steering wheel. The adrenaline from her fight was slowly dissipating and the ache in her bones was loud, right down to her finger pads. “Garlic does work, yes.” Not against zombies, though. She’d save that for later. She looked from the dead clock on her dashboard, back to Bex. “Don’t even worry about it, Bex.” She smiled at her, “nice to meet you too-- just… try not to make this a common occurrence.” She turned the truck on once Bex was out. “Let me know if you need anything, you can find me online.” She waited until Bex was safely inside before she drove away. The question of how Bex had been introduced to her world played around in her head. The split fences came to mind. Yeah, there was no way that girl was simply normal. 

[ottelis]

"I gave you my life, Eliott," Lucas's voice shatters, splinters.

Eliott replies softly, broken, hollow, "And I gave you mine."

"No," Lucas says, low and dark. "No, you didn't."

.

.

aka: eliott and lucas grow up together, but are separated when eliott is institutionalized in paris after a severe depressive episode. they reunite two years later when eliott is released, but everything has already changed before their eyes.

epigraph. i. ii. iii. iv.

04—charcoal

tw: uses of the q slur and mentions of death, suicide, and electroshock therapy

july 18th, 1968

12:58

caen, france

~

The days start blurring together again, but the colors are a little clearer, rarely mixing and mudding together. Eliott thinks Friday was mostly gray; Saturday was a pale, sky blue; Sunday was a rich, muted green; Monday was a peachy pink; Tuesday, was a pale, pale yellow; Wednesday was a faded white; and today, Thursday, is a pastel orange. But all Eliott could think about all week was Lucas.

I don't know what to do, Eliott.

I'm sure you understand that your loyalty isn't as precious to me now as it was when we were younger.

We can't be together anymore. I was wrong back then. I'm not a queer. I know now. 

I don't think so, Eliott.

In that moment, I wanted to hurt you. And I knew that what I said would hurt you.

In your letter, you said that you just wanted to know if I would nurture your loyalty a little longer. I will. If you'll let me.

All these same words, swirling around in his mind until he's dizzy, until they burn behind his eyelids every time he closes his eyes. And he hears Lucas's voice through it all, every inflection of disappointment, fatigue, frustration, despondency, and hope, and Eliott feels the sting of it all over again. 

But Eliott doesn't feel devastated. He still feels that lingering sense of acceptance, and it veils him in a thin cloud of depression. Thin enough to see through, but thick enough to darken his surroundings, to start draining the color from everything ever so slightly. It's like a pain, an ache that doesn't hurt too terribly, but it still lingers, constantly trying to keep making its presence known. He can't deny that it's there, and he can't push the pain away as easily. It's bothersome, and it's dark.

He just can't figure Lucas out. And he can't figure out why he let himself accept Lucas's apologies so easily. He should've fought back. He should've asked him more questions, challenged more of his recent actions. He should've let himself take control for once instead of following Lucas's lead, only reacting instead of acting. He should've done so many more things in that moment instead of being so passive, but he can't picture himself taking the initiative again and marching up to Lucas's door and demanding he answer. Perhaps, a small part somewhere in the maze of his mind surrendered that day where the grass ends, and it took over the other night. And maybe that little spec is strong enough to convince the rest of his mind, his body to simply give up. Let Lucas move on. Let him marry Chloé, let him go to Paris for medical school, let him live a new life. Maybe there really is a parallel universe where they won't be together forever, and Eliott just happens to have the crushing misfortune of living in it.

He wanted to tell his mother what happened that night. But then he would have to admit that he's hurt Lucas more than he already has, and that he's upset because he finally knows that Lucas didn't love him as much as he loves Lucas. He finally knows that Lucas probably never loved him like that at all. And he's not only upset, he's afraid. Afraid that he'll come to the same realization that Lucas has. Maybe they really were just two stupid boys who needed more love than they had, so they turned to each other. They fell into each other's arms and crashed into each other's lips because they had nowhere else to go, nowhere else they felt safe taking refuge in. Maybe it all really was some passing fancy, something convenient that they took advantage of the few moments they had it. 

Maybe the love that has driven Eliott his whole life, the love that has shaped him and raised him up into the man he is now, was never truly real.

A part of him is happy this didn't destroy him as much as it could have, but a larger part hates that he's not as upset as he should be. He's practically lost Lucas, his best friend and, dare he say, the love of his life. He should be wailing and gnashing his teeth and pounding his fists into the earth and crying out in anger at God, at fate, at whatever thing has taken almost everything he loves away from him. He should be surging through every day with a hungry, raging flame of anger. Or he should be in such mourning that he fears his eyes will never be dry again. His whole body should heave with his sobs, his mouth should always taste of the bitter salt from his tears, he should feel the strain on his heart, wait in perfect patience for the moment it breaks and he'll finally be free from his pain. He'll forever be known as the boy who died of a broken heart, who died because he loved someone far, far too much. He has a right to feel angry, to be completely shattered. But he doesn't. He's just tired. And he doesn't know how to wait for Lucas to reach out to him and tell him that he's ready to talk. He doesn't know how much longer he can be in this depressed, almost apathetic state before it morphs into something worse, something he can't control. He just doesn't know.

Him and his mother are eating lunch as his mind is still running rampant, trying to hold back all the feelings of guilt and depression so she won't notice. It's trying to find a solution, too, though it isn't sure which problem it wants to fix. Eliott isn't sure, either. He isn't sure where to begin, or if any solution will actually work. His confusion, his desperation is growing, and he doesn't want it getting out of control. He doesn't want himself to get out of control. Not again. Every time he loses control, he—

"Eliott," his mother begins, her voice soft, a little sad. "I'm thinking about visiting Papa today. Do you want to come with me?"

Eliott looks up, blinking away his reverie. He takes a deep breath as he tries to think about her question. The last time he was there, his father's memory helped him more than he thought it could. And maybe he could tell his father everything that happened. He could tell him the truth about everything, all the truth he never got to tell him when he was still alive. Yes, he won't be able to answer, or give him a hug or tousle his hair, but maybe if Eliott just says the words out loud, he could start feeling better. Maybe.

He nods, giving her a small smile. "I'll come."

She smiles back at him. There's something shining in her eyes, and he can't tell if she's happy or if she's about to cry. "Good," she says, her voice wavering slightly. She clears her throat. "Is it okay if we go once we finish our lunch?"

He nods again. "That's okay."

"I know you've been feeling down again, honey," she continues, still quiet. "And I think this will help you."

Eliott bites his lip, but nods. "I think so, too."

"I love you," she says, reaching across the table and placing her hand on top of his. "You know that, right?"

"I know," he smiles. "I love you, too, Maman."

Eliott doesn't eat much of his lunch, but his mother smiles at him understandingly and offers to wrap it up and save it for later. He smiles back at her and accepts.

"I can make us some tea when we come home," she says as they walk out the front door. "Does that sound good?"

"Sounds good," Eliott agrees. "Thank you, Maman."

"You're welcome, honey," she smiles, kissing him on the cheek. "Ready?"

He nods, and the hum of the engine and the music on the radio is almost soothing as they make their way to the cemetery.

It's a beautiful day, but not quite as beautiful as the day his father died. The air is just a little too humid and stuffy, the wind is a little too harsh, the sun a little too dim. But his father always liked summer. He was rarely sick when it was warm, and he usually felt strong enough to go down to the beach with Eliott and splash around in the water with him. They would go down to the library and read books together, or just wander around the town. His father was so close to seeing another summer, but he was too sick, too weak to live another day. He wonders again if his father's half-open eyes saw one of the most beautiful days France had ever seen before he died. He hopes he did.

He blinks as he hears the engine and the music suddenly cut off. They're here. The cemetery doesn't look nearly as dreary in the broad daylight. Most of the markers are a light, weathered gray, and the grass is a much brighter, healthy green. The eerie silence of the place is interrupted by the soft rustling of leaves, branches in the wind. It's almost beautiful.

He hears his mother unbuckle her seat belt, so he does the same. He takes as many deep breaths as he can. He doesn't think he'll ever get used to the idea of only seeing his father in a cemetery, and only seeing his name, and only seeing the two little dates and knowing, in between them, how little time he spent with his father. It's a strange feeling. He always feels a ghost of a shiver running along his spine here, but yet he's filled with a catharsis, a kind of comfort.

He follows his mother to his father's grave, and he sees tears in her eyes. He puts his arm around her, and she rests her head on his shoulder.

They reach his grave, both releasing a heavy sigh. She doesn't weep like she used to. He can hear her sniffle, but he can't feel her trembling. Still, he holds her close, holds her up. He knows she still needs it.

They stand there for a moment, silently mourning. Not very many thoughts have run through Eliott's mind, and he hasn't yet cried a single tear. He only feels that lingering sadness he's felt the past few days, and the pain of it is dull, yet plunging. He hates how he barely feels anything right now.

"Maman," Eliott begins, speaking past the familiar lump in his throat. "Can I talk to Papa? Alone?"

She looks up at him, worry written all over her face. But she smiles. "Okay. I'll be in the car."

"Thank you," he smiles back, enveloping her in a tight hug. 

She pulls away, kissing him on the cheek before walking away.

The cemetery is eerily, eerily quiet before Eliott finds the courage to speak.

"Papa," he begins shakily, taking what feels like his millionth deep breath. "I need to tell you something. I never got the chance to tell you this while you were alive, but," he pauses, trying to taste the words before they come out of his mouth. They taste strange, unfamiliar, but they're right. "I'm queer, Papa. I... I don't know if there's a better word to describe it, but I don't think my heart falls in love with just boys, or just girls, or just boys and girls. It just falls in love. It runs rampant and it drags me along and I can't help but listen to it and follow it. And, somewhere along the way, it fell in love with Lucas. I don't know when or why or how it happened, but it did. And, not long before you died, he told me he loved me, too. And then we kissed. And, suddenly, we were calling each other mon amour and finding little places where we could kiss again and fall even deeper in love," Eliott chuckles as a single tear rolls down his cheek. "I wonder if people saw me back then and wondered why I was so happy. And not the happy I am when I'm manic. Truly happy. I've never been so happy in my life, Papa, I swear it. I didn't even need to be around him to be so beyond happy. I just had to say his name, or picture him in my mind, and my heart would soar. I was in love, Papa, I am in love," His smiles, his laughs disappear. "But he's angry with me. Or, he was. I'm not sure. When I first came home he was. He was angry because of what I did before I had to go to the institution. And he didn't talk to me for weeks, and he started talking to me again the other day at his birthday party. But he doesn't want to talk about anything that happened before. I think he's hoping I'll just forgive him and then we'll never have to talk about any of that again. He... He feels so much but he refuses to let it show on his face. He refuses to let other people see it. He refuses to tell anyone about it. He's stubborn and he bottles everything up and then he lashes out and then he realizes how much he can hurt people and he hates being reminded of that, of how powerful his words are, how sharp his tongue is. And... I don't know how to help him. He's worse than he was when we were younger. And I know in the back of my mind that I'm probably the reason why he's gotten worse, but I don't know how to help him. He won't tell me how. I know every inch of him except for his mind. His skull might as well be empty for me. I can't figure him out anymore. And I think he's given up on figuring me out, too. And... he's engaged now, and he says he never loved me the way I loved him. And when he said that, I think it confirmed everything I was already thinking, and I was okay with it. I accepted it. Well, parts of it. I don't think I could ever forget how happy he made me. That's the part I can't seem to accept. If he didn't love me the way I loved him, why did that make me so happy? Why did I take his little crumbs of affection and let my smile spread and let my heart fall in love with him? I just... I'm afraid that this is really where we grow apart. I'm afraid that universe is branching off into other universes and we're on completely different paths. And, if we are, if that's what's happening, wouldn't it be my fault? I chose to try to take myself away from him, and now he's made his choice, too, I think. I don't know what to do, Papa."

He knows his father couldn't answer, but when the silence comes back, unsettling and snaking underneath his skin, it makes the lump in his throat break open in a strangled sob. He breathes, slowly, rubbing at his eyes. He breathes, breathes. He walks away, squeezing his eyes shut and shaking his head. He breathes again, as slowly as he can. He calms himself down, leaving himself with that lingering, prickly sadness that's been haunting him for days.

He hopes he doesn't look like he's been crying as much as he has been when he reaches the car and climbs into his seat.

"Are you okay, honey?" his mother asks almost immediately. "You look like you've been crying."

He nods, taking another deep breath. "I just miss Papa."

It's not a lie, but his father isn't the only person he misses so much he feels like he could burst.

"We'll get you home and I'll make you that tea I promised," she replies, placing her hand on his shoulder. "Would that make you feel better?"

Eliott nods again, smiling a little. "It would."

His mother doesn't try and talk to him as they drive home, which he appreciates, but it's still a little too quiet for his taste. He turns up the radio a bit, even though he isn't particularly fond of the song that's playing. The day is still beautiful, his sadness still haunts him, Lucas is still quiet and distant, his mother is still far kinder than he deserves, and his father is still dead. Everything has changed, but in this moment, nothing has.

They arrive home, and Eliott sits at the table as his mother makes tea. He looks out the window, towards the water, watching the waves lap and froth and imagining the music they must be making. He still hasn't gone swimming since he came home, but whenever he entertains the idea, something holds him back. Lucas can't come with him, and neither can his father. The last time he went swimming alone was when he tried to let the waves crash over him and sweep him away. He's not afraid of the water, not like Lucas is now, but he supposes he's at least wary of it now. Maybe, if Lucas really does want them to be friends again and tries to fix things between them, they can go swimming like they used to. They could wade out, little by little, so Lucas doesn't get too scared, and the chilly sting of the water will wash all of Eliott's bad memories away. Couldn't they?

The kettle boils, and the waves seem to calm.

He turns his gaze back towards his mother, who began to pour the water into their mugs. He smiles at her gratefully as she hands him his, chuckling when she reminds him that the tea will be hot.

"So," she begins, setting Eliott ever so slightly on edge. "What did you tell Papa about?"

Eliott sighs, bobbing his teabag above and below the water. He decides to tell the truth, at least a piece of it. "Lucas."

"Have you heard from him again at all?" she asks carefully, adding sugar to her tea.

Eliott shakes his head. "Not at all."

"You're sure you don't want me to talk to him or Madeleine?" she asks again.

Eliott nods. "He'll talk to me when he's ready."

"It's been almost a month since you came back, honey," she replies. "What's holding him back?"

"He has his own life now, Maman," he shrugs. "One that I probably need to stop intruding on. I don't think he wants me in it."

"Why wouldn't he want you there with him?" she asks, almost frustrated. "You two have spent almost your whole lives together. You go away for two years, and suddenly he doesn't want you around anymore? It doesn't make sense."

"I told you what he said," he sighs, putting his tea off to the side. He's still not angry. He's just still tired. "It wasn't the two years that I was gone. It's the reason why I was gone for two years. It's because I tried to kill myself."

The words fall from his mouth so quickly it makes him feel sick to his stomach. It makes the color drain from his mother's face. It makes a tense silence fall between them.

"I'm..." Eliott chokes out. "I'm sorry, Maman. It's just that I can't undo what I tried to do that night. I can't unwrite those letters I wrote, or unthink the thoughts that made me want to try in the first place. I can't unmake Lucas's anger. And I don't think I can unbreak our friendship. He'll patch a hole in it then move on and never look back like he always does if he decides to talk to me again."

"Honey," his mother starts, but the word dies in her throat and she doesn't say anything else.

He shakes his head, running his hands through his hair. "I wish he would just talk to me and tell me he just doesn't want to be friends anymore so I can stop hoping and wishing that things will go back to the way they were. No matter how much things keep changing right in front of me, a part of me still keeps imagining a world I remember, a world that's kind to me. I wish he would tell me if he's going to kill it or nurture it. It's tearing me apart. He's tearing me apart."

She doesn't know what to say. He can tell from the way she purses her lips and the way she can't quite look him in the eye.

"It's okay," he tells her. "I wouldn't know what to say to me, either."

