#old person voice: back in my day I knew how to do text posts

[jewishvitya]

A pro-Palestine Jew on tiktok asked those of us who were raised pro-Israel, what got us to change our minds on Palestine. I made a video to answer (with my voice, not my face), and a few people watched it and found some value in it. I'm putting this here too. I communicate through text better than voice.

So I feel repetitive for saying this at this point, but I grew up in the West Bank settlements. I wrote this post to give an example of the extent to which Palestinians are dehumanized there.

Where I live now, I meet Palestinians in day to day life. Israeli Arab citizens living their lives. In the West Bank, it was nothing like that. Over there, I only saw them through the electric fence, and the hostility between us and Palestinians was tangible.

When you're a child being brought into the situation, you don't experience the context, you don't experience the history, you don't know why they're hostile to you. You just feel "these people hate me, they don't want me to exist." And that bubble was my reality. So when I was taught in school that everything we did was in self defense, that our military is special and uniquely ethical because it's the only defensive military in the world - that made sense to me. It slotted neatly into the reality I knew.

One of the first things to burst the bubble for me was when I spoke to an old Israeli man and he was talking about his trauma from battle. I don't remember what he said, but it hit me wrong. It conflicted with the history as I understood it. So I was a bit desperate to make it make sense again, and I said, "But everything we did was in self defense, right?"

He kinda looked at me, couldn't understand at all why I was upset, and he went, "We destroyed whole villages. Of course we did. It was war, that's what you do."

And that casual "of course" stuck with me. I had to look into it more.

I couldn't look at more accurate history, and not at accounts by Palestinians, I was too primed against these sources to trust them. The community I grew up in had an anti-intellectual element to it where scholars weren't trusted about things like this.

So what really solidified this for me, was seeing Palestinian culture.

Because part of the story that Israel tells us to justify everything, is that Palestinians are not a distinct group of people, they're just Arabs. They belong to the nations around us. They insist on being here because they want to deny us a homeland. The Palestinian identity exists to hurt us. This, because the idea of displacing them and taking over their lands doesn't sound like stealing, if this was never theirs and they're only pretending because they want to deprive us.

But then foods, dances, clothing, embroidery, the Palestinian dialect. These things are history. They don't pop into existence just because you hate Jews and they're trying to move here. How gorgeous is the Palestinian thobe? How stunning is tatreez in general? And when I saw specific patterns belonging to different regions of Palestine?

All of these painted for me a rich shared life of a group of people, and countered the narrative that the Palestininian identity was fabricated to hurt us. It taught me that, whatever we call them, whatever they call themselves, they have a history in this land, they have a right to it, they have a connection to it that we can't override with our own.

I started having conversations with leftist friends. Confronting the fact that the borders of the occupied territories are arbitrary and every Israeli city was taken from them. In one of those conversations, I was encouraged to rethink how I imagine peace.

This also goes back to schooling. Because they drilled into us, we're the ones who want peace, they're the ones who keep fighting, they're just so dedicated to death and killing and they won't leave us alone.

In high school, we had a stadium event with a speaker who was telling us about a person who defected from Hamas, converted to Christianity and became a Shin Bet agent. Pretty sure you can read this in the book "Son of Hamas." A lot of my friends read the book, I didn't read it, I only know what I was told in that lecture. I guess they couldn't risk us missing out on the indoctrination if we chose not to read it.

One of the things they told us was how he thought, we've been fighting with them for so long, Israelis must have a culture around the glorification of violence. And he looked for that in music. He looked for songs about war. And for a while he just couldn't find any, but when he did, he translated it more fully, and he found out the song was about an end to wars. And this, according to the story as I was told it, was one of the things that convinced him. If you know know the current trending Israeli "war anthem," you know this flimsy reasoning doesn't work.

Back then, my friend encouraged me to think more critically about how we as Israelis envision peace, as the absence of resistance. And how self-centered it is. They can be suffering under our occupation, but as long as it doesn't reach us, that's called peace. So of course we want it and they don't.

Unless we're willing to work to change the situation entirely, our calls for peace are just "please stop fighting back against the harm we cause you."

In this video, Shlomo Yitzchak shares how he changed his mind. His story is much more interesting than mine, and he's much more eloquent telling it. He mentions how he was taught to fear Palestinians. An automatic thought, "If I go with you, you'll kill me." I was taught this too. I was taught that, if I'm in a taxi, I should be looking at the driver's name. And if that name is Arab, I should watch the road and the route he's taking, to be prepared in case he wants to take me somewhere to kill me. Just a random person trying to work. For years it stayed a habit, I'd automatically look at the driver's name. Even after knowing that I want to align myself with liberation, justice, and equality. It was a process of unlearning.

On October, not long after the current escalation of violence, I had to take a taxi again. A Jewish driver stopped and told me he'll take me, "so an Arab doesn't get you." Israeli Jews are so comfortable saying things like this to each other. My neighbors discussed a Palestinian employee, with one saying "We should tell him not to come anymore, that we want to hire a Jew." The second answered, "No, he'll say it's discrimination," like it would be so ridiculous of him. And the first just shrugged, "So we don't have to tell him why." They didn't go through with it, but they were so casual about this conversation.

In the Torah, we're told to treat those who are foreign to us well, because we know what it's like to be the foreigner. Fighting back against oppression is the natural human thing to do. We know it because we lived it. And as soon as I looked at things from this angle, it wasn't really a choice of what to support.

[seasons-of-death]

kook!reader and pope going apple-picking

warnings: fluffy! i've had this on my mind for a MONTH bc i got a bunch of free apples and baked like... four apple pies in the matter of two days. but i wanted to wait until it was all fall-y to post it. (also the among us shirt was inspired by an actual t-shirt i saw at the thrift store. i do have a short little bonus part coming for this soon!!

something unexpected that pope learned about you was that you loved fall. he would've always thought you'd prefer summer; your personality was basically that of the literal sun, but the moment there was a small breeze in the air and you spotted the first orange leaf on the ground, you'd picked it up and called him, telling him how you were going to put it in your scrapbook.

so, it really shouldn't have been a surprise to him that one morning, you'd show up to his room, basically trying to pull him up, and after he pulled you into bed and you two laid there together for an hour and the dog that was basically yours, but technically his, came to lick his face, he finally got up.

your boyfriend kept asking you where you were taking him as you drove, the little bichon sleeping snugly in his arms in the passenger seat of your car, but you wouldn't tell, simply humming along to the girly pop song playing in your stereo with a wide smile on your face.

"where are we, exactly?" pope asked when you two finally arrived to your destination, a small farm right between figure 8 and the cut.

"we're at mr. parker's farm, duh."

"don't duh me, i know that." he said with a small chuckle, bumping your shoulder lightly with his, "i mean, what are we doing here?"

"oh," you chuckled, taking something from the backseat, and when you held the thing up, he noticed it was two large wicker baskets, "well, mrs. parker is teaching me how to crochet, and i mentioned how i really want to pick some apples and bake apple pie, so she said that they had way too many apples growing and she said that if i wanted to, i could come pick some, as long as i bring them a few slices of apple pie to try."

"babe," he chuckled as you handed him the other basket, starting to lead him to where mrs. parker had shown you the apple trees were, blanche's leash on your other hand, the dog excitedly following, "i'm not sure which part i should address; the fact that you're friends with a 60-year-old, that she's teaching you how to crochet, or that she let you pick apples just for a few slices of apple pie."

"josephine is a very nice lady." you look at him pointedly, "and crocheting is relaxing. supposedly. for me it's still a bit confusing. but i wanna make blanche a sweater one day."

"you know, most dogs hate clothes."

"our dog wouldn't. i can see the way she looks at my dresses, and how she barks at your t-shirts like she wants to rip them apart."

"hey! what's wrong with my t-shirts?"

you look at him blankly, "my grandpa dresses better than you. you wore a shirt that had an among us character the color of the italian flag holding a plate of spaghetti with the text 'impasta' underneath it for our second date."

"that was jj's, my shirt got all muddy..." pope mumbled, scratching the back of his neck, but soon you two arrive in front of an apple orchard miles long, the boy's eyes widening. "yeah, that's... definitely a lot of apples."

you chuckled, taking his hand as you pulled him further into the orchard, the little dog following behind you, and before you knew it, you were stood on a wooden stepping ladder, reaching up for apples and throwing them into the second basket, the first one already full of both red and green apples.

"you know, you don't have to hold onto me, i'm a big girl, i won't fall." you chuckled, pope's hands holding onto your waist, "if you just picked some apples yourself, we'd be done a lot faster."

"i know you." and by the tone of his voice, you could tell he was looking at you pointedly even though he was behind you, "if i let go of you, you're gonna fall, and you'll probably get concussed."

"alright, i know that i can be a bit clumsy-"

"a bit? remember when you tripped on my charger last week? when it wasn't plugged into anything? or when your shirt got caught in the doorknob and you hit your head on it? or the time you broke your leg falling down three stairs because you were looking at pictures of your celebrity crush? or-"

"alright, alright, i'm clumsy!" you puffed, taking his hands off your waist. "you can stand there for safety, but no holding on. i gotta focus and your hands are really warm it disturbs me. besides, the broken leg was when i was fifteen. i never should've told you.

"she's in denial." he said to blanche, laying on a small blanket on the ground that you had brought with you for him, letting out a small yip, as if in agreement.

"hey! don't turn my baby against me."

"well, she's my baby too."

"well, if you're not careful about what you say, soon we'll have to co-parent." you huffed, continuing to pick apples, the boy simply laughing at your 'threat.'

he watched as you continued picking apples, humming along to the same song you were listening to in the car, a fond smile on his face, yet as you rose to your feet to pick the last apple, standing on the very edge of the stepping ladder, he noticed the wooden thing wobble, his eyes widening.

but as you got your feet stable, it was already too late, the stepping ladder already starting to fall to it's side, your eyes widening when you realized what was happening.

you closed your eyes tightly when you started falling, and as you felt your body fall against the hard ground, something was under your head, softening the blow.

hearing a soft groan next to you, you opened your eyes, finding pope laying on the ground next to you, his arm under your head. "your head weighs a lot."

"what are you doing?" you chuckled softly.

"well, i knew i wouldn't be able to catch you, and since the ladder isn't that tall so you'd mostly get away with bruises anyway, but you could still get a concussion or a head injury from that height, so i estimated where you'd fall and made sure my arm was under it."

"you know, you could've just said something cheesy, like 'because i wanted to protect your pretty head', you textbook."

"oh."

"you know you could've broken your arm or something."

"and you could've let me hold onto you."

you laughed softly, shaking your head before rolling onto him, pressing your lips on his, the boy's lips warm against yours, bringing your hand to his cheek.

when you pulled away from the kiss, he looked at you with a slightly dazed look on his face before he broke into a grin. "thanks for protecting my head."

"anytime."

[rkvriki]

— their little acts of love !

hello everyone ! new post here ! this was one supposed to be titled their ways to say i love you but i thought this was more suitable don't you think ?

make sure to leave feedback. my asks are open and so is my inbox so let's talk !

WARNINGS ! mentions of crying and being sad, cliché stuff, might contain grammar errors. a/n: i got this idea from a pinterest post of 100 ways to say i love you, if you want i can send it to you !

word count: 1.4k

LEE HEESEUNG !

— “tell me more”

one of the things heeseung loved to do was hear you talking.

you could be saying complete nonsense, he still loved listening to your voice.

he especially loved when you were talking about something you loved or made you happy.

you and him were dating for a few weeks only so you still had a lot to know a lot about each other.

you were at you house sitting on you couch in the living room just talking, when you suddenly started talking about your hobbies.

to be honest, you were just rambling, but heeseung was listening to every word that was coming out of your mouth, until you started slowing off your words. 

“i’m sorry im just rambling now.” you said kinda embarrassed about how much you were talking.

“no keep going, i love listening to you. tell me more about it, please.” he said smiling at you encouraging you to go off about what you were talking about earlier. 

you smiled at him and picked up where you left off, heeseung was willing to listen to you for hours and hours.

PARK JONGSEONG !

— “let’s go on a walk”

jay knew how to make you feel better under any circumstances, he never failed to get you to feel even just a bit better.

you had a terrible day at college/work and you just wanted to get home and plop down on your bed and sleep away the tight feeling on your chest.

you got home and went straight to your room and as soon as you laid down, your phone vibrated with a notification.

jay was texting, asking about your day and you just told him your honest feelings. him being the good boyfriend he is, knew how to make you get better and offered to go on a walk with you, knowing how much they made you feel relaxed and refreshed.

so here you were with jay walking along the nearby park and stopping to seat on one of the benches.

you leaned your head on jay’s shoulder and he wrapped his arms around you, the tears you were holding in started coming out as you let out little sniffles.

jay’s hand was rubbing you back comfortingly as he whispered sweet nothings until you calmed down.

“thank you.” you told him sincerely.

“there’s no need to thank me, it’s the least i should do for you.” he said as he kissed the crown of you head.

SIM JAEYUN !

— “you look so beautiful”

to me this one just screams jake.

you’re basically his favorite person and the one he trusts the most in the whole world.

you were both lying in your bed. jake had a free day from his busy schedule and decided to visit and spend time with you.

jake and you were laughing at something he had said. you were both laughing so hard your stomachs were hurting so much you had to hold them.

jake looked at you and swore he never thought you could look as pretty as you did at this moment. you were laughing without a care, with your messy hair and messy clothes, that consisted of an old t-shirt that already had rips and one of his sweatpants, and you looked so happy and pretty while doing so.

you eventually stopped laughing and jake saw jake staring at you.

“what? don’t tell me there’s something on my teeth!” you said rushing to grab your phone and check your teeth. jake laughed and shaked his head while grabbing your hands.

“ no, silly. you just look so beautiful right now, i couldn’t help but stare.” he said smiling and scanning your features.

you blushed and looked away, trying to say something but you were stuttering over your words.

jake just laughed and hugged you, making you smile to yourself.

PARK SUNGHOON !

— “are you warm enough?”

i think sunghoon tried to act nonchalant when it comes to shows of affection but in the he is melting on the inside.

you were both on a date. it was winter and winters in seoul can be really cold, so you should have known better and warm up a little more.

sunghoon had talked about this new restaurant that opened up and he took you there.

after having dinner you two went on a little walk just to enjoy the night a little more. 

the cold was finally getting to you and you started feeling you started feeling yourself getting chills on your arms, so you rubbed your hands on them in hopes to warm up a little.

sunghoon noticed this from the side of his eye and started taking off his own coat, wrapping it around your body that looked small with the huge piece of clothing now covering it.

you were about to say something but sunghoon beat you to eat.

“don’t even try to refuse, are you warm enough?”

“yeah, hoon. thank you.”

he just smiled at himself as you two kept walking.

KIM SUNOO !

— “don’t stay up too late”

it was finals season and you were studying like crazy and you were barely answering to sunoo’s texts but still made an effort to stay tuned with him.

sunoo worried about you a lot whenever you were too hard on yourself and he always made sure to text you little reminders to take care of yourself.

he knew you had no limit when it came to study for your exams, always doubting your study was never enough and so you had the tendency to stay up to early morning hours to study.

your phone was buzzing with notifications, distracting you from your stack of papers with things scribbled.

sunoo was texting you and your heart always melted whenever he texted something like what he did.

“don’t be too hard on yourself.”

“you can do it! you got this, i trust you!!”

“ps. don’t stay up until late, you need to rest.”

“i love you.”

you were smiling like a fool at your phone as you replied back.

he was your #1 supporter.

YANG JUNGWON !

— “you’ve been on my mind”

jungwon hated it when he had to be away from you for a long time.

it was one of those times now and he was hating every second of it. 

he and the members were all sat in the couches of the dressing rooms, they were all chatting about random things, but he wasn’t paying any attention to what any of them were saying.

he only had one thing on his mind, that being you.

he missed you a ton and you were having a hard time communicating from the different time zones.

jungwon sighed, closing his eyes and leaning his head back on the couch.

he got up and decided to go somewhere alone, taking his phone along with him.

he opened his texts app, automatically clicking your contacts name.

“it’s been hard without you.”

“can’t wait to be back.”

“you’ve been on my mind. more than i’d like to admit.”

he turned off his phone and just stared at a window that was in front of him, until his phone buzzed.

“miss you too wonnie:(“

“so much that i even bought a ticket to see you :)”

jungwon swore he could cry reading your text, feeling happier than ever.

NISHIMURA RIKI !

— “this song reminded me of you”

niki loves songs with a deep meaning.

he always searches for the lyrics and the meaning when he listens to one he likes a lot.

he loves when a song can affect his mood and what he’s feeling.

something he loves even more is when a song reminds him of you. he literally smiled while listening to that song. 

it doesn’t need to be the lyrics reminding him of you, sometimes it’s the melody or even the way it’s sung. there’s always something that reminds him of you and he makes sure you know it.

everyday niki sends you a link with a song along with something like.

“this song reminds me of you.”

“reminds me of when we went to the park the other day.”

“reminds me of the way you laugh when you’re excited.”

“reminds me of when we first met.”

it’s honestly so cute and makes your heart beat so fast in your chest.

