#olivia is getting increasingly more and more frustrated and then she finds out that the teleportation technology jackie developed gasp

[arolesbianism]

Oh oxygen not included printing pod we're rly in it now

[serenabenson]

prev post re: the state of the brainrot not actually good enough at conveying what a crazy-making experience it is to care about svu In These Times, but especially from summer to winter 2022 so i am deleting it in favor of this, which is a journal entry from july 14, 2022, to try and get it across:

---

on my screen, as i eat ice cream, olivia is in an interrogation room, leaning over a man accused of killing his lover, her tone firm and the camera looking straight down her shirt. she’s saying “I’m serious. he will break your arm.” i watch, and watch, until executive producer dick wolf flashes on the screen, and then close my computer. It’s late, and that was the only source of light in my bedroom. in the dark, i immediately fall asleep.

the next day i go to work, listening to wnyc where a journalist is talking about a doj investigation into the nypd’s special victims division and woman after woman after woman calls in, voices steeled against wavering, suppressing anger, outrage, nerves, all beginning to speak their piece by saying “thank you brian. my name is” 

and 

in 2015 I and 

in 2018 I and 

in 2017 I and 

by the end of the segment i have made it into my office, and am pressing the palms of my hands into my eyes hard enough for it hurt to keep from crying at my desk. in palm reading the mount of venus is supposed to foretell health, vitality, energy, and right now mine must all have rain in my future, but that’s mixing metaphors. i consider walking to the women’s bathroom to break down in private. i consider screaming. before i can decide, a commercial rolls, and then the next story begins about outdoor theater and an email comes in that says “Good morning, I hope this email finds you well.” i look out the window and see the smog, and try to imagine someone coming up to me in pain and ignoring them. i talk to no one. instead of doing any of it, i pull open my phone and text my sister “helloooooo i love you” and then mute notifications. on my computer screen, i click “reply all.”

later i will feel guilty in my own head for only being able to think about this through the prism of how it makes me feel, and then have an increasingly accusatory socratic dialogue running in the background of my head about it for hours that exhausts both arguing sides of my mind. i wonder if i’m going to be fired. frustrated, aggrieved, tangled in knots, i finally just open the bookmark for [local women's shelter] to donate money because there is nothing else for me to do. there is a hole in my chest the size of the gap in the ozone over antarctica. do no harm. do no harm. do no harm. i think about how today i brought my lunch in an overpriced reusable bag, and packed it in beeswax wrap, as if it means anything, and then remember that i didn’t eat it, so i’ll have to take it back home when i leave. at 2PM i text [the guy] back, answering the “dinner later?” message i've been ignoring, with “no- sorry, tonight i can’t. soon tho, i’ll let you know” and then open up google news again to read an article about war crimes in ukraine sandwiched between three more articles about a ten year old rape victim trying to receive an abortion. i wonder if it would help if i walked down to battery park and watched the river, because keats said then on the shore / Of the wide world I stand alone, and think / Till love and fame to nothingness do sink. i open up outlook again.

when i get home, i eat the lunch i should have had earlier. later, i queue up another episode. by the end, a woman is screaming in the hospital after being set on fire by her husband. she’s screaming and screaming and screaming, the sound echoing down the halls and straight through the screen, straight into my skull where it takes on a life of its own. executive producer dick wolf, fade to black. i think: i should call my mom. and then, immediately: stop. 

i put some ice cream in a bowl. i look at my phone to check [roommate]'s location, to make sure that she's still at the restaurant she said she was going to with [her male coworker], like she asked. i go back to bed and press next episode. in the criminal justice system, sexually based offenses are considered especially heinous. the voiceover makes me nauseous. i fall asleep to it anyway. outside my bedroom, it all keeps churning.

[itwasrealtome]

OUTSIDE THE LIE

I- American Party

⚠️ TW: Mentions the Russian Mafia, alcohol, drugs, inappropriate behavior [kissing sessions, dominant behavior, insinuation of prostitution]

Tonight You Are Mine "In a sense, I'm nothing less than who you claim to be." — The Technicolors

XXX

Tribeca, NY Present time

THE HANDS on her watch seemed to challenge Olivia.

Just a few more minutes and the ordeal would come to an end. She took a deep breath and wiped the palm of her hands against her elegant black dress, hoping to ease her nerves. But tonight, the adrenaline rush felt slightly different.

May simply have been a concern. Not every day did she and her unit have to face this level of threat. Besides, she recalled from her years of experience that crossing paths with the Russian mafia were never a particularly good omen.

The vehicle meant to drive her to the location – a simple, but quite fancy design – made a final turn toward the hotel. One could have easily identified the building. It stood out in the middle of the street, daring to scrap the sky from some of its floors. Lights beaming from within, which only helped brighten a city where the sky had already darkened due to the night. From the outside, the establishment appeared to be fulfilling its primary function of housing a wealthy clientele. It was a few of the indoor activities that the Captain was most concerned about.

As the car pulled up to the imposing front doors, Olivia allowed herself one last moment. She watched as some clients made their way inside, dressed in the most elegant suits and dresses ever seen. The very sight gave her chills. She was there on a mission, and there was simply no way a little outfit would spoil the fun of doing her job.

–All set, just waiting for you Liv.

Sergeant Fin Tutuola's voice echoed in her ear as a simple warning.

Now was time for her to join the party.

She unbuckled herself, her hand taking the seat belt back to its source, only to reach with a slight tremor for the inner handle. Yet, she froze, unable to get herself to squeeze it right away. Any hope one more breath would soothe her nerves was dashed, for it was only when she raised her head and met the new ADA's gaze through the center mirror that her pulse began to slow down a bit.

–You'll get them, quietly promised Sonny. But, please Captain, don't make me regret this.

–It'll be fine.

On those words, she quickly made her way out of the vehicle. The door slammed in Carisi's face, barely had he told her to be careful. He couldn't contain his sigh anymore, watching through the rearview mirror Olivia's figure getting increasingly distant. Once she stepped through the doorways, he headed for the surveillance van, cursing under his breath.

The building was a genuine labyrinth for anyone unfamiliar with its surroundings. So much so that the SVU Captain felt lost within seconds, turning and returning in huge hallways all seemingly leading to the same place. Some frustration was starting to get the better of her as she knew she had gone over the building's blueprint at least a dozen times with her unit.

Perhaps one final look at the map wouldn't have been too much...

Making her way through one of the halls, she luckily overheard a conversation that led her directly to the intended location. The hotel lounge was much more spacious than she had imagined. Or at least, it certainly felt like it judged by the pictures she'd seen.

She walked over to the bar, ignoring the stares of some of the men to find herself a seat behind the counter. From there, if she turned around a bit, she could easily keep an eye on the clients. Her agents were also all within her line of sight.

On one side, Fin was in the company of the newest recruit, Officer Kat Tamin, meanwhile, on the other side, Amanda, a familiar face from several years, was blending in well with the crowd of workers. But most importantly, she had the reserved VIP area directly in front of her, which meant that if their guests were willing to show up as scheduled, then she couldn't miss them.

–Okay guys, let's get the party started.

XXX

THE EVENING promised to be much longer than originally planned.

Settled in the stakeout van, Sonny couldn't bring himself anymore from fidgeting in his chair. His body moving from left to right thanks to the wheels fixed under his seat. The officer standing by his side didn't dare put an end to it, just as bored as he was by the wait. And if the whole thing was driving them nuts from the outside, it wasn't any better inside the building itself.

On the monitors, the attorney had no problem keeping up with his coworkers' moves. Though his gaze was more often on Amanda, who in her spot was having no trouble passing the time, he had noticed the sudden impatience of his two coworkers gathered at the same table. Kat was more of a go-getter than someone who spent hours waiting around. The numerous disagreements between her and the former detective were no longer to be counted. However, no matter what the sergeant was thinking, Carisi was probably thinking the same.

They wanted to end this hunting party as soon as they could.

Meanwhile, at the bar, Olivia reached for the freshly poured glass of red wine a waitress slid toward her. She paused briefly to glance at the woman, giving her a small smile of appreciation. The evening was slow but she at least had plenty to keep her taste buds on their toes. A welcome alternative to the wine she usually treated herself to on her own at night. Although, the luxurious glass holding the alcohol may have had something to do with it.

She gently shook it, watching the dark red wine mingle in waves. Part of her hoped to return to the safety of her home, where her son was waiting. But another part, probably the most passionate about this work, was determined not to leave this place until she had at least seen one of the suspects. She understood the exhaustion of her detectives. She herself was a victim of it. But she refused not to try everything to do justice to the victims of this case.

So caught up in her thoughts, Fin's voice almost faded away like a puff of wind in her earpiece. She began by looking around, wondering what might have interrupted their never-ending suspense. Over her shoulder, she carefully studied the sergeant's gaze, fully aware that only he could lead her in the right direction. Then, she saw. And understood.

The hunt had just been launched.

By the lounge's main doors, surrounded by what appeared to be several presumably armed guards, stood two women whose very presence could not be ignored.

Though persistent, Olivia's gaze remained unnoticed among those of the other customers.

From the spot she had already spent most of her evening, she only managed to catch a glimpse of either of their faces. The one who looked a little smaller in size nevertheless carried an aura worthy of terrifying anyone who dared to get close to her. From the other, she got nothing but brunette locks and killer curves.

Undoubtedly one of them was the head of the whole operation, right?

–Wait a minute, the boss would be a woman?

As the youngest detective faced her partner for further confirmation, her captain eventually dropped her gaze and suppressed her words with a sip of wine.

–It wouldn't be the first time we've seen this.

–It doesn't matter. Regardless of which one is pulling the strings, she's not alone.

Carisi's words echoed despite the distance from which he spoke them. He was right. In the end, it didn't matter if the boss was a woman, what counted though was to know which of the two was the actual threat. The only aim was to thwart this individual's plans.

Down at the bar, Olivia once again politely approached the bartender to refill her now empty glass with wine. The alcohol had had plenty of time to spread through her veins. A little liquid courage was not going to affect her work in any way.

But that's all it took to draw attention to her.

The brunette, already settled on one of the booths of the reserved VIP space, could not look away from her. She watched her every move, not bothering the redhead at her side who hastily dispatched her men as she pleased.

That's all it took for Olivia. She knew.

–Which one do you think is the boss?

–From the way the redhead leads the troops, I'll say her. Amanda nodded to the VIP area, urging Kat to pay closer attention. The brunette is just for show.

–I'm willing to bet anything that anyone who gets too close ends up dead in an alley.

The blonde detective was the first to show interest in Tutuola's words, cracking a subtle smile his way. If anyone was always willing to bet on anything, it was her. Even though officially everyone on the team knew not to give her the opportunity. Tonight, the odds were stacked against her. The bet was obvious, leaving no chance to anybody who would've wanted a different outcome. Of course, whoever got too close to the brunette would die in agony.

Hence, nothing good came out of it for Olivia, who could no longer rid herself of the latter's interest.

Each sip was meant to boost her confidence, which she was slowly losing with each passing second, but this woman's eyes had a way of unsettling her that she could not explain. Could it have been the suspect's beauty or some repressed feelings the captain was trying so hard to keep hidden, but there was something else.

A detective's intuition was seldom wrong. This time, Olivia was determined she was onto something.

–Looks like our little friend likes it rough.

The Assistant District Attorney was not wrong. Even from the stakeout position, one could easily witness the behavior of the suspected boss toward her guest. One hand wandering under the – short – dress of the latter, the other one tightly grasping her chin.

The brunette hardly had time to withdraw her eyes from her target as her lips were already captured. Only a brief second passed before she forced herself to return the kiss. Out of habit, though also to try to keep a minimum of intimacy, she caught herself trying to push the redhead's hand away.

–Что происходит сегодня вечером, детка? Each word was spoken quitely into her ear. Разве ты не хочешь быть моей хорошей девочкой? (What's going on tonight, baby? Don't you want to be my good girl?)

She felt her earlobe being captured by the woman's teeth before the latter's lips found access to her neck. No matter how badly she hoped to get away from the Russian's touch, she couldn't deny how good it felt to receive that kind of attention.

Tonight, she just had a different thing on her mind.

–Well, there's no denying she's hot!

–True. I just think the brunette has more charm.

–Focus!

Olivia had no intention of being so harsh on her team. On any other day, she would have been careful, except this time she didn't have the patience. She had just finished watching two of her suspects amid a kissing session and now had to settle for a game of looks with one of them while the other eagerly devoured her neck.

If the night already felt like forever, the SVU Captain had a strong belief it was only getting started.

As she turned back to the counter, intending to order what she assumed would be a final glass of wine, the brunette's gaze still pierced through her. She tried her best to dismiss it, shooting Amanda a frown of distress over her shoulder. While she expected it to end there, it was pretty far from done yet.

–There's movement, stated Fin through his mic. The brunette heads for the bar.

No one had seen the young woman stand up, or even leave the VIP area. From that point on, she seemed to weave through the crowd as if she owned the place. A confident pace, her head held high, and an ever-present bodyguard on her heels. Finding out which way she was heading was almost a blow.

–Uh, Captain? Kat's voice spoke of her concerns. It looks like she's coming your way.

A brief curse muttered through her teeth and Olivia sensed someone behind her. The clicking of the young woman's heels did not signal her arrival, yet the perfume cloud flowing from her undoubtedly betrayed her.

Drink in hand, Benson turned around – again –and arched an eyebrow in her direction. Eyes sweeping over the brunette from head to toe, waiting for an indication of her presence.

–Добрый вечер, незнакомка, spoke the doe in a flawless Russian accent. I couldn't help noticing you from over there. (Good evening, stranger.)

–Oh, really?

Olivia opted to act innocent, a thin smile forming on her lips. She swayed her wine in a smooth motion, her eyes locked onto the woman's, while a whole plan was emerging in her mind. Over her years of duty, she had gained enough experience to see through a situation like this one. Everything was on the line at that very peculiar moment. If there was a joker in the deck, it was either now or never. And so, no matter the consequences.

–See, this place is crowded but I've only had eyes for you since I arrived.

–You seem to be in pretty good company, though.

She pointed to the redhead, still sitting with her guests a few steps away from them, but the brunette did not take her eyes off her. She took another step toward Olivia, a flirtatious smile flashing her Colgate teeth, and ran her hand over one of her bare knees. Her skin was soft and warm so that it no longer felt so forbidden. Benson was hit by chills that instantly betrayed her. Her body had spoken before she even had time to utter the words that had gathered on the tip of her tongue.

–What would you say if I chose to stick around and treat you to a drink?

–Uhm, the SVU Captain feigned some reflection, then slightly sat up. I'll say someone might not enjoy the gesture.

–No need to worry about her, дорогая. All you have to do is agree to spend the night with me, and I promise I'll handle anything related to Natalia. (darling)

While Olivia was getting progressively more persuaded by the young woman, the officer working beside Carisi began to look for any information about the one known as Natalia. His fingers tapping frantically on the keyboard in front of him, so loudly that the noise began to break through the new ADA's headphones.

Sonny nearly cursed on several occasions, each time chewing on his lips right on time. No one could have guessed what annoyed him the most between his former Captain flirting with a – still–unknown – suspect, and the young man at his side stifling the women's words with his fuss. He heard words here and there, reading – or at least trying to – the rest on his coworker's lips.

The noise lasted until the brunette headed back to the VIP area, leaving behind Benson who suddenly felt her face heat up under the bright spotlights.

–Everything okay, Captain?

The woman faced the counter again, turning her back to her unit and hiding from them the sight of her face deeply impacted by the emotions she had just felt. It was only part of her job. However, it had been a long time since someone – a woman – had approached her in such a way.

Her heart swaying between two sides, she sucked in a deep breath before finally saying something.

–Yeah, all good. Did you find out anything about our new friends?

–You mean aside from the fact that Natalia hasn't lifted a finger yet regarding your interaction with her girlfriend?

–We're still looking, informed Carisi. I just want you to be careful. We don't know what this woman has in store for us.

–He's right Liv. We've seen this kind of arrangement before, but we don't know what the price is.

–Isn't it weird? asked Amanda, earning curious looks from the entire team. First, she proves to be possessive and dominant, and then she lets the girl hit on another woman and a stranger at that. It just doesn't feel right to me. I mean, look at them.

Nothing would have been stranger than sincerity from two people like them. Still, Olivia couldn't help but frown at the sight in front of her. The woman with whom she had just exchanged a few words was now under Natalia's control. Their faces so close to each other, spitting and receiving each other's words without being able to step back due to the redhead's grip on the other's chin.

It looked like trouble. Almost to the point of making Benson, who had nothing to blame herself for, regret this whole discussion.

Seconds felt like hours facing such a sight. It was like watching an old silent movie. One in which the acts alone were enough to speak for themselves and which would probably be off-limits to those under 18.

Olivia assumed the two lovers were communicating in an eastern language she still had some memories of. Yet, even if this was indeed the case, she was too far away to be able to hear anything. Only her team's questions and comments tickled her eardrum from time to time. Her eyes lingering on these two beings consuming each other without modesty.

She watched as the elder displayed her intimate familiarity with the brunette's body. Her hands drawing the curves of the youngest, from her neck to the curve of her buttocks. Her mouth giving up the rosy lips of her partner to overfly her throat then the start of her cleavage. One thing was for sure, if she was going to let her go for the night, she certainly wasn't going to make it easy.

Much like the SVU Captain, one might have wondered what price Fin was referring to. It could have been money, weapons, or drugs. It could have been anything.

Only, the attractive dark-haired woman had promised a single thing in compensation for her night.

With her eyes sparkling from mischief, she winked one last time at the so-called boss after a final slap on her butt. Once again, she melted among the crowd, grabbing a well-deserved drink on her way out.

Now, if the Special Victims Unit had found the evening lengthy, they were not about to be disappointed.

***

Taglist:

@electricboost @hi-i-1 @sammi1642 @emskisworld @arie109 @ssaaggwwaa @youdontknowwhotfiamm @arie109 @marvelandotheruniversesloveradhd @wittygusty @msschemmenti @ssaaggwwaa @g1u2y @clozeliz

[weretheones]

Try | Part 2

Plot: Months later, Alexandria finally felt like home. When Aaron and Eric returned from the outside, you expected a traditional welcome home dinner. Instead, you found a group of hardened survivors, among them a man you thought you’d never see again— Daryl Dixon. (Season 5)

Requested by Anon 

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader

Word Count: 5.4k

Warnings: mentions of DA, swearing, mentions of violence, sad daryl... 