She sighs, lightly tapping her fingers on the table. "Maybe you could write everything you're feeling? Or maybe draw?"

Eliott shrugs, but the idea flows easily into his mind and lifting his spirits, if only slightly.

"You haven't drawn in a while, haven't you?" she asks.

He shakes his head. "I gave Lucas a drawing for his birthday, but I don't think I've drawn anything like I used to since Papa died."

"Do you want to try it? We can go and buy some supplies," she proposes, hope in her eyes.

He nods. "I'll try it."

july 20th, 1968

01:11

caen, france

~

As much as Eliott believes drawing will help him, he's had to work up the courage to simply pick up the new charcoal pencils his mother bought him yesterday, let alone put them to paper. His mind is full, as always. Full of emotions, memories, ideas of what to draw, ideas of what he would say to Lucas whenever he's ready to talk. if he didn't know better, he would've thought he was in another mania based on his scattered mind alone. If he was in a mania, the thoughts would've pushed him, urged him forward as he followed every wit that crossed his mind. But his thoughts are suffocating him, backing him into a dark corner. His mind seems to be teetering on a fine line between mania and depression, and it reminds him of the day he tried to take his own life. And that terrifies him.

He remembers someone saying that when anniversaries of traumatic events arrive, people's emotions are heightened to a frightening degree. Anxiety, depression, fear, despair. Today marks two years since Lucas's drowning, and two days from now will be two years since Eliott's suicide attempt. He hates how close together two of the worst days of his life are, but things were so different back then. Eliott was frightened, desperate, traumatized. Lucas was dead for the longest, most frightening ten minutes Eliott could imagine. How could he ever forget that? How could he ever recover from knowing that beloved body was ever lifeless? How could he chase away the frightening possibility that Lucas's heart stopped before Eliott could cling to him and swim desperately to shore? How could he live knowing that Lucas's drowning was all his fault?

Last year, Eliott's mental state while he was at the institution was deteriorating rapidly, and the anniversary coincided with another failed medication trial. He spent the anniversary of Lucas's drowning with the bit in his mouth and the shocks ripping through his brain, and he spent the anniversary of his suicide attempt still reeling from the shocks, too weak and disoriented to spend too much time dwelling on remembering. He doesn't want to spend the anniversaries this year in that same situation, but his terror only grows at the thought of having to deal with it with a somewhat clear mind.

And how Lucas must have felt, must feel. All because of Eliott.

He shakes his head, shakes away the memories, the possibilities, the blame. He looks back down at his new sketchbook, feels the chalky charcoal rub smoothly against his fingertips. He takes a deep breath, letting his eyes slowly close.

Breathe. Create. Forget. Just for a minute or two.

He opens his eyes, and he touches the charcoal to the page, letting his mind control his hand. Whatever's on his mind, it'll speak in tones of dark black or faded gray. The picture will be black and white, but Eliott's heart will provide all the color.

may 27th, 1966

19:47

caen, france

~

The sun is setting, kissing the water and making it blush a fierce gold as Lucas kisses Eliott softly, gingerly on a rippling sea of wrinkled bedsheets. Their legs are tangled together, and their foreheads touch and their noses tickle against each other. Lucas weaves his hand through Eliott's hair, wrapping the occasional strand around his finger if he finds a small curl. Eliott can feel Lucas's eyes on him, but he's staring at the little mole on his neck, the dip of his collarbone, how his skin turns into something like honey in the light of the setting sun. 

"He'll be okay, Ellie," Lucas finally says, still the softest, kindest thing that ever sang in Eliott's ear. "He'll get better."

"It's different this time," Eliott mumbles, fidgeting with the collar of Lucas's shirt. "He's never been this sick before. Never. I'm just waiting for Maman to call and tell me that he's dying, or that he's already dead. It could be any minute now."

"She won't," Lucas replies, kissing the tip of Eliott's nose. "He has some of the best doctors in the country looking after him. They'll make him good as new."

"My papa's been sick my whole life, Lu," Eliott shakes his head, tears filling his eyes. "Every time he gets really sick or he goes to the hospital, all I ever hear is that he'll get better. Someday they're bound to be wrong. Someday he'll be too sick and the doctors won't be able to save him."

"He's not too sick," Lucas reassures, but his voice is thin, almost breaking. "He's not too far gone."

"You keep saying that," Eliott says, finally looking up at Lucas. He sees something in Lucas's eyes he rarely sees; pity. 

"How could I tell you that your papa might die?" Lucas sighs, closing his eyes. He shakes his head, opening his eyes again and gazing at Eliott with that same pity. "I know what it's like to lose a father, but not like this."

"You don't have to tell me," Eliott replies. "And you don't have to try and tell me things you don't believe."

Lucas is quiet, biting his lip and avoiding Eliott's gaze. Ever so quietly, he says, "I know."

"Lucas," Eliott begins, taking a deep breath. "Hold me. Please. Hold me until this is all over."

The corner of Lucas's mouth turns up into a sad, half-smile. "Okay."

Eliott manages to smile back as he cuddles closer to Lucas, resting his head on his chest. He feels Lucas's arms enfold him, holding him tightly yet softly. He feels Lucas kiss and whisper into his hair, feels his thumb gently caress his arm. He listens to Lucas's heartbeat, feels the soft cotton of his shirt brush against his cheek, smells his salt and his sleep, and he prays that somehow, Lucas is right.

Lucas's breaths start evening out, and his heartbeat slows. Eliott looks up and sees that his eyes are closed, and that his lips are parted ever so slightly. Lucas could always fall asleep so easily, and Eliott always envied him for it. But he smiles, kissing the tip of Lucas's nose, his forehead. He doesn't stir, and he snores quietly.

Eliott watches him for a moment, studies the way his long eyelashes fan against his cheek and are lengthened by their own shadows. He watches the small strands of hair falling over his forehead drift on the breeze from the open window, from Lucas's breathing. Lucas smiles, ever so slightly, in his sleep, and he sighs contentedly.

He's so beautiful, Eliott thinks. How did I ever deserve him?

Eliott carefully pulls himself away from Lucas's hold, finding his bag and pulling out his sketchbook and pencils. He climbs back onto the bed, still careful about waking Lucas. He starts drawing Lucas's head, etching out every sleepy line in his face, every messy strand of his hair. He draws the sloping line of his neck, the hills and valleys of his shoulders, the slightest curve at his waist. He draws his open hand resting by his face, his fingers slightly curled and his palms almost completely shadowed. He tries to draw all the little fibers he can see in Lucas's shirt, chasing the hems and trying to reign in every loose thread. 

He stops drawing for a moment, wishing he had a colored pencil that matched the shade of Lucas's skin in this light, and what such a color could be called; pale honey, ambrosia, euphoria, tenderness. He tries to commit the color to memory, the perfect blend of oranges and yellows and dusty pinks. His grin widens at the thought that maybe, if the world is kind to them, Eliott will see this color over and over again. That he'll see the love of his life look so heavenly every day, and be reminded again and again that Lucas is his, and that he is Lucas's. That he'll fall deeper and deeper in love until he forgets what it's like to live in a world where his soul wanders aimless, alone. He offers up another prayer that, like they say, thoughts will become words, and words will become actions, and that actions will become habits. For Lucas is the most addicting and yet satisfying habit Eliott could ever have.

His heart sinks, just a little, as he studies his drawing. It's beautiful, but not as beautiful as Lucas truly is. His heart sinks, just a little further, as he imagines people thinking Lucas is one of the most beautiful people they've ever seen, without ever seeing him like Eliott does.

He leaves his sketchbook on Lucas's nightstand, carefully crawling back into his arms. But Lucas stirs, and his eyes slowly blink open. He smiles when he sees Eliott, tilting his head down to kiss him again. Eliott kisses him back, hoping Lucas can taste the love that fills his chest and presses against his seams, the love that only appears as long as Lucas lives, breathes, sings.

"Why'd you get out of bed?" Lucas asks, his voice deep and crackling.

"I drew you," Eliott replies. "While the sunlight was still shining on you."

"You did?" Lucas grins, tracing Eliott's cheekbone with his thumb gingerly.

Eliott nods, grinning back at him. "I did."

"You'll have to show me when I'm less sleepy," Lucas says, kissing Eliott again. It's soft, slow, smiling lips against smiling lips. "I love you so much."

Eliott feels his heart glowing, bursting. He kisses him a little deeper, a little harder, making the smallest moan rumble from Lucas's throat. Eliott slows then, breaking away for a moment before kissing him again, gently, patiently. Lucas melts into him. They stop for breath, almost chuckling at each other out of pure joy.

" I love you, too,"  Eliott says against Lucas's lips. "More than anything."

They become like the waves against the shore, their lungs harmonizing in slow, sweet sighs. They hold each other, their bodies fitting together and clinging as tightly as they can. They slowly fall back asleep, braving the darkness they're entering together. The wind flows through the window, gathering their secrets and vowing that they'll keep them, falling silent and dying in the sky's throat. The moon is still bright, her freckled face smiling sadly as she watches them, knowing all the threads of the universe and knowing how they all tie together. She whispers, sings, "All is well. There is a calm after the storm, a peace after the war, a warmth and a comfort when burning heat fades away. Brave through, my darlings. To be brave is to be alive, to be well. All I ask is that you remember, still, to be gentle all the while."

The Lallemants' phone rings.

july 20th, 1968

10:17

caen, france

~

Eliott wakes with a jolt from a dreamless sleep. The sun is well on its way through the sky, its rays almost completely lighting up his room. He sits up, fighting against his head and heart weighing him down to his bed. He rubs the sleep out of his eyes and tries to ignore the throbbing pain in his skull. He looks down at the floor, where his small binder of drawings lies open. On the left hand side is the drawing he made of Lucas while he was sleeping, the last serious drawing he ever did before his father died. The pencil markings are weathered slightly, the page stained a pale, pale yellow. On the right hand side is the drawing he did a few hours ago, another of Lucas, but the way he looked the moment he opened the door and saw Eliott there. Eliott reaches down and picks it up, studying it more closely. 

Lucas's mouth gapes open slightly, highlighting his cheekbones and his jawline, exposing his teeth. His eyebrows are raised, curtained behind stray locks of his hair falling over his forehead. His eyes are wide, sparkling with something like shock, despair, confusion, realization, recognition. Eliott still hasn't figured out what that something is, or what he can call it, but he thinks he'll never be able to forget it. It should've struck him to his core. It should've warned him that something was wrong, that something was different. But he didn't see it, then. He was too blinded by Lucas, by the future he thought they could have together, loving each other like they used to. 

Eliott briefly entertains the idea of what could've happened if he had listened to that ghost in Lucas's eyes, if he had just walked away right then and there. He wonders which is worse: knowing Lucas is angry and knowing the distance that's growing between them is all his fault, or not knowing why Lucas is upset and letting their friendship fall apart, wither away naturally. Which is worse? Animosity, or ignorance?

He sighs deeply, putting the drawing back in his binder. He wants to reach out to Lucas today, somehow. He probably won't try and talk to him, not yet. Maybe a letter?

Eliott tears a blank sheet from his sketchbook and moves over to his desk. His hand hovers over the page as a thousand words flit across his mind, as he tries to catch the ones that feel right. He starts writing.

 Lucas,

I've been thinking about you, and us, and everything that went wrong. And you were right. I was selfish. I was foolish. I was a boy. I was sick. I'm still sick. My sickness will never go away, no matter how many shocks they gave me, and no matter how many times I scream and pray for it to leave me alone. It hurts people and sometimes I can't stop it. It's hurt you so many times. I've hurt you so many times.

I was sick that day. A dizzy, euphoric sick. I was in love with you. And your name, your face mingled with my mania and it took me higher than I've ever been before. I couldn't imagine being away from you for even a second. So, I woke up at dawn and bounced around my room and thought about all the things we could do together as I got dressed. Then I went over to your window and woke you up, and we raced each other down the street until we couldn't breathe and our sides were aching. Do you remember us finding almost every alley and kissing until our lips started turning blue? Do you remember me dragging you to almost every shop and promising to buy you anything you wanted? Do you remember that whole morning, the beginning of that afternoon? To be honest, all of that is a little hazy for me. All I remember is you. Your smiles, your laughs, your breathing, the taste of your lips, the feeling of your skin. All I really remember is you.

But what I really remember is when we got to the beach. I'll remember that hour as long as I live. I'll remember those ten minutes as long as I live. But everything I felt then is nothing compared to what you went through. I'll never try to understand it, because I don't think I ever could. But what I do understand is that you never would've gone through what you did if it weren't for me. If I hadn't been sick, or if I had been able to control it, or if I wasn't so attached to you, or if I didn't love you as much as I did, you would've never known what death tastes like, or seen his dark, inky face, or felt his cool, welcoming embrace. 

You told me the day I came home that you don't go near the water anymore because it reminds you of me. It doesn't remind you of dying. You're not afraid of drowning again. It reminds you of me. I took that away from you. I took all the memories of splashing in the water, and watching the waves breathe against the shore, and I tainted them, darkened them before your very eyes. I almost let the water take you. I almost let it take me, too. The water consumes, erodes, strangles. Just like I do. 

I guess what I'm trying to say is that I don't blame you for not being ready to talk. Take all the time you need, Lucas. Live your life a little more. See what it's like without me. See if you're happier. Because you deserve all the happiness in the world, Lucas. You deserve to breathe every particle of it, swim in every drop of it. And you deserve even more than that. You deserve love. Dizzying, breathless, heart-racing love. I don't know if I can give that to you. I think I've given you all the love I have. I want you to decide if it's enough, even though you deserve so, so much more. I've told you before that I'll be waiting for you, and I still will, but if you decide you need to walk away, I will, too. I'll stop waiting, and I'll let you find the happiness and love you deserve. I won't blame you. How could I? Maybe Chloé really is the love of your life, and maybe she can be the one to give you everything you deserve. I won't blame you for that either. How could I?

I feel that I'm full of hope, Lucas. A part of me hopes that I can learn how to control this sickness, figure out its warning signs, its weaknesses. Another part hopes that my touch and my heart will soften, and that my mind and tongue will calm. But there's a third, larger part that hopes for nothing short of the best for you. It hopes that no more of your tears will be shed unnecessarily, that your mind will never worry for another unnecessary second, and that your heart will glow as brightly as it can until it must dim and flicker out. And may your heart live as long as it can. May it bleed scarlet and passion and loyalty. May it sing with all its voice. May it guide you down any dark, winding path and carry you every step of the way. May it love so fiercely that it may burst, but it's not afraid to. And may you hold it, nurture it. May you live.

Yours,

Eliott

 He sighs deeply as he sets his pen down, reading over his words again. He's exhausted, and his heart aches, but it feels right. He folds it and places it in an envelope carefully. His hands starts shaking again as he writes Lucas's name, and he hopes he'll recognize his handwriting. He seals the envelope, the lingering sadness he's felt for days dulling, numbing. He takes another deep, deep breath and leaves his room, walking down the stairs to deliver the letter to the Lallemants' mailbox.

"Where are you going, honey?" his mother asks from the kitchen, looking up from her bowl of cereal.

"I'm taking this to the Lallemants'," he replies, not waiting for her response. He tells her that he'll be right back as he closes the front door behind him. 

The sun is still shining brightly, but he can see dark, looming clouds peeking over the horizon. The waves are loud today, crashing against the shore with a shout, a cry. It's hot, stuffy. He picks up his pace, almost jogging to the Lallemants' mailbox.

He opens the slightly rusted mailbox, its creaking grating against his ears. He winces, then shoves the letter inside. But the sadness starts to come back, slowly, just beneath his skin as he does. He shuts the mailbox and hurries back home, the sun shining brighter and the waves crashing louder and the heat becoming unbearable. 

He stumbles as he walks up the porch steps, and he lets himself fall, exhausted. Tears are suddenly spilling out of his eyes, and there's a strong, familiar weight crushing his chest. He hugs himself, rocking back and forth as the tears become loud, choking sobs. His mother must've heard him, because he suddenly feels her arms wrap around him.