[williamswifey]

PLS A PART TWO TO THE BELLA YOU JUST POSTED. IT IS SO GORGEOUS. OH MY GOD

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐒 𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐈𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐒 - 𝐁𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐀 𝐑𝐀𝐌𝐒𝐄𝐘

part one ; the exit

masterlist

pairing ; bella ramsey x fem!reader

summary ; your ex bella had texted you after months of no contact. you knew what you were getting yourself back into as soon as you replied.

content warnings ; slightly toxic dynamic, angst with a happy ending, bella is still sort of an asshole but working on it

a/n ; hi lovelies <3 im absolutely honored at how much love part one got, i knew i had to get a part 2 up asap 😩 i hope this ending is satisfactory !!

‘hey.’

your face paled as you read the text on your screen. was this some kind of joke? was your phone company fucking with you?

your heart rate soared as you looked at the words on the screen. should you respond? should you leave them waiting? you didn’t know how to react, and your palms were growing sweaty as you felt your chest tighten.

“what’s wrong?” heather’s voice rang out cautiously, “you’ve got this…look on your face.”

“bella just texted me.” you replied, voice void of emotion.

“oh, shit.” came her softened reply.

oh shit was right.

you spent the entire afternoon staring at the text. you were tempted to reply immediately, but you didn’t want to seem desperate.

you were barely able to get any work done, you were thankful that it had been a slow day with barely any customers. you didn’t have it in you too deal with anyone else today, as you stressed and stressed over the text message.

a part of you—the smarter part, knew the best idea would be to not reply at all. you didn’t like that idea very much.

you took a deep breath, and opening the text.

‘hi :)’ you typed out, before deleting. too flirty, not enough anger.

‘what the fuck do you want?’ you typed out seconds later, before deleting the text entirely. definitely don’t send that.

‘hey.’ you message parroted theirs, but you deleted it again. what if it was too boring and they didn’t reply?

‘who’s this?’ you wanted to send out of spite.

you weren’t above being petty, but that just felt plain mean.

a part of you wanted to call them, to hear their voice again. your missed the sound of their voice, even if you only heard it for a few seconds before your call disconnected.

that idea was the worst of all.

you sighed as you flopped against your sheets, a deep sigh rumbling out from your chest.

anxieties began to rush in your mind. what if bella texted the wrong person? what if they were drunk? what if it was a prank?

you stilled your shaking hands, sending a simply ‘hi.’ as you threw your phone across the room.

you didn’t expect your phone to buzz seconds later, the sound amplifying from the pile of clothes it had fallen into when you tossed it aside.

you walked over to your phone, unlocking it.

“it’s been a while. how are you?”

jesus. so it wasn’t the wrong person, nor was it a drunken text.

‘fine. u?’

you tried to keep your text brief, debating whether or not to continue the conversation. you knew that being in touch with bella again would only lead to more heartache, but you couldn’t ignore the thrill you felt in your stomach at the chime of their texts.

‘do u still live near our old apt?”

bella’s text made you furrow your eyebrows, as you quickly sent a reply. the term ‘our apartment’ made you feel sick to your stomach.

‘i live about two hours away. why?’

your heart raced as bella’s text bubbles appeared.

‘i’m in the area for a press conference. was wondering if you wanted to grab lunch.’

fuck.

your heart raced as you read the message over and over. what did they want? were they just looking for closure, or did they want you back?

for the next few hours, you struggled with your emotions. you couldn’t decide whether it was a good idea to meet them or to leave things as they were. in the end, bella was your weakness—they always had been.

‘sure. when?’

bella was quick with their response, even though you had left them on read for a solid three hours and forty-five minutes.

‘tomorrow afternoon. come to our spot, my treat.’

your heart raced. ‘our spot.’ you and bella had found a small italian restaurant a few years back, with food that was to die for. it wasn’t well known, and it was your secret.

‘okay.’

***

you had barely slept all night. you were awake just past 9am, you had a two hour drive to make to get to the restaurant.

you showered and changed, putting on a light floral dress, your hair natural and flowy. you would pretend you didn’t put extra time into your appearance, but you knew it was a lie.

when you approached the restaurant, your heart felt like it was about to beat out of your chest. you were a few minutes late—due to traffic, and while you should’ve felt apologetic, you felt bella deserved it for being an asshole.

you walked into the restaurant, fiddling with your necklace. bella spotted you immediately, flagging you down as they called your name.

“over here,” they called, as you nearly knocked yourself to the ground from how fast you spun around.

bella was sitting in a booth, smiling at you as they gestured for you to sit across from them.

bella looked…different. a little taller, much more confident. their style had changed, and you hated to admit how good they looked.

you wanted to run out of the restaurant, your intuition told you this was a bad idea. but the heart wants what it wants.

you sauntered over to them, plastering on a smile that you hoped didn’t look too painful as you slid into the booth across from bella.

“you look stunning as always,” bella commented, a small smile on their face.

you had to remember they were just being polite as you fought back the blush on your cheeks. you thanked them, drinking a large gulp of your water, feeling the cool liquid trickle down your throat.

it was soothing, and it took your mind off bella, who was staring thoughtfully at you from the other side of the booth.

neither of you wanted to start the conversation you knew had to take place, so instead, it was silent.

you noticed they tried not to be on their phone, eyes darting all around the restaurant. you wondered if nostalgia was hitting them the way it was hitting you.

you remembered going here with bella at least once a week when you were dating, making a night out of it. it was your favorite day of the week.

now, the restaurant seemed to have lost its magic. it didn’t feel like home, not like it used to. you wondered if it had been simply being with bella that made the place so magical all those months ago.

“so, how are you?” bella asked, picking at their nails.

“i’m okay,” you replied, voice a little breathy. your heart hadn’t stopped its somersaults in your chest since you arrived, “and yourself?”

bella began to update you on their life. it was painful, seeing how much they had accomplished without you. your heart ached at the twinkle in their eyes, the excitement in their tone. the way they made you feel hadn’t changed.

it was easy to talk to bella, you forgot how much they made you feel like you belonged. it was like old friends catching up, not missing a beat. it felt like nothing had changed…but deep down you knew that everything was different.

bella was like an addicting drug. so easy to go back to…so hard to let go of. you remembered why you put up with their bullshit for so long—because they were bella and you were you.

when the waiter came, bella listed off both of your orders without a second thought, like second nature.

perhaps they noticed you slight glare as the waiter walked away, causing them to speak up.

“oh, sorry,” they said, “is that not your order anymore?”

you sighed, shaking your head.

“it’s not that, bella,” you began. their brown eyes glanced your way, and you felt suffocated under their dreamy gaze.

“it’s just—what are we doing here? i mean, you’ve been doing your own thing and i’ve been doing mine. why all the sudden did you decide to reach out?”

bella was quiet for a moment, fiddling with their rings as they cleared their throat.

“i’m sorry,” they said, catching you off guard, “for what i did. i was a selfish asshole, and i know i hurt you.”

you wanted to say it was okay, but you’d be lying.

“thank you for the apology, i appreciate it,” you decided to reply instead.

you hated how it was between you two. it should’ve been easy—it was easy…when you two were pretending that nothing had changed. the two of you had always fit together, like two pieces of a puzzle.

now that you were tackling what had gone wrong, the atmosphere didn’t feel quite as comfortable.

“i don’t want things to be like this anymore. i miss you.” bella said.

six months ago, it was everything you wanted to hear. but now, the words that rolled off their tongue settled bitterly in your stomach.

“did you think all you had to do was say you’re sorry and i’d come running back?” you spat, “plus, don’t you have a girlfriend?” you asked.

bella looked at you with furrowed eyebrows. they opened your mouth to reply, then shut it again after a few seconds out of pure confusion.

“no?”

bella looked at you as they tilted your head. what about everything you saw?

“you don’t?” you asked in confusion.

“last i checked, i’ve been single single we broke up,” bella now seemed just as confused.

“but, your instagram and the news headlines—”

“you’ve been stalking my instagram?” bella asked, a slight teasing tone in their voice as your face went red.

“i—” you tried to defend yourself, but the words died in your throat.

“i’m just messing with you,” bella said, the atmosphere balancing on the line of tense and airy, “if you’re talking about amara…she’s just a co-star. news and headlines just like to gossip.”

“oh.” you felt stupid for bringing it up. you hated how bella could manipulate your emotions so easily, for better or for worse.

they knew it too, it’s not like they were that stupid.

you felt bella’s hand brush against yours, bringing your attention back to them.

“i’ve had a lot of time to think. no one compares to you.” bella spoke, and you didn’t know how to react.

you wanted to slap them, kiss them, scream at them, and cry, all at the same time.

“you put me through hell, you know?” you said sadly, fiddling with your necklace yet again, “i was there for you. before your career took off, when you needed a shoulder to cry on.“

“i’ve beat myself up everyday for what i did. there’s no excuse. i was new to all the fame—all the interviews. i wanted to leave my old life behind—so that’s exactly what i did. i was shitty. i owe an apology for everyone i’ve wronged, but especially you.”

bella looked down guiltily.

“i can’t take back what i did,” they said slowly, “but i’d like to try.”

you licked your lips, noticing the sincerity in their voice.

their eyes were doe-eyed, lips puffy from biting down on them.

you knew you should walk away, prevent the inevitable hurt you’d go through again when bella got bored. but for now, you picked your poison. you’d take the happiness for now, a fair exchange for the pain you’d feel later.

you tried to shush the voice of insecurity in the back of your mind. for now, bella was yours, and you were theirs. they looked at you the same way they did when you first started dating, all giddy and love struck.

you laced your hands with bella’s, a smile growing on your face.

“yeah,” you agreed, as bella shifted in their seat hopefully.

“i’d like that.”

[oldiesstationlover11607]

Okay bestie I need a fake dating fic ?! I can’t think of a good idea so please use your amazing brain 🫶🏻 Josh or Tyler I just want the tensionnnn the piningggg yessss

Faking it - Josh Dun x Reader

Warnings: Tension and angst lol

Word Count: 2532

A/N: Girl I am so sorry this one took so long 😭 I've been very distracted this week so haven't gotten as much writing done as I normally would. Hopefully this makes up for it <3

‘Josh Dun and Halsey are over! What’s next for the twenty one pilots drummer?’ 

That was the headline on the People post at the top of my Instagram feed three weeks before I was contacted. Josh and I had been friends in high school–long before he met Tyler or had anything to do with twenty one pilots. At that point in our lives our small group of friends would spend Friday nights at his house, recording demos for theoretical albums in a desperate attempt to pass the long Columbus summers. Most of us had lost contact since we’d graduated and gone off to college. In fact, I hadn’t had Josh’s real number in my phone for at least 10 years. I’d be lying if I said that hadn’t bothered me. Celebrities were supposed to remember their friends, they were supposed to keep in contact and see them every time they visited home. Josh lived in LA. Tyler lived in Columbus. But everyone knew he came back to see Tyler and his family as much as possible–no one had heard from him. 

Except me. That one fateful day that changed everything. 

“Hi Y/N. It’s Josh. Josh Dun. I don’t know if you remember me from school or if this is even your number anymore,” the voicemail started. “I’m in town for the next few weeks and I’d like to catch up with you. There’s something I’d like to ask you but you know, it’s one of those things best said in person.” The faint buzz of another voice sounded in the background. The audio went silent for a few seconds before he continued. “So… uh… flick me a text or call me back or something but I’d like to see you. Bye.” 

It took me three days and a conversation with every one of our old friends to respond to the message. Half of them told me to ignore it–that Josh didn’t deserve anything from me–but something inside me felt like he needed it. Most of the pop culture news sites had been giving updates about the breakup and Halsey had been posting near constant tweets about the situation. It had to have been difficult on Josh, he was one of the most sensitive people I knew, and according to TMZ, he’d been keeping quiet about the whole thing. I’d stared at my phone screen for a long time, his voice still playing in my mind long after the voicemail ended each time I played it. As usual, curiosity got the better of me. Against my friends’ advice, I texted him. 

“Hey Josh. I got your message. How about we go to Margaret’s for coffee?” 

Margaret’s was a small local cafe we used to go to on Friday nights in the fall and winter, coffee being the only thing that kept us warm. 

Josh responded almost instantly, suggesting a time. I agreed, nerves building as the reality of seeing him again after so many years set in. What would we even talk about? Did we still have anything in common?

The day we decided to meet, I found myself at the cafe ten minutes early, anxiously tapping my fingers on the table. When Josh finally walked in, I was hit by how different yet familiar he looked. The years had sharpened his features, his hair dyed a bright yellow, his arms covered in more ink than I remembered, but his smile—the same crooked grin—instantly melted the years away.

“Y/N,” he greeted, pulling me into a quick hug, his scent instantly bringing back memories of those long summers. For once the man in front of me wasn’t the man in all the news stories or playing sold out shows–he was just Josh. 

“Hey.” I smiled, feeling his arms wrap around me before we split off and sat into the cozy chairs on either side of the little coffee table I’d chosen. We talked about everything, our old friends, our lives since high school, and then, after what felt like hours of catching up, Josh cleared his throat and leaned forward.

“So… there’s actually something I need to ask you. And I’m aware of how ridiculous it might sound,” he started, looking almost embarrassed. “But I really need your help and I didn’t know who else to ask.”

I raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Go on…”

Josh took a deep breath. “The media’s been relentless since the breakup, and it’s getting hard to deal with all the rumors and speculation. My management team suggested that if I was seen… with someone else, it might get them off my back. Temporarily, at least.”

It took a moment for his words to sink in. “Wait, are you saying… you want me to be your girlfriend?”

He laughed, shaking his head. “I want you to pretend to be my girlfriend. I know it’s a huge ask, but we’ve known each other forever, and I trust you. I wouldn’t feel comfortable doing this with anyone else. It’d only be for a little while, just until things die down.”

I sat back, processing the situation. Fake dating Josh? I mean, it wasn’t like it was unheard of for celebrities to stage relationships for the media. But me? I wasn’t exactly a part of his world anymore. I wasn’t sure I even wanted to be. But the look in his eyes—vulnerable, pleading—told me this wasn’t just a PR stunt for him. He needed this.

“Okay,” I found myself saying, surprising even myself. “I’ll do it.”

His eyes lit up in relief. “Really? You will?”

I nodded. “On one condition—this doesn’t get weird. We’ll stay friends, no matter what.”

Josh grinned, a hint of his old mischievous self returning. “Deal.”

And so, the charade began.

The first few weeks were awkward, to say the least. Paparazzi seemed to follow us everywhere, and we had to carefully choreograph our interactions—just enough affection to seem real, but not too much to make it uncomfortable. Josh would hold my hand in public, drape his arm over my shoulders during interviews, and we’d smile for the cameras as if everything was perfectly natural. 

The Paramore show was supposed to be one of the easier ‘dates.’ At least, that’s what I told myself as we entered the packed arena. The buzz of excitement from the crowd, dressed in a mix of colorful costumes and band tees, should have distracted me from the knot tightening in my stomach. Josh seemed at ease, smiling and waving to fans who recognized him as we made our way to the VIP area just above the main floor. But even then, I could feel the weight of the act hanging over us.

As the lights dimmed and the band took the stage, I felt Josh move closer, his arm casually draping around my waist. It was a simple gesture, one that would seem natural to anyone watching, but the second his hands slid to my hips, something inside me tensed. He wasn't doing anything inappropriate, but the intimacy of it felt wrong. I wasn’t his girlfriend—I was playing a part—and this level of closeness blurred lines I wasn’t ready to cross.

I glanced up at him, hoping to catch his eye, maybe give him a silent cue to ease up. But he wasn’t looking at me. His gaze was fixed straight ahead, lost in the music. For a brief moment, I almost forgot the cameras were on us, the spotlight that wasn’t really ours pressing in from every angle. Then, he leaned down, his breath warm against my ear.

“Look at the camera,” he murmured, his voice low, almost too soft to hear over the music.

I stiffened. Even here, in this moment, we were still performing. I darted my eyes across the crowd, picking out the nearest lens trained on us like vultures waiting for scraps. I swallowed hard, forcing a laugh that sounded hollow to my own ears.

“Now laugh,” Josh added, his voice almost playful, but it grated on my nerves. Then, without warning, he pressed his lips to my neck, an action that was too intimate, too calculated for comfort.

I jerked back slightly, lifting my heel and grinding it down on the tip of his shoe—not enough to hurt, but enough to send a clear message.

“Watch it,” I muttered under my breath, just loud enough for him to hear.

Josh’s grip on my hips loosened immediately, his hands retreating as if he'd touched a hot stove. “I’m watching it,” he replied, his tone smooth but with a hint of defensiveness.

“You better be,” I shot back, trying to sound stern, but the words came out shaky. I didn’t know if I was warning him or myself. Still, a smirk tugged at the corner of my mouth, a reflex that came from trying to play it cool, even though everything about this felt far from easy.

He caught the smirk, his eyes finally dropping to meet mine, and for a split second, something unspoken passed between us. Annoyance, frustration—maybe a bit of amusement at how absurd this whole thing had become. But whatever it was, it was fleeting, buried under layers of whatever we were pretending to be.

“You’re a terrible actress,” Josh teased, his lips twitching into a smile, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Maybe I just don’t like my co-star,” I shot back, but there was no real bite to the words. If anything, the tension between us had only grown more complicated. I wasn’t sure if it was the act, the pressure of being watched, or something else entirely, but it left me feeling raw, exposed in a way I didn’t expect.