A/N: part twoooooo!!! 🥰 someone asked me to tag them in this but I can’t find the reblog now or the user... so if that was you, im so sorry!! :( 

read part one first

—————————————————————————————

The community of Alexandria welcomed routine. Considering the alternative, you couldn’t blame them. That didn’t mean it wasn’t ridiculously tedious, though. Working as Deanna’s governing assistant was mundane, even at the end of the world. Reading through books about histories of civilization and governing law was important— sure— but the books became increasingly thicker and denser, and you yearned for something new. 

Deanna didn’t seem overly pleased at your request to leave the walls, thinking there were better uses of your time, but she didn’t outright deny you either. Rather, she insisted that you not go alone— wouldn’t it be a nice idea for you to join the run crew today? 

You accepted, just relieved to be escaping the never-ending work of building a governing system for a town after the fall of civilization. Even if the crew seemed too eager and overconfident, you couldn’t deny they had experience. Not the same type you, or many other survivors had, thanks to the tall walls that surrounded them from the start, but they weren’t completely naive.

But, damn, were they impatient. Barking orders at you to get the extra ammo they forgot so you all could get a move on already. You bit back a snide remark and listened, briefly wondering if this would end up being more trouble than it was worth. 

Of course, when you reached the armoury, Olivia and the key weren’t there. With a frustrated sigh, you spun around and started your way toward her apartment, until you saw Aaron and Eric walking down the street— well, Aaron was walking and Eric was limping. 

“Eric!” You rushed over, “Are you okay? What happened?” 

He smiled, bashful, “I’m okay, just a stupid sprained ankle.” 

“We’ll see— I’m taking him to the infirmary now. Just to be safe.” 

Eric rolled his eyes, but you agreed with Aaron’s concern, “Good,” you smiled before a loud honk echoed through the street, snapping you back to your task, “have either of you seen Olivia?” 

“Oh, she’s up near Deanna’s collecting the guns from the new people. She should be done by now, though.” 

“New people? You actually found someone?” 

“Fourteen someones, yeah,” Aaron grinned, “I think they’re gonna fit in here.” 

“Wow,” you muttered, “fourteen.” 

“They’re a bit uneasy right now. You might want to give it a day or two before introducing yourself.” 

“I remember,” you said under your breath, and Aaron gave you a bittersweet smile. 

When they’d found you, starving and bleeding from the wound in your side— damn tree branch— you couldn’t trust them. Couldn’t fathom a possibility that they meant well, even if they did, after all. It had taken you weeks to come around to the life Alexandria offered, to give a friendly smile on the street and stop spending your nights with one eye open. 

Eric hissed in pain as Aaron’s hold fell slightly, and you stepped back, “Oh, sorry. Go take care of that ankle.” 

“Will do,” Eric mock saluted as he started to limp down the street again, Aaron’s grip even tighter. 

You jogged down the road, curving the path into Deanna’s courtyard. From the open gate, you could see into the fenced area, recognizing Olivia from behind. 

“Olivia,” you called out, jogging into the courtyard, “Aiden’s in a hurry and wanted me to grab some more ammo, I need the key so— ” 

You froze. 

They were still here. 

“Shit— sorry,” you slowed down, pacing into the yard. 

Deanna smiled from her porch, overlooking the fourteen survivors. 

“Rick, everyone, I’d like you to meet my colleague,” Deanna announced your name, “she can be a bit eager, you’ll have to forgive her.” 

You tried not to stare at them— you remembered how it felt to reach Alexandria, covered in dirt, blood, and god knows what else. The prying looks and inappropriate questions. It reminded you of the stage fright from your youth, only you weren’t performing, you weren’t up on a podium asking for their attention. You were just there, and they’d watched you like you were their jester. Now you felt an inch of understanding sink into those memories because, as you were quickly realizing, it was really hard not to stare. 

“Hi,” you gave a small but friendly smile. Not that you expected anyone to return it. “I’m glad you all made it.” Ashamed of your lingering looks, your eyes barely hovered over the faces you flickered between. Men, women, a boy, and a baby who was the cleanest of them all. “Deanna’s, uh, she’s a real good person, they all—“ 

The breath was knocked out of you. 

Your smile fell and your lungs began to burn for another inhale, but you were incapacitated, completely paralyzed as you just stared. 

There wasn’t anything different about his eyes. 

His face, though, his face was hardened. Long, surprisingly wavy bangs covered the features that seemed like they’d been ripped from another man, roughly painted onto him instead. A brush of grey scattered along the scruff at his chin and his lips looked like they’d been sewn shut in a tight line. His skin was tanned deeper than you’d ever seen it, even throughout the summer of 94’ when you swore you and the youngest Dixon had spent every hour of the day under the hot Georgia sun. The dirt and blood seemed to be tattooed into him like that ink on his back— a perpetual stain of whatever horrors he’d seen out there. 

But his eyes were still his. Completely and utterly Daryl Dixon. 

The overwhelming flash of nostalgia and shock was enough to make your eyes flutter with glossy tears. And to the surprise of the surrounding ears, yours included, you whispered a name you’d wished to forget.

“Daryl?”

Silence hung heavy in the air. The part of his lips was the only indication that he’d recognized you, too. 

“You two know each other?” Deanna laughed in disbelief, “Wow, if that isn’t a sign…”

The honk blared two— three times before you swore under your breath, almost reluctantly breaking Daryl’s stare. 

“Shit, I—I uh,” you mumbled as Olivia handed you the key, the metal slick in your clammy grasp, “I really gotta go,” you looked back up, brushing a stray piece of hair behind your ear. Everyone was staring at you, some eyes wide and anticipating, others narrowed and confused. You swallowed the lump of nerves in your throat and announced, “Uh— welcome,” you tried not to let your eyes stick on Daryl’s frozen expression as you met his gaze, timid, “all of you.” 

And then you walked away, surprised that your feet didn’t catch on each other, or your legs hadn’t crumpled underneath you from the way your heart was rapidly pounding. 

Daryl… he was alive… and he was here… 

The pain of that night, before the dead rose and when you thought Washington would be everything you needed had simmered. Gone from a roaring, aching burn in your chest into something more tolerable. Still painful, still tender, but smouldering. Perhaps the pain had been suffocated by everything else that happened. The dead— those who came back and who didn’t. Being left to scavenge and survive alone, fighting just to get by. 

Seeing him now, that flame burned as bright as it did the night you left, and you could only wish it would dim into a smoulder before it consumed you entirely. 

— 

Turned out that little excursion of yours came at a price. A trip outside the walls in exchange for unavoidable socializing. 

Deanna’s welcome party made you squirm, even if you weren’t the guest— or guests, in tonight’s case— of honour. Mingling with the residents you had basically nothing in common with, other than surviving the end of the world, proved tiresome and daunting. Even then, your experience of the end of the world was vastly different than the majority of Alexandria’s survivors. Which made for a rather tense discussion; intrusive questions about what it was like being in Washington during the fall, and other unintentionally, but equally disturbing comments about the state of the world now. 

They never got how good they had it. 

Sifting through the crowd of innocents, you found yourself drawn to two of the new arrivals, both of whom Deanna had mentioned to you in anticipation of your work together. 

“Maggie and Michonne, right?” you approached the two women, and they both gave you nods and smiles, the prior confirming your name. 

“Nice to meet you both,” you smiled back, “Maggie, uh, Deanna mentioned we’ll be working together a lot.” 

“Yeah,” She nodded, “ya been workin’ with her long?” 

“Since I got here. A couple of months ago, now.” 

“Ya like it?” 

“It's nice. A bit tedious at times, but uh, it’s good.” 

“Beats the alternative,” Michonne remarked behind her glass. 

“Yeah,” you scoffed, “I know it’s… difficult to adjust to all this, but, uh, I think once you do, it’s worth it.” 

Maggie and Michonne shared a small look, and the latter nodded back at you, “We’re trying.” 

“That’s what’s important,” you smiled. 

The door opened and your eyes pulled to the entrance, not sure if you were dreading or anticipating an arrival. 

“He’s not one for parties,” Maggie said. 

“What?” You turned back. 

“Daryl,” she raised her brows, “ya keep checkin’ the door.” 

“Oh, sorry,” you mumbled, previously unaware of your repeatedly wandering eyes. 

“He mentioned you two knew each other before?” Michonne asked, her tone gentle.  

“Yeah, we grew up together.” 

“Same school?” Maggie questioned. 

You corrected, “Same street. We were close friends.” 

“Oh,” she paused, “Can’t lie, ’s hard to imagine Daryl bein’ close with anybody.” 

You gave a polite smile. 

“It must be weird, finding each other like this.” 

“Weird, yeah, I didn’t really expect to find my ex at the end of the world, but…” you slipped, meeting their shocked expressions with wide eyes of your own. 

“You—“ Maggie’s eyes snapped to Michonne’s, then back to you, and from the strained tone in her voice, you knew she was trying to keep herself composed, “you and Daryl dated?” 

Dated… Was that even the right word for it? It had been years in the making, decades of dancing around each other and hiding that deepest secret of love, but when it came to those few months of domestic bliss, you weren’t even sure if dating was the correct term. You’d been together, in all meanings of the word, but never had a label been put on it. 

“I, uh, excuse me please,” you stammered, sociability drained by your thoughts. Before you knew it, you were heading straight to the door you’d been anxiously watching with every intention to go home and scream into your pillow, because why the hell did you just blurt that? You barely knew these people, hell, you didn’t even know how well Daryl knew them, and yet you’d bared a vulnerable moment of both your pasts to them. So carelessly, too. 

When you crossed Deanna’s doorway, it was like walking into a wall of cold air. If your skin wasn’t already so hot from the embarrassment flushing you, you might’ve shivered. Instead, you continued across the street, jumping up the steps of your porch and wishing that the wave of relief from being inside your vacant, dark home was enough to calm your racing heart. But it wasn’t, because your chest still ached, and that pit deepened inside of you as you fell against the closed door. 

You exhaled a shaky breath. It was moments like this you wished you still had that river to run to. 

— 

Small drops of water sprayed across your hand. A brush of wind caught the water’s flow and the smell of the stream loomed you. Damp soil, a hint of fish, perhaps. It wasn't necessarily a pleasant smell, but it reminded you of camping. Back when your family actually did that sort of thing. 

The surrounding land was moist, seeping into your jeans and sure to leave grass stains that your mother would scrub for hours. If the soothe of this place wasn’t worth it, you wouldn’t have made things harder on yourself. But, you’d take grassy jeans over whatever was waiting back home for you, any day. 

Birds calling to one another, a flutter of wings every so often. The rushing waters and the breeze passing through the thick trees. Though your solace wasn’t found in those qualities-- not the smell nor the sounds, but rather in the absence of screams. 

Even if you’d escaped the immediate yells of your parents, unable to hear anything beyond the point where you crossed into the forest across the street, you knew they were still going. Still hurling insults that you didn’t understand, because hadn’t your dad just told your mom he loved her, but now she was the worst thing to happen to him. Adults seemed to say a lot of things they didn’t always mean, but you couldn’t figure out which one had been the lie, and the more you let your thoughts wander, the heavier your stomach felt. As if it might weigh you down into the earth, even though you hadn’t eaten anything but the blueberry pancakes your mom made earlier that day— when things had been fine. 

Something beyond the tree line reached your ears, piquing your interest, and you turned to look over your shoulder. Whatever it was, it was muffled and hard to catch beyond the sounds of the rushing river. But then you did, and you swore it was the softest cry you’d ever heard. A figure weaved through the tree lines— a boy, young from his height and build. His head was bowed, face hidden in the sleeve he was wiping his cheeks with. You would’ve asked who the stranger was, but there was only one blond boy on your street. 

Daryl Dixon stepped closer to the stream, his movements unusually sloppy. The few times you’d seen him, he was always timid and careful. Steady. He sniffled and looked up to make his way to the river’s edge— but the sight of you still perched by the water stilled him. His red eyes barely went wide before his brows furrowed, and he looked really mad then. 

“The hell are ya doin’ ‘ere?” he almost whined, his voice hitching past his throat and making the impatient words a bit less threatening.

You shrugged, “Nothin’.” 

“This ain’t yer property, y’know.” 

“I didn’t know it was yours.” 

“My ol’ man’s, yeah.” 

“Oh.” Your eyes turned soft, despite their unfiltered curiosity.

Daryl reached the river’s edge, cautious— like you remembered him to be. When he reached the dirt patch, a stretch away from you, he sat down. 

“Ya shouldn’t be ‘ere,” Daryl said, but it wasn’t threatening anymore. Almost concerned, instead. 

“I like it here. It’s quiet,” you mumbled, “can I stay a bit longer?” 

He eyed you, “Why?” 

“I come here when my daddy’s mad,” you whispered, “is that why you’re here too?” 

He didn’t answer. Though his empty stare out into the river weighed heavy on your heart, and you realized you had at least one thing in common with the boy across the street. 

“I thought no one came by here. I’m sorry.” You stood up, wiping your hands of mud across the front of your pants— you didn’t know which your mother would be more upset about, getting your hands or your jeans dirty, “I won’t trespass again.” 

Staring out into the river, he sat still when you turned to walk away. A few steps separated you before he called out your name— you were shocked he even knew it, from the little interaction you’d had. You only knew his because, well, everyone knew of the Dixons. 

When you spun on your heel, he was like you had been, sitting by the edge of the river with his head turned back to watch you. Shoulders bowed and eyes too sorrowed for their years. 

“Jus’ don’t let my dad see ya, alright?” 

You nodded, “Okay.” 

—

Like everything in that town, that river lost its touch. After a few years, it had been all but gone, a muddy slide taking its place. Though, for a while there, it had given you the time and space you needed. A place to share with Daryl. Despite your differences, you’d grown quite close; playing little games and drawing in the mud to kill the time, and as you got older, sharing conversations that tipped into vulnerability— opening to one another when there was no one else to confide in. 

But, truthfully, you couldn’t imagine wanting to confide in anyone else, anyway. 

That river had given solace, Daryl searching for it more often than you as the years passed. It almost became routine to approach the river and anticipate his presence. There was rarely a time he wasn’t there already, sulking in his silence, maybe even waiting for you. 

It felt oddly nostalgic now, approaching him at the back of your alley. You blamed those memories, the fond ones, for your willingness to engage with him now, even if it took a second longer than it should have to recognize him. He leaned against the side of your porch, surveying the warm glow of Deanna’s home and the residents who filtered in and out, large and carefree grins on their faces. 

“They don't bite, you know?” 

He spun on his heel, reflexes quick and trained, but the tension in his shoulders didn’t dissipate from your stoic appearance. You stepped forward and met him near the front of the alley. A hint of emotion slipped past his rigid jaw and from the look he gave you, you could tell what he was thinking— not yet.

You glanced between him and the party, “So, you’re gonna stare all night or… go in?” 

“Yer watchin’ me?” Daryl asked under his breath. 

Until now, you’d almost forgotten what he sounded like, and hearing that gravelly accent again made you feel things you didn’t want to— couldn’t— let yourself feel. Not for him, at least, and not now. 

You shrugged, posing nonchalantly, “You’re standing in my alley.” 

Daryl eyed the grassy path he’d followed, then looked back at you, “Didn’t mean to trespass.” 

An exhale of bitter exasperation passed through you as the hit of memories fed that flame within you.

Tension was buried in your tone, but you meant it when you said, “You should try,” and nodded toward Deanna’s lively home. Adjusting the bag hanging on your side, you were about to step forward when he beckoned you back. 

“Where ya headed?” Daryl eyed the small bag you held. 

“Delivering on a promise,” you spared. Pushing down the thoughts that questioned if he even had the right to ask you about your activities anymore, instead you said, “goodnight,” in refusal of his attempt at conversation. 

Thinking that would be the last you saw of Daryl tonight, you released a deep breath as you made your way down the road with heavy shoulders and a box of brownies (well, they were meant to be brownies— Alexandria rationed what little baking supplies they had, including that precious cocoa powder). When you made it to Aaron and Eric’s, a perhaps disheartened smile on your face, it only took five minutes before you realized your assumption was wrong— that would not be the last you saw of Daryl, since he was standing, perhaps a bit unsure if he should take that final step inside, at Aaron’s doorway. 

“Hey, I hope you don’t mind, I invited Daryl for dinner. God knows we have enough of it,” Aaron chuckled. 

“Uh, yeah, sure,” you mumbled and quickly turned back into the kitchen, praying there would be something to distract yourself with. 

Plates. Forks. Napkins. Did Aaron and Eric have place settings you could search for? There was enough to distract from the awkwardness, only for a moment. Then, Eric scolded Aaron for grabbing the ‘wrong’ wine, ‘no, no we need the pinot,’ he corrected as Aaron helped him down the stairs, still limping on his twisted ankle. That left you and Daryl to set the table alone. 

Eric and Aaron didn’t know much, other than that you knew Daryl before and there had been some type of falling out. So they had been essentially oblivious to the thick tension filling their kitchen with every glance of Daryl’s regretful eyes and every avoidance from you. You took the risk, glancing up from that overwhelming feeling of being watched, you caught his stare, and he quickly snapped his eyes away. Awkward and unsettled, his demeanour shifted and you felt something tighten in your chest, weighing down on your efforts to inhale. Suddenly the tepid air smothered you, like those classic Georgian summers. And with Daryl here, the nostalgia gripped you so intensely that you had to look down just to catch your breath. A slow inhale, an effort to lift the weight off your chest and avoid his suspicion, then you were back to work setting the table. The moment passed, leaving you stiff and out of breath. 

Daryl helped, but he didn’t know what to do other than follow you around the table holding a pile of plates you reluctantly let him grab. You took one, two— four, until his hands were empty. Then, he was just standing there.

He dared to ask, “So, wha’ kinda promise is this?” 

You stilled, reaching over the table to place a fork beside Eric’s plate. The slight movement made a free strand of your hair swing in the hair. As you stood straight, you brushed it back and offered him an answer. 

“Uh, I promised I would bring dessert if they made dinner.” 

“Wha’d ya bring then?” 

“Brownies,” you said.

Daryl nodded slightly, “Course ya did,” 

Your chest tightened. In a flash, you looked him up and down, contemplating your next word. And it seemed he could still read you, so easily, because the tension hanging around you shifted from awkward into something that seemed like it might yank you over a teetering tightrope at any second. The weight of the ropes unbearable, and yet so tangled and deep in your skin, they were inescapable. 