"What's wrong?" she asks through her tears. "My baby boy..."

He wails into her shoulder, feeling his heart shattering slowly, slowly into pieces as the acceptance becomes full, filling his chest and nearly stopping his breath.

[bluewhale52]

Can You Parallel Park?

Pairings: jhs x reader , with appearance from OT7

Word count: 3.5k

Genre: fluff

Summary: parallel parking is stressful. Especially when you have an audience. Especially when your audience is the fray boys of BTS House.

Warnings: none, a few swear words  

A/N:  my first ever fic! I’ve been holding back publishing this because I’m shy ☺️ but if I don’t start now then when will I?? Please give it a read and leave comments and feedback. I’d really love to write more, and your feedback will help me improve and find my writing rhythm! (Also, I suck at titles)

————————— 💜 ——————————

Finally a parking spot. But it’s a parallel park. And it’s in front of a frat house. That happens to be BTS- the loudest, craziest, most good looking and most notorious on campus.

Now, you’re a master in parallel parking. But that’s when you drive on the LEFT side of the road. Your brain just can’t function now that you have to do it with the steering wheel on the opposite side of what you’re used to.

You pull up, aligning the car properly and start reversing, turning the wheel at the right time to ensure your car would slide into the spot, easily and quickly. But wait, the side of your car looks so dangerously close to the car in front. One slight move you’re sure to scrape it.

So you pull up again. Repeat the process.  And repeat. And repeat.

Your cheeks start to heat as you notice there are 2 guys now sitting at the patio, and- you’re very sure of this- watching your sixth attempt to parallel park in front of their house. Then another guy comes out.  And another.

So now you’re nowhere near to parking your car and you have an audience. Great.

All right Y/N, you can do this. You parallel park every day back home on busy 2-lane roads, with lines of cars honking at you. This is peanuts.

Seventh attempt. Eighth. And you finally did it at the ninth. Are those guys laughing at you?!

Embarrassed, you grab your bag, get out of the car, lock it, all the while looking at everywhere but the frat house. You can swear you hear clapping as you cross the road.

—

“Hey Y/N, did you park in front of BTS today?” Jungkook asks at dinner in the dining hall.

You give him a death stare. “How did you know?”

“Saw your car when I went there after practice. And some of the guys were talking about this girl who was having a hard time parking in front of the house.”

“I can’t believe I contributed to women driver stereotype.” You scoop your mac and cheese angrily.

‘Well they describe you as cute” you glare at Jungkook, but he only continues. “There’s a party there tonight. I’m going. You’re coming too, ok.”

—

You’re not sure how Jungkook managed to persuade you to come to the party. You have declared house of BTS as your sworn enemy, yet you wonder which of the guys had described you cute. I’ll show you cute, you mutter under your breath as you follow Jungkook into the house.

The music is loud, you can smell booze in the air, and there is just way too much shouting. The girls are shrieking over someone doing a keg stand, the guys are yelling Chug! chug! as if it’s a mating call, and you remember why you hate frat parties.

“Jungkook!!” A pink haired guy and a blue haired guy swoop down on you and your friend, and you immediately get lost in their eyes. The three of them hug, and Jungkook introduces you to these two ethereal beings. You divert your eyes shyly, their eyes are too much, you feel yourself unravelling when they stare at you like this. Then it’s off to the drinks tables, and you settle for a cola. You learn that Jimin and Taehyung are fellow pledgers, like Jungkook, and you really wonder what it is in the BTS house that just draws in the hottest guys on campus.

Jungkook and his two handsome friends are chatting away while you nurse your cola. You’re too shy in social settings like this, and you find it hard to talk to people. Jungkook is being pulled somewhere, and he pulls you along, knowing your shyness, but soon you lose him among the bumping bodies.

So now you’re alone, standing by the kitchen and starting to blend into the walls. You’re deliberating if you should go home, when a very handsome guy approaches you.

“Hey, you ok?” He asks. You stare at him. His face is so symmetrical. Is it even physically possible? He eyes you with concern, so you quickly nod.

“I’m Jin,” he introduces himself. “If you don’t feel so good, just go to the patio, ok? My boys here are good but there’s just way too many people now.” He’s practically shouting over the music. “Some of the seniors are outside and they’re not drinking so they can help you if anything happens, ok?”

You nod again. He grabs your cup of cola and sniff it.  “You sure you’re ok? You’re not drinking but you’re looking a bit weird it’s worrying me.”

You gulp. “I’m ok,” you shout back. “I’m just an introvert trapped in my worst nightmare.”

Jin laughs and you swear your car wipers make the same sound. “Ok. So you’re sober enough to help me find my food. Come.”

You let Jin usher you to the kitchen. Jin asks for your name, your major, the standard senior to sophomore questions.  Once you step into the kitchen, however, you’re greeted with a loud crash.

“Goddamnit Namjoon!” Jin bellows. You turn your eyes towards who you think is Namjoon, yet another handsome frat boy- what’s with this house seriously?- standing wide eyed over a cabinet that has crashed down... from the wall?

“It just fell,Hyung! I swear!!” He’s as shocked as Jin and you, your three serious faces stand out among a sea of drunken laughter.

“Well lucky it’s just a bunch of chips and cereals.” Jin mumbles as he moves to grab a black garbage bag. You help Jin hold the bag open as he and Namjoon start collecting the debris.

“I swear Hyung, I was just getting some chips and the whole thing just came down.” Namjoon picks some wooden pieces and throws them into the bag. Noticing you, he says, “Just hold the bag open ok, don’t touch any of these. You could get a splinter.”

You can’t help but feeling a little touched at his concern. “It’s ok. Though I think you’re better off taking all these straight to the bin outside.”

Jin grumbles. “You know, I just want a small dinner party with our friends. How did it get blown out of proportion like this. I even cooked! And I don’t even know where my food is.”

“Do you even want to know where your food is?” You say dryly. “Best scenario someone’s eaten if. Worst scenario someone’s having sex on top of it.”

“Aish. When did our house become such a party house?” Jin complains.

You look at the girls hovering in the kitchen. Cleavage, mini skirt and high heels. Eyes on Jin and Namjoon, begging for a glance. Fake laughs and shrills to get their attention.

“You guys are just too good looking. It’s ridiculous how good looking you and your brothers are.” You observe.

You’re treated to Namjoon’s adorable dimples as he laughs, and Jin’s “Yaaaaah, it’s  about time you say something about this face.”

“She’s right,” Namjoon picks up more small pieces of wood. “We need to rebrand, Hyung. We’re supposed to be an academic fraternity, but people only know us as party animals.”

The three of you take evidence of Namjoon’s destruction to bin in the yard. You’re grateful for the fresh air, and the company of the two seniors. Jin asks if you want to get back inside, and you politely decline, mentioning you’re thinking of going home anyway.

Jin and Namjoon protest, and insist you stay. They have have sensed your shyness, and they promise you won’t be left without company. They take you to the patio, which despite the amount of people coming and going, is much quieter than inside.

Jin and Namjoon introduce you to their other two brothers- handsome as hell also, like what do you expect at this stage really. While Hoseok is reminds you of sunshine and rainbow, Yoongi is the total opposite, with his black bucket hat, black tshirt, black jeans and black sneakers.

You feel shy again, in the presence of the four ridiculously good looking strangers you’ve just met. You can tell how close the four are. You can tell in their banter, their teasing, and the way they’re so comfortable physically with each other. You feel a bit jealous, wishing you had a group of friends like this.

Making friends has been difficult for you, and you count your lucky stars you get along so well with Jungkook, whom you’d met at your freshman class just a year ago. You’ve become so close that you start to fear that you’d lose him once he joins the BTS fraternity.

Then you hear something that snaps you out of your thoughts.

“Did you hear about the girl who tried to park in front of our house this afternoon?”

“Some of the juniors were talking about it. Why, what happened?”

“She nearly hit Jin’s pick up.”

“I heard the juniors were laughing at her. They said it took her like 15 minutes to park.”

“Aish, those boys should’ve helped her, not laugh at her.”

“Was it even a tight spot?”

“I think Jungkook knows the girl. He said he recognised the car.”

‘Is it difficult, parallel parking? They make you do it when you take your driver’s license test right?”

“We should apply to get at least this portion of the street to be a no parking zone. It gets so narrow once cars are parked on both sides.”

“I can parallel park with my eyes blindfolded.”

“Don’t ever let Namjoon parallel park. He’d hit the car in front AND behind him.”

You’re frozen in embarrassment. It doesn’t matter that they don’t know you’re THAT girl, to your ears, the casual way they talk about the whole thing sounds like they’re making fun of you.

You put your soda cup down a little to hard, and you say your goodbye a little too rough. The four guys are taken aback by your sudden change of mood. They’ve realised you don’t talk much and they’ve made an effort to include you in their conversation, not taking any offence when you give short and terse answers, or even polite smiles as you hide behind your cup. So the anger they see in your body language puzzles them.

“Did we say something wrong?” Hoseok says as he and his brothers watch you stomp your way out of the patio.

“She’s really upset.” Yoongi adds. “We must have said something that pisses her off.”

“No shit, Sherlock. Is she walking home? Does anyone know where she lives?” Jin asks, concerned for your safety.

“But what did we say? It’s weird she just stormed off like that.” Hoseok wonders as he watches you walking away.

“Did you guys see who she came with?” Namjoon asks Hoseok and Yoongi, who have been lounging in the patio since the swarm of party goers came to the house.

“I didn’t notice her until she came here with you two.” Yoongi replies.

“I saw her with Jungkook I think,” Hoseok tries to recall. “Should we tell him? Wait, is she his girlfriend? Maybe she’s pissed off he’s left her with us.”

“Whenever Jimin, Tae and Jungkook are together they just get into a bubble and forget about everyone else.” Namjoon says.

“One of us should at least walk her home right?” Jin watches you walking further away.

“She’s not his girlfriend. Jungkook doesn’t have a girlfriend.” Yoongi says sure of himself. Then it clicks. “Wait, oh shit.”

“Is she... Jungkook said he recognised...” Namjoon pieces the information together.

“Is she seriously walking home?” Jin is practically shouting. He knows Jungkook has a female flatmate, and now he’s put a face to the name Jungkook has very often mentioned to his frat brothers. And Jin knows your and Jungkook’s apartment is a good half hour walk away, and in a much quieter part of campus. Jin is really worried for your safety.

The four guys quickly get up and run after you.

—

You kick a pebble. You can’t hear the music and the revelry of the party anymore and your anger has dissipated, turned into annoyance and regret. You could’ve made a joke, poked a bit of fun at yourself, rather than throwing a tantrum and walking away like this.

But, so what? They’ve been insensitive making fun of people who can’t parallel park. Doesn’t matter how gorgeous they are, they’re just bratty frat boys from THE frat house on campus. They think they own the world.

But... they’ve been very nice to you too. Jin making sure you’re involved in their conversation. Namjoon recommending classes  with good professors. Hoseok checking if you need more cola or if you’re hungry. Yoongi’s  deadly stare warding off any drunken guys trying to hit on you. You sigh.

“Y/N!”

You stop in your track, heart in your throat, and turn to find the four guys you’ve just been thinking about running toward you.

“God,” Jin is panting. “Why do you walk so fast?”

“What are you guys doing?” You stare at Jin and his brothers. Did they chase you down all the way here?

Yoongi points at Jin. “He’s worried for your safety.”

“So we’re going to walk you home. In case something happens.” Hoseok adds.

You look at the four faces, confused. “Wouldn’t it look suspicious if four guys walk one girl home?”

The four faces look at you then each other, not quite sure with what you mean.

“Well a guy walks a girl home is normal, right? But four guys and one girl? Isn’t that kinda weird” Where the hell are you going with this, Y/N?

“Um,” Namjoon rubs the back of his neck, “we just want to make sure you’re ok.”

“You stormed off and it surprised us how upset you seem..” Yoongi adds, looking away but there is genuine concern in his voice.

”You’re flatmate with Jungkook, right? Your apartment isn’t exactly just around the corner. What if something happens on your way home?” Jin says.

“She’s right though, four guys walking a girl home does look weird. Let’s just do Rock Paper Scissors, guys.” Hoseok suggests.

You shake your head, watching them bicker some more before starting the hand game. You roll your eyes and start walking again, leaving them behind. You hear Jin calls you to wait, then more bickering, then a set of footsteps getting closer to you.

“Y/N, wait.” You turn and find Hoseok has caught up with you. “I’ll walk you home.” You look back and see the other three guys waving goodbye at you, then turning back towards their house. “I don’t normally win at rock paper scissors, glad I did just now though.” He flashes a wide smile at you.

You catch yourself wanting to smile back, how can you not, when he smiles at you like that. And it’s cute how the guys reacted after you left their party so abruptly.  But you remember you’re supposed to be annoyed.

“Congratulations, hope you like walking.” You mutter. You hide a smile as Hoseok tries to keep up with your fast pace.

“Slow down Y/N, you’re going to look like you’re trying to run away from me.” Hoseok grabs your wrist, forcing you to match his slower pace.

Your breath hitches as he holds your wrist a few seconds longer, only letting go once you start to walk at a more leisurely pace.

“Slow down and enjoy the scenery.” He smiles.

You scoff. “Brown brick buildings hardly make beautiful scenery.”

Hoseok tuts. “But the trees do, and the shadows from the street lamps do. See, they look like they’re dancing in the breeze.”

“More like bony hands trying to strangle you.”

“Tsk. So macabre, Y/N. You need more sunshine in your life.” Hoseok teases.

“And I suppose you’re the sunshine?” You tease back.

“With a smile like this, of course I am.” He beams.

You can’t help but chuckle. A few  minutes pass by, you and Hoseok stroll in silence.

“Y/N,” Hoseok gently calls your name, “I’m sorry about what we said back there.”

You keep looking ahead, embarrassment creeping up again.

“We didn’t know it was you. I.. well we’re really sorry we said all those stuff.”

You sigh. “Doesn’t matter, Hoseok. Whether or not you knew it was me, you guys still made fun of the whole situation.”

“I know, I know. We’re no better than our juniors who laughed at you.”

“It’s very embarrassing you know.” You pout, you don’t feel as upset anymore, but you might as well milk this for all it’s worth. “It’s horrible to be at the receiving end like that.”

“Ah, Y/N,” Hoesoek throws an arm around your shoulder and gives you a gentle squeeze. You blush immediately. “I’m very sorry. Really. All of us are.”

You clear your throat. Hoseok’s arm is still around you, and it doesn’t feel like he’s going to remove it soon. “I’m sorry too, Hoseok. The way I reacted was a bit... childish.” You say softly.

Another squeeze from Hoseok. “No, Y/N. Your reaction was understandable. We were out of line. Forgive us?” He turns to look at you intently.

Your cheeks are burning. You find it hard to answer him. But he mistakes your silence as playful sulking. “Come on, Y/N, forgive us please,” He wraps you in both his arms now. “We’re so sorry. I’ll make it up to you, ok?”

“And how are you going to make it up to me, Hoseok?” You coarsely ask, nerves so obvious in your voice.

Hoseok makes an exaggerated thinking pose. “I’ll send you the biggest bouquet of flowers. So big all the other girls on this campus would be so jealous of you.”

“Hmm. Don’t like flowers.” You say matter of factly.

“What? Why not?!”

You shrug. “Waste of money. They’re expensive. And they’ll just wither and die.”

“I’ll make you dinner.”

“You cook?”

Hoseok scratches his chin. “Well. Jin Hyung will cook and I’ll pass it as my own cooking?”

“That’s cheating, Hoseok.”

“I’ll walk you home everyday.”

“I drive, remember?”

Hoseok winces. You giggle.

“Chocolates?”

“Don’t like sweet stuff.”

And so you keep going back and forth with Hoseok. Your giggles become laughter as the embarrassment of your parallel parking vanishes.  You don’t realise Hoseok still has an arm around your shoulder. That he has pulled you closer to him, your side pressed against his. That you eventually put your arm around his waist. And that you rest your head on the nook of his shoulder when he makes you laugh.