Josh’s smile faltered, and for a moment, he looked like he might say something more, something real. But instead, he just nodded, his gaze drifting back to the stage, leaving me standing there, caught between wanting to scream at him and wanting to laugh at the absurdity of it all.

As Paramore's set continued, we went through the motions—laughing, leaning into each other, playing the part. But beneath it all, there was a tension neither of us could ignore. The lines were blurring too much, and the more we tried to act like this was all just a game, the more it felt like we were both losing.

After a few weeks the articles started to slow. Things were slowly getting easier between us and we’d even managed to get a couple paps to catch us kissing. One afternoon, Josh invited me to a small gathering at Tyler’s place. It was supposed to be low-key, just the three of us hanging out—no cameras, no staged displays. Tyler had always been a grounding presence for Josh, and I wasn’t surprised when Josh mentioned he’d already told Tyler about our fake relationship.

“I want you to meet him,” Josh had said with a hint of pride. “He’s my best friend. And, well, it’ll feel a little more real if you’ve met him, right?”

So there I was, sitting in Tyler Joseph’s living room, sipping iced tea, and trying not to overthink everything. Tyler was exactly as I imagined—easygoing, warm, with a dry sense of humor that kept the conversation light.

At one point, he leaned forward, eyeing me with curiosity. “So, Y/N, Josh tells me you’ve known each other forever.”

I nodded, glancing at Josh, who was sitting beside me on the couch, fiddling with the string of his hoodie. “Yeah, high school. We were in the same friend group, used to hang out all the time.”

Tyler smirked, clearly aware of the irony. “And now you’re in a PR relationship.”

Josh groaned, throwing his head back dramatically. “Don’t start, man.”

Tyler chuckled but didn’t let it go. “Nah, I’m just curious. I mean, you two seem pretty comfortable around each other. Doesn’t look that fake to me.” He raised an eyebrow, watching as Josh and I exchanged a quick, nervous glance.

“We’re just good actors,” I said quickly, trying to keep the tone casual. “Right, Josh?”

Josh nodded, but the smirk on Tyler’s face told me he wasn’t buying it.

“Look, I’m just saying,” Tyler continued, leaning back in his chair. “Sometimes these things have a way of turning into something else. Just make sure you both know what you’re getting into.”

It was a harmless statement, but it lingered in the air long after the conversation moved on. I found myself glancing at Josh more often, wondering if there was any truth to Tyler’s words. Did we know what we were getting into?

As the evening wound down, Tyler gave me a knowing look before we left, almost like he’d seen something we hadn’t.

A few days later, Josh and I were walking through a park near his place, taking a break from the media frenzy. The crisp autumn air had a way of making everything feel a little clearer, and I found myself wanting to address the strange tension that had been building between us.

“Tyler’s not wrong, you know,” I said quietly, breaking the silence.

Josh glanced at me, his brow furrowed in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“About this. About us.” I waved a hand between us. “I know we agreed this wouldn’t get weird, but… doesn’t it feel like things are changing?”

He stopped walking, turning to face me fully. His expression was unreadable, and for a moment, I wondered if I’d said too much. But then, he sighed, running a hand through his hair.

“I’ve been thinking the same thing,” he admitted softly. “At first, it was just this… fake thing. But now, being around you again, it doesn’t feel fake anymore. I don’t know what to make of it.”

The honesty in his voice made my heart skip a beat. I swallowed hard, trying to find the right words. “Josh, I don’t want to complicate things. We’re friends, and I don’t want to lose that. But lately… I’ve been feeling things I wasn’t expecting.”

Josh stepped closer, his eyes searching mine. “I feel it too,” he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper. “And I don’t know what that means for us.”

I could feel the space between us shrinking, the air heavy with unspoken tension. My mind raced with a million thoughts, but none of them made sense anymore. All I knew was that the line between fake and real had blurred beyond recognition, and we were standing at the edge of something neither of us had planned for.

“What do we do?” I asked, my voice trembling slightly.

Josh reached out, gently taking my hand, his thumb brushing over my knuckles. “We figure it out,” he said softly. “Together.”

I looked up at him, my heart pounding as I realized that whatever this was, whatever it would become, we were in it together. The charade was over—this was real now.

But as real as it felt, there was still the looming pressure of the media, the world watching our every move. And even as Josh’s fingers laced with mine, I couldn’t help but wonder how long we could keep this new reality to ourselves before the outside world caught up.

//

REQUESTS OPEN

[teaberrii]

Chapter 14: Time's Ticking

You and Dan Heng are a match made in heaven until fate takes him away from you too soon. Years later, you think you moved on with a mutual friend who shared your grief and stuck with you during tough times until you meet a mysterious man with a striking resemblance to your past lover and a hidden motive. You’re determined to get rid of him, but how are you going to get rid of a god?

Dan Feng/You

Notes:

Cross-posted on Ao3

Genshin Impact and Honkai: Star Rail crossover

Female reader

Chapter index at the end of chapter one

Support my writing

It’s been a few days since the strange text, and you aren’t sure whether to be relieved or nervous that’s all you received. Normally, you’d pass this off as a joke or an accidental text, but considering the circumstances, you just can’t. You’ve tried everything: texting back, tracing it, and alerting the police. But all you discover is that the number no longer exists, which makes you wonder if this is the work of magic.

Is it from Lan? Nanook? You doubt it. Why bother with a text when you've already met Lan? So, a sick prank from Childe, maybe? Or, is it the mystery man behind Lan and Nanook? The questions drive you crazy, and you wonder if this is the motive behind this ridiculous text. Once you've exhausted your options in figuring out this mysterious number, Dan Feng suggested something that caught everyone's attention at Bailu's apartment yesterday night.

"If Furina exists, it's safe to say that The Great Purge failed," Dan Feng said. "She wouldn't have managed to live this long."

Bailu sighed. "You know... I've been thinking. The mystery person behind Lan and Nanook's escape. What are they, exactly? A god? Someone like Furina?"

"Whoever they are, they knew about the teleporter," Neuvilette said. "That much is for sure."

"I think it's safe to say that they're behind this psychological game," Dan Feng said, nodding to your phone. "They're using magic, which means they found a way to wield it."

"But, couldn't they be like us?" Bailu mused. "They keep using magic until their power is completely gone?"

"Then, they should know how valuable it is to save their magic. Why would they use it on this?" Zhongli asked. "If we are assuming that Lan and Nanook are supposed to be doing the dirty work."

Neuvilette exhaled softly. "Perhaps they are like Furina. However, that wouldn't make sense either as we haven't seen her wield magic. She may have wrote The Book of Curses and lived for an abnormally long time, but that's about it."

You lean back on the couch. "Here's another thought. Who's to say other people didn't know about The Great Purge before it happened?"

Dan Feng briefly closed his eyes and nodded. “True.”

After a short silence, Neuvilette said:

“I suppose the question is... What caused The Great Purge to fail?"

"That's a loaded question," Bailu said. "Like... Where are we going to start?"

“Perhaps the place where we performed the ritual,” Dan Feng said. “The place where The Great Purge first started.” A pause. “My old home.”

You’re working at the office today while Dan Feng takes a little adventure back to the palace. Despite looking at your laptop screen, your attention is on your phone, hoping you’ll get an update in the group chat you share with the dragon gang.

A co-worker taps your desk, and you immediately look up. "He wants to see you now."

You got the message this morning that the team is getting a new temporary leader who’ll be supervising the group and the project’s progress. You don’t know much except that it’s a man, and he wants to meet the group members individually when he arrives later in the day.

You head upstairs, walking past busy-looking employees until reaching the quiet corridor. You aren’t sure why, but the closer you get to his office, you feel uneasy.

You knock once, and immediately a voice says:

“Come in.” You open the door and see a man with long dark blue hair with red tips and red eyes. He gestures for you to take the empty seat in front of him. “Take a seat.” So, you do, and he introduces himself as Yingxing.

“I… think we’ve met before,” you say, a little skeptically.

You’re trying to remember why he looks familiar when he says:

“Has Dan Feng mentioned me?” Your heart almost drops to your stomach. Dan Feng? How does he know about Dan Feng? He picks up on your confusion and slightly smiles. “Some people know me as Blade.”

Should you feign ignorance?

“Interesting name,” you finally say. “Why the alias?”

“Yingxing is a more fitting name for this generation, but you can call me whatever you feel most comfortable with.” His elbow is on the armrest, and you don't like the look in his eyes. It's as if he's studying you. "Dan Feng is looking for the Aeons, is he not?" He slightly leans closer. “Or, is he looking for you?”

Unfazed, you give him a deadpan look.

“I’m getting tired of explaining that I’m not someone from the past. How do you know about me?”

“I know he's secretly looking for the woman who betrayed him. He’s never admitted it, but I know he wants answers. And... you say you're not someone from the past, but it's telling me otherwise."

You narrow your eyes. "What's telling you otherwise?"

“I am not supposed to exist,” Blade says sternly. “When The Great Purge happened, it was supposed to rid magic from the world. But something went wrong.” A slight pause. “I would think you know about The Great Purge.”

“I do. I also know that you were the one who told Furina to write The Book of Curses." You cross your arms. "If anything went wrong, I would suspect you had something to do with it.”

“A bold accusation, but I suppose it’s logical.” You almost roll your eyes. “But it wasn’t me. I never wanted immortality.”

"...So, you're like Furina. You never died? You just continued to exist?"

Blade almost chuckles. "Ah, so you know that much already." Then, his expression turns stoic. "Immortality is possible if you know the right people." Right people…? “There’s only so much you can accomplish without external resources.”

“What do you want?” you ask. “You say you’re here because someone granted you immortality. Do you think it’s Dan Feng? Is that why you're asking about him?”

“I’d like some answers.”

“How are you so sure he’s the one responsible?”

“You sure have a lot of trust in him. I don’t know whether to call you courageous or foolish. If you are the reincarnation of the woman he hates… he’ll kill you.”

“I’m not,” you say bitterly. “So, you don’t have to worry about that.”

“So you say.” Blade leans back, and his eyes land on your necklace. “Who gave that to you?”

“Why do you ask?”

“You asked me earlier what's telling me you're someone from the past." He points to your necklace with his pen. "There's your answer."

◆◆◆

Pierro is working in his office when he gets a call. He reaches for the phone and hears his receptionist’s voice on the other end.

“You have a visitor.”

“I’m not expecting anyone today,” Pierro says. “Whoever it is can wait.”

“Are you sure, Sir? Tsaritsa is here to see you, and…” Pierro hears some muffled conversation. “She won’t take no for an answer.”

Pierro shuts off his monitor screen. “All right.”

It’s not like he has a choice.

Tsaritsa arrives shortly after in her familiar dark blue dress. Her hair, tucked behind her ears, is pulled back into a fancy braid, and her makeup is uncharacteristically bold with a dark red lip and gold smokey eyeshadow.

“I thought the event would keep you until late,” Pierro says, gesturing for her to sit on the sofa. He stands and walks to a long table near the large window. “Coffee? Tea?”

“I finished reading the diary,” Tsaritsa says. Pierro, who’s pouring himself coffee, stops halfway and puts the decanter back in its place. “And I want to know more about the woman your ancestor mentioned… Idrila.”

Pierro turns around with his cup. “That impatient, huh? It can’t wait until later?” When she says nothing, he finds her silence a little suspicious. He turns around, pours her a coffee, and says, “Well, I don’t know how much I can tell you. I’ve never met her, obviously.”

Tsaritsa coughs, and he doesn’t think much about it until it starts sounding a little violent. Pierro turns around holding two cups of coffee and sees her hunched over with her hand over her chest. But what almost makes him drop the cups is when he sees blood on her hand. He quickly puts them down.

“Hey,” he says, running over to her side. “Are you okay?” He puts a hand on her back. “Did you take your meds?”

“I’m fine,” she says calmly, reaching over to grab a tissue. She puts it to her mouth and straightens up. “...I’m fine.”

Pierro, one of the few who knows Tsaritsa has more than just a weak body, still looks worried. “Are you sure? Have you been taking your medication?”

Tsaritsa looks at him, a look that screams that he’s asking the wrong questions. “I said I'm fine, Pierro."

Pierro frowns. “I’ve noticed, you know. You’ve been coughing a lot more, and your fatigue is getting the best of you. I wouldn’t be surprised if the others are picking up that something is wrong.” He sighs. “Have you been seeing your doc—”

“Why do you think I’m here?” Her question takes him by surprise. “I know it’s getting worse.” She sighs to compose herself.  “But, you and I both know there is no cure.”

It was late at night, and Nanook was heading back to his room in the mansion when he saw the door of Tsaritsa's room ajar. As he got closer, he heard her cough. Once. Twice. And…

He stopped and peeked inside.

Tsaritsa was standing, hunched over her table. An old-looking open journal was off to the side. Nanook quietly opened the door, not wanting to startle her, but then he saw the blood on the table.

“You’re getting worse," he said. Before Tsaritsa could react, Nanook was already by her side. “It’s escalating.”

Tsaritsa's hand groped for the drawer as she took a breath. Finally, she got it open, and her hand shakily took out some pills. When she had trouble opening the bottle, Nanook helped her and watched her down two pills.

“...I’m fine.”

“Really?” Nanook asked, not convinced. He glanced at the blood. “This says otherwise.”

“What are you doing here?” She grabbed the journal and closed it. Nanook realized it was the journal from Pierro. “It’s late.”

“Well, I heard you coughing, and”—he looked at the blood—”do I need to say more?”

“It’s nothing,” she answered calmly. “I’m getting better.” Then, she put a hand on top of the journal. “You knew Pierro’s ancestor, didn’t you?”

Nanook slides a hand inside his pocket. “So, that old geezer mentioned me after all. Should’ve known.”

“This woman that you and Lan were so fond of…” Tsaritsa faced him. “Idrila. She was sick, and after she poisoned herself to end her suffering, both of you wanted to bring her back to life.”

“Why are you so curious?” Nanook asked skeptically. “I thought what you wanted from that journal was to learn more about that pretty boy so we can get rid of him.”

“And I did learn something,” she answered. “But, this is my first time hearing about another woman.”

Nanook scoffed. “You sound like an obsessive ex.”

Tsaritsa suddenly grabbed him by the throat, but Nanook didn’t flinch. “Let’s stop playing games, shall we? Regardless of your reasons for staying in the human realm, I kept you around because you promised me one thing… You could find a cure.”

“And I haven’t stopped looking.”

“The sickness that Idrila had… She began coughing blood in its early stages.”

Now, Pierro understands.

“You don’t…” he begins. “Are you saying you have the same illness as her? That’s ridiculous! If what the journal says is true, it wasn't normal.”

“Wouldn’t that explain my circumstances?” Tsaritsa asks bitterly. “You’ve been with me since the beginning, Pierro. You, out of all people, should know how many times I’ve been told ‘I’m sorry… I wish we can do more.’”

“But that doesn’t mean it’s magic.”

The silence drags on… and on… and on.

“It’s because of Lan and Nanook, is it not?” Pierro asks. “Because of who they are and what they did, it feels like anything and everything can be explained because of magic. I know you want an explanation. I would, too. But this isn’t healthy.” He sits next to her and puts an arm around her shoulders. “We’ll get through this together.”

Will they, really? Tsaritsa has her doubts. Still, she knows Pierro means well unlike the others she met in her life.

She never knew her birth parents. Those at the orphanage never told her much about them either. It was a rainy night when they found Tsaritsa wrapped in a blanket in a large basket at the entrance of the orphanage. So, her childhood memories were with the kids who accepted her despite her weak body. But that didn't make life any easier as she watched them leave for loving homes. Pierro was the first. Arlecchino was the second, and Columbina was the third.

“Oh, I wish we could adopt her, but you see, we’re looking for…”

Tsaritsa believed she heard it all. Every single excuse one could think of for not wanting her, and all of them were about her condition. So, when a family decided to adopt her, she was over the moon until she discovered the truth.

“Is she asleep?”

No, Tsaritsa wasn’t. She was upstairs with a perfect view of her adopted parents in the living room below. But, they couldn’t see her as it was dark, and she blended in with the darkness.

“Yes,” her mother answered.

Her father sighed. “We… should’ve waited. Don’t you think? If we found out sooner you were pregnant, we wouldn’t have this problem.”

“Oh, it’s a little harsh to call it a problem, right? We were told that I couldn’t get pregnant… So, this should be a great surprise. Besides, Tsaritsa is a good kid for her age.”

“But, I’m thinking about the future. Now that we’ll have a child, I would like them to take over our business.”

“And… What about Tsaritsa?”

“I… I don’t want to assume the worst,” her father said. “But, will she live long enough to see the day?”

And since then, before Dan Heng’s mother was even born, Tsaritsa already hated her. But not as much as she hated her adopted father.

“You say it can’t be magic,” Tsaritsa says. “But do I need to remind you that it still exists? Lan, Nanook, and Dan Feng’s existence is enough proof.” She turns to Pierro. “Idrila was born with a weak body, but her condition was purposely made worse.”

“That doesn’t explain how you could’ve gotten it,” Pierro says.

“Did you read until the end?” Tsaritsa asks. “Before she died… She had a child.”

Pierro’s face goes pale.

◆◆◆

Bailu arrives at one of the largest hospitals in the city. She has her hands on her hips as she stares in pride that the hospital she helped to get off the ground is still doing well.