Daryl’s mouth opened slowly, his thoughts and subsequent words so clearly calculated this time. 

“My bein’ ‘ere,” Daryl let his first words hang in the air, let them sink into your consciousness, and watched the way your previously stoic expression fell into something so restrained, “tha’ a problem for ya?” 

“It’s just dinner,” your voice was apathetic. Partially because it hurt to let him see how much you still ached from what had happened, but also because you’d much rather be thinking about anything but this. 

“Tha’ ain’t wha’ I meant.” 

You stiffened and caught his cautious and yet intimidating look through your lashes, “It's not easy,” you admitted, “but…” 

“But?” 

You sighed, growing frustrated at your inability to phrase your feelings without completely spilling your heart to him.

“I don’t know,” you answered, “let's— let's just not, okay?” 

Daryl mumbled your name.

“No, please,” you cut him off, holding up a hand, “I can’t right now.” 

Daryl’s eyes fell and he nodded, disappointment weighing his shoulders, and you felt a reluctant flicker of sympathy catch in you. 

“Let’s just get this over with, okay?” you suggested. Your shoulders mirrored his, but with pain rather than guilt. 

Eric’s laugh from Aaron helping him limp up the stairs echoed to the dining room, and you both broke your regretful stares. 

Dinner was enjoyable, enough. Aaron and Eric soothed over whatever discomfort bubbled up with anecdotes of their own, stories about recruiting, hunting rabbits, and what Alexandria was like in the early days. It was almost nice. Until you and Daryl both motioned to leave at the same time, and you couldn’t decide if it'd be more painful to make it obvious you didn’t want to see him, or just stick out the two-minute walk home. In the end, you decided on the prior and left with him, his demeanour cautious as he walked by your side, hands stuffed in his pockets and long hair hanging in front of his face. If it hadn’t ended the way it had, you might’ve teased him for it. Or even complimented him. 

Yet, it had— it ended in heartbreak and pain, and you just couldn’t be lighthearted around him. Not yet, at least.  

In front of the house Deanna had given him and his group, he stammered, “Ya want me to drop ya off, or—“ 

“I’ll be fine,” you cut him off. 

He gave a weak nod of acknowledgment. 

He was about to turn, when, to the shock of both you and him, you asked, “Daryl?” 

“Yeah?” 

“I’m sorry about Merle,” you offered. 

He stared at you for a beat, trying to decipher your meaning. 

“He never would have let you leave Georgia without him,” you said, “and you never would’ve left him behind,” the last part was a breathy sigh, and there was no confusion for him there. You knew he got that part; he’d already shown you just how stubbornly loyal he was to his brother. 

“He saved us,” Daryl confirmed your assumption, “never woulda guessed tha’, huh?” 

“I thought it might’ve been something like that. He was an asshole, but,” you sighed, “he loved you more than anything, even if he had a shitty way of showing it.” 

That, you knew without a doubt. It was the biggest thing you had in common with Merle. 

Had. 

Merle was dead, and you, well, after everything… 

“I thought ‘bout ya every day,” his voice cut into the silence like a dull blade— abrupt and unpredictable, “I tried— tried not to, tried to forget it, but I jus’…” 

You offered him an out, “The end of the world puts shit into perspective?” 

“Nah,” he shook his head, “was ‘fore too. Since ya left— since tha’ night.” 

“Oh,” you breathed, confusion stealing what words you might’ve had from you. 

“Yeah, well…” he trailed off, scratching the back of his neck, “ya know I ain’t ever been good at this stuff.” 

You narrowed your eyes at him, picking up on his meaning— his attempt to direct the conversation onto you, “So you want me to, what, fill in the blank? You hurt me, Daryl. What am I supposed to say?” 

“I didn’t mean none’a it.” 

You just stared at him, because you weren’t sure if that even mattered. The damage had been done. 

“M’ sorry. I know I don’t deserve no second chance, none of tha’,” he mumbled, “I ain’t tellin’ ya this for tha’. M’ tellin’ ya ‘cause ya deserve to know.” 

“Know what?” you snapped, blunt and direct, an unsettling contrast from his conflicted demeanour. 

“I— I, uh,” he stuttered, seemingly put on the spot by your minced words. 

You waited, but Daryl’s words fell short. A shameful hand just barely moved to reach out, a ghost of action before he let it fall instead, a matching step back in surrender. His words— or lack thereof, his movements, his withdrawn stare. It all made your heart pulse with that all too familiar ache. 

“Right,” you exhaled, bitterness seeping into your heart, and tone, from his empty admission, “Daryl, I don’t want an apology. I don’t want to think about this or— or talk it out, okay? It happened, it sucked, but it's over— it has to be.” 

You held his stare, anticipating any reaction from him, but his eyes were firm and impassible. Yours burned with a different type of pain, something that only came from your best friend, your first love, cracking your heart in two. 

“If we’re going to live here, have dinners with our friends, or whatever, I need you to understand that it's over,” you elaborated, “I need you to… I need you to try harder to forget it.” 

His gaze was intense; tempting fate with the way he watched your expression, adamance and resolve breaking down with every second of empty air between you. And you might’ve been the one placing an end to the conversation, but he had the last word. 

“Did ya?” 

A chill raced up your spine, and you regained your composure even under his heavy stare. You blinked as your expression blanked, refusing to let that remorseful look he had crack the walls that he spurred you to build. Vulnerability for the man who’d broken your heart— even if he claimed to wish he hadn’t— was not something you could give, precisely because you knew he was right. You couldn’t forget it. It was ingrained in you— in your heart. 

So you turned and left him at his porch steps like you probably should have to begin with. Without another word, Daryl watched you walk away, again. 

It was as if you had almost fallen heart-first into the notion that an apology and, most importantly, a confession of love, would have fixed whatever broke between you and Daryl. Though that wasn’t possible, and Daryl wasn’t the type of man who spoke much of his feelings, anyway. What he said about failing with his words, even if it was frustrating, was true. It always had been, and you cursed yourself for even getting into a position that relied on him having an emotional capability beyond whatever you’d been before the night you patched him up and kissed him.

Eventually, routine returned to your life after the dinner at Aaron and Eric’s. Or more memorably, after you shut down Daryl— perhaps coldly, but necessarily so. Daryl’s presence even slipped into that routine, albeit limited, but you were able to refer to the man or even acknowledge him without losing the foundation of those high, crucial walls of yours. Aaron convinced Deanna to let Daryl help recruit, which meant he was gone most of the time anyway, and your role alongside Deanna and Maggie didn’t present much overlap with his, on the occasion that he was in Alexandria.

Two, maybe three months had slipped by without much disturbance; the walkers hadn’t posed a major threat, nor any people from the outside. Even the ache in your heart had grown tolerable. Like a throbbing headache, over time you got used to it. It even slipped away from your consciousness every so often. 

It was anything but tolerable now, though. How could it be, when showed up at your door looking like this. 

Dark liquid was practically painted on him. Dripping off him in thick, viscous drops— like honey. Shock and a hint of dread knotted in your brow, the thought of his state and how he came to look like this overwhelming you. A quick flash of your eyes over his dirty frame had him panting, “it ain’t mine,” before you finally released a shaky breath. 

But relief didn’t have a moment to wash over you before you looked back up at his face. A small cut across his cheek stood out, delicately framed by a brighter red, and you realized that the blood he was covered in was probably the result of a pack of dead ones that had gotten too close. And him being at your door, after months of offering your requested space, had your heart beating against your ribs. Your mouth opened to speak, eyes studying his expression for anything of regret or sorrow or— hell, you didn’t know, but you figured you would once you caught it. Because why else would he be on your doorstep? Motorcycle propped against the porch, blood trailed up your walkway, and a complete state of mess panting in front of you. Your mind jumped to the worst case scenario: a bite embedded in his skin and this— this was your moment to say goodbye. 

“Wh— What are…?” you exhaled, throat gone dry and your tongue uncomfortably heavy in your mouth, “are you— are you bit?” 

“Nah,” he huffed as if still catching his breath from whatever pace he must’ve been at to get here so suddenly. But the engine of the motorcycle just steps away was still buzzing and you thought maybe his lack of breath was from something other than exhaustion. 

And then you finally found the look in his eye you’d been searching for, but it wasn’t something dreadful or heartbreaking. It was intense and anticipatory, and your heart kept at its pounding pace for another reason. 

He stepped forward and you sucked in a breath. 

“I tried,” he panted, “but I can’t jus’ forget ya.” 

part three

—————————————————————————————

A/N: omg... what is going on?? what is daryl gonna do?? will the reader forgive him??? 

if you’re reading this, thank you! I hope you enjoyed this fic. please feel free to leave feedback, it helps so much and I love to read it. have a lovely day <3

[cocoartistwrites]

regarding your last reblog about writing morally reprehensible characters, poet olivia gatwood put it really beautifully. she called fiction a way to “live in different moralities”. i find myself increasingly frustrated with people’s unwillingness to read about people making choices they disagree with- even going as far as calling an author bad for writing it! i don’t know, i understand wanting someone to root for, but isn’t it questionable to only sympathize with people deemed “completely unproblematic” and as soon as they do something “wrong” they are demonized?

RIGHT! Very well put. It puts the fear of god into me about the State of the World you know? I will look up Olivia Gatwood, who sounds very sensible. Tumblr is especially bad for it, but the entire lack of nuance and media literacy rampaging across generations and cultures is very worrying and also incredibly boring. Everyone in the entire world is problematic. Hypocrisy is deeply embedded in human nature (e.g. in the way we care for a child that we know going hungry far more than a stranger's child starving) and forbidding any generosity about it or fascination with our complexities and frailties is a very short and very boring road to the death of culture. Perfection is boring, that's why no one actually wants to live in the Garden of Eden.

On the other hand, there's been some wonderful and very popular media recently with messy, complicated, difficult, and even disgusting women at the centre who get things wrong or do bad things, and that gives me hope! The Favourite. Fleabag. Gone Girl. The Great. Sally Rooney's books. Lots of others I can't quite think of now. I wish we could phase out the word problematic. It is so meaningless and all part of this sort of cult like tendency to elevate certain people beyond the role carved out for them. Actually in Beautiful world, where are you, Rooney looks at this a little and questions the celebrity author thing and the way people care so much about things that shouldn't be relevant just because she's written a couple of books (including a hit back at people who question her politics and say the leftness is sort of trendy/woke posturing or whatever) so you should check that out xx

[skylarmoon71]

Rafael x Reader (Short Story) - Chapter 4- Final

"It's been a full week, are you telling me we're still no closer to finding out who's trying to off me? It shouldn't be that hard. I could name a few that are probably plotting my demise as we speak. "

Olivia was used to his little outburst, but this one was different. "Calm down Barba, we're working on it. We don't have very much to go on. The one guy who can give us anything is sitting in jail comfortably. I think he's just stalling until the trail. " Barba took a seat, letting out a long breath. Olivia tilted her head at the way he was rubbing his face in slight frustration. "But something tells me this has nothing to do with the case, wanna talk about it. " She was always good at reading his moods.

"Liv." The vulnerable way he said her name made her worried.

She moved to his side, taking both of his hands. "What's the matter, did you get another threat?" He shook his head. "It's (Y/N)." Now she was confused. As far as she knew, you and Barba were getting along really well. Especially considering your introduction was so shaky.

"What's the matter, I thought you both were finally becoming friends."

"That's the problem." she released his hands, and stayed there quietly, waiting for him to clarify what the actual problem was. 

"Liv I...I can't stop thinking about her. It's driving me crazy."

"Oh...Oh!" The way Olivia lit up made him groan. Why did she have to look excited.

"Well I'll be damned. ADA Barba has a crush."

"It's not a crush!" he groused.

"I'm a district attorney for goodness sake. I don't have time for this. Especially under these circumstances. "

"I don't really see the problem. We'll wrap up this case, and once she's no longer working for you, just ask her out." Barba stared at Olivia like she'd grown an extra head. 

"You can't be serious."

"I'm completely serious. If I'd known this would have happened I would have introduced you both sooner. To think I could end up being a maid of honor at the wedding." The joke made his cheeks tint red. "Don't go getting any ideas. As far as I know it's strictly one sided. Besides she's dedicated to this job, I'm sure a relationship is the last thing on her mind. "

"I know. You guys make a perfect match. Both overachievers and workaholics.”

"Liv." this time it was a warning, and she just let out a quiet laugh. "Fine, I won't meddle. But when this is done if you don't make a move I will. " the look on her face assured him it wasn't a baseless taunt. She was being serious. 

"Liv don't you dare-"

"Have a nice day Counselor. " She was out the door before he could get in another word, and Carmen walked in. She didn't even need to be told anything, she just handed him a bottle of ibuprofen. "Thank you Carmen." she smiled politely, exiting. Most of Olivia's visits left him with headaches. This was somewhat of a ritual now.

**** "How is the food? I know it's not as fancy as what you're accustomed to, but it should keep you for the time being. " Barba had already been digging into the take out noodles you ordered. Chinese was your favorite, apparently it was his too. "It'll do." he muttered with a little grin. You reached for the box of fried shrimp the same time he did, and your fingers brushed. 

You pulled back mumbling an apology. Why did these kinds of situations keep happening? For some reason you were having an awful lot of physical contact with him.

The unplanned increase of your heart when you accidentally bumped into each other in the morning. The fleeting touches when your hands brushed walking through the streets of New York. It was getting ridiculous. Then there was that one time you saw him shirtless coming out of the shower. 

Boy did that send you spiraling. That night your dreams of him were a little less than virtuous. You knew he hadn't intended for it to happen. He was still adjusting to having another person in his house. Everything he did was starting to get to you. The way he played with his tie when he was sifting through documents. The playful biting of his lip when he gave a smart ass comment. Even those damn suspenders. Geez. When were you going to catch a break?

"Everything okay?" he looked up from his meal. "Yeah everything's fine." you just kept looking down at your noodles. Suddenly you didn't have much of an appetite. 

"If you're bothered by how long this is taking don't be. In a week you'll be free. Won't have to worry about escorting me around. And I'll finally have my couch back." you giggle at that, and his eyes shone a little at the sound. "I just might take the couch, it's really growing on me you know. I think it's the least you can do."

"I'm sure I can do better than a piece of furniture."

"Really? I can't see how."

"How about dinner. "

You were quiet for a moment. Was he honestly asking you out? Here you thought your attraction was one sided.

"Barba.."

"I apologize, I guess that was a bit inappropriate. " 

You could tell he was probably about to take back his words. You supposed now was as good a time as ever.

"Dinner sounds great Rafael." his eyes darted up. Both at your agreement and the use of his first name.

"Seriously?"

You laugh at his disbelief. "I feel like if it were anyone else, I probably would have said no. But you aren't like anyone I've ever met Barba." He was sitting right next to you on the couch, and you took the opportunity to lean closer, hand resting on the side rest next to his thigh. 

"I've always been good at keeping my personal life separated from work. It's why I'm so efficient at my job, but lately being professional has been increasingly difficult, and you're to blame." 

It was at this point Barba realized that there were far more important things in the world than noodles. He placed down the box cautiously, eyes never leaving you.

In a matter of seconds you pounced on him. He barely had time to adjust before you were straddling him, pushing him into the couch. He groaned at the urgency you let off, sinking your hands into his dark locks. He lost count of how many times he'd imagined this scene in his head. Your lips were ten times better than any of his lucid dreams. 

You were so strong and demanding, you took what you wanted. He supposed that's what was most attractive. You weren't afraid to make the first move. His hands gripped at your waist, forcing you down into his lap, and you complied willingly, hands running over his body. Those damn suits, you could never get enough of them. No matter what he wore it always looked good on him. Color or pattern, he wore it so well. How could mere formal attire drive you completely mad.

"Rafael.." you panted out when you finally pulled back to get a breath. He was breathing just as unevenly as you were, eyes opening to meet your clouded gaze. You were a little disappointed in your lack of control, but it was sort of his fault for baiting you with his looks and words. He must have known how much you wanted him. This was so crazy. The enemies to lovers tale always sounded so cliche.

So how did you manage to get suckered into it.

"As your boss I demand that you kiss me again." 

He was smirking, and you just wanted to wipe that look right off his face. You pushed him back this time, and he looked a bit surprised when his back met the cushions, and you pinned his hands above his head. 

"I think you're confused on who has the power here." you grind your hips into him and he's a mess. He fights back the moan that's about to break free. Oh, you were going to enjoy this. "Don't move." you instructed. He couldn't do much but submit. Damn, where had you been all his life?

"I'm beginning to understand...why you're so good at your job." he huffed out. You leaned down, pressing a kiss to his neck, sliding one of your hands down, you loosened the tie around his neck, pulling his collar open to get better access. When the tie was completely undone, you tossed it over the couch. One of your hands still kept his wrist bound, and Barba was stunned how much he was enjoying being dominated by you. You were leaving kisses all over his skin.

"You taste good..." Your words made him quiver in pleasure. 

"Y-You're really enjoying yourself...aren't you.."

You grinned against his flesh.

"Immensely."

When you finally came up to face him, he swallowed. That look in your eyes did wonders to his body. "Who's the boss now." you taunted. Barba licked his lips, desperate to feel your lips again. His eyes shifted to your eyes. 

"You are." It's all he could get himself to say.

"That's right." you leaned down, claiming his lips.

Your tongue invaded his mouth, and he welcomed it, determined to taste you. Your hand tightened on his wrist when he bucked into you. You moaned this time, and something in Barba snapped. He rose up, taking you with him. You squealed at the sudden action, and his hands kept a hold on your thighs, lifting you off the ground. The darken of his green eyes had you breathless. He didn't say much, just headed in the direction of his room.

Now that it's come to this you realize that you really have no control over all that you feel for him.

There was certainly no way you'd let anything happen to Barba. That was for sure.

[dreamlover31]

Love Will Find a Way: Chapter 12

“Rafael!”

It was about three in the morning when Alexa banged on Rafael’s apartment door, after Olivia explained to her his reason for ending their relationship, she ran out then hailed a cab to take her across town where she would tear the man that caused her so much pain and anguish a new one. Alexa instructed the cab driver to drop her off a block away, at the time she thought the walk might calm her down, but it did little to sway the flurry of emotions that raced through her head.

As she approached the front of the building, she noticed a couple of men in suits standing next to a parked car, hmm that must be his security detail…well they’re not going to stop me from throttling that miserable son of a bitch. Alexa hugged the wall to conceal herself and then waited for the opportunity to sneak inside, after a few minutes, a couple exited the building and she slipped by them without them noticing.