—

Hoseok insists walking  you all the way up to your apartment. You fish your key out, and unlock your door.

“Do you want anything to drink? Some water?” You ask shyly as you step into your apartment. Feeling that Hoseok is not by your side anymore, you turn around, surprised finding him lingering by the entrance, looking unsure.

“Oh sorry, I didn’t mean anything by it, really. I just figure you might be thirsty after that long walk.” You stutter.

“No, no, Y/N. I’m sorry, it’s just..” Hoseok steps inside and nervously looks around your apartment, trying to give you an explanation but unable to.

“It’s just...” Hoseok repeats, and you find yourself holding your breath, staring at him. In the harsh light of your kitchen, he still looks so breathtakingly beautiful. Soft dark brown hair, gentle eyes, sharp cheekbones, oh my god that jawline, and those lips. Lips? Get a hold of yourself, Y/N.

“... can I have your number?” Hoseok finally asks. He smiles shyly at you and he thinks you look so cute blinking, surprised at his question. He likes the feeling of your arm around his waist, how your laughter is so free once you’re comfortable with him, how you fit so nicely against him. He wants more.

Hoseok pulls out his cellphone and hands it to you. You gingerly take it and puts in your number. Hoseok takes his phone back and gives you a missed call. “Now you have my number too.”

You take your phone out and saves his number. Then you realise. “hoseok, how are you going back to your house?”

Hoseok shrugs. “I’ll walk.”

“God, I’m so sorry. I made you walk all the way here and back.” You eye your couch. Should you offer him to stay over? Is that too forward?

Hoseok smiles and shakes his head. “I told you I’m happy I won rock paper scissors, didn’t I? I really am happy. I enjoyed the walk with you. Yeah the walk back will be lonely...” he taps his phone, “but you’ll keep me company, right?”

“Of course.” You answer giddily, nodding your head.

Hoseok steps out of your apartment, you hold the door open, reluctant to see him go. You stare at each other for a few seconds, both of you smiling nervously.  You gather your courage to offer him your couch for the night, there’s no loss in asking. As you open your mouth however, he leans in and gives your the sweetest kiss on your cheek.

Your hand reaches for the spot on your cheek where his lips have just been. He smiles again and tweaks your nose gently.

“Get inside and lock up, ok? I’ll call you.” He says, as he starts to leave, walking backwards so he can still see you. “Don’t forget to lock your door.” He reminds you.  

You smile at him and gives him a wave goodbye. You close your door, lock it then rests your head against it.

And you can’t hide your broad smile as you hear your phone ringing. Sunshine is calling you, as promised.

[ryderreturns]

Certainly Not I

When: Wednesday night, October 24th 

Where: His bedroom and his mind

Why: On the night of the Hunters Moon, Ryder meets his shadow self for the first time. 

What: Trigger warnings for violence, blood, drugs, guns, and mention of anxiety, trauma, murder, suicide, animal cruelty

“I learned to recognize the thorough and primitive duality of man; I saw that, of the two natures that contended in the field of my consciousness, even if I could rightly be said to be either, it was only because I was radically both.” Robert Louis Stevenson, The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde

As his eyes opened, he was no longer chained to the wall in his room. His skin wasn’t gray and stretched taut across a body that wasn’t his own. Ryder recognized where he was in an instant. Lynn’s Emporium and Oddities was as well known to him as the three freckles that form a triangle on his arm. Dark maroon walls over a hardwood floor. Shelves lining the middle of the back room where the real magic was sold. Two large grandfather clocks ticked just out of sync, loud enough to be heard in the empty room. 

Breathing in the air brought with it the dust and musk of a store full of wonders both magical and useless. He began to walk along the nearest aisle, noticing something was off about the stock on the shelves. Everything was still labeled in Grunkle John’s scrawling script, but the items were different. Whereas the shelves were normally full of bottled potions, leather-wrapped books, and all sorts of crystals, there was instead an assortment of snow globes, picture frames, and carved wooden animals. Ryder paused, reaching a hand out to pick up one of the snow globes. Inside, trapped in water with pieces of glitter on the bottom, was a memory. He recognized the wet forest, saw himself as a child standing before a crocodile and trying to talk to it. Carefully, he set it back down.

Before he could pick up another item, movement at the end of the aisle caught his eye. Standing at the end, knuckles reaching the floor and back as hunched as if the creature was bowing, was the Werewolf. Yellow eyes staring back with recognition. Pointed ears that twitched and swerved to follow each tiny sound. Elongated snout ending in a wet, black nose. Gray skin that looked paper thin stretched over an emaciated body.

“Is that what he looks like?” he thought. He’d only been able to see from the neck down. Though when he’d been free in Siberia, he’d caught a few reflections of himself. Memories he’d blocked out. 

No chains held the beast back. Ryder took a step away - and watched the werewolf step forward. He stepped back again, catching the werewolf mirroring his movement again. The creature’s breathing was slow, calm. 

Hand reaching out, he grabbed the nearest item off the shelf and hurled it at the werewolf’s head. The cheap plastic swimmer’s trophy broke against the beast’s forehead, but Ryder was the one who felt a trickle of blood creep down his skin. 

“Is this an illusion? A curse?” he barked at the creature. “Santana, is this you? I want out! I’m not fucking around!” He looked up but only saw the roof of the shop. 

The last he remembered, he’d been chained up in his room. Sure, that memory was a bit blurry, but the combination of downers he took was enough to make the transformation and his anxiety over locking himself into magical chains bearable. The drugs had never caused a reaction like this before. Still, he wouldn’t have been able to create the illusion himself. Even if he had, he wouldn’t get pieces of the Emporium wrong. So where was he really? 

A creak overhead caught Ryder’s ear, making the Werewolf’s ear jerk and swivel in the direction of the noise. “Stay here,” he commanded in a voice that quaked, turning to start up the stairs to where he and Grunkle John lived. (It was a voice he’d never use on a dog.) He ignored the sound of steps behind him. Even with the beast at his back, Ryder felt strangely alone. The Emporium never felt alone. It was always bustling with customers, and then when the hours ended for the day and the CLOSED sign was turned, Grunkle John was there to lead the way upstairs for dinner. 

It was a narrow hallway, a few framed photos lined the wall. There wasn’t a theme to them, besides Pictures Grunkle John Likes. The door to the left of the top of the stairs was a door Ryder had been told to stay away from for years. Grunkle John had disappeared behind it regularly with customers. A few instances, Ryder had seen the customer leave with a brown paper wrapped package quickly being stowed away. 

When he came home from NYADA to take care of Grunkle John, he’d finally been given the spell to unlock the door for himself. Ryder tried it now as he faced the door, but as the words left his mouth, his magic circle didn’t appear. Not even a spark of its light glimmered. “Fucking full moon.” 

So he took the common’s way and tried to open the door by its handle. Locked. Still, on the other side of the door, he could hear someone or something moving around. “Grunkle John?” he called, knocking on the door. “It’s Ryder. Let me in.” 

‘Not by the hair on my chinny chin chin,’ a voice whispered, raising the hair on the back of his neck. It was not the voice of his Great Uncle. 

“Who’s there?” Bracing his shoulder against the door, he tried jiggling the knob with more force. A grunt escaped him as he knocked against it with his shoulder, only hurting himself in the process. 

“Screw it,” he muttered, standing back a bit. Ryder lifted up his foot and kicked above the door knob, splintering the wood. With another kick to the same spot, the door flew open. 

All of Lynn’s Emporium and Oddities fell away, leaving Ryder standing in the middle of a fast-moving stream of water. On one side, forest as lush and green and inviting as any he’d stood in. Not just one type of forest, but all of them meshed together with spruces and vines and ferns and moss blending seamlessly. Every inch was covered in warm sunlight, a soft breeze flowing between the leaves and mixing the smells together. He could even hear the calls and movement of animals not far off, living their lives without finding him a threat. 

Across from the forest, on the other side of the stream, a full moon shone bright over a barren white landscape and a long line of prison cells. In the first cell, the Werewolf stood held back against the wall by chains. In the second, Shadow!Ryder waited, smiling back at Ryder. While they looked similar, one of Shadow!Ryder’s eyes was the same yellow as the Werewolf. His hair was longer, almost reaching his shoulders. A 5 o’clock shadow covered his jaw and chin. He wore simples clothes: dark jeans, a green t-shirt, worn brown boots.

The other man slid the door of the a cell open and walked out. ‘So hard to keep me locked away,’ he mused, stepping onto the fresh snow and leaving behind a deep red footprint. ‘I’ve been waiting to meet me. There are some things we need to talk about.’ His accent was decidedly New Yorker.

Ryder stepped out of the stream and onto the side of the forest. “Where am I?” His eyes looked on to the next cell where he saw his father first holding up a bible, then his mother in the one beyond with a cross in hand. In the fifth cell, Grunkle John laid in a hospital bed, hooked up to more machines that seemed possible to fit in the space. The cells went on, but Ryder looked back to the other man, not wanting to see any more. 

‘Come on, Ryder. We’re not as dumb as you make us look,’ the other man sighed. ‘If it’s not an illusion, and it’s not reality-’ 

“Then it’s a dream,” he finished. But usually in his dreams, he could use his magic. Ryder continued to walk parallel along the stream, his counterpart following suit. What was that trick to realizing you were in a dream? Counting your fingers? He looked down to his hands, but he counted off ten without any problem. 

‘That won’t work,’ the Shadow said. ‘Now onto the big question: who are you?’ 

A projector appeared out of thin air, landing on a stand and lighting up to show a diagram of Ryder on a white screen. The Shadow pulled out a long, metal pointer and whacked it against the image. ‘This is Ryder. SLIDE.’ The next picture showed Ryder in high school, sitting on a bench during lunch time and surrounded by pigeons. ‘Weak animal magician who talks when he could rule. SLIDE.’ Each time the slide changed, it sounded like a gun shot. 

A small clip played next, showing Ryder using his water magic in the Socius Pactum tournament before the scene cut ahead to them losing. ‘Weak water affinity. SLIDE.’ A number of images showed in quick succession: each is a picture of him beaten, bruised, and/or bloodied, with the most recent picture showing him after Pagan Pride Parade. ‘You know, putting this together was pretty easy. I just Google image searched “Ryder Fighting Without Planning or Thinking”. I think you get the picture.’

‘SLIDE.’ The next clip that showed on screen only had flashes of movement of gray against a black background. The noise has Ryder closing his eyes, bringing up his hands to cover his ears. ‘Your first transformation. Do you remember the freezer? It was just big enough for you to lay down in. A coffin Grunkle John locked you in.’ A growl sent his body into convulsions. ‘He kept apologizing.’ 

“Shut up, shut up, shut up,” he said through gritted teeth, tensing with each wave of shivers that wracked his body. 

The projector, the screen, and the pointer disappeared with a POOF. Ryder opened his eyes and jumped back when he saw the other man standing just before him. 

‘Do you know what we could be? What we could do?’ he asked, tilting his head as he started to walk around Ryder in a circle. A copy of Lineage appeared in Ryder’s hands, lighting from the bottom in fire and burning it all to a crisp. A scoreboard appeared next with the Lineage scoreboard list of notable Bloodline families: Anderson, Clarington, Fabray. Each name was struck off with the snap of the shadow’s fingers. New names begin to write themselves across the board: Lynn, Gilbert, Rutherford, Rose, Karofsky.  

To say he didn’t understand would be a lie. The strange, imperfect mirror of himself was being as clear as day. But Ryder didn’t know why this was happening. “What is this?” 

‘Call it a rude awakening,’ the man chuckled. ‘Or a kick to the balls. You’ve forgotten your potential, Ryder. You’ve been pushing yourself down, trying to fit all the round pegs into square holes. Sure, someone else gave you the chains, but who locks you inside them?’ Crossing the stream, the other man went for the first cell. He smiled as he opened the cell door, pushing the metal aside. 

“Wait, wait, no!” Ryder shouted, crossing the stream into the tundra. “No, you can’t go near him!” He didn’t notice the absence of footprints beneath his feet.

The other man didn’t even flinch as he approached the Werewolf attempting to gnaw at his chains, only to bloody his jaws and ruin his teeth for a time. ‘Ryder, you know as well as I do what happens to a caged animal.’ 

“...it dies,” he said, attempting to brace himself as he watched the Shadow take one of the locks in his hand and break it open. That wolf was going to kill him.

‘You cried the first time Grunkle John took you to a zoo. Every animal looked so sad, so bored. You punched the little kid that threw popcorn at the sleeping crocodiles,’ he mused, tugging at long strands of chains that dropped from the hulking beast. 

This werewolf was different from Ryder’s. The hair was thicker in places, but the most noticeable difference was the sheer size of him. While the werewolf from the shop had looked emaciated and poorly cared for, the werewolf currently shaking chains off its body was all muscle. A huff of breath left the beast as it stepped out of its chains. Its head fell back and a piercing howl filled the air, which made the moon glow brighter in the sky. 

Ryder’s eyes darted around to find something to protect himself with. A gun waited in the snow with a single, silver bullet beside it. He didn’t hesitate. Picking up the gun, he pulled back the bolt and slid in the bullet as the werewolf left behind its cell. Lifting the weapon, he raised his eyes but found the werewolf wasn’t alone. 

Animals from every type of habitat stood surrounding the werewolf. The prison cells had disappeared leaving only open tundra lit by the moon. The animals didn’t cower away from the predator. Most of them stood in defensive positions, with a few looking ready to pounce Ryder. They were protecting the werewolf. 

The Shadow stood beside Ryder. He reached a hand up to touch the gun, turning it to snow that trickled down to the ground. ‘Does anyone else know you would kill the werewolf if you could?’ he wondered. ‘That you would tear your soul in half to root out what scares you?’ 

His hand gestured to the gathering of animals. ‘This is what it could be like, Ryder. If you weren’t locked away by Bloodlines, by witches afraid of you, like you’re afraid of him. Imagine it: a world where you don’t have to chain yourself, or anesthetize yourself just to function.’ He took a step to stand in front of Ryder. ‘You don’t have to be afraid of yourself. Sader isn’t afraid of himself. Poe isn’t either. They’ve embraced what they are instead of trying to cage it away in the back of their heads.’ 

‘Maybe if you had a clear head,’ he said, tapping a finger to Ryder’s temple, ‘You’d protect yourself better. Protect others better. Be a better leader, a better person that doesn’t take the shit heaped upon him.’ 

Josh Coleman appeared before them, knelt on the ground. Ryder barred his teeth, grinding them together. 

‘What if you pointed that gun out at the people who deserved it?’ 

54 materialized beside Josh. 

“No,” he said, shaking his head, swallowing back the sick taste in his mouth like warm pennies. “I don’t want to hurt anyone.” 

‘But that’s not true,’ the Shadow said, shifting to stand behind Ryder with his hands on his shoulders. ‘You can’t lie to me.’ 

“I’m not a killer,” he spat, shaking off the other man and turning to walk away from the display. He just wanted to reach the other side of the stream, but his steps didn’t bring him any closer. “I just want to go back.” 

‘Back to your chains? Back to your jail cell?’ A loud snap accompanied the dream atmosphere changing again so they were standing in a replica of Ryder’s dorm room. ‘It’s easier to lock this all away. To pretend we’ve never had the thought. Ryder would never want to kill someone. He could never want to kill his werewolf, not a member of the LNSA. Gasp!” 

“How do I get back?” he asked, searching around his room for something to help him. What - this had happened to a friend before. She, fuck, what was her name, the kind one, she had gone away into her mind. How could he be forgetting something so important?

The voice grew darker, “No, he doesn’t want to tear and rip the Bloodlines from their high horses and government thrones. Ryder wanting to fuck something other than his hand? God forbid. And he never wonders what would happen if someone took his chains away.’ 