Despite being born with a condition that stunted her physical growth, Bailu easily soared above her classmates in terms of knowledge and talent. She was only ten years old when she graduated from one of the most elite universities in the nation and after two years of work experience in the field, she entered medical school. Graduating early, she had many great job opportunities but chose a small clinic, Bubu Pharmacy, that was just starting to get off the ground. With only two employees, Bailu was attracted to the idea of building something big from scratch. And it wasn’t until she brought someone back to life that Bubu Pharmacy completely changed.

It was a slow and rainy day, and Bailu was enjoying her usual conversation with her co-workers, Herbalist Gui and Baizhu when someone entered. As soon as they heard the bell, they spun around, shocked to see a drenched woman carrying a bleeding, young girl on her back.

“Please…” the woman muttered. She would’ve fallen to the floor if Baizhu hadn’t caught her. “Please help my daughter.”

“Y-You need a hospital!” Herbalist Gui said, a little shaken.

“There’s no time for that,” Bailu said, examining the young girl. “She’s… She’s already dying.”

The woman grabbed Bailu’s arm. “Please… Please save her.”

Bailu remembers the day like it was yesterday. The woman and the young girl were victims of a hit-and-run, and they wouldn’t have survived. Yet, the young girl did, and while it was thanks to Bailu, she didn’t like to mention it… as she took the woman’s life to save her.

“Did it…” Herbalist Gui said quietly, his eyes wide. “Did it work?”

The young girl and the woman were lying next to each other on a large table. Bailu stood on one side while Baizhu stood on the opposite.

“Bailu,” Baizhu said, and she looked up at the young girl. “You’re shaking.”

Bailu looked at her gloved hand covered in blood. It was true.

Suddenly, a painful groan grabbed everyone’s attention. Bailu almost gasped as the young girl’s eyes fluttered open.

“Wh… Where am I?”

“Oh, my God…” Herbalist Gui muttered. “She’s… She’s alive!” He looked at Bailu. “You did it!”

Except, Bailu wasn’t sure what to feel.

The young girl, confused and disoriented, finally saw her mother next to her. “M-Mom…!” She held her hand, and Baizhu saw the moment her heart dropped to her stomach. “You’re… You’re so cold.” She looked at the worried faces around her. “Who are you? Why is my mother—”

“She’s gone.”

No one expected Bailu to be so direct. Not even herself.

“She’s gone…?” the young girl repeated, and her voice barely above a whisper. “What do you mean she’s gone?”

“She gave up her life… to save yours.”

“No… That’s…” She looked from Bailu to her lifeless mother. “That’s impossible. You can’t—”

“That’s what we thought,” Bailu interrupted. “But you… You’re living proof.”

“This is huge,” Baizhu said quietly. “I never thought this could be possible.”

“How?” the young girl asked, her fists clenched. “If what you said is true, how did you do it?”

Bailu never thought she’d say it, and it felt more surreal after she did.

“Magic.”

They soon learned that the girl was named Qiqi, and with no other relatives, Bailu, Baizhu, and Herbalist Gui took her in and treated her as one of their own. But it wasn't long before they realized that transferring her mother's life to hers had consequences. Qiqi had stopped ageing, and she was physically stuck as a child. This had grabbed the attention of the locals and the media, and soon, Bailu was being pulled in all sorts of directions to research this strange phenomenon.

But Bailu had made one thing clear: She didn't want to do it again. She knew that Qiqi and her mother were supposed to die that night, but she played with fate at the desperate request of Qiqi's mother and won with conflicting feelings. By now, only a few individuals had access to developmental research about magic. Bailu was one of them. But instead of researching more about taking someone's life to give to another, she followed her interests in immunity and immortality, hoping that no one would ever have to give their life to save another again.

Despite times changing, Bailu is happy that Bubu Pharmacy—now Bubu Hospital—still retained its traditional look and feel. Baizhu, Herbalist Gui, and Qiqi would be happy knowing that Bubu Hospital is alive and well. As Bailu takes the elevator to the uppermost floor, she walks down the quiet corridor, not wanting to reminisce about the past… again. She has done it far too many times, knowing it doesn’t make the pain of losing them any easier.

She also doesn't want to remind herself that losing them has made her a murderer.

“Tsaritsa? Is that her name?”

Bailu stops. Did she hear that correctly? She takes a few steps back and peeks into the room. A man with long blonde hair sits with one leg crossed over the other in a chair. But it’s the man standing that grabs Bailu’s attention.

It’s him. It’s Nanook.

“I have reason to believe she’s Idrila’s descendant,” he says. “And you… You were her doctor, were you not, Luocha?”

Luocha? Why does that name sound so familiar?

It was a slow day for Bubu Pharmacy, so Bailu spent it working on her research. Baizhu was in the room next to hers, and he hadn’t come out since she saw him walk in this morning. Curious about what he was up to, Bailu left the room, saw Herbalist Gui and Qiqi attending to a couple of customers, and then softly knocked on Baizhu’s door.

“It’s open.”

Bailu opened the door and peeked inside. “Whatcha workin’ on?”

“Oh, you know…” Baizhu sighed, his eyes still on some experimental equipment on his table. “I don’t know if you heard… but the princess of the nation developed a strange illness.”

“I’ve heard bits and pieces, but not entirely sure what it is she got.”

“It’s supposed to be confidential,” Baizhu said. “They don’t want to cause any unnecessary panic.”

“Figures,” Bailu muttered.

“But, as much as they want it to be confidential, we won’t get anywhere if we don’t share information.”

“She’s losing blood, isn’t she?”

“Rather than losing, it’d be more accurate to say something is draining her blood,” Baizhu said, and Bailu raised a brow. “They say it’s because of a spy from the neighbouring nation.”

Bailu wasn’t surprised that those in power would want to direct the blame to others, and what better scapegoat to use than their biggest enemy nation? As she never liked those in power, she never bothered with remembering names or faces. Leaders were all the same. Greedy. Power-hungry. Two-faced.

“Do they want you to use magic to cure her?” Bailu asked.

“Well… That’s the thing,” Baizhu said quietly. “There’s no magic that can. Not right now, at least. Perhaps it also has its limitations or more research needs to be done.”

“Huh… How interesting that not even magic can provide a solution.”

“They’re bringing in another doctor to see if he can provide some insight,” Baizhu said. “I’m meeting with him tomorrow.”

“Really? Who?”

“Someone named Luocha.”

“How long are you going to keep standing there?” Luocha’s green eyes meet hers through the crack in the door. “You’re welcome to come in.

The door suddenly slides open.

“Well, well, well,” Nanook says with a small grin. “Look who it is.”

Chapter 15

End notes:

And the mystery deepens...

I promise to make the timeline a little clearer lmao. But, for now, Bailu and Dan Feng would've been human in the same time period but Bailu "died" before the invasion happened. For some reason, this chapter was kinda difficult to write. Regardless, I hope you enjoyed learning more about Tsaritsa and Bailu. And damn this chapter was hard to name lol.

Tag list: @lunavixia @sunsethw4 @boomie-123 @aerithsthingss

[partywithponies]

Old Man Gene Hunt headcanons (for a "Alex returns to 2008 post-series 2 and meets a 74 year old Gene" AU that I may or may not do something with one day):

(Under a cut because this got long and I might as well have just written a fic)

Generally very lonely. The charges against him were dropped, but Ray, Chris, Shaz, Viv, and the gang all never fully believed he didn't shoot her on purpose, and he never bothered making new friends or getting close to anyone else

Has a tiny ridiculous dog (a very fluffy pomeranian in my head) called Sundance who he insults constantly but secretly dotes on

Unofficially gained possession of all of Alex's belongings when she "died" in 1982, couldn't get the energy to sort through and get rid of them, so just took most of it with him whenever he moved and still just has most of it in boxes in his flat and his lockup in 2008

Also still has the quattro in his lockup, and looks after it and keeps it in good condition, but doesn't really drive it out anymore

Currently drives around in a really shit transit van that he bought as a "project" with the intention to fix it up and sell it on, because a concerned neighbour told him he needed a hobby, but he got bored halfway through so now it's half painted and just has a lot of odd pieces of wood and engine parts in the back. Also has a mattress in the back because he drives out to the muddle of nowhere and sleeps in it sometimes, when he's either avoiding people and doesn't want to be bothered at his flat, or is just avoiding being alone with his thoughts at his flat (he doesn't have an office to sleep in to achieve this anymore)

His hair is thinning but fairly long, because he can't often be bothered getting it cut

(He genuinely isn't doing very well mentally and hasn't been for a long time, but if ever anyone voices concern or suggests he get help, they receive a barrage of verbal and sometimes physical abuse, so most people have given up on him)

EXTREMELY Grumpy Old Man when it comes to modern technology. Owns a laptop and a mobile, but point blank refuses to learn how to text or use the internet until he meets Molly and she becomes determined to drag him kicking and screaming into the 21st century (she's the one person he won't just tell to piss off. He's actually surprisingly soft for her)

Also owns a gun, very illegally. Does a lot of very illegal things these days

Is actually still surprisingly very strong and fit, for a fat old man who drinks and smokes even worse than he did before. Has drunk himself into the hospital a few times but always bounces back

Shortly before retiring in the late 90s, saw younger Alex at some kind of police conference, recognised her instantly, realised Alex had been telling the truth, and became a little bit unhinged. Just kind of obsessed with her. Moved back to London (had been working in Birmingham at the time) just to be closer to her, and basically stalked her for the next ten years, telling himself he "just wanted to keep an eye on her" and "just wanted to make sure she was okay", but after that first conference never actually let her see him

Gets into a lot of fights with criminals who hurt or threaten Alex, and at one point in the early 00s beats up and hospitalises an abusive ex-boyfriend of Alex's, getting him to leave her alone. Alex never figures out what happened to the ex to make him suddenly stop bothering and threatening her

Is actually the one to find Alex and get help after she's shot. Was keeping an extra close eye on her because he knew it had to happen soon, and when Layton took her, he knew where to look, and just went to where he first saw her

Didn't intend for her to see him after she wakes up again, and when they do end up meeting by accident (he was called into the station to give a statement on something at the same time she happened to be in visiting her colleagues for the first time since leaving hospital), he pretended he didn't know her, because he thought Alex would be able to move in quicker and ultimately be happier if she thought it was all in her head

By the time he realised that this had actually made everything so much worse, and that she was rapidly deteriorating both mentally and physically and looked more and sick and miserable every time he saw her, he still didn't say anything to her, because he thought if he said anything now she'd be really really pissed off at him

Only finally decides to talk to her when things have escalated so far that Alex's boss and Evan have both become so concerned that they've decided to get Alex sectioned, and Gene, upon hearing this, immediately "rescues" (kidnaps) Alex, only explaining everything once they're already on the road, and the two of them go on the run together

(They're both severely mentally unwell broken people, but they've decided they're going to look after each other now, so it's okay <3)

(Alex knows she should be super pissed at him, but right now she's too relieved to worry about that)

Gene is honestly confused and bewildered that Alex wants to be with him not only in the sense of wanting to stay on this impromptu roadtrip with him, but also in the biblical sense, given that he's 39 years older than her now and not in great shape, and she's still gorgeous even considering she hasn't really been looking after herself, and at first tries to nobly resist her attempts to seduce him, but she's quite persistent and he gives in quite quickly

(Yes, they fuck in the van)

Molly is at first a little weirded out by how old and weird he is when she meets her mum's new boyfriend, but she gets on really well with him and soon loves him. She gets on better with him than she does Alex (she's struggling to adjust to how different and damaged her mum is now and frustrated by the fact people keep pretending everything's fine, and they argue a lot, but they're trying)

(She's in her troubled preteen era, unstandably. very angry at the world, keeps getting in fights and bunking off school and getting in trouble. she finds Gene a kindred spirit and a sympathetic ear when she needs to rant, because he understands that people trying to comfort her or get her to talk about her emotions is just going to make her angrier)

Gene and Alex eventually come home and move in together and reunite with the quattro (very touching, that's their baby), and Molly gradually moves in with them full time (whenever Evan or Molly's dad try to take her away, she just runs away back to Gene and Alex anyway, so they might as well let her)

Evan is fucking furious. He doesn't trust Gene at all and is convinced he's manipulating both Alex and Molly. Evan becomes practically apoplectic when Gene and Alex become engaged

Gene and Alex are still both very confused and exhausted by everything and both aren't 100% sure they're not just completely mad, but eventually come to the conclusion that it doesn't matter at the end if the day if any of this is really real, as long as it feels real and they get to face it together

[lovejosephquinn]

hii! can i request a joe quinn x reader? something super angsty, maybe where the reader wants to break up and he refuses to accept it and is like begging her to stay?

I want to make this sting, I apologise in advance

Oh and by the way, I'm sorry if my angst isn't great, I'm not used to writing it lmao

Read Part 2 Here. ◀◀◀

This had been a long awaited battle, Joe had finished filming a week early somewhere in the states and you'd been so excited to have him back by your side, you'd not seen your boyfriend for a couple of months, arranging a date night as soon as he'd got back as a surprise, planning everything, making it special. Then came the excuses. Another couple of weeks went by and there was still no sign of him returning home.

'I've got to stay a little longer, love. I'm sorry.'

'I won't be coming home this week. I'll call you soon.'

'I'm sorry I've not called, I've been so busy.'

'Sorry I forgot to text you today.'

And chances were when he did text you on the rare occasion, you were fast asleep due to the time difference. This was unlike Joe, he'd usually be blowing up your phone and that's how you knew something clearly wasn't right. The list became endless, the calls and the messages became less, every reply became more blunt and it had really gotten to you, it was like he didn't care anymore, the pushing away took you to the edge.

This was a solid relationship of two years falling into a dark abyss, then came the day when you hit the roof. Scrolling through twitter, you came across a post on Joe's hashtag. It pictured him stood with a girl in a familiar pub in London looking rather cosy, not fan cosy, personally cosy. "What the fuck?" your raised voice echoed across the walls of your flat as you sat up from where you laid on the sofa, screaming internally at the picture. You knew it was recent because Joe was wearing the leather jacket you'd bought him for his birthday, had he been back in London without telling you? How, what, when?

You tried to call him instantly, no answer. Shock.

You threw your phone onto the coffee table, sat twisting your silver promise ring that Joe got you which had remained on your middle finger for almost a year, tears strained your eyes and a million thoughts rapidly shot through your mind, your heart beating twice it's normal rate. So you decided to go to his flat to check, you could've had this all wrong, for the thin ice that the relationship was wobbling on at this moment, you'd seriously hoped you had.

You sat at your steering wheel, staring up to the window of Joe's flat. The light was on, not much sign of life from what you could see from the high up view but needless to say, there was definitely someone there. As you took the hasty steps up to his front door, you knocked and within 10 seconds the door answered. There he was.

"Y/N, I didn't expect you."

"Could say the same." you folded your arms, tapping your fingers against it.

"I wanted to surprise you but I-"

"How long have you been back?" you flat out interrupted.

"Not long, love. I was going to call you." That's not the answer you were looking for.

"Are you going to let me in?" You moved yourself closer to the front door and Joe instantly moved it fully open, gesturing you inside.

Joe tried to envelope you in a hug, simply like nothing had happened but before you reciprocated you wanted the full truth to be out in the open. "Can I ask you something?" The words shot out of your mouth before you could even think.

"Sure love, what's on your mind?"

"Can you explain this?" You pulled out your phone with a print screen of the picture you'd witnessed earlier on.

Joe sighed, he could've lied but was quickly realising you knew the honest truth.

"I've been back a couple of days, I was catching up with an old friend who was on the same flight back as me."

"Are you for real? So you didn't think to call me, text me let me know you'd landed home safely, instead you decide to go have some drinks with this 'old friend'? Do you expect me to believe this crap?"

You pushed Joe out of arms reach, he tried to step back forward but you moved back when he did.

"I'm sorry."

"You're sorry? Is that all you have to say?!" You shouted back at him, your blood was boiling and your tears were filling under your eyelids, staining your eyes making them glisten. Joe said nothing.

"Weeks Joseph. Weeks I've gone without barely hearing a thing. Weeks I've gone without hearing that you miss me or that you love me, weeks I've gone without clearly not being thought about. That's not my Joey, that's a fucking stranger." You scoffed at his inability to make a sentence. "I'm done."

"So that's it, you're letting go?" Joe protested, halting you and standing in your way from letting you walking out the front door.

"There's nothing left to let go of, I've been trying to hold on to hope for weeks."

"So what did you come for?" Joe's voice hitched.

"The truth and I got it with pretty much no explanation, but there's none needed now." Your tears streamed down your face, you wiped them away attempting to stay strong, also striving to get Joe out of the way so you could leave, but he'd become like he was made of iron, he wasn't letting you go now.

"Y/N, I'm sorry for what I've done. Nothing happened with her if that's what you're thinking, I'd never hurt you like that."

"Well I'm glad you didn't and honestly? I believe it. But what's not okay is the ignorance, the waste of two years of my life spent with someone who I believed thought the world of me but instead as I said proved to be more of a stranger this last month."

"I have a job to do Y/N."