She ducked passed the guy at the front desk and into an awaiting elevator, during the lift up, Alexa gripped her hands tightly until her knuckles turned white; the insurmountable rage remained. Once she reached his floor, she darted down the hallway to his door and directed all her anger onto it, at first she used her knuckles to incessantly knock then her palm.

As she pounded on the door, she could faintly hear some doors open right across from her, apparently she had caused such a racket that a few of his neighbors decided to peek out their doorways. They looked upon the situation that was unfolding with puzzled and timid expressions, Alexa paused for a moment as the overwhelming feeling of being watched came over her, she peered at the corner of her eye to the onlookers and immediately ceased the incessant banging while trying to hide her humiliation.

Quickly, she mouthed the words ‘sorry’ to them and reassured that everything was fine and to go about their business, once each individual re-entered their apartments, she straightened herself up then drew out a short breath and said:

“So help me god Rafael, if you don’t open this door right now, I’m going to kick it down!”

Suddenly, she heard the sounds of a lock turning and as the door opened slightly, Alexa shoved her way inside; beforehand, Rafael was slowly awakening from a deep sleep when the banging occurred. As he bordered between the edges of being asleep and awake, he managed to unlock the dead bolts and turn the knob but as Alexa barged in, he was jolted back into reality as the force of it nearly knocked him down.

As the door closed behind them, his mind was in a state of shock but then as he gradually brought himself back into consciousness; he focused his attention towards Alexa who stood before him glaring like a lion getting ready to pounce on its prey.

“Alexa what the hell are you doing…” before Rafael could even finish his sentence, Alexa raised a finger to him and shouted:

“No what the hell are you doing…I’m not the one tripped up in a web of lies”

Rafael scoffed and replied: “What are you talking about?”

“I know everything, the death threats, the security detail outside”

“Damn it Liv”

“At least she believes in honesty unlike you”

Rafael let out a frustrated sigh as he buried his face in his hands, he pinched the bridge of his nose as his sleep deprived brain struggled to concentrate on how to best deal with a ranting, raving woman but before a thought could enter his mind; Alexa spoke up again:

“Well…do you have anything to say for yourself?”

“Can you please give me a minute to think here alright”

Alexa huffed as she seated herself on top of his couch, with her arms and legs crossed she waited for his answer sulkily. Rafael cautiously approached the couch where he sat opposite of Alexa, he could barely look her in the eye for the tension between them was so palpable that his heart started to beat out of his chest, his blood pressure rose and he could barely breathe.

What the hell am I going to do, why did Liv have to go and run her mouth off…nothing I can do now but tell the truth…well here goes. Rafael breathed deeply and looked up at Alexa, he parted his lips as he spoke:

“I’m sorry…I only did what I thought was necessary to protect you”

“Protect me? From what the truth? I’m not a child Rafael, I don’t need protecting”

“Alexa please try to understand…”

“Understand what? That you would rather tear my heart out then tell that your life is in danger?”

Rafael was growing increasingly frustrated; the last thing he needed was to be awaken at three in the morning by the anger driven actions of a woman who he had emotionally scarred and yet despite being on the verge of lashing out at her, he steadied his mind to remain on point, he softly sighed then said:

“I didn’t want to upset you, for Christ sakes you were recovering from getting shot…the last thing you needed was to get stressed out about someone gunning for me”

“I’m a grown ass woman Rafael, I could have handled it if you had given me the chance”

“You’re right, I should have trusted you…but just so you know, everything that I told you that night was not easy for me to say. There were so many times where I wanted to run to you and tell you everything and beg for your forgiveness, because believe me the time that we’ve spent apart have been agonizing for me. I hated not having to wake up next to you, not having to see your smile or hear your laughter…and it killed me to know that I had caused you so much pain”

While she listened to his pleas, Alexa slowly uncrossed her arms and looked into his emerald eyes with sadness, as his words sunk in, she realized the depths that this man was willing to go to ensure her safety. At the same time, she felt an overwhelming sense of guilt for putting additional pressure on him.

Oh my poor Rafi, here I am screaming at him like a mad woman when he has so much on his plate as it is…I shouldn’t have flown off the handle like that, I should have been more sympathetic to his plight, but at the same time he shouldn’t have lied to me…sure I would have been worried but at least we would have had each other. Alexa leaned forward and slid her hand on to his then showed a small smile as she said:

“Hey, I guess I can understand why you did what you did…but how long did you think you could keep this from me?”

Rafael shrugged as he interlaced his fingers with hers.

“I just felt so guilty about what happened at the shelter…I almost lost you once, I wasn’t about to lose you again”

Alexa cupped his face and pulled him close to place a small kiss on his lips, her arms wrapped around him as she held him close; she rubbed his back soothingly then whispered to him:

“You’ll never lose me, I’m right here”

Rafael’s grip on her tightened as a flood of emotion came pouring out, his eyes started prickling with tears. Alexa sweetly kissed his forehead and combed her fingers through his hair, the separation had taken its toll on them, all the pent up aggression and anxiety were washed away as they held each other.

After what seemed like an eternity, they slowly released each other from their embrace, both of them wiped what little tears they had as they briefly shared a moment of burgeoning intimacy. Alexa got up from the couch and headed towards the door when Rafael took her by the hand.

“Where are you going?”

“Home, I think I’ve caused enough trouble for one night”

“No…stay please”

Alexa smiled then retorted, “Alright”

Rafael led her down the hallway into his bedroom, Alexa sat on the edge of the bed where she kicked off her shoes, during this time he went through his drawer and pulled out one of his old Harvard sweatshirts. He tossed the rather large and worn out piece of fabric to her as he placed himself back under the covers, after she disrobed and slid on the sweatshirt, she pulled back the sheets and slid alongside him.

In the darkness that covered the bedroom, a streak of moonlight peeped through the window as Alexa rested her head on his chest and pressed her body onto his, the rhythm of his heartbeat sang like a lullaby; in a matter of seconds, Alexa was sound asleep. Rafael watched Alexa as she laid there, his heart swelled as he saw how peaceful she looked when she slept.

It was at that moment, he felt as if his life was in disarray when she was away from him, but now that she was back in his arms; everything was as it should be and whatever challenges they may face, they would face them together.

Tagging: @madpanda75 @laceybellerain @tropes-and-tales @southern-magnolia @madamsnape921 @teamsladsandgents @karens-imagined-world @itsjustmyfantasyroom @beccabarba @thatesqcrush @youreverycolor @glimmerglittergirl

[ewh111]

Annual List of Favorite Film Experiences of 2019

Happy New Year! All the best to you for a fabulous 2020 and new decade! 

2019 was a busy year of traveling. Work took me back to China (three times), Japan, Korea, and first time visits to the Czech Republic and Australia. 

I had the opportunity of a lifetime when I helped lead a group of Harvard-Westlake faculty members on a culture and food themed trip to China with James Beard Award-winning food writer/chef Fuchsia Dunlop. As a big fan of hers, I invited her to join us as our culinary tour guide and she accepted, leading us through three regions of China with distinct cuisines (Chengdu, Hangzhou, and Shanghai). Over ten days, she curated 19 meals with over 300 different courses! For more, go to my first annual food post: https://ewh111.tumblr.com/post/189972112494/2019-food-lists

And now, here are my favorite film experiences of the past year. 

Cheers, Ed

The Best and The Favorite of the Year

Parasite

The less you know before viewing this metaphorical, fiercely dark, genre-bending comedy/horror/social satire of haves and have nots where everyone is arguably a parasite, the better. Korean filmmaker Boon Joon-ho creates a memorable, twisty, thought-provoking film experience with exquisite storytelling, stunning visuals, sudden tonal shifts, unexpected turns, and a terrific cast. Just take the journey and enjoy this masterful work that may be the best film of the year. Trailer: https://youtu.be/isOGD_7hNIY

Jojo Rabbit

Appealing to my affinity for the quirky, this one is my favorite film of 2019. Who knew that a story during the waning days of WWII about a 10 year old Hitler Youth, his imaginary friend Adolph Hitler, and his single mom who is hiding a Jewish girl in their attic would be so sweet and funny. While an absurdist witty satire on the surface, it’s really an anti-hate, coming-of-age story as we experience the world through the eyes of 10 year old Jojo as he confronts and reconciles “the other” he’s been taught to hate in the world around him. Delicately balancing whimsy and seriousness, Jojo Rabbit is a beautiful and soulful film thanks to a great cast, including a terrifically endearing Scarlett Johansson (while likely to garner more attention for Marriage Story, this is the more memorable character to me), the audacious Jewish-Polynesian director Taika Waititi as the sophomoric Hitler bestie, Sam Rockwell as an SS officer with a heart, and a wonderful Roman Griffin Davis in the title role. Trailer: https://youtu.be/tL4McUzXfFI

Racing Against Time

1917

Wow. Daring and bold filmmaking in one of the most realistic and visceral war film experiences since the opening scene of Saving Private Ryan. In a role that may be overlooked during awards season, George MacKay is a standout as one of the two soldiers sent on an impossible mission through No Man’s Land to deliver a message to prevent British forces from entering a massive German ambush. Oh, and via pure movie magic, director Sam Mendes and master cinematographer Roger Deakins tell this story in what seems like one continuous shot. I was totally drawn in by the Gallipoli-esque race against time, the real-time pacing of 24, and the immersive POV of a video game. The result is breath-taking as the camera dances around the soldiers, trenches, bunkers, and towns in a beautifully choreographed dance without distracting from the gripping storytelling. Trailer: https://youtu.be/gZjQROMAh_s

Ford v Ferrari 

An exhilarating, high octane, crackling thrill ride. The story of two obsessively passionate crazies, ex-racer and car designer Carroll Shelby (Matt Damon) and British race car driver Ken Miles (Christian Bale), who join forces with American corporate titan Ford to defeat Ferrari at the 24 hours of Le Mans in 1966. It’s pure adrenaline that non-racing enthusiasts can enjoy because of the well-crafted story and performances. Trailer: https://youtu.be/I3h9Z89U9ZA

Unforgettably Creepy and Disturbing

Joker

Joaquin Phoenix disturbingly and completely transforms himself into the pathologically deranged, downtrodden, and delusional part-time clown/aspiring comic Arthur Fleck in this origin story of Batman’s arch nemesis. Joker is a deeply disturbing character study of how an emotionally fragile individual on the fringes of society gets pushed deeper and deeper into the downward spiral of insanity to the breaking point.  Dark, edgy, and unsettling, Joker is not for everyone. But there’s no denying Phoenix’s brilliant, tour de force performance. (Unfortunately, my edginess was heightened in my screening by an audience member who was similarly laughing inappropriately like Phoenix’s character, which had me looking for the closest exit in the event of a disturbance). Trailer: https://youtu.be/zAGVQLHvwOY

Us

In his sophomore directorial effort, Jordan Peele has gone beyond the horror and social commentary of Get Out, and into even deeper, more chilling existential territory. In Us, Peele has created an All-American family terrorized by a creepy scissor-wielding doppelgänger family and spirals into more terrifying and mysterious terrain with a fabulous dual performance by Lupita Nyong'o. Who is Us? Is Us them? I’ll leave the metaphorical debate for later. Trailer: https://youtu.be/hNCmb-4oXJA

**Midsommar deserves notable mention in the creepy category–a slow-burn, dark tale of a young American couple’s vacation in the remote Swedish hinterland at a once-in-lifetime summer festival that goes creepily and morbidly wrong. Trailer: https://youtu.be/1Vnghdsjmd0

Masterworks by Tarantino and Scorsese

Once Upon a Time…in Hollywood

Perhaps Quentin Tarantino’s most mature film, Once Upon a Time…in Hollywood beautifully captures in painstaking detail a specific moment in time: Hollywood, 1969. A passionate homage and love letter to Los Angeles and the Hollywood scene, Tarantino blends a concoction of history and fantasy (a la Inglourious Basterds) in a buddy movie with Leonardo DiCaprio as declining TV hero/star and an endearing scene-stealing Brad Pitt as his stalwart stunt double/best friend whose lives fatefully intersect with Sharon Tate and the Manson family. While at times meandering (it’s less plot and more a series of vignettes), it is also at times spellbinding (an on set encounter between DiCaprio’s character and a fellow 8 year old child actor; Margot Robbie’s Sharon Tate watching herself on screen inside Westwood’s Bruin Theater). As the title implies, this is a quintessential Tarantino fairy tale: funny, yet warm, and, of course, violent. Trailer: https://youtu.be/ELeMaP8EPAA

The Irishman

An epic, career-capping entry into Martin Scorsese’s mob-themed oeuve, The Irishman appropriately brings De Niro, Pacino and Pesci together in this elegaic saga, complete with de-aging technology to tell the story of mob hitman Frank Sheeran (De Niro) through multiple flashbacks. And for those of us old enough to remember, the story helps to answer the unsolved question, what happened to Teamster head Jimmy Hoffa. Trailer: https://youtu.be/RS3aHkkfuEI

Family Dramas

Marriage Story

Scarlett Johansson and Adam Driver are top-notch in this raw, yet poignant, and ultimately life-affirming journey through the disintegration of a marriage and the logistical mechanics of the divorce process and custody fight seen from both sides as each struggles to reestablish priorities in their lives and redefine family. Trailer: https://youtu.be/BHi-a1n8t7M

The Farewell

We are told the film is “based on an actual lie” in the film’s opening titles; director Lulu Wang’s heartfelt, deeply personal, and charming film stars Awkwafina as a young woman whose grandmother (in China) has been diagnosed with terminal cancer but the entire family has decided to keep it a secret. Under the guise of a hastily planned family wedding, the family gathers to say goodbye to grandma. Capturing the uneasy tension between Chinese and American culture, questioning where one belongs and the role of family in our lives, Awkwafina shines in her first dramatic role, as does the rest of the supporting cast.  Trailer: https://youtu.be/RofpAjqwMa8

Little Women

Director Greta Gerwig follows up Lady Bird with another achievement, giving the classic 19th century Louisa May Alcott period piece a thoroughly modern feel with an effervescent cast and 21st century non-chronological storytelling. Saoirse Ronan leads a fantastic cast. Trailer: https://youtu.be/AST2-4db4ic

Two Funny Smart Girls, Two Religious Guys, and Only One Baby Per Family, Please

Booksmart

More than just a female version of Superbad, Booksmart is an impressive directorial debut for Olivia Wilde with the fantastic duo of Kaitlyn Dever and Beanie Feldstein (HW ‘11) as the “study hard” academic besties on a mission to “play hard” on the last night before graduation. Also memorable is the scene-stealing Billie Lourd (HW ‘10). This very funny and delightful coming-of-age pic stands out in the pantheon of teenage comedies not only for its quirky and smart tone, but for its inclusive and diverse three-dimensional characters, including LGBTQ+ and gender non-conforming teens whose sexuality don’t define who they are. Trailer: https://youtu.be/Uhd3lo_IWJc

The Two Popes

I didn’t expect a film that is essentially an extended conversation between two people would be so intriguing and gripping. The imagined conversation in 2012 involves two very different men, one the sitting pope who finds himself standing increasingly in the way of progress, and the other, his eventual successor looking to retire from an institution he is increasingly frustrated with. But with spot-on casting and terrific performances from Jonathan Pryce as the ABBA-humming future Pope Francis and Anthony Hopkins as the stoic, humorless intellect Pope Benedict XVI, The Two Popes is a joy to watch. Trailer: https://youtu.be/T5OhkFY1PQE

One Child Nation

This one’s a doc. From 1979 to 2015, China instituted the “One Child Policy” as a means of population control to stave off mass starvation. Documentarian Nanfu Wang, herself an exception to the policy and now a first-time mother, explores the enduring ripple effects of the policy that included forced abortions, sterilizations, abandonment of baby girls, and child trafficking. This powerful and devastating documentary looks at the multi-layered trauma–how it was carried out and the heartbreaking human and societal toll it has taken. Trailer: https://youtu.be/gMcJVoLwyD0

**Other documentaries to check out: Cold Case Hammarskjold, Where’s My Roy Cohn, The Biggest Little Farm, Leaving Neverland.

All Out Pure Fun Movie Experiences

Knives Out

An enthusiastic bundle of joy, Knives Out is Rian Johnson’s stellar, intricately crafted, Agatha Christie-like whodunit with a stellar cast who seem to be having as much fun as the audience. Trailer: https://youtu.be/qOg3AoRc4nI

Rocketman

Can’t help but compare this to Bohemian Rhapsody, but Rocketman is the superior and more entertaining musical biopic (using the term loosely). It’s bold, magical, and fantastical, as befits Elton John. Trailer: https://youtu.be/S3vO8E2e6G0

Other notables: The King, Avengers: Endgame, A Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood, Honey Boy, Yesterday, Velvet Buzzsaw.

In the queue: Pain & Glory; Uncut Gems; Bombshell; Richard Jewell, The Last Black Man In San Francisco.

Favorite Binge-worthy TV Shows

Dark, Succession, When They See Us, Chernobyl, Mindhunter, Barry, Veep, Sex Education, Silicon Valley, Stranger Things 3, Don’t F**k with Cats

Special Shout Out to Dark

With elements of the mysterious strangeness of Twin Peaks and Stranger Things (minus the humor and camp) and the intricate intertwined storytelling and compelling characters of The Wire, Dark is the story of four families who live in a tiny German town situated next to a nuclear power plant (add a little of Chernobyl) who are inextricably connected through some strange cosmic phenomenon. Oh, and throw in a big dose of time travel. Dark is incredibly compelling and addictive. It is hands down the most complex and thoughtful (i.e., sophisticated and makes sense) time travel-themed story I’ve seen. Do yourself a favor and resist Googling anything about the show to avoid spoiling the experience. Just watch. There are two seasons worth at Netflix. And one more on the way. Trailer: https://youtu.be/S3vO8E2e6G0

[chaniters]

ELDRITCH

New short, Fallen Hero : Rebirth. Sidestep meets Anathema for the first time. New made up villain too. Also, Sidestep gains a problem with addiction in the end.

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

ELDRITCH

You take your a spot right next to the fountain. You like it here, and lots of people walk trough the park, specially on sunny days.

You set down your easel and extend your chair. Some of your previous sketches you set on display on the floor.

The easel was a good dumpster find, and you've been making a good living trough it.

You open your sketchbook and start drawing. You'r not the best artist, they just trained you to draw faces. And that's what you do most of the time.