Pieces of the room began fading away. Posters on the wall, books on his desk, the covers on his bed. But as they dissipated, the wall of chains loomed closer. 

He closed his eyes, picturing a face. The word stuck on the edge of his tongue broke free: “Quinn!” Tethers. He needed a tether. Blocking out the voice behind him, Ryder walked to his desk and picked up a picture frame. Santana, Marley, Blaine, Quinn, Tina, Rachel, Elliott, and on. As he began speaking out the names of his friends, the voice calling to him grew more and more faint. 

Ryder gripped the frame in his hands, speaking out names like prayers that could protect him from himself. 

From his window, the light of the moon shone brighter with each name he spoke until it filled the room completely with blinding white. 

As he woke, the eyes that he looked out of were sharper. The smells of the room were more pronounced. His arms felt heavy, pulling on the manacles around his wrists. 

The moon was still shining outside and he had a long night yet ahead of him. 

[keiraknighted]

I’ll Keep Finding You

Summary:  When interdimensional travel goes wrong, Clarke must travel between worlds to get Bellamy back.

AO3 // ff.net

PART ONE: SPLINTER

It’s the perfect night to get drunk, really, in Clarke’s expert opinion. She’s finished all her exams, Raven and Monty are a few tests away from completing their new invention, she’s single and she’s got her four best friends around her. Plus, Bellamy’s leaving tomorrow and she’s doing her best to forget it.

“Okay, so you’re telling me, you just put this Firebird thing around your neck and you can transport into the body of yourself in any other parallel universe?” Octavia slurs from her spot on the floor. Raven and Monty started an impromptu presentation about their joint project about half an hour ago, and despite their drunkenness, it’s actually been quite cohesive.

Jasper and Harper left an hour ago, narrowly missing this lecture. Clarke kind of envies them.

“Exactly,” Monty grins. “Unless you’re dead in that universe. Or don’t exist.”

“Wait so, just because you’re dead in one universe, doesn’t mean you’re dead everywhere?” Octavia sits up.

“Uh, theoretically,” Monty says nervously. Clarke catches Bellamy’s eye. It’s not hard to guess where Octavia’s mind has leapt to. It’s been a year since Lincoln’s death, but they all know how hard Octavia still feels it.

“I want to try it,” Octavia demands.

“Hold your horses, it’s not done yet,” Raven says. “We’re not entirely sure it’s safe to use.”

“There’s still a possibility there’s a risk of uh, splintering,” Monty agrees.

“Splintering? What’s splintering?” Clarke asks. She’s heard her housemates go off on many a tangent about the Firebird over the last four years, but she’s never heard either of them mention splintering before.

“It’s when your soul gets split into pieces and scattered over multiple different universes,” Raven shrugs, like it’s no big deal.

“Fuck no,” Octavia grimaces, taking a sip of her beer before lying back on the ground. Clarke is surprised it was that easy to dissuade her. The five of them fall into an easy silence as they all take a sip from their respective drinks.

“Guys,” Bellamy says. “As much fun as I’m having, I think I need to go to bed. I’ve got a long day tomorrow.”

Clarke’s stomach clenches. She’d almost forgotten about him moving to the other side of the country for a moment there, but with one simple statement, reality comes crashing down. He’s going. She’s not going to wake up to him singing badly while he cooks breakfast. She’s not going to snuggle into his side and watch movies after a long day of classes. They aren’t going to babysit the girl next door together, and tell her mom they gave her vegetables when really, they gave her pizza.

“No,” she says, trying not to sound like a whiny three-year-old. “Don’t go to bed yet.” Morning will come quicker if they go to sleep. Bellamy tilts his head, gives her a sad smile.

“I’ll see you in the morning,” he says. He gets up, and Clarke feels her throat constrict. She wants to cry, but she swallows, managing to keep the tears at bay.

The other give him a chorus of goodnights, and he makes his way to his room.

“Can I crash here tonight?” Octavia asks. “I’m too drunk slash exhausted to go home.”

“Yeah,” Clarke says, standing up. “Here, have the couch. I think I’m going to hit the hay too.” She’s feeling too bummed out to continue drinking with the others anyway, she’ll only bring them down. She hands Raven her half-finished drink and pads down the hall to her bedroom, not bothering to get changed or brush her teeth before collapsing onto her bed. Once her face is buried in her pillow, she lets her tears fall.

She’s not lying there long when her door is pushed open and a stream of light lands on her face. She quickly wipes her tears on the back of her hand. The door closes, and Raven lies down on the bed next to her, spooning her. Clarke can’t stop herself from crying again.

“Why does he have to go?” she whispers.

“I don’t know, Clarke,” Raven says. “Maybe you should ask him that.”

“I can’t,” Clarke says. “He has to think I’m happy for him.”

The girls fall silent for a moment before Raven speaks again.

“You know, he’d stay if you asked him to,” she says softly. Clarke has no idea if Raven is right, but she knows she couldn’t possibly ask him to do that. Whatever it is Bellamy wants, whatever he’s looking for, it’s his life, and he has to make his own decisions, no matter how much Clarke would like to change his mind.

Bellamy comes crashing into her room at 6am, waking her from her slumber. Raven must have disappeared some time during the night, because Clarke finds herself in bed alone.

“Clarke,” he says, sounding tense and on edge. Clarke sits up groggily.

“What is it?” she asks.

“Did Octavia go home last night?”

“She slept on the couch,” Clarke tells him.

“Shit,” he says, rubbing his hand down his face. “Shit. She’s not here.”

“She’s not here?”

“I think she took the Firebird,” Bellamy says, panicking. “I have to go after her.”

Clarke is really awake now.

“Okay, slow down,” she says, getting out of bed. “You don’t know that. She doesn’t know how to use it. Maybe she just went for an early morning run.”

Bellamy nods, but Clarke can tell he doesn’t quite believe it.

“Let’s go and check if both the Firebirds are still there.”

The two of them hurry to Raven and Monty’s lab, also known as the basement, and Clarke pulls open the cabinet where the Firebirds are kept. The cabinet that is usually locked, but now easily swings open. Her stomach drops. This is not a good sign.

Sure enough, there is only one Firebird hanging in the cabinet, the little metal ball mocking her, glinting where it hangs on a silver chain. She stares into the cabinet.

“Well?” Bellamy prompts.

“It’s gone,” Clarke confirms.

“Shit,” Bellamy groans. “What if she got splintered? Give me the other one, I have to go and get her!”

“Just chill out,” Clarke says. “We need to speak to Raven.”

Just as she says the words, Raven appears at the bottom of the stairs. Monty is just behind her.

“Speak to me about what? What are you guys doing down here?” Raven frowns. “And why is that cabinet open?”

“Octavia’s gone,” Bellamy says. “She took the Firebird.”

“What?”

“It’s true,” Clarke confirms.

“Oh no,” Monty groans. “This is bad. This is very very bad.”

“Has she been splintered?” Bellamy asks anxiously. “Is there any way to get her back?”

“We won’t be able to tell if she’s been splintered until we find her,” Raven says, ever the level headed one. “Luckily, Monty and I installed a tracking mode on each of the Firebirds, so they can find each other.”

“So I can go after her,” Bellamy says.

“Bellamy,” Clarke warns him. He can’t just go flying off into another universe. Who knows what might happen to him?

“Clarke, I have to go after my sister. If anything happens to her…”

“You can go after her,” Raven says. “Just let us make sure it really is safe to use. If she is splintered, a little extra time isn’t going to matter. And if she’s not, maybe she’ll come back on her own.”

Bellamy looks pained. He’s tense all over, and Clarke can tell it’s taking all his self-control not to just grab the Firebird and go racing after Octavia. But he nods, and Clarke breathes a sigh of relief.

“Okay,” Raven nods at him. “It should only take a couple of hours.”

She ushers Clarke and Bellamy back upstairs, claiming their presence will be a distraction.

“You okay?” Clarke asks Bellamy.

“I’ll be better once we’ve found Octavia,” he says. “I need some air.”

Clarke nods and lets him go, heading towards her room. She’s still in last nights clothes and she feels like she’s starting to smell. She barely makes it two steps into her room before Raven is calling her, panicked.

Clarke runs back towards the basement, Raven meeting her at the top of the stairs.

“Where’s Bellamy?” she asks urgently, grabbing Clarke by the shoulders.

“He just went outside,” Clarke says. “Why?”

“He took the fucking Firebird.”

“Fuck.”

“Why are those Blakes so fucking reckless?” Raven groans.

“What can we do?”

“We can’t do anything.”

“What do you mean we can’t do anything?”

“We only made two Firebirds. It would take us weeks to build another one, maybe longer. We just have to wait and hope one of them comes back,” Raven says.

“Wait?” Clarke repeats incredulously. “No. Start building.”

“Clarke,” Raven starts, exasperated.

“What if neither of them comes back, Raven? What then?” Clarke presses. Raven chews her lip. “Please,” Clarke begs.

“Fine,” Raven agrees. She heads back downstairs, while Clarke makes her way to the front yard. Just in case Bellamy hasn’t gone. Maybe he’s reconsidered.

She finds the yard empty though.

“Bellamy!” she calls, the wind catching her voice. No response. She feels sick to her stomach. What if he never comes back?

“Clarke?” a voice says, and Clarke looks to her right to see the girl next door poking her head over the fence.

“Hey, Madi,” Clarke says. “Have you seen Bellamy?”

“No, sorry,” the girl shakes her head. “Isn’t he leaving today?”

“Yeah,” Clarke says, a lump forming in her throat.

“You gonna tell him you’re in love with him?”

“I’m not in love with him.”

“Whatever you say, Clarke.”

Raven and Monty work tirelessly all day, and halfway through the night. Clarke wants to tell them not to stop. But then she sees their tired, worried faces, and she realises they’re doing the best they can. She pulls each of them into a hug before they head to their separate rooms to crash.

Clarke lies awake for hours, finally drifting off around 5am, only to be woken three hours later by someone shaking her awake.

“Bellamy?” she asks groggily. Light filters in through the gaps in the blind. Clarke blinks, trying to get her eyes to adjust.  

“Close. It’s Octavia.”

Clarke sits bolt upright. “Octavia?”

“I just wanted to let you know I’m back. I went to Bell’s room but he’s not there.”

Clarke wants to strangle her. “That’s because he went after you!” Clarke snaps. “Didn’t he find you?”

Octavia shakes her head slowly. “He came after me?”

“Of course he did! What did you think he was going to do?”

Octavia shrugs. “Maybe he’ll come back when he realises I’m not there.”

Maybe, Clarke thinks. Or maybe he’s been splintered and can’t come back. Or maybe he likes it better in some other universe and doesn’t want to come back.

“I just wanted to see Lincoln one last time,” Octavia whispers. “Just once.”

Clarke softens, noticing for the first time Octavia’s red eyes and blotchy face. She’s obviously been crying. “I know,” Clarke says. “Give me the Firebird and go and get some rest.”

Octavia hands the necklace over, and makes for the door. She turns back. “Good luck,” she says, shutting the door on her way out.

Clarke looks at the silver ball, turning it over in her hand. It looks just like an ordinary necklace, the tiny buttons glittering like little white jewels. Each is labelled in tiny print. Finding the button that says TRACK, Clarke puts the chain around her neck and presses the button.

She lurches forward, her head spinning. She swallows, straightening, the momentary dizziness fading.

“Clarke? Are you okay?” someone asks. It’s Raven. Not her Raven, of course. This universe’s Raven. Only, as Clarke begins to get her bearings, she realises this universe can’t be too different to her own. She’s standing in a hallway at her university, the one she attends back in her own universe. Sunlight streams through the glass roof. Clarke has always loved the openness of the buildings on campus.

“I’m fine,” Clarke says. “What were you saying?”

“I was saying since we’ll both be done with exams today, we should invite some people over for drinks tonight,” Raven says.

“Yeah, sounds good,” Clarke agrees. “Um, what time is my exam again?”

Raven looks at her strangely. “10am. Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Positive,” Clarke says. She looks down at her watch. Her father’s watch. So he’s still dead in this timeline. It doesn’t matter, she reminds herself, you’re here for Bellamy. The time reads 8:03am. She still has a couple of hours before the exam. If she can find Bellamy and get out of here by then, the real Clarke of this universe can do the exam, and she can return to her own body.

“Hey, I need to talk to Bellamy,” Clarke says to Raven. “Do you know where he is?”

“Bellamy Blake?” Raven says incredulously. “What do you need to talk to him for?”

The way she says it makes Clarke’s stomach clench. Is it strange for her to want to talk to Bellamy? Are they not friends in this universe? How can she explain to this Raven why she wants to talk to Bellamy when she has no idea what the relationship between this Clarke and this Bellamy is?

She has a thought then. Perhaps this Raven is also building an interdimensional travel device.

“Raven,” Clarke says. “What is it that you and Monty are working on together again?”

“The Firebird?”

“Yes! The Firebird!” Clarke says gleefully. “It lets you travel between universes, right?”

“Do you ever listen to anything I say? It’s time travel,” Raven huffs. Clarke sighs in disappointment. “And it’s nowhere near being done.”

“Do you know where Bellamy is or not?”

“Probably in the library, where he works,” Raven says, as if Clarke should already know this. “But I still don’t know why—”

“I’ll explain later!” Clarke calls, already running off in the direction of the library. She won’t explain later, but it’s easier to say that than to try and explain now. Now to just hope the library is in the same spot in this universe as it is in her own.

Thankfully, the university layout appears to be identical in both universities, and Clarke finds the library easily. She stops in the doorway, her heart skittering when she sees Bellamy working the front desk. He’s smiling as he scans a few books for a student, chatting with the young freshman. She looks absolutely dazzled by him. Clarke smiles to herself.

Someone walks into her from behind and Clarke remembers why she’s there.

“Don’t stand in doorways,” the guy grumbles as he pushes past her and into the library.

“Sorry,” Clarke mutters. She walks towards the front desk and stands behind the freshman who’s trying to flirt with Bellamy.

“Okay, see you next time, Fox,” Bellamy winks, and the girl blushes as she takes her books and heads towards the exit. Clarke steps up to the counter and Bellamy’s face immediately turns into a scowl.

“Bellamy, it’s me,” she says. But she already knows this isn’t her Bellamy. Her Bellamy would never look at her with such disgust. She wonders what this Clarke could possibly have done to make him hate her so much.

“Princess Griffin,” Bellamy spits. “What do you want?”

The venom in his voice stings, even though she knows it’s not really him.

“Nothing,” she says. Perhaps the real Bellamy is already back home. She’s about to leave when she spots a glint of silver hanging around his neck. She reaches out and grabs it. The Firebird. She feels like she might be sick.

“Hey! What are you doing?”

She yanks the chain from around his neck, snapping it in two.

“What is that?” Bellamy asks in confusion.

“Never mind,” Clarke says softly. He’s been splintered. That’s the only explanation. She has to get back to Raven and Monty so they can tell her how to fix this, how to get him back. She gives him one last look before disappearing into the rows of books. She finds a secluded corner and studies the pendant around her neck until she finds a button that says HOME. This Clarke is going to be confused as hell in a few seconds. She presses the button.

She’s sitting on her bed, exactly as she was before she left, only now she has two Firebirds. The one around her neck, and the broken one she took from Bellamy. She throws back the covers and jumps out of bed.

“Raven! Monty!” she yells, hurrying out of her room.

“Clarke!” Monty calls back. He, Raven and Octavia rush upstairs from the basement, meeting her in the living room. “Octavia told us you went after Bellamy.”

“Everyone in this house needs to stop being so goddamn reckless,” Raven scolds, as if she’s never done anything reckless in her life.

“Did you find him?” Octavia asks.

“He’s been splintered,” Clarke holds out her hand, revealing the broken Firebird. Raven immediately snatches it from her hand. “Raven,” Clarke says. Her voice wobbles. She can’t cry. She has to remain level headed so she can get Bellamy back. “Tell me what I need to do.”

Raven sets up the Firebird for her, the working one. She fiddles around with the broken one for a few hours, getting as much information from it as she can.