"You'd done your fucking job, god knows what you were doing or where you were swanning off too, but it surely was enough to keep your attention to not be able to take 5 minutes out of your day to let me, your girlfriend know you were busy. I was the last to know everything and that's extremely shit of you." Joe attempted one last time, lunging forward to kiss you, as if that'd make it all better. That was when you slapped him square in the jaw. His hand caught the sting, looking down to the floor, his eyes returning sorrowfully to yours.

"Fuck you." you grimaced.

"Y/N, I love you, please can we work this out?"

"Correction Joseph, you loved me, there's a difference."

You could almost pinpoint the moment you saw Joe's heart break, mirroring your own shattered organ.

"That's not fair, I still love you as much as I did before I left. I'm begging you. I can't lose you." Joe fell to his knees, gripping onto your hands as he began to sob, the noises he mustered were just low whimpers, his brown eyes burned through yours, his bottom lip trembling.

"Then why did you let yourself push me away?" You tried to ignore his regret, keeping to your guns and not letting him win this.

"Because I'm a fucking fool that's why."

"You can say that again." You knew you shouldn't have, but the sarcastic bark of laughter that erupted from your lips was something you couldn't help per his last reply.

"Actions have consequences, you broke my heart and now I'm breaking yours right back. If that makes me a bad person, so be it. You want me? Fight for me."

"What do you think I'm doing right now? I'm on my knees for you Y/N, please don't leave me. I'll make it up to you, I promise. I love you so much."

"Then why did you lie to me, why did you ignore me?"

"I just got caught up in being offered to see the city I was in by one of the cast members I worked with, he kindly did it and then I had to do a couple of interviews and press. I should've been more clear."

"And then lying to me, you've been back here at least a few days Joe, why didn't you let me know?"

"I was going too."

"But you didn't."

Joe shook his head, it hung lowly to the ground now like a child being told off by a grown up.

"No I didn't."

You managed to rip your hands from his grip, taking off your promise ring and throwing it down onto his lap.

"Y/N, your ring, no! Don't!"

"Step one is admittance Joe, step two is acceptance. I need to sleep on this shit. I love you but you've seriously hurt me, something I never expected of you."

"Baby, please." He tried to reach for you again.

"Don't. You know where I'll be. If you seriously want to save this relationship, if you're really sorry. You'll be at my flat tomorrow with a full apology, a full reasoning and full knowledge that you'll never do this to me again then I might slowly start to forgive you. As for the ring, it was a promise you'd love me forever and that's a direct quote from the man I thought I knew."

"I won't do this again."

"Actions speak louder than words, Quinn. Prove it."

You had no more to say, at least for tonight. You waltzed past him, leaving him flat on his knees, he didn't fight back to keep you in his presence this time; truly defeated. Bellowing into his hands, the last thing you hear was him call out your name before walking out the door. For good? Who knew. Even though he'd done wrong. You still loved him.

[hoosurdaddy]

Chapter 10.

Pairing: post covid! Stan Marsh x post covid! Reader, post covid! Kenny McCormick x post covid! reader.

Triggers: 18+, cheating, smut,gaslighting. Reader is married to Stan, bad grammar, short.

Finished at last! Thanks to everyone who read and supported:)

--

"I can't believe you're pregnant!" Heidi squealed along with Nicole who giggled into her wine glass while Heidi rubbed your belly. Stan was catching up with his other friends. It had been four years since you left South Park to Wyoming. It was the best decision you had made. It was the right decision. And you were now 6 months pregnant.

"You leave for four years and you come back pregnant, what?" Heidi continued to admire your round belly, while you and Nicole giggled.

"What can I say?" You shrugged, grinning at their comments.

Nicole looked down at your feet, gasping. "Are they the new Gucci python print high heel pump?"

You showed off the heels, although your back was killing you Stan was so excited for you to show them off, and it would kill you to see him upset. "Surprise."

"I don't know how you're wearing them right now, being pregnant and all." Nicole continued to admire your shoes. From the corner of your eye, you admired Stan laughing and joking with his friends. It took a bit of groveling for your friend group to forgive your actions, especially Kyle (who never fully forgave you but tolerated you). But overall, was excited for God daughter. And Stan was so excited to be a dad.

You swore you could of seen a blonde hair man somewhere in the middle, but you shook your head. It wasn't.

"So." Heidi spoke as she drew your attention back to them. "Can we please see the nursery!!"

With a smile, you nodded as you reached for your bag to show the girls your Winnie the Pooh themed nursery for your daughter.

--

"Sweetie, are you sure?"

Stan asked in a nervous voice when you told him you wanted to go into town to grab some cute baby growths. You knew Stan had trust issues, especially being back in South Park triggered these feelings, so all you could do was reassure him.

Cupping his cheeks, you planted a kiss onto his lips. "You have my location, I will text you every half an hour. I promise, I will be in Bella Baby's for an hour max. If not, you can come find me, okay?"

Stan sighed, planting a kiss onto your palm before nodding as he walked over to the car. "Okay, don't be too long." He whispered as he hopped into the car, he waved goodbye to you. Despite it being raining, you moved slowly through the street of South Park, remembering the good old days.

As you walked, you hadn't been paying attention to your surroundings when you bumped into someone while in your day dream. "Sorr-"

Everything seemed to freeze, you were now were staring into the eyes that once held so much for you. Your best and worst mistake. The person you had been able to avoid for four years. Kenny McComick.

"Hey." He whispered.

--

"What are you doing?" You asked Kenny as you held your cup of water. You were sitting in Tweak's bro. Kenny had gotten a coffee, and with you being pregnant, couldn't drink caffeine. But caffeine was the least of your worries, you were betraying your husband once again. All the years of therapy gone out the window, but had to hear Kenny out.

"I heard about your.. pregnancy. Congratulations." You gave Kenny a tight lipped smile at his congratulations. He couldn't help but stare. You were glowing. You somehow looked better than what Kenny could recall from the last four years, expect you were pregnant with a baby that wasn't his.

"And Stan? He's taking care of you and the baby well?" You rested your hand against your palm, nodding. Kenny wanted to reach over and hug you and never let you go, but stopped when you reached down to place your cup on the table.

"Why are you really here?"

"I just missed you."

The rain was letting up by all means, it was actually getting heavier. You were sat here with your ex lover, while anyone from South Park could notice you and tell Stan. You couldn't risk that just cause Kenny 'missed' you.

"I don't think you made the right decision by leaving South Park.. I think you were just thinking what was morally right, not what you really wanted." Kenny started off, having your heart weaken.

"My decision and what I chose to do is none of your concern, Kenny. I made my choice, and because of my choice, I am having a daughter with a wonderful, forgiving man." You snapped, shocking Kenny who was not expecting your reply. You quickly grabbed your handbag, managing to push yourself off the chair with a little more force because of your belly.

"This was a mistake." You snapped, storming out of the cafe. Kenny cringed at the words, he hated them when your first said them, he hates them even more now. He quickly chased after you, managing to grab your arm before you went too far.

"Y/N, I'm sorry. Please listen to me, and I promise I'll leave you alone forever." You sighed, crossing your arms. You nodded.

"I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry for everything. I've been in love with you since I was 14, I wanted to be with you so badly.. But I could barely look after Karen, I figured I would of been nothing in my future. That I wouldn't be able to provide for you. But by the time I could, you married Stan.. And I took you for my own selfish reasons.."

You stared at Kenny's vulnerable face as he spoke. You wanted to cry for him. "I mean we could of been eating pop tarts for dinner, living in a two bed room apartment with three kids. I had no idea that I wouldn't be poor forever. I wanted to be able to provide for you, that I lost you to Stan somewhere in the middle."

"Kenny." You rubbed his cheek. "I've loved you since I was 14, the only difference was I was too chicken shit to say anything.. I wouldn't of minded eating pop tarts for dinner, as long as I had you, I wouldn't of cared."

Kenny leaned into your palm, much like Stan did earlier. He was staring at you with those beautiful eyes.

"I love you so much."

Once again, you were back in arms with each other. Kenny pressed his lips down to yours. People on the street on South Park walked by without a care in the world. Just young lovers, embracing each other. The rain was dripping down your clothes, soaking into your skin.

Kenny wanted to hug you, hold you, kiss you. He wanted to be yours so badly.. But he wasn't.

he couldn't.

he can't.

"s..sorry."

You shook your head, sniffling. "It's okay, don't worry."

You felt your eyes starting to water once again, but pushed it down encase Stan was lurking around. You never intended to have an affair, let alone intend to re-rash old feelings. An old affair.

"I.. should go.. You know, Stan."

Kenny nodded, feeling his hands slipping away from yours. Before you left, Kenny called your name once more. You turned back around to see Kenny wearing that stupid grin.

"In another life, right?" Kenny called out. "I'm happy.. I'm sorry that our time was never right."

"Don't be sorry.. I'm not sorry. It was worth everything we went through.” You smiled back. "In another life.”

You watched as the crowd engulfed the blonde until he was out of sight. You turned and walked, listening to the sound of traffic, and the sound of rain on the ground. Eventually, Stan came and collected you.

You stared at the scenery of South Park as you recalled vivid memories of your star-crossed lover. A tear ran down your cheek as you pictured his crooked smile and blonde hair.

This time, You smiled.

Fini.

[merionettes]

part 1 of how rubicon got written is here. this is part 2, aka the essay about etc.

the thing about the storyboarding/drafting process that there is no way to describe is how totally obsessed i was for the duration. afterwards i tweeted something like, this is the closest i've ever experienced to demonic possession. i would get up, write all day—like, all day—and go to bed. turn off the lights. then i would just lie wide awake in the dark with lines and scenes and dialogue scrolling through my head until i gave in and opened my notes app. i could not turn it off even if i wanted to. and i didn't want to, i was riding that streak as far as it would take me. because i couldn't look down, right? i could sense what i was attempting to do and anything other than total tunnel vision full speed ahead eyes on the prize would mean i had to acknowledge it.

(context of what made this possible: i was unemployed at the time.)

for the first ~50k or so i was afraid that at any minute i could falter. when i got to the nationals meltdown, that was when i knew i could do it. like, no matter what happened after that, i had the willpower and the chops and i knew where i was going. even if the streak died.

but it didn't. i wrote 100k in a little under 4 weeks. i've never experienced anything like that in my creative life. 

—then obviously i had to get a new job and come back down to earth and it took 21 months to get from there to posting the epilogue. still. i will probably be chasing that high for the rest of my life. that was the part that like… made the rest of it possible. no matter how difficult or frustrating it was. that generated the roadmap. 

i've talked about this before in comments but i had insanely strong opinions about what was "right" and what wasn't. sylvain's narrative voice was a huge part of that. it's inextricable from the content; it shaped the story; it is the story. for the first couple months it also made me an unhinged stylistic tyrant. if there was one single unnecessary word that struck me as inorganic, as existing solely to make the sentence more digestible or to convey information beyond the fourth wall, it had to go. i could not rest until it did. 

once again: this is not generally the relationship i have with writing. lol. it's the demonic possession talking. this is why you have a ton of sentence fragments and stylistic tics and a refusal to let one single shred of information into the text that did not strike me as something sylvain would plausibly think or acknowledge he was thinking. and like, yeah. probably it didn't always make for the smoothest reading experience or the most satisfying narrative development. i'm dead certain there are people who picked this fic up and the bumps drove them out of their mind until they threw in the towel. i just didn't care. 

part of that was a reaction to my own old style—you know, the discomfort of shedding old skin. i'd look at those early scene attempts and see all the habits and crutches i'd been trying to move away from over the last two years and double down on The Voice. but part of it… i would get early feedback that wasn't at all wrong, like "what if [clarifying narration]," "what if [more interaction]," and i'd just think, but that's not true. in exactly those words! which is crazy.

(this is why it was fortunate this was fanfiction i was writing for free, i didn't have to compromise my bonkers experience any more than i wanted to.)

to be clear this feeling didn't last two years. i was eventually able to edit like a normal person. it did last probably longer than ideal. and the point when i was no longer running on unleaded creative adrenaline was when i started to really struggle with the middle of the story. i had to make choices as a writer, instead of relying on the purity of my divine vision or whatever, and i second-guessed myself a lot. it was much easier to feel that absolute bone-deep certainty of Right and Wrong, True and False. and the thought of fucking up when i'd gotten so far was unbearable—like, being so close to making the thing in my head reality and then dropping the ball and breaking the suspension of disbelief.

distance also made it possible to perceive what i was doing and be like, jesus mer what the fuck are you doing. why are you devoting so much of your time to a hobby, why are you investing so much of your life in something you will never be able to truly share, why are you living in a hole with no one else in it. why are you putting yourself through the wringer to get it down "right." why does it matter if it's as good as it can be. why do you care. why is this worth it.

i assume this was pretty obvious before this post, but if not it must be now. this story isn't really about figure skating. for me it's about writing; who knows what it's about for you. i didn't sit down and think, great, felix will be a metaphor. that's just how it happens. 

the experience of writing a novel for the first time: i'm saying this with my whole chest because at one point i wouldn't have, aloud. but what's the point in calling it anything else? i know exactly how much i invested in this. i'm the only one who can know. that's sort of the point. 

here's a giant collage of the inside of my head. i made it for myself and i take it very seriously. not exactly groundbreaking to say this is the ultimate exercise in solipsism. when you're doing that—what greater gift is there than to have someone else meet you in exactly the same place. any writer would kill for the kind of responses this story has gotten, and i don't mean praise. i mean the close reads, the free response essays, the total and complete validation that this thing inside your head that only you can see is real, actually. when i say thank you, it's not for liking it or praising it—it's for taking it seriously. i loved this thing. i still love this thing. thank you for taking it seriously.

[compassionatereminders]

Hi Kat,

I know you have quite a big following so I want to ask you something, just to see if any of your followers or even you experienced something similar. I apologize for a very long message btw.

The topic is: A STRANGER CLAIMS THEY KNOW YOU BUT YOU HAVE ACTUALLY NEVER MET THEM.

Firstly I would just like to say that I don't do drugs or drink. I'm a few years older than you, so while yes I'm 31 I'm still not an old grandma and my memory is pretty good.

I'm a person who still recalls how the voices of my ex-classmates sound (when I read books, or anything else, I read it with a voice in my head... if you know what I mean. I can recall voices I like and read text in that voice), I still know their names and last names. Except I don't know all the last names of my classmates that I went to high school with for 4 months (but I remember how they looked like, sounded like and I know their names, I just don't know last names of some people who had pretty long or complicated last names).

Now to the story. Last year I went to pay a lottery ticket for my dad. He plays a lottery ticket every week. I don't really know what this little store is called in English, we call it "trafika". You can pay lottery tickets there, you can pay bills, they sell magazines, some alcohol, cigarettes, little chocolate bars, chewing gums... and that's pretty much it. It's very small. A woman owns this store and she has 1 employee. One works in the morning, another one in the evening.

Last year, it was during summer break time I saw a new cashier - most likely the owner took some time off.

The new cashier wasn't rude looking or anything, but when I stepped into the store I got such an odd vibe, just a very uncomfortable feeling. This happens a lot to me... it's like an intuition I guess. And I'm usually right because when I get an odd vibe from someone something usually goes wrong.

I wanted to pay the lottery ticket when the woman called me by my name. I was quite surprised since I had never seen this woman in my life. She told me her name and because I was looking at her confused she told me she used to be my classmate.

I went to some high school for 4 months before I changed schools. Her name wasn't common, and I was even more confused because I would 100% remember a unique name. I have never had a classmate with that name.

I'm a loner, a quiet type so she would 100% not know me if she weren't my classmate. But even if I'm a loner I did speak with those classmates, heck I was forced to when we had to do stuff in groups and so on, so I 100% interacted with all my classmates at some point.

She even told me the name of the school I went to. I told her that I don't remember her at all, she seemed kind of disappointed and a bit mad, but since I saw this woman for the first time in my life I didn't feel the need to lie and pretend I did know her. I just felt like it would be more awkward if I lied. I paid for the lottery ticket and I said bye to her and told her I had to go because I was in a hurry (that was a lie but oh well. Her mad stare was kinda making me feel awkward so I just wanted to go asap)

The next week I didn't pay lottery ticket there but I went to the post office instead because this interaction kinda freaked me out a bit. I even crossed the street when I walked by in the next few days. But after a few days, the owner was back (you can see easily inside because it's a glass window and that woman never returned since then). I don't even know how many days that woman worked there because for 3 days I was too freaked out to even look at that direction, I know it sounds silly. And the day I looked there the owner was back. So I guess she was there less than 3 days?

What else gave me the creeps is... she really wanted to convince me that we knew each other. Something about that just felt off to me.

I know like 15 years passed since then but I swear to you on my life I don't remember ever meeting this person. I remember people who take the same bus as me, even if I see them on that bus once every month. And I don't brag I can recognize every person I have ever seen, because I can't. But if I remember a random person I see on the bus once per month, I'm sure I would remember this woman like I remember every single one of my classmates. This is why I feel crazy.

I deleted my facebook ages ago, and when I had facebook I was never sharing personal info like which school I went to or where I worked. So it's not like she was bored, saw me on social media, and decided to prank me.

I listen to yt stories sometimes and some stories are about how people shifted into a different reality. These are just interesting stories to me, nothing more. But that day I felt like this woman met another me in some different parallel universe, I know it seems crazy.