But you'r also making a sketch of the park between sketches. You'r learning to draw buildings. Inanimate objects are harder to you, since they don't have a mind to tell you how they should look.

People are different. You can read their thoughts, see their features and draw them in the way they'd like to be seen. They'r so happy about it and your metal mug is usually filled with tips.

You wished you had thought of this before... begging on the streets made you feel like a parasite. At least people is happy with your sketches, and you'r happy to make them.

Today is a good day and you even manage to sell several of them. A guy comes to describe you some people he knows, and you take the images from his brain and draw them... He tells you that you must be very talented. Makes you blush, even if it's undeserved.

You stop a few times, for lunch and some snacks, but for the most part, the day is spent filling your sketchbook with faces and images.

By late dawn you'r done. You begin to pack your things. Time to get back to your place.

You put everything in your backpack, and get your hood and googles back on. You'll pick a different place tomorrow.. maybe by the beach.

"Fuck Olivia, I can't believe you did this."

You stop by, hearing the distant yelling even before you notice the minds.

"I did it for us baby! It's what you wanted!  Now It doesn’t matter that you lost your  job! We won't need to work anymore.. We can just take everything we need. You just need to take yours too!" she seems to be offering him a flask

"I was fucking joking! I told you that! And I never told you to take that shit! And i'm not going to take it either! Fuck.. we need to find you a hospital soon"

His mind is outraged and shocked... but Olivia's mind.. is something else. You sense an intense struggle... she's just simply being overcome by some form of hormone and chemical imbalance the likes you've never seen.

"I'm NOT JOKING! This is SERIOUS! I'll show you!" She extends a hand and to him... and it suddenly starts... changing.. before your eyes

"See? Look! I CAN DO THIS!" Her "Hand" now more loosely resembles a claw. A black exoskeleton is covering it before your eyes. And it's spreading trough her arm...

"WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT THING?" he yells stepping back

"Jason! Stop! Don't run away!"

"Stay here Olivia.. I'll.. I'll go seek help!" he screams in panic.

"No.. No! NO you'r leaving me! I knew you where leaving me! EVERYONE... Is... always LEAVING!" she extends her claw... and it's now much longer than a normal arm. She takes hold of Jason's arm in an instant, pulling him closer.

"GAAgH!" You hear him scream, now in pain. There is a soft crack.. she's probably broken his arm with that claw. Some onlookers are taking pictures with their phones in the distance, but no one's doing anything. She closes the flask to his mouth as he tries to look away. Hero drugs obviously.

Fuck. You take your easel with both hands and sneak behind her

"AARGH! LEt me... Go!" Jason screams.

She's distracted... you lift your easel and take it down her face with all your strength.

"AWWW!" She yells turning on to you, her eyes changing color before you as he speaks "WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU?" She realizes she’s dropped her flask “NOOOOO! I NEEDED THAT! WE NEEDED THAT!”

The exoskeleton begins to spread to her cheeks and the base of her skull..

Unlikely you can really hit her again after she’s totally covered.... her other arm is begining to look more and more like an insect's sting.. sharp and deadly. She gives you an enraged look...

FUCK... why do you keep getting involved...?

You don't answer. You just hit her in the chest this time, maybe you can... there!

She's out of air, and she lets go of Jason, who falls to the floor in pain.

"GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE!" You yell at him

He manages to get up and take a few steps back.

"YOU WON'T DO THAT AGAIN YOU LITTLE BITCH!" Her claw takes hold of the easel and pulls with brutal strength... she actually tears some of the wood to pieces. Then she raises her needle and sends a powerful trust your way.

You see it coming, and dodge it, the needle tearing a hole in the pavement.

That's just great. You hate your life.

She pulls it again and charges at you. You duck as she swings her claw, then jump to her right to avoid the needle. Using the impulse, you get a get a hold of her leg, pulling it up... only she doesn't fall. Her shoe comes off in your hand, and you see claws beginning to form on her (Feet?)

Her other leg seems to provide more than enough balance, and she counterswings. You get hit by the claw and flung on your back.

You roll backwards, standing up. Her mind is a mess... you can predict her movements but not her intentions.. or her continuous mutations. A horn is now beginning to form on her forehead. She charges at you.

Once more, you dodge, and she impales a wall behind you with the now fully formed horn. Only took seconds and it's solid enough already.

Your hand goes to your backpack.. but it's an old habit. You don't have a gun these days ...tough honestly you'r not sure a gun would help against this kind of boost.

Hesitation doesn't sit well with Olivia. She frees herself from the wall and ... something lashes at you. Tentacles.. coming out of her shoulders. Trying to grab you...

You evade, but she is faster and faster.. until  one of them trips you... she raises her needle arm to stab you down. You close your eyes.

The stab doesn't come.. instead you hear a monstrous shriek of pain from her.

"Mind if I help?" You open your eyes, incredulous.

A hero... to your rescue.

He's holding the needle arm with one hand. The needle itslef is disintegrating, as if his touch was burning it.

Olivia shrieks and lets go, pulling her needle back in pain.

"Here let me help you up" He says extending a hand. You take it... and stand up.

"Are you new ? Outfit could use some work" the chubby figure chuckles.

"Watch out!" you yell. Too late... Olivia's claw, which seems to have doubled in size smashes him sideways, sending him flying into a lamp post.

"fuck... fuck..... Fuck!" You evade another killer blow. You've got to think about something fast.

Olivia.. Or the creature that was Olivia begins sending attacks with an ever changing body as you fall backwards.

You realize you'r not going to win this fight with strength. If you win it in the first place.  

“Never attack when your enemy defends, always behave in ways they can't expect... never show your true power until the end.” You mutter as you dodge, duck, and cover. Despite yourself you can't help remembering your trainers.

You circle the creature, evading attacks from it's (Limbs?) as It grows increasingly frustrated.

"Stoooop... Sidesteeping!" It screams in what seems five different voices. You'r not even trying to look too much at it now beyond dodging.. it keeps mutating before your eyes in truly disturbing ways.. reminds you of the bodies... the inhuman ones..

You realize you've got only one chance at this...

A single mistake by the thing... it's all you need. You jump, spiraling in the air, your left palm stretched... and it makes contact with the thing's Head.

It immediately makes a grab for you with it's arms (claws... tentacles.. stings..) and IT catches you... but that's no longer important. If this doesn’t work you’ll die either way. You'r not confident enough in your telepathy... that's why you needed direct contact.

A storm breaks trough your shields, enveloping you... blowing you away... You focus, reforming your own barrier, and digging into her's.

For a few seconds there is only chaos, and you can only feel the strength of her arms crushing your chest... but then you find her, and you'r no longer in your body, nor she in hers.

There she is... at the very bottom of the pit, surrounded by monsters of every imaginable form and shape, circling around in a hurricane of lighting, confusion and hatred. You dive in, as hard as you can... reach your hand for hers... Your fingers touch.

You feel your minds meld.

Calm. The storm dies out. The monsters go silent before your gaze. There is only silence. She looks at you.

"Help me" She says. You've got hold of her mind now... but something's not right.

"I'm trying! Hold on to me!" your mind tells her. You are trying to put a lid on top of the enraged emotions... You only need a moment..

"HELP ME!" She screams... the scream echoes and the air around you turns into broken glass.. the sound increasing exponentially. The Storm rages once more The monsters wake up again, striking at you. But the door is almost closed... almost.. You struggle with all your strength to seal them away and... and then you'r kicked out of her mind.. In force.

Pain. Darkness... familiar darkness. Back in your own body. You hate doing that, but you had no choice. You open your eyes.

The hero who saved you... He's looking down on you with concern.

"Are you ok?" he asks.

You try to contain the nausea.. and then ask her in return

"I don't know... are you?"

He smiles. "I'm Anathema. I'm Invulnerable! But that thing's strength is something else. It left me out of commission for a few seconds... whatever did you do to it ?"

You look back, trying to stand up while panicking

"Where is it?"

"Oh it escaped. You gave it a good scare tough... When you hit it with that palm attack... and it just broke away in pieces". She points at a mass of limbs and tentacles lying on the floor next to you "It just started cracking... parts falling off like they had dried away. And then this naked lady got out from within... seemed totally out of herself.. and she just ran away"

"Olivia" You say.

"What?" Another voice... You realize the two of you are not alone. You turn...

"Hey kid" You blink. It's Charge. Fantastic. This crapola again.

"Oh This is Charge! I got here first... i was the closest ranger."  Anathema explains.

"Yeah, i Know him..." You admit

"He's the brick kid"  

"WHAT, for REAL ?" Anathema helps you up "HAhaha! You'r a legend!"

"I'm not..." you look down. "I just wanted Mr. Molotov to get what he had coming.. uhm.. where is my... "

You walk down to where your easel is lying down, broken in several pieces. Your backpack is ripped as well. Your sketches are smudged with goo, and the sketchbook itself has a huge hole gooey going trough them all  made by the thing's needle arm.

You take a deep breath. And just sit down on the floor seeing if you can salvage anything.

"Oh no... " Anathema approaches you. "Was that yours?"

"Yeah." you say letting go. Useless. It's all just useless now. Only a few pencils survived. And your unfinished sketch of the park is crumpled and thorn.

You feel like crying again.

"Hey. These are very nice" he says putting two pieces together... a sketch of an old lady. She gave you 5 dollars.

"Not bad" Charge adds.

"I'm learning" you say. That's true... you'r trying to learn to do more than just raw sketches.

"Why don't you come with us?" Charge says "We can get you some new supplies"

"I don't need charity!" You state a little louder, pretending to be enraged. TRuth is you'r scared of being seen with them and have people identify you later.

"Hey it's not charity" Anathema says looking at you with a smile. "It's the least we can do. You dealt with Eldritch Olivia in one hit."

There is something warm and fuzzy about his mind that you can't quite describe. But you know this is a mistake... You should hide again ... go back to your place... stay away from the authorities such as them.

"Here, have one of these" he says passing you a wrapped piece of ... something.

"What's this?" You ask

"Chocolate bar" he shrugs

You open the envelope and take a bite.

"Whatever you did.. .it was incredible. .. how did you do it? Do you have a name already? Is that some sort of touch of death?"

Your tongue answers in direct contradiction to all logic.

"I'm ... Sidestep. And that's what I do.. martial arts.. pressure points... I knew i could weaken her if I hit her when her chi was out of balance" You answer. It sounds real-ish, right ?

"Pressure points? Martial arts?  Oh.. you'r one of those" Charge studies you.

"What's wrong with pressure points?!" You ask indignant

"Nothing, nothing!" Anathema Interjects

"Say... Sidestep." Charge pronounces your chosen name "If we can get you some new art supplies, can you make us a sketch of this Olivia? We still need to find her"

"It... depends" you speak in a serious tone.

"Hmm... ? On what?"

"How many more of these can you get for me?" You hold the empty envelope of your chocolate bar. "In the next 15 minutes?"

_____________________________

My Fanfics: https://chaniters.tumblr.com/post/181692759294/my-fanfiction-for-fallen-hero

DISCLAIMER: This is a work of fan fiction using characters and the setting of the Fallen Hero: Rebirth and upcoming Fallen Hero: Retribution games written by Malin Riden. I do not claim ownership of any characters from the Fallen Hero wold. These stories are a work of my imagination, and I do not ascribe them to the official story canon. These works are intended for entertainment outside the official storyline owned by the author. I am not profiting financially from the creation of these stories, and thank the author for her wonderful game/s, without which these works would not exist.

[rockofcalifa]

shut up about your clearly brilliant plan and kiss me already

part of the Oli & Melv Regency AU

"Twenty-five pounds, or their first offer, right?" Olivia paced back and forth in front of the door, where Melvina stood, watching, hand on the doorknob, as it had been for the last few minutes. "No more than fifty probably and certainly not more than a hundred for the both of us, unless it's really all just a scam and we're being taken for -"

"Liv, please. Calm down." Melvina opened the door. "We've been over all this. It'll be fine. I won't be gone for long."

"Right, I know, sorry." Olivia stopped pacing and rubbed at her face with her hands. "You remember we talked about what you should do if you notice someone following you?"

"Bye," Melv called, closing the door maybe a little too firmly as she left. She understood that Olivia was stressed. Of course she was stressed - they were both stressed. So if it felt like Liv wasn't trusting her with this totally manageable task, she had to acknowledge where the other was coming from. Liv was cooped up in their crappy little rented room and had been for days, unable to go out because of the price on her head (significantly greater than the reward offered for Melvina) and the government agents searching for them. There was nothing Liv wanted more than to go out and make these arrangements herself; but it was too dangerous, so Melvina went alone. That was also tough for Olivia, the thought that something could happen to Melv while she was out, while Liv was powerless to help. Melvina understood this not this because they'd talked about it - because they hadn't - but rather from the way Olivia clung to her at night on the rickety little bed, from the way that she herself felt the same cold worry every time she left Liv in the room to purchase food or run some other errand like this. The thought that - maybe the last time she'd gone out she had been followed back, and the agents were waiting for her to leave so they could get Liv on her own. Capture her, maybe kill her, since they didn't need her alive. And then Melvina would return to an ambush and a dead body -

She shivered. It was wet outside, spitting rain, which made it easier for Melv to make her way through the city and down to the docks inconspicuously. She was searching for the captain of the Kilduroy, which ship had, according to the schedule she had found the last time she'd searched, come into the city last night. The very ship that Lady Braintree had recommended to them before they'd fled her estate, the little cargo ship that would hopefully, if all went well, secret them away across the Atlantic, far away from the dangers they were facing here in England.

The Kilduroy. There it was. It did not look like a particularly trustworthy vessel, but she'd seen worse. The anonymity was to their advantage. After a bit of asking around and, to her dismay, a few curious looks, she found the captain, a middle-aged, disinterested man who immediately perked up upon presentation of Lady Braintree's letter of introduction.

"We're setting out again in six days," he said, "and we can easily accommodate you, and keep it quiet. Every last man on this ship is trustworthy, they know sometimes we carry sensitive cargo. It's going to be -"

"Two," Melvina said. "There are two."

"Oh, all right," said the captain. "What'd you say your name was, lady?"

She hadn't. "J-ane. I'm Jane. And, uh, Catherine."

"Well, Jane. It'll be forty pounds for the both of you, and you can pull your weight on board as well. I'll take half the fare now and half when we set out."

"Okay," Melv said, pulling out the money. Forty was not the twenty-five Liv had been hoping for, but they couldn't exactly be picky.

"Good," said the captain, pocketing the payment. "Six days from now. Be here at dawn."

It was an exceptionally tense six days. Melv didn't really know how they got through it. Olivia was increasingly antsy and would get frustrated at the littlest things. By the last day she had taken to lying on the bed for hours in a miserable daze, staring at the ceiling, unfortunate because that's exactly what Melv wanted to do, and there wasn't room for both of them up there, not when they could barely stand each other.

Purgatory ended on a Wednesday. They brought themselves and their meager baggage to the dock at five in the morning, far earlier than any of the crew actually showed up - and now it was eight-thirty, and they should have pushed away from land at least half an hour ago. In order to stay hidden until they actually did leave, Melvina and Olivia were sitting against against the least dirty wall of the most deserted corridor outside the cluttered crew's quarters where they were to be staying along with everyone else. For forty pounds Melvina might have expected better accommodations, but - mostly she was just upset that she and Liv would not be getting a moment alone for at least a month, or however long this godforsaken journey took them. They couldn't risk their position on the ship, so they had to be on their absolute best sisterly behavior.

At least the others couldn't understand what they were saying to each other. Probably. Surely no one else spoke their language?

"I want to know what's taking so long," Liv muttered. Melvina turned to her curiously. "It seems harmless but if the ship's paperwork is not in order, the dock authorities might perform an inspection of some sort."

Oh. She was right.

"I should go up to check with the captain," Melvina said, standing. "And you should stay here."

Liv looked like she was going to protest, but ultimately she just gave a small nod, quickly squeezed the other's hand, and let her go.

Melvina rounded the corner, coming to the part of the level that was an exposed walkway, and stood standing for a few moments, listening. Hearing nothing unusual - but it was hard to hear anything, with the din of work going on nearby - she proceeded up the stairs to the top deck, where she was greeted by the sight of not only the captain and some recognizable members of the crew, but also the the very uniforms they had been desperately trying to avoid. And everyone was staring at her.

Her hand immediately flew to her hip, where her sword was - not, it wasn't there, it was down with Liv and the rest of the baggage. Oh, god, she couldn't take on this many men anyway. She had half a mind to turn and flee down the stairs but when large hands closed around her shoulders - where had those two men come from? - she realized that she couldn't. That this was it. That they'd finally gotten her, and she wasn't getting away.

"Good morning, gentlemen," she said, fairly loudly, hoping Olivia would hear and get the right idea. "Can I help you?"

"You're under arrest, Utkin," barked the uniform in charge, a lieutenant. "Search the rest of the ship."

Fuck. No. They'd gotten her but they couldn't get Liv, they couldn't.

"Gentlemen, please," said the captain, pale and distressed. "I only have one passenger aboard, and it's this woman."

"Your lies are becoming tiresome," the lieutenant said, condescending. "That's not what your first mate told me when he came to collect his reward."

The captain cursed. At least the man hadn't betrayed them on purpose, right? She supposed it didn't really matter who had done it. All that mattered now was that they didn't find her.

"There's no one down here, sir," said a man from the bottom of the stairs, and it took all of Melvina's self-restraint not to smile or show her relief.

"You keep looking," said the lieutenant. "Return in half an hour if you find nothing. I'm bringing this one in now."

Still being firmly restrained by the lieutenant's goons, Melvina was brought off the ship, down the busy dock, and into a waiting carriage, inconspicuously black and plain. She didn't bother resisting, didn't acknowledge or even notice the curious looks she was getting, instead scanning the sea of faces and bodies for some shape that she would recognize, some discreet, anonymous figure among the crowd that would confirm her hopes that Liv had escaped. Maybe she was the person with their back turned and their legs dangling off of the walkway. Maybe she was hidden among the walkers she could barely make out on the beach. Maybe she was still on the ship, and she was hidden so well they wouldn't find her. Maybe she was in the process of swimming to the shore. Maybe they'd spotted her from the ship. Maybe they'd shot at her. Would they miss? Would she drown? Alone in the cold, dirty water -

"I've heard about you," said the lieutenant, snapping Melvina's attention back to the immediate. "Not a lot, but some. A real troublemaker, huh. I bet you thought it was fun, going around in revolutionary circles, right? We'll see who's having fun when you're serving fifty years hard labor for sedition."