“Okay,” Raven says, handing Clarke the working Firebird. They stand around the work table in the lab, Monty and Octavia watching on anxiously. “From what Monty and I could gather, he’s been split into five parts. That’s manageable. You already know where the first part is. All you have to do to collect the piece of Bellamy’s soul is press the Firebird against his skin, and squeeze. It will give him a slight shock, but the piece of our Bellamy will be stored in your Firebird.”

“How do I find the other four Bellamys?”

“I’ve already programmed in the coordinates for the other four universes. The Firebird may not work properly, but at least it still stores all the information like it’s supposed to,” Raven says. “All you need to do to go to the next one is press the go button.” She points to it on the Firebird. “But you can’t go backwards. You can only go to the next one, so make sure you’ve got him before you go.”

Clarke nods. Raven pulls her into a hug. “Good luck,” she whispers. Monty hugs Clarke next, and then Octavia, both wishing her luck.

“We’ll try and fix the broken one while you’re gone,” Monty says. Clarke nods and smiles, not trusting herself to actually speak. She holds her thumb over the go button. Taking a deep breath, she presses.

The dizziness hits her again, but at least this time she’s sitting down. She looks down in front of her. Fuck. The exam. She looks up at the clock. 10:51am. She’s still got an hour left, if her exams here run for the same time as her exams back home. She could just leave and go and find Bellamy, but as much as she’s desperate to have him back, she’s also not so heartless as to mess up her alternate self’s life by running out on her final exam. She’ll just have to do it.

Reading through the questions, she realises, somehow, that this exam is almost exactly the same as she’s already done, and the Clarke of this world has already completed half of them. She finishes the exam in record time and hands it in, hoping it’s good enough to pass. Now just to find Bellamy.

She heads back towards the library. It’s only been a few hours, he’ll probably still be working there. Halfway there, she’s startled by her jacket pocket vibrating and playing a song she’s never heard before. She stops, tentatively pulling a phone out of her pocket. Presumably hers.

Her stomach drops. Lexa’s face stares back at her, smiling. There’s a heart emoji after her name. Once upon a time there was a heart emoji next to Lexa’s face in Clarke’s own phone. Now her number isn’t even in there. Clarke drags her thumb across the screen and puts the phone to her ear.

“Hello?” she says.

“Hey, good, you’re done with your exam. I need you to come and help me study for mine,” Lexa says. No, how did your exam go? No, nice to hear your voice. No pleasantries at all. The real Lexa had been much the same.

“Okay,” Clarke says. “I just have to drop something off at the library and then I’ll be right there.”

Lexa ends the call without so much as a goodbye, and Clarke shoves the phone back into her pocket. She continues on to the library. Bellamy isn’t at the front desk anymore, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t here. She starts searching the aisles for him, and finds him re-shelving books about three rows in.

“Bellamy,” she says as she approaches. He looks up, frowning when he sees her.

“You again?” He goes back to putting books on shelves. “What do you want?”

“I need to show you something,” she says. He eyes her suspiciously.

“Why are you even talking to me?” Bellamy scowls. “Normally you don’t give me the time of day.”

Clarke winces. She gets the feeling she wouldn’t like this version of herself very much.

“Bellamy, can I ask you something?”

“You’re going to anyway.”

“Am I… a snob?” She braces herself for his answer. “Is that why you hate me?” He snorts in laughter.

“That’s putting it lightly. Remember how you wrote that article saying it isn’t fair that disadvantaged kids get given opportunities based on their background?”

Bellamy watches her for a second while she processes the information. “Also, you got my sister expelled because you helped her with an essay and then told her professor she plagiarised it from you. Ring any bells?”

Clarke sucks in a breath.

“Is that all you wanted?” Bellamy says bitterly.

Clarke shakes her head. “Give me your hand.” There isn’t anything she can do for this Clarke. She can only hope that one day she’ll wake up and realise that she’s a terrible person.

“My hand? No!” Bellamy says.

“Please, Bellamy,” she says desperately. And maybe it’s the piece of her own Bellamy in him, or maybe he’s just a good person, but concern flickers in his eyes.

“What’s going on, Clarke?”

“I wish I could tell you.”

She pulls the firebird from around her neck. His eyes flash in recognition.

“That’s the thing you took from me this morning. What is it?”

“A gateway to another dimension?”

“Fuck. You’re completely insane.”

“Probably.” She lunges for his hand, pressing the Firebird against it and squeezing. Bellamy yelps and pulls his hand away. Clarke glances at the Firebird. The crystals glow orange for a second before returning to their white colour. She has what she needs.

“What the hell was that?”

Clarke puts the Firebird around her neck.

“Bellamy, I’m so sorry for everything I’ve put you through,” she says. “In a few seconds I’m probably going to be very confused about what just happened here. But I know somewhere inside me there’s good. So please don’t give up on me yet.”

Bellamy opens his mouth to speak, a confused expression on his face. Clarke presses the go button before he can say anything, and then she’s hurtling through time and space and into a completely unknown dimension.

[leavingstorminormin]

Remembrance

OKAY WELP. I am not a writer. I have never written a fanfic before, but dang this hecking au has made me FEEL THINGS. Thank you @shinyzango for the amazing 2D Bendy au. I have never been in so much fandom pain.

The sad hug shinyzango drew here formed an idea and... yeah here.

It was the biggest room either of them had seen in the studio. Henry stood in the doorway and looked down the steps into the flooded area, his movements echoing off the high vaulted ceiling.

 “Be careful Henry.” Bendy warned as the animator stepped down into the ink. The evil looking liquid came up to his calves, and the thick ripples spread throughout the room. They both watched as the far side of the room bubbled in the slightest, then settled and looked like a perfectly inanimate giant ink puddle. Henry briefly reflected on his life choices that led to that being a valid sentence.

 It was definitely a trap. Animator and cartoon silently nodded to each other and Henry dropped Bendy into the black waves. His monstrous form rose, towering over Henry easily as he stood at his full height, unhindered by the usual low ceilings. Guess the regular halls of the studio were just not built for giant ink creatures Henry mused. Bendy stretched like a giant cat, flexing his arms in front of him and arching his back to a series of cartoony pops

 “Are you done?“ Henry teased.

 Bendy grinned widely and gave him a thumbs up.

 Whoever was behind the trap decided that subtlety wasn‘t going to work, and hordes of searchers simultaneously burst from under the ink and slid towards the pair. Henry hefted his axe and Bendy rolled his shoulders in anticipation.

 He roared and swung out into the fray taking the first wave out with ease. Henry’s axe was accurate and deadly, slicing through each globular creature in a thunking rhythm.

 The searchers had been getting more aggressive and attentive, the trap itself showed that. The last group they had run into had actually tried to separate them and take them out one at a time, Bendy hadn’t stood for any of that however, and had quickly liquefied them and sent them back to wherever they came.

 In the corner of his eye he noticed two searchers trying to sneak behind Henry. He slammed them both flat against the wall with a massive hand, causing the studio to shudder and the lights to flicker ominously. A solitary board came loose from the high ceiling and fell straight down onto a dry section of the floor, hitting with a sharp CRACK that caused even the searchers to lift their dripping heads as it echoed in the large room. But Henry…

 Henry snapped around like he’d been slapped, eyes straining to find the source of the sound. He stumbled in the ink and fell, and the searchers locked their eyeless faces onto him hungrily.

“HEN RY!” Bendy roared as he obliterated the entire searcher population on the west side of the room with a single swing of his fist. Henry was on his hands and knees, elbow deep in ink, breathing hard and staring at something far away, oblivious to the searchers that scratched and clawed their way towards him.

 Bendy slammed his hand down as close to Henry as he dared, scattering searchers in a wave of ink that was almost comical as they flailed about, trying to regain their balance and dignity. Henry was knocked against his other arm by the wave, and he let out a strangled yell, kicking out hard at Bendy’s arm. That did nothing except bounce the animator back. Henry couldn’t have hurt him even if he wanted to, but Bendy reeled from the attack in surprise. He pulled away from him as Henry scrambled backwards, watching him warily. Something was wrong. Henry’s chest heaved, pulling in large lungfuls of air like he sometimes did after a long fight, and he was shaking so badly that he could hardly keep himself from sprawling backwards into the ink. Bendy reached forward hesitantly.

 Henry’s eyes locked onto the hand immediately, body stiffening like a string pulled taut, causing Bendy to pause. The intense gaze wavered between his hand and his face, looking for something, waiting for him to make a move. Bendy slowly reached forward to gently pat the ink stained animator. Henry pulled away from the touch at first, like he anticipated pain from the gesture, then took a shuddering breath and closed his eyes, leaning into the contact.

 “S’ME… BENDY” The toon said as quietly as he could, attempting a soothing tone, but coming out as more of a faraway subway train rumble. Henry glanced up at him from under the inky hand, looking uncertain.  

 It wasn’t right seeing Henry like this, it was like looking in a mirror and seeing a totally different person in the reflection. This was a part of Henry he’d never seen, or hadn’t been shown. Had Henry been hiding this from him this whole time? The thought that Henry could have frozen up at any time during their frequent fights only intensified his worry.

 He whined, looking around like he could get help from the surrounding walls, then surged forward and aggressively swatted away the regrouping searchers that dared try to go after Henry‘s exposed back. They moaned irritably as they were flung away, and Bendy growled dangerously at them. He looked down at Henry’s wide eyes, inches from his own at how low he was crouched over him.

 Henry had always managed to talk him out of his rages, but talking wasn’t an option with how hard it was for him to speak in this form, not to mention that his voice was probably the least soothing thing in the studio. He didn’t dare go back to his page with Henry unarmed and acting like this. So he did the only thing he could think of at the moment.

 He dipped his head the last few inches, and gently bumped heads with his friend.

 Henry gasped lightly, but Bendy just squeezed his eyes shut and kept their heads close. When he felt Henry reciprocate the gesture, the small human taking the sides of Bendy’s head in his hands and just holding onto him, Bendy had never felt so relieved. He stood, ignoring Henry’s yelp as he scooped the old animator out of the ink, and rushed for the end of the room, bowling the searchers over a third time. He was positive he heard annoyed groans coming from them as they sulked back into the ink.

 He didn’t even bother with the door, instead he curled himself around Henry rammed it, splintering it on contact, his only thought being getting Henry far away from any danger so he could figure out what was wrong. They spilled into the hallway, sloshing ink everywhere, Bendy still holding Henry protectively. He found the driest room he could that still had a door and shut it behind them. He leaned heavily against it and listened for any sounds of pursuit, but the only thing he heard was the sound of his own ink and the Henry’s breathing below him.

 Henry didn’t make any move to stand but was very still, and Bendy glanced down at him, concerned.

 Henry was curled up tight against him, his head buried into his chest, not minding the ink dripping everywhere. He shivered every once and a while, his breathing steadying out as they sat for what seemed like a silent eternity for Bendy.

 Bendy was staring anxiously down at him when Henry finally stirred and looked up at him.

 “Thanks bud, I owe you.”

 Bendy rumbled low in his throat, “YOu…O KAY?” he asked.

 “Yeah, I’m okay… I just…“ He looked down to Bendy’s bowtie, not sure if he wanted to fully explain what PTSD was to the toon just yet.

 “Sometimes I remember bad things. It happens, not often, but it happens. Its been a while since I froze up completely like that, but I heard the, uh… noise and… it brought back a few painful memories.” His expression darkened as he spoke. Bendy knew about remembering things. He hated it, and he hated the memories that fought their way into his mind. The ones full of blackness and fighting. Henry let out a dry chuckle, pulling Bendy‘s attention back to him. “It’s like a bad dream,” Henry continued, “It’s all you can see for a while, and you think its never going to end. Then you wake up, and its over yeah? It was just a dream. But sometimes…sometimes it’s still hard to shake.”

 Henry stared at the bowtie in silence, still lost in whatever it was that had stopped the usually unstoppable human literally in his tracks.

 Henry hardly ever needed comforting, and Bendy figured he probably didn’t even know how to ask for it. But Bendy thought that if there ever was a time he needed it, it would be now. So Bendy pulled him close and nuzzled him gently, and Henry almost smiled when he reached around to hug him back. It was good enough for Bendy.

 They stayed like that for a while, just the two of them in the quiet of the abandoned studio. After a bit, Henry reluctantly tapped on Bendy’s chest. “You’ve been in this form for quite a while, you should probably get back to your paper and rest.” Equally reluctant to break the moment, but feeling the effects of staying out too long, Bendy nodded and melted away, leaving Henry on the floor with a piece of paper sitting on his chest. Henry held it close and settled into a more comfortable position against the door. Bendy was pleased to hear the familiar calming breaths and steady heartbeat.

 They’d both be okay, Bendy swore. He‘d get Henry out of this mess if it was the last thing he did.

  I think this sort of thing would only happen once in the studio, maybe. As for afterwards and all that I have no clue. 

It felt really weird to write Henry as the one needing comfort, but it offered a few parallels, and hey, that guy needs a break sometime. 

[blancheharlow]

Hello From the Other Side || Marley & Blanche

TLDR: Marley and Blanche deal with some real bottled up emotions.

GORE TW. Message if you need a real TLDR xox

Backdate: 8/29/17

Marley 's hand breached the portal and for the first time in what felt like eons, her hand touched something cool and soothing. A cement floor. Her other hand flew out and grasped for something else. The side of a threshold, wood splinters digging into her hand. With all of her might and a great cry, she pulled the rest of herself through the portal. Her body steamed and sizzled, the effort of it making a very audible noise, like after you put cold water in a hot pan. She slumped against something, panting, even though she wasn't tired and didn't need oxygen. It felt good to breath for the first time since she'd fallen in. She took in large gulps of air, breathing out sulfur and blood and steam as her lungs regenerated and healed for the last time. Her skin was covered in chemical burns, raw and red and boiling, but it barely hurt. Her clothes clung desperately to her body, but she was alive, and standing, and back in her own dimension. Back in Ashkent. It was only then that she realized someone was screaming. That girl, the one whose house she'd burst in to. Marley opened her mouth to speak, but her throat was still raw and recovering from inhaling so much sulfur and acid. "Car," she croaked through grit teeth, "my office." Pushed away from the wall and started dragging herself over to the car outside. "Now." They were going to settle this, no more waiting.

Blanche was screaming, scrambling back as something angry exited the portal. Her skin was bubbling she looked awful-- burns and, and.... Holy shit. It was the woman that fell through the portal. And she was alive and walking and--- were those wounds healing?! Blanche's screech stopped in her throat and her mouth snapped shut, her eyes wide as saucers as she stared at her as she was ordered..... Blanche scrambled to her feet, trying to crutch as fast as she could to her car parked behind the now ruined Mercedes. "Oh my god, oh my god, oh my GOD." Blanche immediately tossed her crutches in the back seat, and slid as best as she could in the front. "Are you fucking kidding me?!" Blanche finally wipped to he, grabbing her keys and starting her engine. "There are many things I was willing to deal with today: burning friendships, possession, the existence of a powerful fucking demon, portal to monster rates, but man--- what the fuck? And where the fuck is your office I need directions and do you, like, need pain killers?!"

 "Main street," Marley croaked out again, giving a good cough to help clear out the blood and scar tissue. She rolled down the window and spit, then wiped the back of her hand across her mouth. "Across from bakery." She didn't bother to answer her questions when she could barely say more than three words at a time, but also because they were stupid questions right now. "We're closing....the portal," she managed again, clearing her throat a little more. Shook her head, started peeling bits of charred cloth that were seared into her skin off and flicking them out the window. It would heal. It all always healed. She glanced over at the girl as they sped down the road. "You hurt?"