I find the idea of a parallel universe interesting but I don't know if I believe in all this, but it just felt like she is from a different reality where she met me. And in this reality, I never met her.

I lost all touch with ex classmates (they also live far away from me so it's not like I can run into them either) I can't ask anyone else if they remember her.

I usually don't message you on anon, but in this case, I will turn on the anon button... because I feel kinda crazy. Some time passed already but whenever I walk by I always think of this incident. And I was just curious if anyone else experienced something like that?

I agree that it's odd, but I don't believe in reality shifting and I think it's far more likely that you genuinely forgot one classmate after 15 years than that she's from a different reality. Even if your memory is unusually excellent

[late-nite-scholar]

Aug 8th (Day 4): Prompt- Mortal / Sanctuary 

Day 4: Sanctuary- Nythauriel is beginning her journey to see the world outside her people’s hiding places, and meets the last person she ever expects to. But thankfully not everything is as it was when her people went into hiding. Post-Dawnguard. Prompts by @tes-summer-fest

Redguard LDB x Farkas (mention only)

Warnings- None 

Wordcount- ~1400

Description in alt text. Made in HeroForge

***

The world was so much bigger than the hidden valley and the cave network implied. Even the trade network tunnels to the other enclaves didn't truly convey how much world there was out there beyond their sanctuary. 

It's a good thing I've got time to explore it. Nythauriel thought to herself, suddenly thankful for her people's long lifespans. Perhaps she could explore a lot of this world. There were even rumors some of her people had escaped to the old Atmoran homeland. Maybe it would be worth taking a trip. Not that she'd ever been on a boat, but the idea was rather exciting. 

Unfortunately, the world wasn't exactly friendly to someone like her. 

A group of men with pitchforks and improvised weapons blocked her path. The big man in the middle stabbed toward her with the rake he held.

"We don't want no Thalmor in our village!" he snarled. 

She held up her hands, nearly as white as the snow that still held out against the warm sun in shaded corners. "I'm not Thalmor. I'm not even Altmer. I'm just passing through. I won't even stop, I promise." 

"Don't come any closer!" The man shouted again.

"There's no need for that. I'll escort the lady, if she'd like." A soft, gruff voice spoke up behind her. 

She turned, and found herself facing an enormously large Nord as tall as herself but much more broad. He was no doubt a warrior, dressed in well-made (and equally well-used) armor and carrying a large, black battleaxe on his back. But his silver eyes were kind and his smile gentle and she found herself suddenly at ease. She didn't trust humans as a rule, but this one? Somehow she just knew that this one was alright. 

He led her past the mob, offering her a large, muscular arm. She took it, her face warming. Villagers were looking askance at them; this big Nord escorting probably the palest mer any of them had ever seen. He chuckled. 

"This is gonna start rumors. I hope it won't get you in trouble." 

She giggled in return. "I'll be fine. What about you?" 

"My wife'll forgive me when I explain the situation." 

They made their way out of the village and back onto the road. As they walked, she slipped her hand out of the man's arm. "Thank you so much for doing that." 

"You probably get a lot of that, don't you? Hostility, I mean?" 

"Yeah. I haven't been traveling that much yet, but yeah." She held out her hand, "I'm Nythauriel, by the way." 

"Well met. I'm Farkas." They shook hands. 

"Well met, indeed. I'm glad you came by. Not many will stand up for a mer out here in the arse end of nowhere." 

"I'm here to help. I'm a Companion, it's what we do." 

"A Companion? Who are you a companion of?" 

He brightened. "Oh, you haven't heard of us? It comes from our founders, the Five Hundred Companions of Ysgramor." 

She froze, and everything got really far away. Like looking through a small tube. Then blackness overtook her without warning. 

Her eyes opened slightly to the feeling of being shaken. She saw the man's face and immediately fainted again.

***

Awareness came back slowly. She was lying on her bedroll, her pack set beside her. A small fire burned to her right, the man sitting and poking it with a stick. His axe sat propped up beside him, and her blood turned cold as she recognized it. 

He turned at the sound of her gasp, relief washing over his face. "Thank the Nine! I was startin’ to get worried. Here, I made this. You should drink it." He took out a cup and filled it from a kettle sitting by the fire.

"What is that?" she demanded. 

"It's a healing draught. Should make you feel better. Tastes half decent, too. Are you ill, or injured? You just kinda fainted there." 

"Where are we?" She backed up. They weren't on the road. She couldn't even see the road! "Where have you taken me?" 

"It's a wayside camp. Lots of people use it cause it's a little quieter. I didn't want you lyin’ in the road where you could get trampled." He frowned. "Is everything okay?" 

Nythauriel pulled a knife from her belt. Farkas held up his hands as she snarled. "Nice try, Companion of Ysgramor. But your kind has already killed enough of mine. You won't have me, too!" 

His brows knit together, but he made no move towards her. "I don't wanna kill anybody. Are you sure you're okay? I'm getting kinda worried…" 

"Don't play dumb with me! You belong to a group founded on the genocide of my people! You carry Wuuthrad, the axe that yearns to taste my blood! As if you haven't done enough to us! Killed us by the thousands, drove us into hiding, others into the depravity of the Dwemer until they were twisted, wretched husks of themselves! How dare you pretend you don't know!" she shouted. 

She watched realization dawn on his face. "You mean the Falmer… the Betrayed… you're a Snow Elf?" 

"How do you know to call them that?" She hissed. 

"My wife had a quest. We went to an ancient temple of your people. There was a priest of sorts there, a Snow Elf like you. That's what he called them." Farkas shook his head. "But he thought he was the last of your kind besides the Betrayed." 

"What temple? What priest?" 

"We call him Akatosh, but the priest said your people call him Auri-El. It was a huge place, bigger than any human temple I've ever seen. The priest was named Gelebor. He's still there, as far as I know." 

"Knight Paladin Gelebor is alive?" She couldn't believe what she was hearing! "I learned about him in our history studies! He's… and the temple is still there…" 

"Yeah. He's the only one there now." 

"How did you get through the wayshrines then? Didn't you need to go through them to get in?" 

"There were spirits guarding each one. They'd tell us their message and we'd go through." 

"How did your wife end up going there, or even know where it was? We don’t even know where it is anymore!" 

"It's a long story but basically we were dealing with vampires and needed Auri-El's bow." 

"Auri-El's bow?" She shook her head. "Bullshit! Next you're going to tell me you read it in an Elder Scroll!" 

Farkas shrugged. "We kinda did." 

"What is your wife? That is way too much stuff for one person. Is she a goddess?"

"I think she is." He smiled softly. "She's Yokudan, from Hammerfell.”

“I’m not familiar with those people, I’m afraid.”

“You probably wouldn't be. They showed up a lot later. She's also Dragonborn, and that seems to be what attracts all the strange stuff.” 

"Dovahkiin…" She frowned and waved her hand, a flash of blue light sparking from her fingers. "You're not lying…" 

"What was that?" 

"A spell we call 'Liar's Bane'. It's like clairvoyance, but so I can see if you're lying. And… you aren't." 

"I'm not. Drink? You seem better but it couldn't hurt." 

She took the tea and sipped it. It was rather nice, herbaceous and gentle. She looked over at Farkas again. "I'm sorry for freaking out." 

"It's okay. I don't blame you. That must've been quite the shock. I, uh, didn't expect to meet another Snow Elf, either." 

"Yeah, we tend to keep to our hidden places, our sanctuaries. It's the only way to stay safe." 

"I understand. Where will you go now?" 

"I'm traveling, seeing the world. I have heard stories of the Skyforge, and other places." 

"Well I'm heading home to Whiterun, and our hall is right below the Skyforge. I mean, I understand if you don't want to be anywhere near Jorrvaskr…" 

"Do you still have Auri-El's bow?" 

"We do." 

"I'd like to see it." She smiled. "I mean, if the rest of the Companions are like you, I think it'll be okay." 

"Well, my wife is our Harbinger, our leader, and she won't let anything happen to a guest. I can promise you that." 

"And if we travel together, it should be safer, right?" 

"Should be, yeah." 

A giggle burst from her lips. "A Companion and a Snow Elf walk into Whiterun…" 

"Sounds like the start of a joke. Or a good story." 

"Well, I hope it's the latter."

He gave her that gentle smile again. "I hope so, too." 

[whats-wild-to-you]

Dr. Daredevil (Jay Park AU)

Chaeyeon

The obnoxious sound of my alarm clock pierced through my ears as I stretched out an arm from under the blanket, tapping air until I finally hit the snooze button.

I was grateful to be employed as soon as I graduated med school. I was in my fourth year of residency but already an irreplaceable surgeon in the hospital I was working in. I got to do intricate procedures and perform surgeries 4th-year residents shouldn’t be able to perform yet. 

There was just one downside.

As soon as I got out of the shower I got dressed, hastily chewing on a piece of bread I grabbed off my desk. The first rays of sun pierced through the horizon. It was promising to be a lovely and warm spring day so I decided to put on a dress with flower patterns all over it, put my hair in a high ponytail and spritz some perfume on. 

As soon as I opened the door my mood shifted, like the wind, who suddenly blew from the east, carrying with it the distinct smell of farm animals.

“You’re not in Seoul anymore!” I would then tell myself before walking the short distance to the bus stop. A shuttle bus picked up all the nurses, doctors and medical staff from the surrounding villages and drove them every morning to the hospital.

And every morning I stood a good five minutes in front of the old and shabby building and asked myself if that was the best I could do.

I was never a greedy person and was genuinely happy to be working in my hometown. But if I had options, I would’ve tried to get a job in Seoul.

‘Don’t skip steps!’ Dad had always said. ‘No matter if you’re in a hurry, you must take one step at a time.’

Back then I thought about his words and although I knew he was right, I also knew he wanted me to come back home for different reasons.

My mother had become very ill, and my dad, who wasn’t in his best form either, struggled to take care of her. While I was studying in Seoul they would often call, but never visit, saying they were too busy with work. The whole time they kept me in the dark about my mother’s health.

At my graduation, my father visited me, spoke to me. I knew what I wanted to do, stay in Seoul and hustle my way through, but in the end I did what needed to be done. I did the right thing. I packed my stuff and moved back home. Soon after, I was hired by the only hospital within a 150km radius. The medical staff, nurses and doctors had been working there for a long time and I felt uncomfortable being the only new member on the staff. But they made sure to welcome me and make me feel appreciated. My dad would always brag about me, about how talented I was. It always left a bittersweet aftertaste in my mouth.

If I was so talented, why was I wasting my talent here?

I never voiced these thoughts out loud though, too ashamed of even thinking them in the first place. Instead of being grateful, I was envying those who had it better than me. 

Like Soojung, my best friend since med school. Although she never practiced medicine and married a rich husband after graduating, she now lived the life I always dreamt of.

“Are you not going in?”

“Soon.”

Lee Kangmin was a 4th-year resident, just like me. He would often ask for my help during a tricky procedure and we would have lunch together almost every day. There were no romantic feelings involved, although many colleagues would wish otherwise. Kangmin was like family to me, and the only reason I didn’t dread working in the countryside.

I was immediately bombarded with questions as soon as I entered the building. Nurses and medical staff wanted to know all kinds of stuff from me, making me feel more important than I actually was. 

“I have to see the director, but I’ll be right back soon. In the meantime, try not to kill anyone!” It was my catchphrase and people around me hollered, before going back to their posts.

I had raised an eyebrow when I received the director’s text late last night.

Come see me first thing in the morning.

I racked my brain but couldn’t come up with a good enough reason for why he would want to see me.

Did I do something wrong? Did I mess up? 

Sweating for no good reason, I turned the doorknob and entered the director’s office.

“Good morning!”

Hwang Inseok was a good-natured man in his early seventies. A cardio-thoracic surgeon in his prime himself, he now took over administrative work. He hired me on the spot, saying I was the doctor he’d been waiting for.

“I have good news. But I also have something to discuss with you.”

Hwang Inseok was always very cautious when talking to me, a mere resident. He said that excluding the attendings and the chief himself, I was the one who kept the business running, so in his eyes I was an essential part of the medical staff.

“What is it?” I didn’t like the tone of his voice. Immediately I prepared for the worst.

“As you know, we have yet to name a new chief resident. So I talked to the chief and brought up your name.”

I opened my mouth to say something, then closed it again. Hwang chuckled and got up off his swivel chair, walking up to me. 

“But there’s more.”

“More good news?”

“Depends on how you look at it.” This caught my attention. He pointed to the couch and we both sat down facing each other.

“Over the weekend I visited a friend in Seoul. Kim Donghyun.”

When Hwang realized I had no idea who Kim Donghyun was, he let out a sharp breath, smiling mischievously. 

“He’s the director at SNUH.”

“Seoul National University Hospital?”

Hwang nodded, pleased by my amazement and awe.

“We talked about lots of things and somehow we ended up talking about you!”

“Me? Why?”

“Well, he kept bragging about this young, hotshot doctor of his, and I wanted to one-up him.”

“So? Who won?”

“That’s the thing. The more I bragged about you the more I realized how unchallenged you must be. I felt bad for holding back such a bright surgeon, for letting such talent go to waste!”

“Hwang daepyonim!”

“It’s true! And my friend agreed. Also, he seemed very interested in you, so I asked him for a favor.”

“What?!”

“I asked him to hire you!”

“Ah, daepyonim!”

“He agreed to interview you. I think you should go.”

A million thoughts went through my head. There it was. My chance to rise. But was I ready?

“Hwa-”

“Before you say no, think about all the sacrifices you’ve made to become a doctor, think about how good you are and how much better you could be if guided by the excellent doctors at SNUH.”

“I know all that but-”

“Nothing’s keeping you here!”

He was right. After my parents died, I was living alone. And the truth was that since then I thought about moving to Seoul more than once. But living and working in the countryside also had its upsides. I didn’t have to worry about finding an apartment or making enough money to pay rent and be able to feed myself. I was saving a lot of money by living in my parents’ house.

“Promise me you’ll go! It’s just an interview. If you end up not getting in, you have the chief resident post waiting here for you!”

But that was it. I wanted to work at SNUH. As soon as I heard Hwang’s words, greed rose in me.

Hwang kept staring, waiting for a response. I blinked and nodded, watching his smile getting bigger.

“Though I must say I’m hurt thinking that you’re willing to let me go that easily. What will you do here without me?” It was meant as a joke but I watched as Hwang sighed, looking into the distance. Then he focused his eyes back on me.

“I’d rather struggle here to find good doctors than keep you from reaching your full potential.”

Especially after my parents’ death, I often found myself seeking Hwang’s help and expertise. If I really had a shot at SNUH I knew it was him I would miss the most.

“What did Hwang want from you?” Kangmin asked, when we sat down to eat a quick lunch later that day.

He was literally the only person I wanted to share the good news with, but as nothing was set in stone yet, I weighed my options and decided to let him know after my interview in Seoul.

Shaking my head, I replied with a full mouth. “Oh, you know, the usual!”

After a grueling shift, I headed back home, took a shower and heated up some leftover dinner from the night before. My thoughts were racing, and as much as I didn’t want to think about Seoul, it was the only thing on my mind.

Sighing, I pulled out my phone, my thumb hovering over one particular name.

‘Chaeyeon! It’s so good to hear your voice!’ Lim Soojung chirped into the phone. She sounded out of breath.

“Am I interrupting?”

‘Nonsense. I’m in the gym. On the treadmill. What’s up?’

Suddenly I regretted calling. It had been months since Soojung and I last spoke. After our graduation, our lifestyles could not have been any more different. While she married a rich business man who was 10 years older than her and told her that her only job was to be a wife and a mother, I was slaving away each day in the hospital. 

“Nothing. I just called. Actually, I th-”

‘Who are you kidding? I can tell by your voice that there’s something on your mind. C’mon, spit it out!’

“I have an interview scheduled at SNUH.”

Soojung squealed, then I heard a loud thud.

“Are you okay?”

‘I almost fell off the treadmill, from jumping too much. Chaeyeon, that’s what you always wanted! I’m so happy for you!’

“I didn’t get the job yet!”

‘If you’re as good as you say, it’s practically yours. When is the interview?’

“In a week from tomorrow.”

‘Prefect! My husband is on a business trip next week. You should come a day early, sleep at my place. That way you’d be well rested and look fabulous for your interview!’

“We’ll see!”

‘Oh, please, say yes!’

Sighing, I rolled my eyes, even though Soojung couldn’t see me.

“Fine. If you insist.”

‘It’ll be the best slumber party ever!’

I hung up and ate the rest of my now cold dinner. Trying to suppress any emotions, I told myself that SNUH was a long shot and my chances of becoming chief resident here were much bigger.

Still, that night I went to sleep, dreaming about me living in Seoul again.

~

Nervously, I sat in front of Kim Donghyun, SNUH’s director. He wasn’t as good-natured as Hwang Inseok, but not as intimidating as I imagined him to be. 

“Inseok already talked my ears off about you, but I want to hear directly from you. Why didn’t you apply for a residency here?”

“Ah, I had a situation at home, and it seemed right to work there.”

“I see. But now you’d be willing to move?”

“Yes!”

“I see here you’re in your fourth year of residency and you’ve already performed some impressive surgeries. Inseok was not wrong when he called you a genius.”

“I-” His hand shot up and my voice faltered.

“No. Take the compliment. You absolutely deserve it.”