Melv didn't respond, stubbornly looking down at her lap instead of at the smug man sitting across from her in the carriage. Unsatisfied, the lieutenant kept going. "You seem smart enough. You're clearly a woman of ideas. What I want to know is why you've been attaching yourself to that Hvorstovsky. Do you understand?" Melvina gave no acknowledgement. "You aren't a problem for us if you aren't in the country. You become insignificant. There are plenty of rabble-rousers back at home we could make examples of. It's Hvorstovsky we're after. You've made yourself a bonus."

Melvina understood the question, and understood the lieutenant's curiosity. But she had never doubted her decision to stick with Olivia, not when they'd fled the Braintree estate with the agents' dogs at their heels, not even during the past week stuck in that awful little room. They were stronger, more capable, when they were together. And then there was the whole issue of them maybe being a little in love or whatever.

"Not going to talk?" the lieutenant said after a minute. "That's fine. We don't need you to."

The rest of the ride proceeded in silence. Melv didn't know where they were going, but she wasn't surprised when they ended up at the embassy. It was a large, gated structure, heavily guarded, and the lieutenant had to get out and show his badge to the men out front before they were let in.

Once inside, they passed through the public area of the embassy, where an array of men and women waited to have requests and documents processed by officials, and through another security point into the private part, whereupon, after the lieutenant had all of the information processed regarding the arrest, Melv was finally released by the goons.

"I'll have someone show you around," the lieutenant said. "One of my men will accompany you at all times." He held up a warning finger. "If you cause any sort of trouble there will be consequences for you and your friend. I know how to make your stay here as unpleasant as possible. All right?"

She nodded to show that she understood. And so her captivity began.

In a different situation, she would have found her stay at the embassy pleasant, almost enjoyable. Despite the various silent men following her around and watching her every move, she was given a private room far nicer than that in which she'd last stayed, and she was permitted to move about the building freely, a privilege which she fully exercised. For two days she spent much of her time in the back corner of the embassy library, burning through its the supply of books and documents which were in languages she could actually read. Keeping herself distracted.

She was consoled by two things: one, that she was still alone, which she took to mean that the agents hadn't yet managed to capture Olivia; and two, that she was still being kept here, because surely (maybe?) if Olivia was dead, they'd be on their way back home already.

(Then again, if the agents brought her back without Liv and without telling her otherwise, she'd just assume Olivia had managed to escape. Wouldn't he? She'd assume Olivia had managed to get on a ship and leave. She'd assume it as a kindness to herself.)

That didn't stop her from giving every other morbid possibility its fair share of consideration.

It was the night of her second full day at the embassy and, predictably, she couldn't sleep. Tired of imagining all the different ways she might never see Olivia again, she'd instead taken up an amorphous, permeating sense of dread which may have been just as hard on her heart but was at least not as taxing on her brain. She didn't expect anything to break her from her trance, and certainly did not expect anything - or anyone - to literally break into her room.

"Utkin, get up," the man hissed. Melv recognized that voice - it was the lieutenant who had arrested her.

"What?" she asked groggily, her eyes adjusting to the light from the hallway. "Has something happened?"

"Shut up," said the lieutenant. He held out a long black coat and a large-rimmed hat. "I need you to put these on."

Melv did as she was told. She wasn't sure what was going on but it didn't seem entirely... legitimate. She bit off a yelp of surprise as the lieutenant grabbed her by the front of the coat and tugged her into the (empty? weren't there supposed to be men posted outside her door at night?) hallway.

Something must have happened. Had they found Olivia? Had they killed her? Had they decided Melvina wasn't worth the trouble of keeping her around, or alive? She was pulled through the rest of the strangely deserted building, and outside. As they approached the main gate the lieutenant turned to grip both sides of the coat and pull Melvina's face up to his.

"Breathe a word of this to anyone and you're dead, got it?" Melv gulped and nodded, and the lieutenant let her go, instead walking beside her the rest of the way up to the gate.

The guards on the other side of the fence didn't give much acknowledgement to the odd pair, only muttering a "Good night, sir," as the lieutenant passed.

They walked together for another block, Melv too confused to do anything other than follow the other as if nothing were out of the ordinary. Then, as soon as they turned the corner out of the embassy guards' line of sight, the lieutenant turned to her and held out his hand.

"I need those back," he said. Melvina took off the coat and hat and handed them over. Shouldn't she be running? Wouldn't this be a good opportunity to get away? But she stood and watched the lieutenant put the items on.

"You're free to go," the lieutenant continued. "And when you see Hvorstovsky tell her I said she's a real asshole."

"W-will do," Melv replied, a little shocked. And just like that, the lieutenant turned and left.

What? That was it? She'd just been freed like that - while, based on the lieutenant's comments, Olivia was still out there? Was this some mind game - was she going to be followed?

But there was nobody around. She made her way back to the building in which she and Liv had been staying - it was the only place in the city she could think of to go. She took a circuitous, confusing path, partially intentional so as to lose anyone who was following her and partially because she didn't entirely know where she was.

Eventually, after an hour or so, she arrived. She didn't actually have a plan, but she realized that because of the possible change in occupancy it might be a bad idea to go barging back into their old room. Luckily, she noted that the housekeeper had a light on visible through her window, so she didn't feel to bad about knocking.

"Oh, it's you," the housekeeper noted immediately upon opening the door, not waiting for her to explain herself. "I was told to give you an address. Let me get it." She left briefly, then returned with a blank envelope, which she handed to her.

"Thank you, ma'am. Do you remember, um, when this was... given?" A more advanced English sentence than she was accustomed to delivering.

"Wednesday night, I believe," she replied. "Now, excuse me, good night."

So Olivia had escaped from the ship after all. "G-good night!" The landlady shut the door, and she tore open the envelope. Inside was a slip of paper with an address she knew to be in the north part of the city in a script she knew to be Olivia's.

Thank god.

She got herself to the address as quickly as she could, almost running. The morning was lightening and people were appearing on the street and in just a few minutes, she'd be with Olivia again, Liv would be there, or she wouldn't... she would or she wouldn't, just a few minutes, she would or she wouldn't, and in this way she arrived at the correct street, then the correct block, then -

She heard a shout from the other side of the street, and then a slightly smaller person was colliding with her and it just felt so right, after what felt like an impossibly long time, that she was choking back unexpected tears.

"Melvina. Melv," Olivia looked up, unburying her face from Melvina's shirt. "I can't believe it worked."

"Liv," Melvina croaked. "I can't believe you're okay."

"Are you okay?" Liv removed her arms from around Melv's waist, gripping her face and moving it back and forth, inspecting. She then took a step back and looked her up and down. Melv laughed.

"I'm great. I'm excellent," she said, allowing Liv to pull her by the hand towards a door, using the other to wipe at her wet face.

"That can never happen again," Liv said, entering the building and starting up the stairs, Melv still in tow. "I only got our bags back by freak luck and it took most of the rest of our money to get them to let you go, and I had to feed them so many lies about which of their secrets I'd told to whom, and even then..." They arrived at a room which Liv unlocked and entered, shutting the door behind them. "I had no control over the situation, I didn't know if they were actually going to do what I asked or if they were just going to keep the money and laugh at me, I -"

She broke off her train of thought and let go of Melv's hand, beginning to pace around the room as she launched into her next slightly manic tirade. "And then, clearly the plan we were given didn't work out, it's not like we can go back and ask for more help, we're completely on our own and in a way that's fine, I got us tickets for the ferry to Dublin today, even though I didn't know if you'd make it, I figured I could sell them if -"

Melvina caught her arm as she passed. "Liv, please," she asked softly. "Will you shut up about your clearly brilliant plan and kiss me already?"

"Oh," Liv said, looking up at her, eyes widening. "Yeah, okay."

[And she did, cradling Melvina's face in her hands like a sacred object and trying to give and give and give what Melvina needed - heartbreakingly sweet and earnest and Melv thought she was going to start crying again - until they were both breathless.]

"Now what was that you said," Melvina panted, "about ferry tickets to Dublin?"

[choicesfanatic86]

TTS: In Liam’s Eyes - Cordonia - Part 2/2

DISCLAIMER:  All characters belong to Pixelberry Studios, except characters unique to my story.  Those belong to me. ;)

PAIRINGS:  Riley (MC) x OC, Riley (MC) x Liam, Liam x Riley (MC) x OC, Olivia x Drake, Bertrand x Savannah, Maxwell x OC

SUMMARY: Liam returns to Cordonia and prepares for Riley’s arrival and enacts a plan to win her back.

If you are new to the series and would like to catch up by reading previous parts, please check out my master fan fiction listing.  CATCH UP HERE

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6/27/18 - Part 2 guys! I’m still on my break, these are all scheduled posts.  I will catch up on comments/questions/messages as soon as I come back. :)

As always, just shoot me a message or comment with requests to be added to the permanent tag or story tag. :)

In Liam’s Eyes - Cordonia - Part 2 of 2

Liam’s discussion with Regina had been a disaster.  He had expected as much, but it didn’t stop it from hurting any less.  He hadn’t expected her to suggest terminating the pregnancy, and out of everything that was what struck him the most.  He knew that she was probably speaking out of shock and desperation – her mind was ever-focused on what it would mean for Cordonia.  He tried to be mindful that he had also been blindsided by the unexpected news and didn’t handle things how he should have.  He had said some very hurtful things in the heat of the moment that he had wished to take back, but alas, once the words were said the damage had already been done.  Perhaps Regina was going through the same moment of shock and would come around to the idea eventually.

Despite her overall cold demeanor, there were moments when he was growing up that Regina showed a different side to her, a side that was almost maternal.  Having to deal with the loss of his own mother at an early age, he craved someone to fill the void of the mother figure he was missing.  When his father had married Regina, he had hoped that she would be that missing piece of the puzzle he had longed to find.  In her own way, Regina helped mold him into the man he was today, and in her mind, helped form him into the monarch he was as well.

After his father died and after Leo had gone back to the States with his family, Liam had felt so utterly empty and alone.  It was as if the life he had known for all those years had suddenly disappeared, and he was left trying to recreate a new life alone.  The only connection he had to that previous life that was still residing in the country was Regina.  She had been rather comforting initially – ensuring that he had the proper time to grieve and accept their new reality.  She also served as a wonderful confidante in those first few days after his father’s death so that he could express his fears and frustrations and what it would mean for their country.  She stood by and helped him stay strong for the country and his people.  That was why, he supposed, he had expected a bit more than a cold-hearted reception to the news about the pregnancy.  He had expected her to at least be supportive if nothing else.  Unfortunately, that had not been the case, and it as then that he decided that he wasn’t going to let Regina’s reaction distract him for the true purpose of what he was trying to accomplish – winning Riley back.

It was the day of Riley’s return, and he was nervous.  Nervous because he didn’t know what the future held for their relationship and their unborn child.  He knew what he wanted their future to be, but his conundrum was convincing her that the future he envisioned was possible for them.  In the two weeks since he had been back, he had accomplished nearly everything on the list he had first created back in New York – nearly everything because the nursery was far from done and he was nowhere near being able to get Riley to agree to marry him.  It didn’t matter though, because those last two items were a part of a much bigger plan he had formulated beyond the initial list he had created – a plan that couldn’t happen until she was back in Cordonia.  

Drake and Liam had been hard at work early that morning, getting some of the more complicated aspects of the nursery completed.  The last of the furniture had arrived and the men had spent the last couple of hours trying to piece the madness together.  

“How did you manage to get all of this in to the palace without anyone from the press catching wind that these were baby items?” Drake asked, looking around at the mess of furniture that was surrounding them.  

“Trust me, it wasn’t easy,” Liam said as he examined what appeared to be the leg from the crib.  “Bastien had the company use unmarked boxes and had them delivered in an unmarked delivery van,” he explained.

“So uh . . . you told Bastien, huh?” Drake asked, arching his eyebrows.

“I really had no other choice,” Liam frowned.  “He had suspected that there was more to Riley’s return than just another visit with the Beaumonts . . . he implied as much on several occasions, so I felt compelled to just tell him . . . he’s been quite helpful with adjusting my schedule and ensuring that everything remains confidential,” he explained.  “A few of the other staff members know as well.  It’s a rather difficult subject to avoid considering we’ve added a private obstetrician onto the staff,” he reasoned.  “Besides, Mrs. Scott caught me doing some research on Riley’s condition,” he closed his eyes as he began to remember the awkward exchange.  “She told me that her daughter had gone through the same thing and suggested she try drinking ginger tea. She was polite enough to not ask any questions, but I may not have been as lucky if it were any other staff member.  So we made arrangements to have the staff sign a non-disclosure agreement then told only a handful of the staff members who would be in direct involvement with the pregnancy or Riley when she was at the palace,” he explained further.

“Huh,” Drake said in surprise.  “It’s amazing how much you’ve considered in such a short amount of time,” he said thoughtfully.  “Impending fatherhood suits you, Liam,” he mused.

Liam felt his cheeks flush a little at the compliment.  “I hardly call what I’m doing fatherhood,” he shrugged, dismissing the compliment.  “I only wish to make things a bit easier for Riley when she comes back,” he explained.  

“Yeah, well, I can guarantee what you’re doing is a lot more than some dads nowadays would even do,” he countered.  “So don’t sell yourself short.  You’re doing pretty good,” he said encouragingly.

Drakes’ attention shifted back to the project in front of him as he tried to make sense of the mismatched pieces of wood that lay at his feet.  They had been working tirelessly on the nursery for the last week in between Liam’s numerous meetings, which meant that Drake was let with a bulk of the heavy duty labor.  The renovations to the room that Liam had first shown Drake when he had gotten back from New York had been completed, but the finer details still needed to be worked out.  They were currently struggling to put the pieces of the crib together.  Both men were getting extremely frustrated.  They had been at it for nearly an hour, and it didn’t remotely look like any sort of crib that Liam had seen before.

“I think we’re doing it wrong,” Liam said, throwing down a piece of wood.

“No shit, Sherlock,” Drake fumed in frustration, as he tried to read through the instructions. “That’s very perceptive of you.”

Liam sighed with a mix of frustration and worry.  “I had hoped all of this would be done before Riley flew in,” he said in disappointment.

“Well, Liam, I’m not a magician,” Drake countered, narrowing his eyes at his friend.  The earlier pleasantness flew out the window.  “You’re lucky we were even able to get as much done as we have,” he said looking around.  “How did you really expect us to get everything completed in just under a week and a half?  Besides . . . it’s taking twice as long because I spend half the time having to look over your work and fix things,” he said in irritation.

Liam frowned, feeling a bit slighted by Drake’s comment, even if he was right.  Liam had been useless.  Despite all his training in etiquette, public relations, hand to hand combat and foreign politics, he didn’t know anything about carpentry or home design.  It had never seemed important before.  Turns out, it’s actually a fairly important skill to have.  “You know better than anyone that I’m not handy at all,” he said.  “That’s why I needed your assistance in the first place,” he reasoned.  

“I still don’t get why we’re going through all this trouble,” Drake motioned around him.  “Riley isn’t even staying at the palace,” Drake sighed.  “And not to rub salt in the wound, but she doesn’t plan on sticking around long after she gives birth.”

Liam tried his best not to take Drake’s comment to heart.  He knew that the man was speaking out of tiredness and frustration.  He couldn’t blame him.  With Riley’s flight coming in today, he didn’t know when he’d have the time to contribute to get things done.  Every passing hour had him increasingly on edge.  Throughout the two weeks, anticipation and worry had been building.  He’d been short with many of his staff members which was extremely unlike him.  He even bit Drake’s head off a few times.  Liam could have sworn at one point that Drake seemed to be seriously considering throwing a hammer at him.  He had everyone around him stepping on eggshells, and he truly hadn’t meant to.  He just needed everything to be perfect.

“She’s going to change her mind,” he said confidently.  “This is just a small part of the bigger plan,” he explained.

“I keep hearing about this plan,” Drake said, as he pulled out his drill to fit two of the crib pieces together.  “But you haven’t exactly said what it entails,” he pointed out

“I want it to be a surprise . . . but I will say this . . . if it seems that our relationship has grown and strengthened to the point where I’m confident she’d be willing to make a commitment to one another, then my plan is to finally slide the ring that I’ve had for months onto her finger,” he grinned broadly.

Drake whistled lowly.  “You talk awfully big for a man that hasn’t sealed the deal yet,” he said skeptically.  “You don’t exactly have the best track record with attempting a proposal,” Drake shook his head.

“Yes, well.  She’s been rather reluctant to the idea of any sort of relationship with me apart from friendship,” he sighed.  “Even our text messages are so  . . . platonic,” he frowned.  “Not that I don’t imagine our short chats . . . because they mean the world to me.  I suppose I was just hoping for a bit more,” he frowned.  “She wants to be friends, and I was more than willing to jump at that opportunity,” he frowned.  “It’s better than no relationship at all I suppose.”

“Man, you two are making my head spin,” Drake said in exasperation.

“No more than you and Olivia make my head spin,” he chuckled, piecing some of the parts of the crib together.  “Is she speaking to you again?”

“Not quite,” Drake shrugged.  “I’m just going to let her go through her tantrum and let her get over whatever the hell she’s mad at me about now,” he said.  “At least the silence is better than her constant pestering about what happened in New York,” he reasoned.

“What does she want to know?” Liam asked.

“Oh you know . . . everything,” he rolled his eyes.  “It’s Olivia,” he said as if that explained it all.  “You’ve had to worry about your staff’s suspicions . . .  I’ve had to worry about Olivia’s suspicions.  She thinks there’s something going on between you two . . . which there is . . . but I haven’t confirmed or denied anything.  Told her that I don’t know what the hell is going on half the time, so she’d be better off asking you directly.”

“Which she’d never do,” Liam smirked.

“Exactly ,” Drake shrugged.  “She suspects something though . . . and I’m not too sure how much longer I’ll be able to fight her off,” Drake said honestly.  “You know better than anyone about how persistent she can be.”

“Should I talk to her?” Liam asked.  The last thing he wanted when Riley returned was Olivia hassling her about her relationship with Liam.  She had done so previously, and it had always managed to upset Riley.  With Riley pregnant, he didn’t want any sort of unnecessary agitation or stress adding to her already complicated pregnancy.  Olivia’s pestering could very well make things even more difficult than they already were.