Blanche jerked out of the drive way and sped towards Main Street. She was lucky she lived so close--- Blanche was trying to look at Marley. “Why are you healing so fast and thanks for not spitting in my car??? I guess??” She said, nervously taking a turn. Blanche was definitely speeding, but at the moment, she didn’t care. “We’re what?!” Blanche squeaked. “How?! Do you even--- The paper posted how to do it. Do you think… I don’t know, do you think we can do it?” Blanche glanced at her again. “Other than the broken leg? I have a nasty scratch on my shoulder but you look like hell.” Blanche swerved onto main street, and she just prayed she wouldn’t have to parallel park.

"I'll heal," Marley growled, her voice still a raspy gurgle. She pulled her entire jacket off, then, and tossed it into the back, started picking out the little pebbles and stones that had lodged into her skin during the dust storm her first day there. She'd need a haircut after this, too-- the ends were charred and the entirety of it felt sticky and burnt and oiled. She couldn't wait to shower, but first, they needed to close that portal. "Was in Hell, so..." she said, pulling out her phone. It was completely fried. She held out her hand. "Phone," she demanded. "Show me the--" cleared her throat, "article."

Blanche stared. “Any explanation on the healing like motherfucking superman?!” She barely blinked at the mention of hell. So her theory to Reed had been right. Blanche glanced at Marley, shuddering slightly she Marley puddled stones out of her skin. Gross. Blanche swerved again, ignoring someone that beeped at her as she dug out her phone and passed it to her. “I screenshotted it. My passcode is 4525, should be the first picture in my photo gallery.”

Marley took the phone without a word and unlocked it, clicking on the gallery icon. The first photo, however, was not of an article. It was of a half conscious Blanche, wine bottle stuck in her mouth, taking the world's worst selfie, autoflash and all. She just turned the screen to show it to her, one brow (the one that had been mostly burned off) half raised. She took the phone back, and flicked to the next picture, which was the article, thankfully. And just as she'd thought-- she'd been through it twice now-- it could be closed with a massive amount of energy. When she closed her eyes, the inside of the portal was still burned into her eyelids. It probably would be for a while. She opened them slowly, just as they were pulling up to her office. Tossing the phone back at Blanche, she leapt out of the car quickly, heading over to the door and fumbling for the keys in her pocket. They'd rusted and half melted, but she still jammed the thing into the nob and turned until it clicked open, ripping it off and leaving half of the thing behind in the slot. Fuck it. "Bag," she snapped back at Blanche, going over to the cabinet and grabbing it, shoving it away from the wall to reveal a hidden compartment. Locked, as well. She paused, just for a moment, then looked up at Blanche. "Not human," she said simply, then looked away and continued to fumble the compartment open.

Blanche glanced over, and immediately winced when she saw the selfie. The barely faded bruises on her face weren’t the reason that selfie was ugly. She didn’t remember taking it. That was embarrassing. “Uh—rough night?” she said, dryly. Whatever, it had been a rough couple of weeks. Blanche pulled up, parked, and did her best too keep up with Marley. “Bag??? What do you mean—uh..” Blanche scrambled, for the first canvas bag she could get, craning her head over him. “Whoa…. What is that???” Blanche looked at Marley. “Well, good thing I’m just peachy to be able to accept the decision today!”

"I didn't decide--" Marley huffed roughly as she yanked the compartment open, "to not be human." Hey, she could say more than a few words now! Her voice was still rough and guttural, but she could speak. She held her hand out for the bag. "What you see here today," she said, looking squarely into Blanche's eyes, "you will never tell anyone about." And it wasn't a question or an offer, it was a demand. Once she was sure she had Blanche's discrepancy, she started pulling jars from the compartment out, each a containing a different colored liquid, each with their own label. A name, a date, and an emotion.

Blanche didn’t reply, realizing that was probably not the best thing to say. She also thought that maybe asking “what are you” was rude. “I know a vampire,” she blurted out, stupidly handing her the bag. But as her eyes locked with Blanche, she swallowed. “I can see ghosts and I am a exorcist in training.” She word vomited at Marley. “We’re good.” Blanche stared at the jars as they came out. “What are those? And—does that say anger?”

 "They're exactly what you think they are," Marley mumbled, clearing her throat and turning to spit up the last little bits of blood that had gathered in her throat. "And they're exactly what we need to close this portal." Because there was more energy and magic in these little jars than most witches had in their entire beings. Marley was an immortal, all powerful demon, after all. She could grant any wish, make any words come true, if only for the sake of vengeance. And ripping the very essence of an emotion from a person and shoving it in a jar took extremely powerful magicks and it certainly stored up a lot of energy. And she almost-- almost-- felt a sense of remorse at pitching them. At having to start over again. But maybe this time, she wouldn't ask for so much from people. Maybe there was something else she could get from them that she needed more. She tossed the last one into the bag and turned back to Blanche. "You're a medium?"

“Bottled emotions? Like… Real emotions?” Blanche gulped. “That’s taking the bottled emotions quote thing to a whole new level holy shit…” She had never heard that before. “Why are they going to close the portal?” Blanche was so done with this. She had verbally ripped off every head she could just because she was angry at this portal, and really, she wasn’t ready to be done. She was still pissed at her parents, and now she was pissed at Rebecca from keeping a huge thing from her. And she was pissed that her leg was broken and she was going to be practically immobile for at least two months. Blanche swallowed as Marley looked at her. She had a whole bunch of people know that about her and she wasn’t sure if she was ready. “Um. Yeah. I’m a medium.”

"Real emotions," Marley confirmed, hoisting the bag over her shoulder and leading them back out to the car. She snagged another jacket on her way out, just an old one-- no way was she risking any of the ones she actually liked after what had just happened. "Oh," she said simply to Blanche's reply. She paused, then. "I'm Marley, by the way," she said, pointing to the window that had her name printed on it. "Marley Spi-- er, Caplan." Yes, Caplan. She was Marley Caplan, not Marley Spitzer. She dug a pen out of one of the drawers at her desk and came back out, scratching out the Spitzer, then pocketing it. "Let's go. Before something worse happens."

Blanche crutched after Marley. “How do you bottle real emotions?” she asked, carefully. Blanche frowned slightly, staring at Marley…. “Hi, Marley.” She said, nodding. “I’m, uh. Blanche. Blanche Harlow.” She watched Marley scratch out the name, and raised her eyebrow. “Um. Ya know, I’m just going to let you…. I’m not going to ask. Yeah. Come on, I’m ready to go.”

 "It's complicated," Marley said shortly. And then, "magic." She threw the bag into the back then slid into the passenger's seat again, checking her body. Most of it was all healed, save for the chemical burns and the laceration on her stomach. But they were severely less than before, and they'd be gone by the time they made it back to Blanche's. "The jars are magic, not complicated. The name is....complicated." She sat back and closed her eyes for a moment, realizing this was the first time she'd allowed herself to rest since being thrown in that portal. It swirled in her vision and she opened her eyes quickly again. "How'd you break your leg?"

Blanche was examining Marley. “Complicated magic.” Got it. Great. Oh no. Blanche shifted, tossing her crutches in the back and sliding back into her car awkwardly. She shifted her cast, wincing. “Not complicated magic?” Her eyebrows rose, examining her. Everything was healing on her, and it was quite…. Fascinating to watch. Blanche put the key in the ignition and turned the car on, pulling out of her spot. She glanced at Marley again, trying to relax slightly. “Uh… a demon girl broke it while she was trying to drag my sorry ass into hell. That was last week, though.” Blanche was speeding again, but she didn’t care. “We can…. Um. We can put the jars in the other car in my drive way and roll it in, okay?”

"Sounds like you get dragged off a lot," Marley half-teased. But visions of the other side of that portal were still flitting through her head, pressing up against the backs of her eyelids. Her fist clenched slightly. That place had been so desolate and barren and empty. Even the living beings barely passed as such, more like animate rocks or objects that weren't supposed to have true life. She shook her head. "It looks expensive," she said finally, "the other car. You sure?" She'd hand deliver the bottles into the portal if she needed to, but not going near the damn thing again sounded a lot nicer. "If anyone else gets thrown into that portal, they'll die instantly," she tacked on, in case Blanche was having second thoughts about sacrificing a car.

/Blanche couldn’t help it, she started laughing. “Yeah, that’s the reoccurring theme this month.” He let out a sigh, taking another turn. They would get back any second now. Blanche glanced at Marley, her lips twitching. “It’s my dad’s car.” Blanche said, simply. “And him and my mom both fucked off to Florida because of either possession or because some monster screwed with their heads and left me here alone.” She pressed her lips together. She glanced at Marley, nodding. “So we’re definitely sacrificing the totaled Mercedes then. Because I don’t care if you survived, you look like hell and I’m going to guess it hurt—” Blanche turned onto her street, and then speeding up before she swerved into her drive way. “— Alright, let’s go. I’ll go but the Mercedes in neutral and we can…. Roll it in??”

"Could be a hunting technique of those lizards," Marley said, remembering the sounds they made as they devoured the flesh of their own brethren. She shuddered quietly, but something in her churned. She'd never been as prone to anger as Josephine was, but the thought of parents leaving their own child behind struck something deep within her and she felt a sudden rush of anger boiling in her stomach. "C'mon," she said, slamming the car door shut and grabbing the bag of jars, "let's finish this shit." She jogged up to the totaled Mercedes and tossed the bag into the front seat, then thought better and went around to the trunk, tucking them in safely. That way they wouldn't fall out. "You gonna be okay to push with that leg?" she asked, nodding at Blanche's cast. She wished she could heal it for her. But only so that this would be easier for them, that was all. They needed to get this done before more of those monsters came out.

Blanche wrinkled her nose. “What?” Why would a lizard send the parents way from there—oh. Their nest. With their child. Or eggs or something. That made some sense—the aroma of flowers was probably what had leaked from The Lizard King’s pores. Blanche almost dry heaved at the thought. “Gross. “Blanche groaned as she got out of her car, watching as Marley put them in the front seat, and then change her mind. “Yeah, I’ll just ditch one of my crutches and hobble alone. I’ve been moving stuff around all day.” Blanche said, grimly sliding into the Mercedes, snatching the keys she had left on the passenger seat, and sliding it into neutral. Blanche slide out of the car, nodding as it began to move ever so slightly. “Alright! We are goo—” Blanche never got to finish that sentence as a roar came from the portal. A lizard—bigger that the stupid Lizard King—came roaring out, straight onto the car. And this one looked like it was spitting acid.”

Marley gave the car a good shove as soon as Blanche popped it into neutral. It groaned and heaved forward a bit, rolling slowly towards the portal. No, it needed to move faster. She went to shove at it again when a sudden roar overtook the garage. That low, gurgling noise, rattling her bones and her brain inside her skull. Shit. No. "Get back!" she shouted, leaping over the trunk of the car, grabbing Blanche's arm and yanking back and away from the lizard as something yellow dripped from its mouth onto the car. Right where Blanche's hand had been. It ate away at the metal and sizzled as it went down, like something straight out of a fucking Alien movie. She shoved Blanche back and picked up the nearest thing to use as a weapon-- which happened to be a golf club that had been laying in a pile of "To Be thrown into the portal". "Keep pushing the car! Don't stop! I'll distract it!" she shouted, swinging the club once and watching as the head of the club shattered over the monsters rock hard hide and flew off into the garage.

 “Are you fucking kidding me?!” Blanche swore in disbelief, watching as the acid dribbled down the side of the Mercedes, the body of the car ruined. She really appreciated Marley dragging her out of the way, but shit, she had to get her balance. “What?! What do you mean, distract--- oh my god!” Blanche swore as Marley crashed a gold club over the monsters head and she immediately did as she was told. Blanche ditched one of her crutches and hobbled to the car, using her free hand to push the car. The brace on her hand told her she probably shouldn’t be pushing cars, and the pain that shot up her wrist agreed with her, but honestly fuck that. “Damn it---” Blanche gave it a good shove, before almost losing her balance and losing contact with the car. She cussed, going forward again and giving the car another shove. She regretted pulling it out so far now—but soon, the nose of the car was in the portal, and it seemed to be pulling it in all by itself now. “Good--- Marley?!”

The lizard's weight made the front of the car groan, and the hood bent under the pressure. Marley swore, still holding the shattered golf club by the grip, watching as the lizard lifted it's massive front claw and brought it down on the front windshield, instantly shattering it as it climbed its way down the car, towards Blanche. It was trying to escape the pull of the portal, but Marley wouldn't let it. She gave a cry and jabbed what was left of the golf club into its eye, hoping her theory was right. And it was. The shaft sunk into the creature's eye with a squelch and it roared, collapsing onto the roof of the car, bending the metal of it under its weight. But it was still alive, trying to claw its way out of the portal. So Marley cursed, and turned to dive for the crutch Blanche had abandoned, but she stopped when a sudden burning sensation lit up her mind. For a moment, she didn't really believe what she saw. It was a puddle of yellow, steaming, bubbling liquid, dripping from the monster's mouth, to the ground, eating away at the cement of the garage floor. Eating away at the cement...and her foot. All of it. All of her foot. She screamed. Stumbled. Caught herself on the car, almost face planting in the puddle. Blood poured from her leg. She couldn't stop screaming. Something heavy pressed down onto her arm. A bone snapped. Her eyes widened and her head swiveled just in time to watch the lizard's jaw snap shut on her arm. It pulled, ripped, and she heard it. Heard the snap and tear of her arm as the lizard ripped it straight from its socket. In the moment, she didn't feel the pain, not at first. Black dots ate at her vision and a dizziness made the world around her tilt. Her back hit the garage floor. She was staring up at the flickering light, a string swinging back and forth. The world was completely silent. She screamed.

Blanche watched in horror, everything moving in slow motion. Blood spluttered from her like a fountain, and Blanche could only watch as Marley hit the garage floor with a disgusting thump. The screaming was the worst part, Blanche was disoriented as she watched the Lizard turn to her. It’s beady yellow eyes with acid dripping from it’s mouth…. IT was coming for her next. The Lizard hissed, lurching forward, the metal of the car groaning under its weight. Blanche backed up, stablizing herself against the wall and she smashed it in the nose with her crutch. It’s roar mingled with Marley’s screams. There was a sizzling of metal and she barely had a crutch at all—Blanche turned, realizing it was getting ready to spit at her again, and she snatched the broken rake from before. Thank god she thought to make something that would be useful to fight. But she only had one shot--- She dove to the side in an awkward one-legged hopping motion as acid came flying at her. It snatched at her cast, and Blanche snatched the make shift spear and launched forward as she tried walking. Pain shot up her leg, and she could smell burning plaster. But her aim was good, the sharp blade plunging into the soft spot in between his eyes, a sickening splurging sound. The thing roared, but it was too late, the portal sucked in the car and the lizard. Acid flew over her head and the only reason why it missed her head was because she fell—her leg collapsing under her and she smashed against the cement in Marley’s blood. Blanche barely registered the portal swirling closed, the glittering lights slowly disappearing. Blanche sat up, and upon a quick self check she knew she definitely reinjured her wrist and her leg was killing her--- thank god for her cast. IT was all melted and she felt it burning… but she still had her leg. Blanche dragged herself to Marley, hurriedly digging out her phone, dialing 911. She snapped her address, said she needed two ambulances, and began paying attention to Marley. “Marley?! Marley?! Wake up!—” Blanche struggled with her sweatshirt. Could she die? Blanche was covered in Marley’s blood, and she didn’t know what to do. “Come on, Marley, there’s help coming—"

[metanoiastudies-blog]

a (bts theory) thought

*this is ella breaking from her studyblr theme for a while because she is still high and shook over the bts bst japanese release*

wowowow. it’s late where i’m from and i am not going to wreck my head again by going back to danger and rewatch every video that they have released since. this is just a long drabble of thoughts i had after the mv (as i pretended to be smart and come up with a theory)

so, the first thing: there is the very obvious theme of the alternate universes. Jin, (whom we have speculated his entire role in the HYYH series), has his fancy binoculars whereby looking into it makes him hella wonky (like throwback to taehyung covering his eyes in bst that can be seen in the jap version from jin’s perspective wonky). my guess is that the jin in the bst k version was him looking through the binoculars (in which jin can participate and engage with the other members in the bst k version)

^ a blur screenshot but that’s tae covering jin’s eyes in the binoculars scene in the bst k version

this action is done later by yoomin (a thought to note is that jimin pulls his hands down)

in which jimin literally runs away from yoongi. (this is where is gets crazy. again) jimin looks back to yoongi, as if contemplating on whether he should leave. my guess is that jimin (who seems to be the only one that’s trying to dashi run from this parallel world that they are in), is aware that something is wrong with the world that they are currently in and is trying to escape. suga, actually wears the same outfit to in his scene with the colorful and the white jimin (so we can infer that suga is able to participate in these two worlds)

here’s where it gets hella interesting.

have you ever heard of this thing called: what happens when you meet your doppelgänger? well, the results are pretty shit, google it, it’s a thing

colorful jimin literally combusts into splinters (in this thought, it may be him being thrown in a mental mess and is forced (evicted is the more appropriate word heh) from figuring out the truth and gets physically further away from reality. As you can tell from the blobs of paint (someone pls make a gif of this scene) it may represent the bst k version, whereby most of their surroundings were of paintings, showing how jimin is literally thrown back into his world.

my guess is that suga warned colorful (excuse my lacking ability to name them better) jimin in the beginning about the consequences for trying to find his alternate self, but jimin doesn’t listen. white jimin seems pretty darn terrified about colorful jimin’s arrival and suga has to block the two of them from meeting + the fact that yoongi has to prevent their meeting means that he’s trying to protect the innocence of white jimin who was contemplating on eating the forbidden fruit (apple) like colorful jimin already had?

because yoongi was able to interact with both jimins, another guess of mine that like jin, yoongi has the ability to travel between two of these universes as an individual (in comparison to how the other kids just split per music video).