Half an hour later I walked out of the hospital, walking through the streets like I had just seen a ghost. Fortunately, Soojung, who drove me there, was waiting for me in a nearby café. As soon as she saw me walking up to her, she got up embracing me in her arms.

“It’s oka-”

“I got it.”

“What?!” She was holding me at an arm’s length, studying my face to see if I was joking.

“I got the job.”

“Oh my God! Yes! I knew it!”

I giggled, wanting to remind her that she was ready to comfort me just moments ago.

“Ah, that? Oh, I was just confused because you looked so gloomy. Why the long face? Aren’t you happy?”

“I should be happy, right? It’s just ... I feel like I’m betraying Hwang Inseok.”

“He was the one who told you to go! I bet he’ll be thrilled to hear the good news!”

Anxiously biting on my bottom lip, I dialed his number, silently praying that he would be too busy to pick up my call.

When he picked up after the fourth ring, I cussed under my breath.

‘How did it go?’

“I got the job.”

‘Of course you did. Congratulations! I knew you would succeed. We must celebrate!’

“Well, I’ll be back tomorrow, so don’t tell anyone just yet.”

‘You got it! See you tomorrow!’

“Why don’t you want him to announce it?”

“Hmm? No reason. I’d just like to do it myself.”

The first thing I thought when Kim Donghyun offered me the job was Lee Kangmin. I did refuse to tell him about it earlier and was regretting it now.

“Is there someone you don’t want to leave behind?” Soojung asked cautiously, but when our eyes met, hers grew big. 

“There is? Tell me everything!”

“It’s not like that! He’s a cherished colleague, that’s all!”

“Uh huh, sure!”

I smiled involuntarily, amused by Soojung’s carefree demeanor. Only then I realized how miserable I have been all this time.

“Ha! You’re smiling. It means I’m right! Tell me, what’s his name?”

~

Lee Kangmin was of course excited to hear the good news. Everyone was. And even though they congratulated me, throwing me a farewell party, I could see the sadness in their eyes. Especially in those of Lee Kangmin. 

That night I asked him if he wanted to come to my house for coffee.

“Are you having second thoughts?” He asked, casually plopping down on the sofa.

My silence was an even stronger answer than any denial.

“I feel like I’m letting everybody down!”

“You’re just too nice, Chae! Every attending knows this. They take advantage of you. They’re only disappointed because from now on they’ll have to do their own procedures.” Kangmin stated, shrugging.

“So, you’re not mad?”

“Me? Why would I be mad? Because you didn’t put in a good word for me as well? Nooo!”

“Wait. Maybe I should!”

“Now that would definitely piss off Hwang. He may be fine losing you but if I leave as well, the place will crumble.”

I laughed wholeheartedly, glad that Kangmin understood and supported me. “Yeah, you’re right. We can’t let that happen!”

~

A week later I had packed all my belongings and had loaded them up in a moving truck.

Soojung was busy hunting down an apartment for me. So far all the suggestions she sent me were outside my budget.

‘Don’t worry, I’ll help you get an apartment that’s close to the hospital and also spacious enough.’

In the end she decided more or less for me. The apartment looked big, and expensive. But when I asked her about the price she said it was within the budget.

When I arrived there, she was already waiting for me.

“So? Did I promise too much?”

“There’s no way this apartment is only 1.000.000krw! Where’s the catch? What did you do?”

“What do you mean? I did nothing. I negotiated. Also, my husband knows the building owner and he got a special deal.”

“Ya! Lim Soojung!”

“It’s Yoon now! Besides, I wanted to make sure nothing would get in the way of you moving here.”

I sighed, but started unpacking my things anyway. Soojung helped along and we were able to finish setting up everything.

“I already booked us in for a full day at the spa on Sunday, and tomorrow we’re going shopping!”

~

After a relaxing weekend, I stood in front of my chief resident I was supposed to shadow for a week. I knew nothing about her, but her appearance told me she must’ve been a nerd in school. Just like me.

“… and this is the break room. Usually it’s empty, so if you need a couple minutes of quiet, you can come here during the day.” She offered, repositioning the glasses on the bridge of her nose. 

Not too long ago I looked like her, wearing horn-rimmed glasses. Until I decided to get Lasik.

“Thanks.” I beamed at her, grateful that she offered to show me around.

“Any questions?” She stammered while struggling to balance the patients’ folders in her arms. I shook my head.

“Okay, then. Follow me. We’ll start with rounds. But first we need to gather our interns. They’re an odd bunch and still wet behind the ears but they’re eager to impress you so they’ll do everything you tell them to.”

Nodding, I took notes, walking down the aisle next to Ahn So Hee.

“Don’t worry! In a few days it’ll feel like you’ve been with us forever.”

“I hope so.” I released a desperate sigh. “Switching workplaces makes me nervous. I’m confident in my skills, but no one here knows that yet, so in their eyes I look inexperienced.”

“I’ve read your resume, trust me, soon they’ll find out what a great surgeon you are.”

Ahn So Hee’s reassuring words calmed my tense nerves and allowed me to relax my muscles. My shoulders dropped and I puffed up my chest, walking more confidently.

“Oh, and here’s a little insider tip. The vending machines by the elevators have the best coffee!”

Smiling, she ushered me towards them and bought me a cup of the steaming beverage. It was pretty decent for vending machine coffee and a welcomed remedy for my oncoming headache.

“Ugh, I almost forgot about him.” I heard So Hee mumble next to me, her head turned to the side, eyes glued on a bunch of doctors coming down the stairs. 

I followed her gaze curiously. I saw the doctors walking next to a guy, as if they were protecting him, shielding him from any unwanted interactions. Despite having his back turned towards me, he looked very familiar.

When he turned around, walking towards us, I gasped audibly, quickly raising a hand to cover my mouth.

“Park Jaebeom?”

“You know him?” I heard So Hee’s incredulous voice, but she sounded very far away.

He walked with quick steps towards us, the mostly older doctors walking with him struggling to keep up with his pace. My breath caught in my throat as he approached me. A million questions ran through my mind. I was about to open my mouth and greet him when I realized he wasn’t even looking at me, just passed by without acknowledging my presence and got in the elevator.

What in the fresh hell is Park Jaebeom doing here?

-> next chapter

[irregularmelody]

I don't exactly know when my passion for writing began. One of my earliest works dates back to 2016, where I wrote for popular media back at the time like Miraculous Ladybug and Five Nights at Freddy's. I was a child with a phone in my hand and infinite liberty on the internet. Perhaps I fell down a rabbit hole and came to realize now. 

Like everything I do, I felt insecure about it. I still do. Even though I was eleven years old, half mindless of my online behavior, I put effort into it. My lexicon wasn't perfect and my writing style was terribly wonk. Lots of spelling mistakes. Formatting? Never heard of it. Planning concepts and scheming out a proper narrative? Nope! Wrote whatever came to my mind, regardless of continuity. 

It naturally came to me, inspired by the works of the others. I wanted to give it a try. And it naturally flourished. With it, slowly was born things such as media literacy, analytical skills, comprehension of symbolisms and metaphors. You know, the whole deal. It was a journey of learning and growth through those eight years. 

I self-taught myself by the way. I analyzed others' works and carefully picked out elements that interested me and those that didn't. Never did I watch or read tips in writing or ever participated in circles meant for beginners. Like always, I prefer to be an autodidact. If there's a word I don't know, I immediately go after its meaning. I have read pages about literary movements such as surrealism, symbolism, realism. I ended up finding my place in symbolism. And just like that, little by little, I molded my writing style. It's nothing special nor revolutionary but I am proud of it.  

Then, I stopped it. 

What do I mean by that? I stopped writing for IPs as a personal project of mine created and assembled in 2020 was born. During that time, I have watched Neon Genesis Evangelion (2019) and Puella Magi Madoka Magica (early 2020, before the pandemic hit). Its themes, its narrative and the overall way they were told made an impact on me. That was it. It was the trigger for the desire to write something original. Something that came from the deepest parts of my mind, unstoppable creativity.

It's still in progress. 

As I focused on this project, I haven't written anything for a piece of media I knew in a very, very long time. I had settled in being a reader rather than a writer out there in places like AO3 and Wattpad. Of course, being the way I am, I developed the art of analyzing (characters and narratives) and writing walls of texts picking apart the smallest of details I found interesting. Madoka Magica is there as proof. Nowadays, poor Null. 

And speaking about Null. Oh, well. What a shocking plot twist. I never saw this one coming. 

A flame I thought it had long lost has been snuffed, rekindled. And the culprit? The Baldi's Basics franchise. More specifically, Null and his little spectacle in Classic Remastered. It has been a while since a character got such a firm grip on me. Homura Akemi was soloing her stay on the podium for four years and this invisible bastard came and decided he wanted to share it. Yes, share it because I love them equally. Same level of obsession. 

It is kind of a rabbit hole of how I got into BBIEAL only now when I knew the game since 2018 but the earliest checkpoint in this entire thing is after the completion of the 404 page arg in the Basically, Games! website. The password one. Skipping a few details aside, the Down by the Docks arg (created by someone who later became my friend, woohoo!) happened and after a few days of its end, a terrible, horrid voice came to my head.

An idea and a proposal. Write something for it. And post it.

…I don't want to spill too much details of the absolute mental torture I put myself through when this popped up in my mind. All I got to say is, HOLY SHIT, IT WAS HELL. I was constantly beating myself over it until I finally got a grip, wrote it and posted it under anonymity. I didn't have the balls to expose myself out there yet. I called the creator and showed it to him and waited for the inferno to arise while I hid in the shadows. At least I had an advantage, they will never know it was me!

Incomprehensible whiplash followed suit as I was met with positive reactions. They liked what I wrote. Even called it a love letter. Maybe it is, I was so overcome with emotions while I wrote that and it spilled onto my words without me knowing. It had been so long since I wrote anything outside my personal project and it was for the Baldi's Basics franchise, for a fantastic arg, for Null. My notes on that work shows my dumbfoundedness. I was surprised with myself. I was surprised by everything.

Time moves forward, other experiences happened and I found myself writing again. Not for my project but for… Yeah. Baldi's Basics. Null. I am a writer inside this community. I am a writer for this community. I vaguely remember once tweeting on how I would stop being so shameful of my works and proudly expose them for the world. So I did. I removed the anonymity and now my name is there for all eyes to see. 

As I speak here, I currently have five works for the Baldi's Basics tag on AO3. Every time I receive a comment, I want to run away from it like a frightened child but all these feelings dissipate when I see that people actually enjoy what I write. Hoping for more. Call me stupid, call me emotional. It makes me want to cry sometimes. 

This insecurity of mine is a matter I have to work on but I promise, as long as I keep writing for this community, my name will forever remain in display. Writing is my tender love and writing for a circle that received me so well is deserving of my blessings. Thank you.

[ritualoftheancients]

Ritual of the Ancients Chapter 16: Armed and Dangerous

by Roan Rosser

This is a chapter of a complete vampire novel with a trans-masc main character and a gay romance subplot. New Chapters are posted every Sunday. If you like the novel and want to support the author, ebook and paperback copies can be purchased here.

*****

I knew by now what would happen as I dreamed, so when I opened my eyes to find myself somewhere else surrounded by strangers, I wasn’t too surprised. A pretty blonde woman who I judged to be in her late thirties, wearing a stylish business suit and high heels, stalked back and forth in front of me. I couldn’t turn my head, but out of the corner of my eye I recognized the person standing next to me as the other officer from my apartment: Kevin’s partner.

The woman stopped her pacing in front of me and regarded me with narrowed eyes and crossed arms. “What do you mean he was spotted at the police station?”

“I got a ping that someone accessed the file from the bullpen downtown. I called a contact in the building, and that’s the description they gave me,” I said in a deep, male voice.

“That’s not possible. Fredo said he’d shot him through the heart. He’s dead,” the woman snapped. Her face was twisted up in a scowl so deep it was cracking her expertly applied makeup.

I mentally facepalmed. A disguise might have been a good idea. Too late now.

“I don’t know what else to tell you, Lady Ann.” I shrugged and put my hands out in a placating gesture. “My contact is on his way to round them up. You can ask him yourself once they bring them in.”

“′Them’? He isn’t alone?” Lady Ann’s scowl turned to puzzlement.

“No, he’s got some Indian guy with him. I told my contact to scoop them both up.”

“Interesting he has allies I didn’t know about.” Lady Ann tapped her foot. “I’ve been keeping close tabs on him. I wonder…”

I exchanged a long glance with Kevin���s partner as Lady Ann stalked over to her desk and opened an old book that sat on top. The pages were stiff and yellowed with age. She was muttering, mostly to herself, but loud enough I could hear it.

“First Rom, now Fredo. I trust them both. They wouldn’t have lied to me. Perhaps he used it?” She flipped carefully through the book’s pages until she found what she was looking for, then ran a finger down the page and tapped something I couldn’t see. She opened a day-planner and compared it to the page. “Impossible. The new moon isn’t for a few more days…”

My cell phone pinged. I looked at Lady Ann, still muttering to herself while looking at the book and the planner. “Ma’am? It might be my contact.” “Go ahead,” she said without looking up.

I pulled the phone out of my back pocket and turned it on to see a text message. I read it out loud to the room. “Everett escaped, but they got the guy he was with. They’re bringing him to the warehouse.”

“Hmm. Could be worse.” Lady Ann closed the book and grabbed the day planner. “Maybe he can answer a few of my questions.”

***

I woke up to the buzz of an alarm. I’d set it for an hour before sunset, so I’d have time to shower and freshen up before seeing Jack. I shook off the weird memory of Kevin’s and got up. All and all, I preferred Hubbs’s orgies to Kevin’s intrigue.

At least I knew what Lady Ann looked like now, though I wasn’t sure how I could make use of that information.

The shower stall proved to be as tight as it had looked on initial inspection. I was not a big guy; I’d even been referred to a few times when I’d passed in the gay bars as a “twink”, which simultaneously sent thrills of joy through me and pissed me off. It wasn’t like I could help being short. Yet my shoulders almost brushed the sides of the shower. Sadly I didn’t have any other clothes to change into, so I had put back on the dirty T-shirt and bullet-hole-filled, blood-stained pants that I’d worn the day before.

Once I was ready, I climbed the basement stairs to the kitchen door, but the door was locked. I knocked on it, but no one answered. I waited for a bit and knocked again. Still no answer, so I went back downstairs and flopped on the couch.

Bored, I turned on the TV using the remote I found on the side table. It showed an ad for a moment before cutting back to two news announcers.

The woman announcer smiled and began speaking. “Welcome back to KATU Evening News. In local news, Portland residents are urged to keep their eyes out for Everett Boesch, who is wanted by police in the murder of her roommate, Lindsay Spakes.”

I cringed and leaned forward, both repulsed and curious about what else they had to say.

The camera moved to focus on the male newscaster, and my picture appeared to the side. It was the one taken by the museum for my work badge, so not only did the yellowish lighting make my skin look sallow, it was from before I started hormones. I winced.

The newscaster began speaking. “Citizens are urged to call 911 to report sightings of this individual, who police say is armed and dangerous. In addition to attacking an officer at his home last night, Everett is also suspected of stealing several valuable pieces from the Portland Art Museum. Everett Boesch, also known as—”

I flipped the TV off in disgust, then leaned forward, putting my head between my knees and wrapping my hands around the back my head. My breathing became shallower and I felt like crying. I recognized the start of a panic attack.

Not only was I being accused of murder, but I’d just been deadnamed on local TV. I wasn’t out as trans to many people, especially since I’d been able to pass fairly well before hormones, at least until I opened my mouth.

And hormones had taken care of that problem.

Although I supposed as a vampire, my old life had already been lost.

As the initial burst of dread and panic wore off, I started to realize I didn’t really have much in my old life that I would regret losing. I’d already lost my best friend and my family when I’d come out.

That sent a renewed burst of panic through me that sent me bolting straight up. God, what if my parents saw this? They were going to think I was a thief and a murderer. Well, I was a thief, but it wasn’t like I wanted my parents to know that. In fact, I’d been hoping that after a while they’d cool off, and we could reconnect, but that wouldn’t happen if they believed the news report.

In the silence, the creaking of the floor above could be heard clearly. I jumped to my feet and scrambled back up the stairs to pound on the locked door. “Jack! Jack!”

Jack’s shoes squeaked on the linoleum as he came over to the door.

“Everett? What’s the big emergency?” His voice was muffled, but audible.

“The door’s locked!” I jiggled the knob for emphasis.

“Yeah, because it’s not safe for you to come out yet. Give it another fifteen for the sun to finish setting while I put these groceries away, then I’ll unlock it.” His shoes squeaked as he retreated for a few steps before coming back. “Oh, and Zoe dropped by some food for you too. I’ll warm one up and send it down in the dumbwaiter. I’d feel better if you drank it before you came up.”

“Dumbwaiter?” I repeated, thinking I’d misheard.

“Yeah, you know, it’s a little elevator for sending food and drink up and down floors. I think the door is next to the couch down there.” Jack’s voice faded, and a moment later I could hear him rummaging around in the kitchen.

I stomped back down the stairs and looked around. There was a small, square, wooden door set into the wall. I’d opened it last night before bed while exploring the apartment, and just figured it was an empty cupboard.