“And say what?  That you got Riley pregnant and you’re trying to win her back and why yes we’ve been keeping this a secret from you,” Drake said sarcastically.  “Yeah, that will go over well,” he shook his head.  “This is Olivia we’re talking about.  She’ll go apeshit.  Remember what happened when I came back from New York?  It took all of two seconds after she found out Riley was okay before she started to chew my head off about me going after her.  She’s freaking crazy, man.  I don’t know why I stick around,” he sighed.  

“Because you love her,” Liam smiled.

Drake tried to stifle his own smile behind his typical brooding look.  “Yeah, I guess that’s it.  I guess that’s why you’re doing all of this huh?  Despite all the crap you’ve put one another through, you still love Lawson,” Drake elbowed him.

“Oh, most definitely. More than anything,” Liam didn’t even try to hide the broad grin that spread across his face.  “Don’t hate me, but I need to leave you again,” he sighed.  “I need to talk to Maxwell before Riley’s flight gets in . . . I’d like to surprise her at the airport and spend some time with her,” he explained.

“Is that such a good idea?” Drake asked carefully.

“I considered her being a bit uncomfortable with the idea, but we had a fairly wonderful conversation last night, and I imagine that we’re heading in the right direction.  Besides, friends can pick up friends from the airport,” he reasoned, the distaste of the word friends still lingering on his lips.

“Yeah.   Right,” he snorted.  “This another part of the plan?”

“This is only the beginning,” he murmured, shooting Drake a crooked smile before leaving.

Maxwell had been going on and on for days about how he was so excited to be reunited with his Tiger Lily and how happy he was to have his Little Blossom returning back to the manor.  He had casually mentioned that he had reserved a car service to pick them up from the airport and he had wanted to surprise both of them with a small bouquet of flowers.  His reasoning was that both girls had gone through quite a bit over the last few weeks, and he wanted them to start off their return to Cordonia on the right foot.  It was such a brilliant idea; Liam was envious that he hadn’t thought of it himself.  

Initially, Liam had suggested that Bastien pick the women up from the airport and escort them to the Beaumont Estate.  However, Bertrand raised the excellent point that Riley may not have been quite fond of the idea of seeing Bastien again, especially since she was still holding onto some animosity toward Bastien for the role that he had played in their break up before she had left Cordonia.  So, Liam promptly nixed the idea, and had reluctantly bowed out of coordinating the airport pick up and allowed Maxwell to make the arrangements.

But, now that her arrival day was upon them, Liam was having second thoughts.  He wanted to be there when she arrived.  He wanted to greet her and welcome her back.  He felt that he needed to show Riley that he was a man of his word – that he’d be there for her every step of the way.  It was then, that he decided he would court her and give her the traditional relationship that she had so desperately wanted to have when they first met all those years ago.  In order to make that happen, he’d need Maxwell’s assistance.

When he got to the Beaumont Estate, it was Bertrand who greeted him at the door.

“Your Majesty,” Bertrand inclined his head in greeting.  “You’re a bit early . . . Lady Riley’s flight hasn’t even been in the air for more than a couple of hours,” he noted in confusion.

“Yes, well, I was hoping to talk to Maxwell about that,” he began.  “Is he home?”

Bertrand nodded.  “He was looking over Riley’s office.  He and Savannah were adding a few last minute touches to make it a bit more personal,” he grinned.  “Excellent idea, Your Majesty.  I’ll admit, I was a bit taken aback by your request, but now that it has been completed, I’m certain that Lady Riley will be quite pleased,” he said proudly.

“Wonderful, Bertrand . . . I’m happy that they’ve been so helpful in making her space a little bit more like her own,” he smiled.

Just as he was about to take a peak in the room, Maxwell came bounding out.  

“Liam,” Maxwell greeted.  “I thought I heard your voice.  The girls’ flight isn’t due to come in for nearly six more hours,” he laughed.  “Did you get your times mixed up?” He asked.  Bertrand took that as his opportunity to bow out from the conversation and head off into his own study giving the men an opportunity to speak in private.

Liam shook his head.  “Not at all . . . I came to speak to you.  I was actually hoping to alter your little arrangement when you pick them up this afternoon,” he said.

“Alter it how?” Maxwell frowned.

“I’d like to pick up Riley from the airport,” he explained.  “I’ve missed her very much over the last couple of weeks, and I wanted to take a moment to discuss something with her . . . an idea I’ve been working on over the last couple of weeks,” he said further.

“What sort of an idea?” Maxwell asked curiously.

“Well, it’s actually more of a plan . . . to woo her,” he blushed.

Maxwell’s eyes lit up.  “Woo her?  That’s so romantic!” He exclaimed.

“Yes, well, this plan will take her full participation in order to work, so I’m hoping that by showing her that I’ll be there for her throughout the pregnancy and support her with whatever she needs, she’ll give me a chance to win her heart back,” he said his voice filling with emotion.  “Step one would be meeting her at the airport when she gets in,” he explained.

“Say no more, Liam.  I am happy to help,” he said eagerly.

“Thank you, Maxwell.  I appreciate your help with all of this,” Liam said genuinely.  “I’d also appreciate it if you didn’t mention everything I’ve been working on with the list . . . and trying to court her again to Andy.  I know that puts you in a difficult spot, but I don’t want Riley to know what I’m working on,” he explained.

“Are we talking like secret spy stuff?” Maxwell’s eyes became much brighter and if possible, his smile got even wider, too.  “Because if you are, I’m one hundred percent totally in,” he exclaimed.

“I wouldn’t go that far, Maxwell,” Liam tried to stifle a chuckle.

“Oooh, we need to come up with secret code names . . . like maybe you can be Black Hawk and I can be Eagle Eye . . . oh and Little Blossom could be Mama Bird unless you think that would be too obvious and alert people to her condition . . .” he rambled on, making Liam’s head spin.

“Maxwell, it really doesn’t have to be that complicated or elaborate,” he tried to reason with him.

“We can call it Operation Win Riley Back,” he said gleefully.  “Yes, that’s perfect.  Operation WRB to protect the true purpose of the mission,” he said excitedly.

Liam couldn’t help but chuckle at Maxwell’s eagerness.  “Maxwell, I hardly think that secret codenames and mission names are necessary,” he mused.

“Oh, but it makes it that much more exciting, Liam.  Trust me.”

And with that, Maxwell spent the rest of the afternoon chattering Liam’s ear off about their secret mission and how Mama Bird was going to be pleasantly surprised with Black Hawks’ plan.  Maxwell had insisted that they formulate a ruse to get Riley alone at the airport, so that he could meet Andy while Liam took the opportunity to swoop in once Andy was gone.  Liam hadn’t meant for things to be so complicated.  He only intended to be waiting with a car at the airport, although he had to admit, he liked Maxwell’s idea a whole lot better.  It definitely added a little more surprise to the mix.

Hours later, Liam sat inside the small SUV parked in front of the terminal that Riley was scheduled to come out of.  Maxwell had his driver park at the back portion of the terminal and he waited in the backseat.  He had texted Andy explaining what Liam wanted to surprise Riley at the airport and gave her prompt instructions on what to do and say when they came out of the terminal.  Liam had hoped that al would go according to plan.  The success counted on Andy checking her cell phone as soon as the plane landed, otherwise, they’d just have two angry women waiting for their rides as the airport without any sort of direction.

Liam’s leg bounced nervously as he waited in anticipation.  He wondered briefly if she’d be upset at his sudden appearance, but pushed the thought from his mind.  He wasn’t going to worry about the what ifs anymore . . . that’s what had gotten him in trouble before.  He was going to live in the moment and make sure that Riley knew exactly how he felt about her.

It felt like hours later, but in reality it was only a few minutes later when he saw her.   All the love and emotions came flowing right through him.  Her coloring had improved substantially since he had last seen her.  She still looked a bit too frail for his liking, but he knew that the morning sickness has a lot to do with that.  He was just so thankful that she was starting to look a bit more like the Riley he had fallen in love with.  Her smile was brighter than when he last saw her as she wandered outside with Andy.  He watched on as Andy perused her cell phone.  He had hoped that everything was going according to plan.  Sure enough, he saw her start to wander off toward the opposite side of the terminal, her luggage in hand.  It had worked.  Andy was on her way to meet Maxwell, and all Liam needed to do was convince Riley to take a ride with him, and then, his plan could begin.

“Riley,” he called out to her.

He watched as she looked around her a bit confused, until their eyes met.  A small smile played on her lips when she saw him . . . at least he had hoped it was a smile.  

“Liam,” she gasped.  He went to grab her carryon bag that she had tucked beside her.  He saw her eyes widen in surprise.  “What are you doing here?” She asked.

“I wanted to make sure you got in safely,” he explained.  He noticed the larger suitcase that was parked behind her, and started to grab at the handle of that one as well.  “After our talk yesterday, I wanted to make sure you were alright,” he said quietly.  “You seemed quite upset . . . and . . . well . . . it just didn’t sit right with me.  I was hoping that I could take you back to the estate myself . . . I know Maxwell arranged a driver, but I was hoping that maybe we could talk on the way over . . . what do you say?” he asked hopefully.

His heart thumped wildly in his chest, waiting for her to respond.  He saw the hesitation in her eyes as she looked around a bit worriedly.  “Liam . . .” she smiled.  “I’d like to, but what about Andy?” She asked.

Liam’s worried expression transformed into a large grin.  “Let’s just say there were other arrangements made for her travel,” he smiled, as he began to pull Riley’s luggage toward his waiting SUV.

[hopelesstvaddict]

(SOME) VILE THOUGHTS ON THE VILE VILLAGE

At the exact middle of the season, A Series of Unfortunate Events suffers its first major loss and cements its step into darker territory. Sure the show never really shied away from killing off characters in various ways (yet elegantly never shown). After all, this is a series that started off with the deaths of two parents and has since killed off two guardians, one villain and another set of parents as well as one child. But Jacques' death hits and hurts in a way no death so far has and that's entirely thanks to his story, largely expanded from the book - really he was supposed to show up only in these two episodes (the first one only actually if we're to take the episode cliffhanger into account). But the show placed a winning bet on casting Fillion in a recurring role rather than a one-time guest star. By endearing him to viewers, they make sure to take them by the guts when the character bites the dust and they also provide treasured bread crumbs about VFD.

Of course, it does play with our emotions a lot. Book readers know in advance what's going to happen in the stories but the show has by now reached a point where deviations integrate well within the narrative and it absolutely nails the spirit of its original material by managing a frustratingly short but actual victory for VFD when Olivia and Jacques arrest Olaf. Once again, the device serves as exposition for VFD-related backstory, confirming what was hinted in earlier episodes. Olaf was once part of the organization himself. And he and Jacques know each other well and they were not always on bad terms. Putting this into perspective, what with his loathing Lemony's name in the first episode of the series, his school photograph from Prufrock, his mention of Beatrice and the fact that the Snicket and Baudelaire families were close, really paints the picture of a still nebulous drama - probably involving that sugar bowl Esme seems so bent on finding that she'd let prisoners escape for the sake of it.

That sugar bowl is now Olivia's role which makes sense. Her partnership with Jacques culminates in this episode as she fully embraces VFD (and him if we're to be absolutely honest) but it could not last since he was doomed from the beginning and she didn't exist in the first place. The whole sugar bowl story was never really developed in the books; that it falls to a character that didn't exist in the books is thus an evidence. With Jacques and Olivia gone, we're back with original VFD duo Jacquelyn and Larry to (try to) do the saving. It will be interesting to see if Olivia can manage on her own.

VFD fills more and more of these episodes and these two were full of it in particular as the titular town is integrated in the greater scheme of things. As opposed to a seemingly random red-herring in the books, it is revealed to have been once home to Larry and to some VFD members including Olaf and Georgina (a nice callback to the previous season in addition to references to Lumber Mills popping everywhere - way to build and establish your universe). The town inhabitants, however, have seemingly all gone to the bad side and they are as frustratinly infuriating as their book counterpart. In this, the adaptation is faithful - The Vile Village does not stand as one of the fans' favorites and the show had the difficult task to translate it to the screen faithfully while also maintaining and amping up the stakes (no pun intended). It does so with honors in some places but fails on others.

For starters, Olaf and Esme's personas were not among the best in this book. It is not either on the screen. If Officer Luciana gets a pass, Detective Dupin gets a mere meh. And while musical numbers were welcome when used sparsely, too much is too much and becomes unnecessary. No wonder Klaus' impatience start showing. In this, it is indeed necessary to highlight that Book!Klaus is very different than Show!Klaus as the latter is much more prone to voice his concern and frustration. It is a conscious choice but one that is emotionally consistent as Klaus visually acts as us viewers in being increasingly tired of the adults' idiocy. It is then a bit surprising that unlike their book counterparts, neither Klaus nor Violet end up fighting but perhaps that is for the best. The spotlight belongs to Sunny anyway, who literally drives a fire truck to save the day, um, the morning (making the Hook-Handed Man proud - a running gag apparently).

Speaking of which, cinematography and music are the strongest aspects of this adaptation. While the book didn't really specify the setting of the story, the visuals make the choice of giving a whole Far West-ish vibe that is not unwelcome and offers the loveliest palette of colors as dawn and sunset compete for the prettiest sets. Combined with smart clothing choices (Violet's pastel dress is her most beautiful yet), these two episodes also feature an original score that definitely stands out, interweaving both Mexican sounds and a recurring melancholic choir that accompanies the murder of crows on their way to Nevermore Tree, easily the most lyrical scene the show has offered yet. The second part counters this by opening at the lowest emotional level yet as Lemony quietly narrates his brother's death. It's the closest the show has gotten at making us feel absolutely despondent and distraught over the injustices that inhabit its universe.

But for all the dire situations the Baudelaires endured this episode, they have at long last achieved something positive. The Quagmires are safe with Hector (Ithamar Enriquez). At this point, it must be said that Enriquez was not necessarily what I had in mind for Hector but given the choices made for the themes underlining these episodes, it still works. (And it must be commended that thanks to the creative liberties it has taken, the show managed to make us fearful for Hector's life - even if it was for a few seconds). It is however just a bit disappointing that all of the VFD subplot meant that the actual literary content had to be squeezed a bit which meant that Hector ended up a bit less fleshed-out than his book counterpart was. The importance of the crows in the town is also toned down which makes the final scene just a bit less effective than what it was in the books. Similarly, we're skeptical of the blooming romance between the two sets of orphans. While Isadora and Klaus work well together, Violet and Duncan as a pair is more problematic - given that she fancies a major character in the next books. It remains to be seen how many more creative liberties can be taken before the show starts to definitely stray away from its source content.

[svartalfhild]

All the Things She Knows

Rating: T Genre: Supernatural Words: 2,197 Summary: Rowan Axel, a young college student and self-taught witch, likes to know things, especially about people, and when something piques her curiosity, she follows that thread to the end. Warnings: Reference to past self-harm, discussion of death. A/N: This is a prequel fic to @disabledpaladin‘s new Monsterhearts campaign.

- - -

It happened the very first week of classes, the little moment that set off a chain of events that would lead Rowan Axel to knowing more about certain of her classmates than she had ever expected to discover.  It was a simple thing, silly even, but it was more than enough the spark her curiosity.

It was lab day in Marine Biology.  The professor wanted them all to “experience different forms of marine life”.  She had them touching different creatures in a long, shallow tank and writing down observations.  Rowan found the whole thing a bit distasteful.  How would she feel if she were put in a tank and groped for three hours by 16 college students?  Not bloody good, most likely.  Nonetheless, she wanted to pass this class, so she followed her assigned group to the tank when it was their turn.

Olivia Bennett, a short, auburn-haired girl in her group, was by far the most eager of the four of them to stick her hands in the tank.  She was in up to her elbows, holding a starfish, before the rest of them had even found a place to set their notebooks.  

As Rowan watched Rufus Grunberg roll up his sleeves, she contemplated how she could avoid having to roll up her own and reveal to these people the faded scars like hash marks up her forearms.  She didn’t want their questions or concern.  Tyra Amaal, the arguably most put together person in the group, or indeed entire class, was a hijabi and had thus been given big rubber gloves that went up to her elbows.  Rowan considered asking for some herself, but realized that’d only draw more attention and scrapped the idea.  Before she could think on it further, however, she was interrupted by Rufus tripping on a lab stool on his way to the tank and she had to grab his wrist to steady him before he could fall head-first into the water.

It was like grasping a big icicle.  Rufus was colder to the touch than any living person could reasonably be.  He quickly pulled away from her once he regained his footing, almost as if she’d shocked him, and she stared.

“Sorry!  Sorry.  I should be more careful,” he apologized, eyes shifting about as he nervously ran a hand through his dark hair.

“No worries,” she replied, though she narrowed her eyes as she continued to watch him.  He seemed determined to pretend nothing had just happened and was pointedly giving his attention to a crab that had had its pincers bound.  This told Rowan that he knew she had just felt how cold he was and wanted her to think she’d imagined it, but unfortunately for him, she was a witch who didn’t discard such things.  No, she salted that shit away like a ham to cure.

For now, however, she let him think he was home free and returned her own attention to the lab assignment.  With a sigh, she went to the far end of the tank, away from everyone else, pushed up her sleeves, and hoped the others were too busy to look closely at her while she poked at a sea anemone.

- - -

When Rowan entered the library after a long day of classes, she was hit by a rush of cold air.  Clearly they had the air-conditioning set to stun.  It reminded her of what had happened with Rufus earlier and she immediately decided her library time wasn’t going to be for studying.  Instead, she hit the stacks and spent the afternoon learning more about the history of the town and all the unusual deaths that had occurred here in past century.  She was, after all, quite certain that Rufus Grunberg was dead, more specifically undead.

She had had some experience in this area before.  She had already uncovered a cabal of vampires in town led by the owner of Beppe’s Pizza the previous year.  They didn’t know she knew, but that was half the fun.  Was Rufus another vampire and she had somehow missed him in her previous investigation?  Perhaps not.  He seemed a little too...independent.  What was he, then?

By late evening, she found herself flipping through familiar microfilms of hundred year old newspapers, looking at obituaries in search of Rufus.  Her stomach growled with hunger and she was on the verge of giving up for the day when a familiar face caught her eye in an obituary from 1922.  Ah, yes, there he was.  Rufus Grunberg.  The photo was some sort of portrait, probably commissioned by his family for some special occasion.  Same long face.  Same neat hair.  Only real difference was that he looked happier.  