NEXT (jungkook. man this bunny is so high on drugs jesuS)

this background is suga’s room in inu. this scene implies that the namkook are placed in an alternate/secluded room whereby namjoon literally drugs his child. (implying that the two of theme were very close to the truth - but because of the weird ass colors, you can can that they still can’t decipher everything out) as you can tell, this is identical to the scene in bst k version where jungkook only takes a finger lick of it. in the j version, jungkook literally waters down the drink. the moment the boy drinks the green water, he gets further away from the truth (because the entire room becomes one neon aesthetic esq blur.)

in the scenes where everything becomes really saturated, we can safely assume that that is the drink screwing up his reality and memories from his other world. in the first scene of the video whereby jungkook is literally seen waking up from a sleep/nap/slumber, may be him waking up after attaining memories from his alternate world (which may be why the second scene of him and his purple wings may be him being aware/tainted by the devil - or something from his short film begin).

look back to the scene of monie and kookie sitting. kookie is sitting in a very submissive stances while monie is much more dominating (this may be monie trying to lie/convince otherwise that kookie’s memories are wrong/fake). it’s interesting how monie, in his individual scene does a shh, indicating to keep a secret/he knows something(?)

jungkook later pukes, in which suga appears to make sure that he’s alright (suga here, has a very different outfit from his interactions with the jimins, i can;t figure this part out - maybe it’s suga being unable to look the same to other members, scared that they may find out about his ability(?))

and here, our eomma jin, puts his fancy binoculars down, and is finally aware that he needs to interfere (or he’s going to have to take care of 6 psychotic children til 4am until they knock out or everyone is going back to their vicious cycle from inu, in this new alt dimension that has been created (meaning that tragedies are going to happen again))

i have a theory that inu is the actually reality of the world, in which the boys create many alt worlds (ie. bst) to cope with their problems - but are unable to escape or find out that they are doing so or it’ll shatter their coping mechanisms and drive them crazy (because realising the alt worlds/meeting each other means that they acknowledge their tragedies - which may be why suga tries so desperately to make the jimins not meet + im assuming the doppelganger consequence in this case would refer to them being driven to a brink of madness in their reality - which will harm them in comparison to in their alt worlds)

the reason why i think they won’t get hurt in their alternate worlds is because (in bst k version, tae literally jumps off a bar + hobi plays with a arrow + etc.)

going back to jimin (IM SORRY i know i’m jumping everywhere eek)

jimin starts/is about to puke himself (i’m assuming the apple to jimin is the green liquid alcohol thing to jungkook, what i mean to say is these two things reference their succumb to temptation) after colorful jimin starts to puke before he meets his “doppelgänger” 

*i start veering off here*

so i talked about the splinter combustion thing (i’m now certain that it’s jimin being completely tainted by the apple and is hence thrown back into the alt reality, not a result of meeting the other jimin (because it didn’t even happen, he got thrown back before he could even do so))

SHIFTING FOCUS AGAIN

let’s talk about my baby tae. the other person in the bst k version that tries to (or exposes) themselves to danger is hobi and tae (unless i’m wrong). and in the j version, hobi tries to pin a dart at tae while tae is being pinned down by jimin and kookie. (and yeah tae is not happy with being pinned/or is at least hesitant)

we can infer that tae has been hit (because he get’s a lil wonky after that) 

so to reiterate once more. the temptation symbols per member: jimin : apple kookie : green liquid tae : arrow 

tae falls into temptation (interesting to note that his symbol is a weapon of destruction) and is rescued by jin. jin apologises (the mianhae though TT) for punching the lights our of tae. in which tae sadistically grins and attacks our eomma with what we can assume is a knife + if you look at his injuries after jin bashed him, it’s the same as his injuries in stigma when he’s stuck in the cell and the puppy walks in and struts out

as i have mentioned, jin is able to interact with the two worlds, so he is thus the most aware amongst the other members about their situations. by tae falling into temptation, he succumbs to his unstable and violent ways back in inu where he kills/almost kills his father. jin’s interference from allowing tae to fall back into his vicious cycle in inu (by angering tae and letting him take out all of his frustrations and attack jin), allows tae to break free from this vicious cycle from occurring again. 

after attacking jin, tae visibly calms down (look at the precious awh)

but doing so throws him back into the cycle of inu (or in his short film stigma - a sequel to inu 19+ version). and goes through a pink curtain thing (that’s honestly just hella aesthetic). the pink curtains may represent him being lost in his current alt world. but by wandering around, he finds himself in reality as he (due to jin) is free from his alt world as seen by how he finds himself in the city scape - the concept in inu

in this screenshot, it looks like tae is at a ledge like in bst k version before he jumps off(?) the smile he gives in the j version before he finds himself outside of the pink place is similar to how tae smiles before jumping off the ledge in the k version (idk y’all)

NEXT 

the cracking thing (get moisturiser pls)

so remember those fancy binoculars jin had. and remember his face cracking at the end of bst k version? yeah keep those in mind.

this worm hole that matches the neon aesthetic in the j version, implying the boy can literally see and jump into which portals he wants. + the green sky thing? yeah that represents the green drink that kookie inhaled drank

+ those binoculars, to jin, are his methods of looking into that alt universe. however, someone shatters his ability to participate in the alt worlds as everything starts to crack - rapmon destroys it (god of destruction strikes again)

so rapmon has been hella fishy this entire video (i mean he drugged his child kookie) rapmon like always, probably knows what’s up too and very desperately attempts from people from figuring out the truth. if you come and tell me, hey those wounds are too big for breaking binoculars. no, rapmon probably didn’t break the binoculars, but most likely shattered the glass that jin was behind of, preventing jin from interfering with the alt worlds anymore.

+ my guess is that rapmon is aware, like suga, of the doppelgänger consequence. (but i’m not sure if jin is aware). but unlike suga and jin who tries to help the members, rapmon tries to harm them (so we can assume that rapmon is the devil)

the window makes jin an observer (which he has been for a while throughout the mv concepts), and by it being shattered leads to (???) consequences. the large glass window that shatters at the end is the actual life sized representation of the binoculars. (idk what this means, but hey it’s a thought) + that thing about jin’s non-existent heart, the striped sweater is gauged at the heart, which im assuming that he may have sold his heart to the devil to help the others.

NEXT

hobi. yeah i actually genuinely don’t understand hobi’s character?

i do know that him looking at the wings are important, or the fact that he tosses his pills into a bucket of water instead of fire like back in inu and run (someone pls tell me)

+ does it mean that hobi is a representation of how all of the roles in the real world and in the alt worlds were flipped(????) bc of the fire water thing dude y’all help me)

CONCLUSION (mostly because it’s 2am here and i haven’t sleep for more than 7 hours this entire week)

this marks the end of the HYYH series

the screen is very similar to their inu frames, closing off the entire event. however, them doing so allows us to think that inu -> bst was all one event simultaneously occuring/the ending marks the beginning/etc. i believe the timeline is as such:

- run - inu - bst j/k (simultaneous)

please let me know some of your other thoughts! like aforementioned, this is a thought ramble, and so some of my claims may not be true/disorganised (everything is based off my memories of the other videos and i - because it’s 2:30am now whoops, is extremely exhausted (being a senior does some shit to you man))

[blaperile]

Homestuck Candy Epilogue - Reactions Pages 1 - 4

Okay, so we've had enough time to let the Meat Epilogue sink in and finally start reading the Candy Epilogue. It's 4/13 after all, no better time to start making this happen!

Man, the Meat Epilogue was a wild ride.

It was clearly left open-ended, seemingly intending to be continued later somewhere else. I wonder what the result of the Candy Epilogue will be, will it be just as open-ended or not?

And I'm very curious in what ways this will be going differently.

I mean, John's going to choose to remain on Earth, you'd think. But I'd assume Karkat would still be running for president, Rose would continue deteriorating and Dirk would be executing his schemes, right?

Or is Alternate Calliope going to be the "main" narrator of this path, with Dirk barging in at a later point, and will this cause some drastic changes? That would be interesting to see just how much impact their narrations have on events.

And is there a Candy version of the Furthest Ring, or is there just one version? If so, are we going to explore some alternate perspectives compared to the Meat Epilogue? Is it now time for appearances by Sollux, Eridan, Feferi (who were advertised as being characters in these Epilogues)?

This path seems like it's setup for a pleasant ending, maybe with Karkat becoming president, but I'm worried it's not going to be that simple.

So, what's going to happen first? I assume we'll "continue" with John's picknick with Roxy and Calliope first. Is he going to join them now, or will he decide to drop by someone else first?

Also, in the Meat path there was a very elaborate description of John eating the meat, and it affecting the smell of his clothes, is that now also going to be the case with the candy? :p

Anyway, let's go! Again going to write my comments once I've finished reading a page.

Page 1:

HOLY CRAP!!!!

Right out of the gate, things are going differently than I'd expected. So Calliope had already made a plan for in case John were to stay... and it is to free Gamzee???? :O

Holy shit, I'm excited about this. If there's one thing I (slightly) regretted about the end of Homestuck, and the Meat Epilogue, it was Gamzee's limited role in it. He was seemingly made totally irrelevant in the end, after his role in the Game Over timeline had played out.

Even in the Meat path, he was immediately put back into the fridge by John.

Oh man, are we going to get some actual proper Gamzee dialogue out of this again, for the first time in SO long?

One thing that was never cleared out, was how the fuck Gamzee ended up in the far future to find Calliope and Caliborn.... Does this mean that it's CANDY Gamzee who raises them?

That would be really interesting, meaning the Candy path won't be as irrelevant to the grand scheme of things as you might think.

He did always seem to be very serene when we saw him with Caliborn, very similar to when he was under mind control by Aranea and put in a fake state of serenity.

Is he now going to make actual peace with himself, and his friends? Are we going to see him actually talk things out with Karkat and Kanaya? :O

Calliope mentioned that John will need his retcon powers. Does she already plan for him to send Gamzee to the far future so he's there to find Calliope and Caliborn?

Or did they leave Gamzee behind in the B2 session and John simply needs to retrieve him from there?

Man, I'm hella pumped for this.

Page 2:

Whoa.... okay, where to start with this? The beginning I guess. :P

So, John retrieved Gamzee's fridge from LOTAK? ...Does that make sense? I mean, I recall that first the fridge was on LOMAX, around where Jake, Jasprosesprite^2, Nepetasprite, and Gcatavrosprite were.

And in Collide it bouced around a lot due to the antics of Cans. But didn't it start out on LOMAX then?

Maybe I forgot something, it's been a while since I read/watched all that in detail. I should check it again.

Anyway, I definitely didn't expect John to be retrieving Gamzee from BEFORE the events of Collide.

And you should have seen my gasping face as soon as Gamzee's quirk started turning back to his normal one! :O

I love how it feels kind of totally wrong, which is also kind of lampshaded in the page itself, and yet it's also so satisfying to be reading his almost incomprehensible dialogue again, the way only he can.

He does sound like he's truly back.

I mean, it's clear his mind is screwed up. After all, all that Sopor Slime can't have been good for his think pan.

But I do feel like he's being sincere now and wants to change for the better. Let's hope he won't be retriggered into any old behaviour, but if he truly becomes the Gamzee that merges into Lord English... well, at least he was at peace in the time with Caliborn leading up to that moment.

Man, I definitely didn't expect Terezi to show up here in dialogue!!! Considering the fact that in the Meat path Terezi never made any reference to Gamzee again, can we assume we're indeed dealing with an alternate version of the Furthest Ring? :O

If so, is the Lord English battle going to play out in the same way over there or not?

I have a feeling this other Terezi might actually succeed in finding Vriska... the only question is whether it will be the alive one, or the dead one.

And that last line is really ominous... "Something feels different, but he can’t put his finger on it."

Is something going on with Calliope? Has SHE taken control of the narrative now perhaps, like her alternate self did in the Meat path?

It would kind of makes sense. She has after all always written fanfiction about her heroes, so now she might be growing further into that role.

Page 3:

WELL THAT ESCALATED QUICKLY.

I didn't expect Dirk would give up in this path so easily. I mean, in the Meat path, when he talked to Rose he was talking about the alternate series of events where John remained behind on Earth, I'd assumed he had some kind of back-up plan for there, but no apparently.

He's totally losing it now.

And it certainly seems like he's not in control of the narration! Or at least, has lost control of it.

Definitely sounds like it might be Alpha Calliope who's in control now???

I wonder if Alternate Calliope is somehow influencing her and talking to her or something, or if it's just Alpha Calliope's doing.

I love the cryptic reference to the Meat path, with saying there's no time for politics or adventurous hijincks.

So, what IS Dirk going to do? Is he just gonna lay down and die or something? :/

Or is he, hopefully, going to let go of it and at least turn back into somewhat more of a normal person like he used to be?

I also wonder, the Dirk who saw John take the fridge... is that "him"? Or is it actually a separate Dirk from a different, retconned reality?

Which reminds me that I forgot to mention about the first page, when John was eating the candy, the references to splinters in the candy... it instantly made me think of Dirk.

Also, if Jane's not going to run for president... IS Karkat even going to run for president? Because that was mostly inspired by Jane campaigning in the first place.

If not, is someone else going to run for president in this timeline? Or will it turn out irrelevant to this particular series of events?

Page 4:

D'awwww, this is so adorable. Rose and Kanaya together, as they should be.

Again some references to what happens in the Meat path, with Rose being taken away from Kanaya and such.

Rose mentioning how it all happened abruptly... I still can't help but wonder if it's because her body senses that the timeline had diverged, or if there's an outside influence from a narrator taking this feeling away from her, such as Calliope.

Man, this path really is going to go way differently from the Meat path. I'm really curious where it's going!

In the Meat path, the main characters were basically John, Dirk, Dave, Karkat and Alternate Calliope, in a nutshell.

If I had to throw out a wild guess after these first few pages, is it now going to be John, Roxy, Rose, Kanaya and Alpha Calliope?

That would be a really interesting parallel. Then in both paths, the main characters would be John, 1 B2 Kid, 1 B1 Kid (other than John), 1 Troll, and 1 version of Calliope.

I mean, Gamzee will also clearly play SOMEWHAT of a role in this path, but I highly doubt he’s going to be “the most important character of the Candy Epilogue”. On the other hand, never bet against the “most important character of Homestuck”. XD