Rather than sitting back down on the couch to wait, I paced the living room, trying to think. I needed to get a message to my family, explain what happened, that I wasn’t a murderer. But how?

I sat on the couch and turned on the tablet. A quick internet search on how to send anonymous emails directed me to a helpful website that would send the message on my behalf, so it wouldn’t reveal my IP address if Lady Ann’s IT thugs intercepted it. Perfect.

I couldn’t remember my mom’s email address, so I flipped over to another tab and signed in to my online email client. I figured that would be safe enough. I hadn’t been able to check my email in days, and my account showed over two-hundred unread messages. I was going to ignore them, but the subject line of one of the newest emails caught my attention.

“EVERETT, PENDANT TONIGHT OR PARENTS DIE”,received just fifteen minutes ago.

“Shit, well, that’s straight to the point,” I muttered to myself as I flipped back to the anonymous email website and deleted most of what I’d already written into the message body box.

There was a rattling noise and then the cupboard dinged helpfully. At almost the same time Jack yelled, so muffled I barely heard it, “Dinner!”

I rolled my eyes and tapped out a new message to my mom. “Mom, this is Everett. I didn’t kill anyone, and you and Dad are in danger. Get somewhere safe, NOT the police. They can’t be trusted. Love you. Everett.”

I hit send before I could overthink it and then closed the tab. I left my email open for now so I could show Jack the threat.

I opened the dumbwaiter door to find a microwaved bottle of steaming blood—ick—and, praise Jack’s name to the heavens, a new set of clothes in my size. I choked down the blood before changing into the fresh clothes. They were just cheap Walmart brands, but tasteful. The shirt was button-up in a color that went with my lighter skin tone, and the jeans had a simple, straight leg.

I heard the click of the lock disengaging as I finished dressing. I grabbed the tablet and the empty bottle, then jogged up the stairs and burst into the kitchen.

Jack sat at the kitchen table, about to take the first bite of a freshly made sandwich. He set it down without taking a bite and gave me an amused look as I pulled out a chair and sat down across from him.

“Early bird gets the worm is not a motto for vampires to live by. Sunset is no joke. Get the timing wrong and you’re toast.” Jack picked his sandwich back up and took a big bite.

“You need to see this.” I set the empty bottle aside so I could turn on the tablet, then flipped it around to show Jack the threatening email.

Jack finished chewing and swallowing while he glanced at the screen, then he sighed. “You weren’t supposed to get into your email, Everett. No contact, remember?”

“I didn’t send anything from it!” I protested, lowering the tablet to lay flat on the table. “I thought it would be okay to at least look at it. She’s going after my parents, Jack.”

Jack sighed again and let go of one side of his sandwich to put a hand over mine. “She’s just trying to flush you out, Ev. If you don’t try to contact them, she’ll leave them alone. No reason to get her hands dirty if she doesn’t have to.” He pulled his hand away and went back to eating.

I chewed on my lower lip, letting Jack eat in silence. I thought watching Jack eat would make me hungry. After all, I hadn’t had anything to eat but blood for days, but strangely, while watching Jack did make me want food, the smell of the turkey and cheese from the sandwich wasn’t appealing at all, and actually made me wrinkle my nose. I fiddled with the tablet, trying to ignore the smell, and impatiently waiting for Jack to finish eating.

As he ate, Jack kept glancing at me, his frown deepening between each bite. When he finished, he pushed the plate away and laced his hands together on the table, giving me a hard look.

“You tried to contact them, didn’t you?”

“I needed to warn them! I sent it through an anonymous web service, so it didn’t come from my email. She can’t use it to trace back to my location, so it’s fine, right?”

I cringed at Jack’s narrowed eyes and deepening frown as I blurted out my confession.

“No contact means no contact!” Jack yelled. He pushed back from the table so hard his chair almost fell over, stomped a few paces away, then turned his back on me with his fists clenched at his side. He blew out a deep breath and turned back around, crossing his arms. “Everett, sending the warning, even anonymously, means that you saw the threat and it got to you. If you didn’t respond, she wouldn’t know if you even saw the email, and that if she killed them, she’d lose potential leverage over you later. It doesn’t matter if she can trace it back to you. Now all she has to do is stake out your parents and kill you when you show up.”

I frowned. “So I just don’t show up.”

Jack shook his head. “Then she’ll kill them. If she doesn’t now that you’ve acknowledged the threat, she’ll lose face. Let me see the email again.

Is there a time limit?”

I brought the email back up. “Yeah, 2:00 am.”

Jack took the tablet from me and clicked on the screen, growing thoughtful. “This was sent just after sunset. And the time limit… Vampire hours.” He scrolled back through my unread messages. “Look, here. She sent you other messages over the last few days, mostly during the day. But tonight, she waited until dark. Did she somehow figure out you’re a vampire now?” He was speaking low, mostly to himself, but I decided to respond as if he’d asked me the question.

“I don’t know how she would have. I doubt she’s part of the supernatural community.”

“True. If she knew about the supernatural world, I wouldn’t have been able to escape from her thugs the way I did. Still.” Jack shook his head and closed my email. “It’s suspicious.”

I shrugged, but my hands were shaking. I clasped them together and put them in my lap. “What do we do now then?”

“First, we don’t panic. I’m going to make a few calls, see what we can do from here.” Jack grabbed the phone handset. “C’mon, let’s go to the living room. Better seating.”

I stayed sitting where I was, trying to hold back tears. I could tell it was time for my T shot by how emotional I was getting.

Jack came back and crouched down next to me. “I shouldn’t have yelled, I’m sorry. I should have been more explicit in my instructions and explained why no contact was so important.”

“It’s okay,” I mumbled. “I should have known better. Seeing myself all over the news and then the email, I panicked.”

“News?” Jack frowned.

“When I first found the door locked, I was bored. I turned on the TV, and the news was on. They were all but calling me a murderer, and then they outed me, misgendered me, and deadnamed me.” Remembering this the dam burst, and I couldn’t hold back the tears anymore.

“Goddess damn it,” Jack muttered and leaned forward to wrap me in a hug, letting me sob into his shoulder. “Yeah, I can see why you were on edge. I’m betting that was part of her plan to flush you out.”

“Well, it’s working.” Feeling a little better now, I sat back and dabbed at my eyes with my shirt collar.

“She’s had a while to study you. To have contacted you that quickly after you had to drop out of school… She’s had her eye on you for a while. Longer than you’d think. She’ll know all the right places to apply pressure, like with your roommate.” Jack rocked back to his feet and then offered a hand to me.

I took it, and allowed Jack to pull me up and lead me into the living room. “But why go after my parents? We’re estranged. I haven’t talked to them since the day I came out,” I protested as we sat down together on the sofa.

Jack gave me a patient smile. “Have you tried to contact them since then?”

“Of course! My brother, Michael, he works at Dad’s shop. I talk to him fairly often, ask him to pass on messages. But they never call me back.”

Jack made a finger-gun and pointed it at me. “Bang. She’s got you. She knew you’d care if she threatened them because of those calls.”

“How’d she…” I paused. Mobster. Crime boss. “She had my phones tapped?”

“That’d be my guess,” Jack agreed, lifting the handset. “Now, what city do they live in? I’m going to ask the office to do a welfare check.”

“Hood River.” I gave Jack their address and phone numbers from memory. “But do you think it’s a good idea to call Stacy for help?”

“It’s dangerous for you to leave the house.” Jack finished dialing and lifted the phone to his ear.

“Do you have to tell Stacy what I did?” I pleaded with him while the phone rang. “I’m already embarrassed enough about it. We’ll just pop out there and make sure they’re safe, and Stacy will never have to know.”

“You know I can’t do that, Everett,” Jack said, putting a hand over the receiver. “Her voicemail just came on; she must not have gotten to the office yet. I’ll leave a message, and she’ll call us back when she gets in.”

***

Stacy called back about fifteen minutes later. Jack answered and put the handset on speakerphone mode.

“Hi, Jack. I got your message.” Stacy’s tone was sharp. I bolted upright. “Then, you can send someone to—”

“No,” Stacy cut me off. “This is a human matter. We can’t get involved.”

“Can’t or won’t?” I growled, leaning down close to the speaker. “It’s my parents!”

“Fine, won’t. Your parents, who are still human, are being threatened by a human. Therefore, this is a human matter.” I tried to speak again, and Stacy talked over me. “You didn’t go through the normal process for new vampires, so I wouldn’t expect you to know this, and perhaps Jack didn’t know this either, still being relatively new to the community, but before a human is allowed to become a vampire they are expected to fake their death and then cut all ties with their old human life.”

“What?” I sank back into the couch, stunned, and glanced at Jack, who looked just as confused. “But why?”

“This is exactly the reason. You are tempted to use your newfound abilities to run to your parents’ rescue, I can hear it in your voice, but what happens then? Someone sees you and word gets out about us.”

“That doesn’t make any sense,” Jack said, shaking his head. “Obviously my circumstances are different. I’d been reported shot in the throat in full view of witnesses, but normally shapeshifters can go right back to their human life like nothing happened.”

Stacy’s tone softened. “But you age only slightly slower than normal humans. How would you feel if you had to watch your loved ones fade away and die of old age while you remain the same? Trust me, it’s easier this way.”

I frowned. Living forever hadn’t even occurred to me yet since I was just trying to just survive till tomorrow. I shifted uncomfortably. “So I’m just supposed to let them die?” I whispered in disbelief. I felt numb. I’d always thought that they’d come around and I’d reconcile with them. That couldn’t happen if they were dead.

Jack slipped an arm around my shoulder and hugged me close, offering silent comfort.

“But, the person after them is the same person after me,” I said, trying another tack. “Doesn’t that make it a matter for supernaturals?”

“You know this for certain?” Stacy asked.

“Who else would it be?” My voice raised at the end and I sat forward. I knew I was starting to panic. I even felt my fangs trying to come down. Jack tugged me back down and I closed my eyes, silently counting to ten while doing deep breathing exercises to calm myself. Meanwhile, Jack began gently rubbing my shoulders.

Stacy’s sigh was audible over the speaker. “Jack, Everett sounds a little on edge. Any worries he’ll attack you?”

“No, he’s fine. His fangs came down, but he caught himself.” Jack sounded relaxed and jovial, but I noticed he didn’t stop rubbing.

“I still can’t believe he is less than a week changed,” Stacy said. “Now, as to the matter at hand of the person or persons after you, Jack’s earlier voicemail explained the situation. I’ll bring the matter up to the council on what is to be done about your unique situation. This matter is urgent enough that I’ve scheduled an emergency council meeting for tomorrow night—”

“Tomorrow?” I yelled, appalled. By then it would be too late for my parents. Jack pulled his hands back and frowned at the phone.

“Do not cut me off. The council members are busy people. You’re lucky it is happening so quickly. What is that modern expression?” She paused and I could hear a pencil tapping. “Ah, yes, beggars can’t be choosers. In the meantime, you are safe enough where you are for the moment, so just sit tight.”

“But—”

Stacy tutted, her voice hard as steel. “Do you think I like being down a staff member for another two nights? Jack has to stay in hiding too until this has been resolved, since you’ve already managed to involve him in this madness by getting him kidnapped.”

The line went dead. I reached over and turned off the handset, then rested my head in my hands with a groan.

“How did you do it?” I asked Jack without looking up. “Leave behind everything and start over?”

Jack sighed, and he sat near enough that I could feel him fidgeting. “I’m still not sure. I don’t know if it helps or hurts that I regularly get on social media to look at updates of their lives. I’m probably not the best person to talk to about letting go. They think I’m dead, better to keep it that way.”

“What would you do, in my situation then? If you knew that they were in mortal danger, but were told not to do anything about it?” I finally lifted my head and glanced sideways up at Jack. He looked lost and sad.

Jack stared down at me in silence for a long moment, then turned away and crossed his arms over his chest. “I wouldn’t do anything.” His voice was tight and his shoulders tensed as he talked. “I’d let them go. Mourn them.”

“Would you? Really? You wouldn’t try to save them?” I sat up, focusing on Jack’s profile and the clench of his jaw.

“No.” The muscle on his jaw jumped. He was lying. “It would hurt too much to see them knowing I’d have to disappear on them again. You should listen to Stacy, she knows what she’s talking about. Even if you do save them, once things settle you’ll have to fake your death and never see them again anyway.”

“I’d rather have them alive and thinking I’m dead than have them dead.”

“That’s a little selfish, don’t you think?” Jack turned back to face me, eyes bright with unshed tears. His arms were still tightly crossed.

I narrowed my eyes at Jack and crossed my own arms defensively.

“Selfish? How do you figure that?”

“You’re okay with them alive and mourning you, but you aren’t willing to be the one alive and mourning them!” Jack yelled. He uncrossed his arms and stood, walking a few steps away, fists clenching and unclenching at his sides, then he whirled back. “You want to have your cake and eat it too. I’ve had to watch from afar as grief drove my father back into alcoholism and broke up my parent’s marriage. My faked death tore my family apart. You think your death won’t do the same to your family? Yes, it’s a sham, but they don’t know that.”

I rocked back, feeling as though I’d been punched. I jumped to my feet, feeling flush with anger, and yelled back, “Of course my death won’t tear my family apart. They’ve been pretending I’ve been dead for most of this last year already. Not going to make much difference if there is a coffin and a headstone now to make it official!”

“So why do you want to save them so badly?” Jack asked, his voice so quiet I barely heard him.

I stammered, not sure how to put my complicated feelings into words. My shoulders slumped and I felt as if I were deflating. I hugged myself and turned my back on Jack, trying not to cry. “I don’t know. I guess I don’t want them to die with us still estranged like this.”

Jack sighed and wrapped me in a hug from behind, resting his cheek on the side of my head. His solid presence helped me to center myself and I closed my eyes, choking back my tears.

“Alright, I’ll help you.” Jack said it so quietly I thought I’d misheard.

“You, what?”

His breath tickled my ear. “I’ll help you warn them. But—” He held up a hand as I broke free of his embrace and turned to face him with wide eyes. “—only what we can do without leaving the house. It’s too risky to be on the streets of Portland for you right now, especially since it seems your would-be killers might know about your little secret.”

“Thank you,” I said. “I just hope it’s enough to save them!”

[teacupsandcyanide]

Other Inge highlights because people in the tags love her/crone (to be clear: she hasn't told me that crone wants to use exclusively crone/crones/croneself, crones irritation seems to be that no one in crones life but me will use cronouns for crone, so I use she/crone):

Inge recently told me that crone thought for a long time crone just doesn’t get along with people crones age and preferred hanging out with Youths, but then one day crone realised that it’s just that crone likes hanging out with neurodivergent trans people.

I spent most of this year working with Inge editing her PhD, which was fun because it was fun, but also because I got to receive amazing, unhinged emails from her. She has an impressive mastery of the English language and yet her texts and emails are like crime scenes, or perhaps the war-ravaged battle fields of historical fantasy. You take one look and say, “something terrible happened here.” Spelling is the first casualty. Sentence structure is but the dismembered corpse of a once stalwart soldier. They have to be decoded, and now, after five months of working with her, it comes so easily to me that I suspect the illness has been transmitted.

Also once crone sent me an email that just ended in “SHIT”, followed by the usual “warm regards” auto signature. My other favourite email includes a reply to one of my questions about hamlet names - I had asked why the list included a Nakl, a Nakl 1, and a Nakl 2. Inge replied in all caps: “THERE IS A NAKL 1 AND A NAKL 2”. I showed it to my partner and we now repeat it to each other whenever the going gets tough. The funniest thing was that, like I said, I knew exactly what crone meant. Which does make me feel like I’ve been trained to speak the language of the damned.

I eventually found out that the reason Inge’s email and text style is so idiosyncratic is that crone uses voice to text, and then apparently just hits send without reading back, letting crones unedited messages launch themselves into the stratosphere like so many flying monkeys. I realised this when, five minutes or so into one of our zoom calls, crone told me that crone had forgotten to turn off crones voice to text on crones phone, and the text had maxed out and sent. So I got this:

This makes the SHIT email even funnier to me, because my mental image of Inge typing out SHIT has now been replaced by the mental image of her yelling SHIT at her phone.

The last time I saw crone in person I taught crone how to floss and crone did so with great enthusiasm despite having polio. Crone then told me crone had decided that my gender was Oscar Wilde.

Inge vehemently believes that not feeding one’s dog/s a bit of whatever meal one is eating is “breaking the social contract”. She’s started one-sided philosophical debates about this with family members who fail to share their dinners with their dogs in front of her. When we last had dinner together she scolded my brother’s cat for jumping up on the counter and sniffing the food, and when I said, “but, Inge, what about the social contract!” she told me it didn’t apply to cats.

If you enjoy my evil crone friend please consider donating or reblogging my post here raising money for medical funds in Papua New Guinea. Inge spent decades living and doing anthropological fieldwork there and has been trying to set up Covid and other health support facilities for isolated communities currently dangerously low on medical resources. Many of these people are family or friends Inge lived and worked with, or their descendants - people who helped make crone the insane old crone crone is today.

rounding out the night with more family posting, my sibling’s grandmother Inge was talking to me a couple weeks ago about deciding on using ‘crone/it’ pronouns. This is an update from two Christmases ago when Inge was ruminating on becoming a political they/them to confuse and upset fellow academics at conferences.