He had evidently died in an “unfortunate accident” at the old meat packing plant where he had worked.  Rowan made a note to look into the plant before continuing on to learn that he was a Great War veteran.  Damn.  He’d survived one of the most gruesome and pointless wars in human history only to be killed by pre-OSHA factory conditions at home.  That was a cruel irony, to be sure.  In any case, it fully ruled him out as a vampire.  She made a note to look into lore about other types of undead before going on to read that he’d been buried in the city cemetery.  She made yet another note to try to find his grave.

“Ms. Axel, the library is closing for the night.  You have to leave,” one of the librarians came to tell her, shaking her from the almost trance-like state that was brought on when she got deep into her research.  She nearly jumped out of her skin, she was so startled by the voice behind her.  She turned to give an acknowledging nod to the poor librarian and began to pack up her things, despite not being remotely prepared to stop her investigation.  It had only just begun.

With a sigh, Rowan slung her bag over her shoulder and marched out of the library into the open night air.  She wasn’t ready to go home yet, antsy with everything she’d just learned, so she pulled out her phone to look at the notes she’d made as she stood on the street corner.  She had a choice between going to the old factory district and going to the cemetery. The cemetery was closer and she didn’t feel like hanging around rusty meat hooks in the dark, so she hailed a cab and asked for the cemetery, ignoring the driver’s odd looks.

- - -

The graveyard was a familiar place to Rowan.  She came there often to be away from people.  The dead did not judge, belittle, or betray.  They were silent, peaceful, and patient to no end.  

Rowan climbed the fence with practiced ease and quietly made her way between the gravestones to a section at the back she rarely explored.  She knew most of the names in about three-quarters of the cemetery, so if she was going to find a name she hadn’t seen here before, that would be the logical place to start.

An hour of searching and pacing later and she was growing increasingly frustrated at her lack of success.  The newspaper had said he was buried in the city cemetery.  It had to be here somewhere.

Just as she was about to give up for the night, she saw something the shadow of a huge oak, about the right size to be a grave marker.  Sure enough, when she approached, she could see it was a headstone that had gone unmaintained for some time.  It was covered in dead vines and moss and the grass of the plot was overgrown.  She could barely make out the Star of David carved at the top and the name Rufus Grunberg beneath it.

A sudden and profound sadness came over Rowan then.  This guy had worked so hard in life and spent nearly a century condemned to walk the mortal world in death and he’d just been forgotten, even by his family, seeing as they couldn’t be bothered to make sure his grave was well-kept.  She knew a little something about being alone and forgotten; she could only imagine what it must be like for him.

Tears welled up in her eyes and she hastily wiped them away.  She prided herself on having a heart of stone.  She wasn’t gonna wimp out now and get weepy over some dead person she didn’t even really know.  Not ever.  Especially when she’d sworn to herself never to cry about a boy for any reason again.  Fuck that shit.

Still, seeing Rufus’s grave like this bothered her, so she took out her pocket knife and began to clear off the vegetation.  When she was done, she stood back and admired her work.  The thing looked like a proper marker now, readable from more than a couple feet away.  She was about to walk away but the instinct to leave something to be respectful nagged at her and she looked about for a nice rock of any kind.  There were a few pebbles amongst the grass, but nothing worthwhile.  

With a frustrated sigh, she pulled a polished black stone the size of her palm from the pocket of her jacket and looked at it, tracing her thumb over the runes carved into it.  She didn’t want to give it up.  She’d bought it at the occult shop last week and it hadn’t been cheap.  Besides, it wasn’t her policy to just give things away.  The world had never been generous to her, why should she be generous?  What was a dead Jewish guy gonna do with a pagan rock, anyway?  Some other part of herself, probably the part that was always bringing out the phrase “momma didn’t raise no animal”, prodded at her with notions of respect and good intent.  She’d already put forth the effort to clean up the grave, how hard could it be to go the rest of the mile and leave the protection stone?

In the end, that pang of empathy she’d felt for Rufus earlier returned to grant victory to her moral conscience and she bent down to place the stone against his grave marker.

“If you make me break anymore of my rules for you, I’m gonna hex you,” she murmured, wiping her hand across his name one last time before she got up and briskly walked away.

- - -

The next week and a half was strange, at least from Rowan’s perspective.  Since visiting Rufus’s grave, she had also made trips to the eerie-ass danger zone that was the site of the old meatpacking plant, with its half-collapsed building and sinkhole that was dark brown with the animal blood that had caused it.  She hadn’t found anything but some dumbass kids playing with a ouija board and a lot of old and dangerous equipment.  Nothing seemed to tell her anything new about Rufus’s death and continued existence in her marine biology class.

And the class?  Well, it was getting more bizarre by the day.  It wasn’t just Rufus who was odd.  Tyra kept referring to her own body in strange ways.  The first time, Rowan hadn’t paid it much attention.  Slips of the tongue happen.  But the girl just kept doing it.

“The hands are really cold,” she’d said in their latest lab, clenching and unclenching her hands, and it was at this point that Rowan decided Rufus Investigation Time was now Rufus and Tyra Investigation Time.  It didn’t take much to find out that Tyra’s entire being from California backstory was total bullshit.  This girl didn’t seem to exist before about two years ago, so what was she?  People who were in witness protection or some shit didn’t generally talk about their own bodies like objects.  Nobody does that.  So something clearly supernatural was going on there.

And Olivia?  For a while, Rowan was fairly confident that that girl was a normie.  After all, she’d known of Olivia since they were kids and nothing had been really off about her.  Sure, there was the whole thing about the Bennett house burning down, but it wasn’t like that kind of thing never happened.  But then Olivia accidentally left her locket necklace behind at lab and Rowan, ever the opportunist, picked it up.  When she opened it later, she found it contained not a picture, but a pocket of blood.

First of all, what the actual fuck?  Second, Rowan knew enough about dark magic to know that this was some seriously dark shit, putting Olivia firmly in her Shady-Ass Motherfucker Book and adding her to the theory board in her room dedicated to figuring out what sort of creatures Rufus and Tyra were.

What was even more strange than all of this was the question of how the four of them, little monsters all, had managed to end up in the same class, in the same lab group together.  Something definitely weird was going on.

Rowan would have her answers, one way or another.  And if she could pull a few favours out of them in the process, so much the better.

[spryfilm]

“The Frozen Dead” (2017)

TV Series/Drama/Thriller

Episodes: Six

Created by: Gérard Carré , Pascal Chaumeil and Caroline Van Ruymbeke

Featuring: Charles Berling,  Julia Piaton,  Pascal Greggory

It is fair to say that television crime dramas, in particular foreign language crime dramas are now a dime a dozen, they exist in almost every language covering a variety of normally brutal and heinous crimes. These international television shows seemed to begin with the Nordic Noir genre that started with the excellent “The Killing” (2007-2012) from Denmark which itself was re-made in the US as a hit there. What followed was a myriad of not only crime, but political stories primarily from those Nordic countries that attempted to originate new stories as well as sympathetic flawed people who were only one step behind their quarries. These whodunits spread throughout the world expanding beyond their origins with many variations on a theme, one of the most successful English language versions being “Broadchurch” (2013 -2017) from the UK featuring David Tennant and Olivia Coleman.

What all of these shows have in common in terms of plot and narrative is rather simple, with most of them obviously created with an ending in mind, sometimes that ending (as well as revelation) can be shocking enough to come out of left field where no viewer may expect the story to end up. The other thing that these narratives have in common is an almost endless supply of red herrings that keep an audience guessing throughout what can seem like an endless amount of episodes. As a viewer i find not only the amount of episodes as well as the endless amount of suspects exceedingly frustrating.

Now comes the latest in this tradition, this time from France with a show that has as its backdrop the beautiful Pyrenees Mountains which become a character using the isolation of an area unlike many other similar shows. “The Frozen Dead” (originally titled  “Glacé”) broadcast in France in January 2017 is different to many of the genre shows around, it is only six episodes and the landscape is amazing, there are seemingly parallel storylines which make sense and are linked as are the performances which are superb.

“The Frozen Ground” (2017) is set in the Pyrenees where the corpse of a headless horse is discovered 2,000 meters up a mountain strung up atop a cable car. The investigation is entrusted to Captains Martin Servaz of the SRPJ of Toulouse and Irène Ziegler of the National Gendarmerie . Not far from here, young psychiatrist Diane Berg begins psychotherapy sessions with Julian Hirtmann, a dangerous serial killer arrested years ago by Captain Servaz and now incarcerated in a high security prison.

The story itself does not lend itself to a deep description here as that would only lead to spoilers, this show is definitely more enjoyable by not knowing what is going to happen next, as well as what the relationships between all the major as well as the minor characters are at the beginning of the story.

This show is expertly directed by Laurent Herbiet as well as being beautifully photographed by Dominique Bouilleret who both use the geographic location of the Pyrenees, as not only a unique backdrop for the action but also incorporate it as a character to visually show the audience the kind of isolation that each of the separate characters are going through as they progress through the main story as well their own separate narratives. Herbiet really does know this story, which is reflected in the tight storytelling as well as the time that is given over to not only each character, but also their importance within the narrative, which is linked directly to the plot. This last point may seem self evident but it is a consistent weakness with many other crime dramas, they can get lost within their own story as well the meaning that story has in relation to the actions that they take.

As well as the characters being spot on, the cast has been chosen very well, Charles Berling as the main protaganist, Martin Servaz becomes increasingly sick as the story unfolds, with the realisation that the motivation of the protagonists starts coming together. The second lead is Julia Piaton as Irène Ziegler whose motivations and background become more relevant and apparent as she works her way through what starts as a simple animal death. Piaton and Berling work together as a one two punch as well as any onscreen partnership ever has. On the other side of the story we have the mesmerizing as well as menacing Pascal Greggory as serial killer and somewhat mentor Julian Alois Hirtmann who operates almost entirely from two rooms in an asylum – he acts with such limited physical support that you would forgive him for being one note, but trust me he isn’t, he offers such a well rounded performance you will be wondering what his motivations are right to the end. Finally, the rest of the supporting cast are all great, with varying performances that change a lot right from the first episode to the last without a hint of insincerity or shenanigans by the writers of the series. For me I must say I always find it a real refreshing feeling to see actors I have never seen before especially when they are in a project this good.

The writing on this show is actually one its top strengths which may seem obvious but in fact by time something this complex gets to the screen the heart of it can be removed by over zealous producers and directors, but that is not the case here. This has as I have said greta characters but it also has them making honest decisions, in particular the son of one of the suspects has some incredibly hard things to come to terms with, and i think his performance for me is the most real as is the conclusion he comes to – that is all down to the decision made by the writers.

As I have already stated this is a really good crime series with very little in the way of false leads or starts, it ratchets up the thriller aspects while never coming up short on plot elements that propel the story along, at times very quickly. It also creates space for real character moments that ring true not only to the story but to each of the characters that they interact with. As with any modern crime story the ‘heroes’ are flawed but find their way through life by clinging (desperately sometimes) to positive aspects of life whereas the similarly flawed ‘villains’ are almost nihilistic in nature, illustrating there is indeed a thin line between the good and the bad. This is a show that is easily re-watchable, unlike other genre shows due to its fast pace and relatively short episodes both the number and length. I recommend this highly not only to watch but is well worth the investment to own a copy.

“The Frozen Dead” is available now on DVD.

Charles BERLING Julia PIATON

DVD review: “The Frozen Dead” (2017) “The Frozen Dead” (2017) TV Series/Drama/Thriller Episodes: Six Created by: Gérard Carré , Pascal Chaumeil and Caroline Van Ruymbeke…

[peterslewisp1]

New Found Confidence

GAINING CONFIDENCE WITH JONAS PAUL EYEWEAR

Three years ago our oldest daughter Olivia was prescribed eyeglasses for all day wear. I remember walking through the retail store after her eye exam and couldn’t believe the poor selection of frames that were available to her. The selection was cut down even further when we learned which ones our insurance would cover and which we would have to pay out-of-pocket for ($$$). After spending an hour with her, searching for the “perfect” pair, she reluctantly picked one. We put the order in and a week later they were ready for pick-up. In the following weeks and months she would frequently leave them at home, keep them in her backpack while at school and try as hard as she could to wear them as infrequently as possible. She didn’t like them and you could visibly see a change in her each time she put them on. They didn’t fit her personality and she didn’t feel comfortable in them. At a routine parent teacher conference I learned that one of her teachers didn’t even know she had prescription eyeglasses because she had never worn them in his class. After learning this, it became my goal to find something that she could wear comfortably, feel good in, and more importantly, want to wear. They were such a necessity to her and yet they were not being used in their intended purpose to help her sight. There had to be better options out there that would help her feel more confident wearing them. As adults we have so many choices that fit our face shapes and our personal style. I would frequently think, “why don’t children have this option?”.

As it turns out, I was just looking in the wrong place.

window.SHOGUN_SLIDERS = window.SHOGUN_SLIDERS || new Array(); window.SHOGUN_SLIDERS.push({ id: '#slider-s-d0acbabc-1fc8-48ad-afc6-5442cef655d0', intervalTime: 5, autoplay: true, pauseOnHover: false, interval: null })

In an internet search for modern children’s eyewear I found Jonas Paul and fell in love with the fashionable styles and color options, and Olivia agreed. Jonas Paul was founded by Ben & Laura Harrison after their son Jonas was born with a rare disorder, Peter’s Anomaly, which causes opacified corneas and glaucoma. When searching for eyeglasses for their son, they grew increasingly frustrated with the limited fashionable eyewear options available to children. It was their mission to help children feel beautiful in their glasses and provide sight to children in need. It was when I read about their buy sight, give sight efforts that I was hooked.  

Unlike other children’s eyewear, Jonas Paul offers a Home Try-On Kit that gets mailed right to your door. Each kit comes with seven affordable frame options for your child to try in the comfort and convenience of your own home. You have up to a week to try them and find the perfect frame(s) before mailing the kit back. We ordered our kit and the fun began. I watched as my daughter excitedly tried each pair before narrowing down to her favorite two. Each of them left her beaming with happiness.

After looking at the color options available for each pair, she selected The Paige Clear. The ordering process was just as easy as ordering the home try-on kit and within a few days they arrived at our door. It was all so seamless and stress free. Even better, my daughter has not wanted to take them off. She wanted something original and fun that would make a statement. The Paige frame does just that.

Her new found confidence in these frames has truly propelled her these past few weeks. She is a more frequent participant in class, is a part of the student council and will be speaking at an upcoming school wide assembly. She has quickly become the beautiful, strong and confident person we always knew she was but now it finally shows inside and out thanks to Jonas Paul.

Keep up with Olivia, her mama Jenna, and their adventures by heading on over to her blog at:

http://www.homeandthehomemaker.com/2018/10/finding-confidence-in-jonas-paul-eyewear.html 

or follow her Instagram @thejennaogle !

from Jonas Paul Eyewear - News https://jonaspauleyewear.com/blogs/news/new-found-confidence from Jonas Paul Frames http://jonaspaulframes.tumblr.com/post/180988361027

[rafaelhillr1]

New Found Confidence

GAINING CONFIDENCE WITH JONAS PAUL EYEWEAR

Three years ago our oldest daughter Olivia was prescribed eyeglasses for all day wear. I remember walking through the retail store after her eye exam and couldn't believe the poor selection of frames that were available to her. The selection was cut down even further when we learned which ones our insurance would cover and which we would have to pay out-of-pocket for ($$$). After spending an hour with her, searching for the "perfect" pair, she reluctantly picked one. We put the order in and a week later they were ready for pick-up. In the following weeks and months she would frequently leave them at home, keep them in her backpack while at school and try as hard as she could to wear them as infrequently as possible. She didn't like them and you could visibly see a change in her each time she put them on. They didn't fit her personality and she didn't feel comfortable in them. At a routine parent teacher conference I learned that one of her teachers didn't even know she had prescription eyeglasses because she had never worn them in his class. After learning this, it became my goal to find something that she could wear comfortably, feel good in, and more importantly, want to wear. They were such a necessity to her and yet they were not being used in their intended purpose to help her sight. There had to be better options out there that would help her feel more confident wearing them. As adults we have so many choices that fit our face shapes and our personal style. I would frequently think, "why don't children have this option?".

As it turns out, I was just looking in the wrong place.

// window.SHOGUN_SLIDERS = window.SHOGUN_SLIDERS || new Array(); window.SHOGUN_SLIDERS.push({ id: '#slider-s-d0acbabc-1fc8-48ad-afc6-5442cef655d0', intervalTime: 5, autoplay: true, pauseOnHover: false, interval: null })//

In an internet search for modern children's eyewear I found Jonas Paul and fell in love with the fashionable styles and color options, and Olivia agreed. Jonas Paul was founded by Ben & Laura Harrison after their son Jonas was born with a rare disorder, Peter's Anomaly, which causes opacified corneas and glaucoma. When searching for eyeglasses for their son, they grew increasingly frustrated with the limited fashionable eyewear options available to children. It was their mission to help children feel beautiful in their glasses and provide sight to children in need. It was when I read about their buy sight, give sight efforts that I was hooked.  

Unlike other children's eyewear, Jonas Paul offers a Home Try-On Kit that gets mailed right to your door. Each kit comes with seven affordable frame options for your child to try in the comfort and convenience of your own home. You have up to a week to try them and find the perfect frame(s) before mailing the kit back. We ordered our kit and the fun began. I watched as my daughter excitedly tried each pair before narrowing down to her favorite two. Each of them left her beaming with happiness.

After looking at the color options available for each pair, she selected The Paige Clear. The ordering process was just as easy as ordering the home try-on kit and within a few days they arrived at our door. It was all so seamless and stress free. Even better, my daughter has not wanted to take them off. She wanted something original and fun that would make a statement. The Paige frame does just that.

Her new found confidence in these frames has truly propelled her these past few weeks. She is a more frequent participant in class, is a part of the student council and will be speaking at an upcoming school wide assembly. She has quickly become the beautiful, strong and confident person we always knew she was but now it finally shows inside and out thanks to Jonas Paul.

Keep up with Olivia, her mama Jenna, and their adventures by heading on over to her blog at:

http://www.homeandthehomemaker.com/2018/10/finding-confidence-in-jonas-paul-eyewear.html 

or follow her Instagram @thejennaogle !

via Jonas Paul Eyewear - News https://jonaspauleyewear.com/blogs/news/new-found-confidence

from Jonas Paul Frames - Blog http://jonaspaulframes.weebly.com/blog/new-found-confidence