#on paper barely sleeping and hardly ever getting tired seems like it should rule

[obstinatecondolement]

I know I tend to get nostalgic for the symptoms I am currently experiencing the extreme opposite of and that I can't really know if X was "better" than Y or if I'm just not in the grip of X right now and nothing seems like it could possibly be worse than Y, but like… was hypersomnia that bad?

[elsanna-shenanigans]

April Contest Submission #19: Your Worth

Words: ca. 4,000 Setting: canon Lemon: no CW: none

“Your Majesty, it is time for dinner,” a voice called out in time with gentle knocking.

“I’ll be right there Kai, thank you,” replied Elsa.

She just needed to finish these papers before tomorrow so that she could ensure that there would be no delays in important matters. If Kai just came to call her, she reasonably had about seven minutes to finish up before she had to spend the other three walking to the table to prevent Anna from getting concerned. Her sister was ever the worrier, and the one who ensured that Elsa didn’t just lock herself away forever and accidentally die of starvation.

She found that minutes went by quickly when trying to do work. It took time to read the documents, time to deliberate on the best course of action, and even more time to put words to paper. This was of course followed by staring at it nervously, unsure if it was the best decision.

As predicted, the clock hit the seventh minute too quickly so she got up and went down. Food was hardly appetizing when she thought about the damage her winter could have caused in its short eternity. Still, she had to eat to keep up pretenses. If she didn’t, Anna would get worried and keep her at the table for longer. That wasn’t affordable.

Anna was waiting at the table, as expected. Elsa thought she saw a small frown on her lips but she blinked and Anna’s face returned to its usually smiling countenance. Must have been another trick of her mind.

“Oh, hey Elsa. Everything okay?” Anna asked.

“Just busy. You know how things get.” replied Elsa.

“Yeah, I do.” Anna sounded somewhat subdued in saying that. 

Still, Elsa had to get back. After a delightful but short (or perhaps not short, but hurried in royal terms) dinner, she got up to go. She winced as her chair scraped as she pushed it back in. Hopefully she hadn’t spent more than fifteen minutes at the table. Any more than that and she would be wasting time that had not been allotted to food.

Thankfully, it seemed that Anna hadn’t noticed a thing. If anything, she sounded somewhat tired.

‘Maybe Anna could use a break from her princessly duties.’ 

It seemed like a good idea too. As queen, she knew that she could–had to–handle all of her royal duties. It was also painful to see the normally vibrant Anna seem to dull. That just wasn’t right. Anna was the light of castle and to see her stressed seemed wrong.

The best solution then, was not only a vacation, but also to clamp down on her own stress tighter. Concealing was something Elsa tried not to do, but she also knew it to be necessary at times. This was one of those.

Vowing to do better, Elsa shut herself in her office to continue working. The candle had long burnt low by the time she dared sleep enough to ensure some quality of decision-making.

_______________

Anna sat at the dinner table, concern written all over her features. As the minutes passed, her brow furrowed, her mouth tightened, and her hands twitched nervously. Again, Elsa was late for dinner. She continually did this but never seemed to comment on it!

What on earth could be taking her this long? Elsa always excused it by citing her royal duties, but Anna also knew that couldn’t be true. Or at least, not the full truth. She might just have been the spare, but she was also given royal lessons just in case Elsa was ever incapacited or unable to rule! How did Elsa expect those lies to even pass?

Anna hadn’t wanted to say anything before but this was beginning to worry her. Elsa looked haggard and tired, massive dark circles beneath her eyes. She barely ate or slept, and spent all her time in her study. At first it seemed like diligence. But what kind of hard work meant that you ran your body into the ground?

Ah, there she was. It made her heart hurt to see Elsa’s expression so far-away and mechanical. It wasn’t right seeing her like this. So, Anna decided to broach the topic with conversation.

Anna ached even more when all she could get was a wooden response from Elsa. This confirmed it. Something was terribly wrong with Elsa and she would get to the bottom of it, somehow some way. Like usual, they ate in near silence and she was hardly surprised when Elsa got up and did not even excuse herself more than a quiet mumble before leaving. 

That night, Anna looked for Kai before anything else. He had been attending to nightly duties when she caught him. She had not even brought a light in an attempt to stay discreet. 

“Kai?” Anna whispered.

Kai startled and very nearly dropped the candleholder, sending rivulets of hot wax traveling down the candle’s length. He thrust it into Anna’s face and seemed prepared to tell off whoever spoke. His eyes widened and the wind seemed to rush out of him just as quickly when he recognized who it was.

“Princess Anna?” Kai whispered back.

“Yes? Listen, Kai, I’m worried about my sister and I was hoping you would help me,” Anna said. No point in prolonging things.

“Of course your highness. I will do anything you ask of me,” replied Kai. He hesitated before adding, “Though I too am rather concerned about her.”

“Can you tell me why? She won’t say a thing and I just… I don’t know what to do anymore. Why does she always shut me out?”

Kai laid a hand on Anna’s shoulder and sighed.

“I could not tell you. But I suspect that she has always struggled with deep worries, especially for you. Her worry is often born of love, and it might be best for you to check on her tomorrow.”

Anna’s face fell. That was it? No investigating tonight for whatever might be happening to Elsa? Seriously?

“Are you sure? We could check on her now and find out!” Anna whisper-yelled.

“Yes, we probably should. It would be good to ensure that she sleeps well, since she has seemed more tired as of late.” Kai said.

Having gained an ally, Anna led Kai to Elsa’s study to wait. They were just going to see how long Elsa took to stop working on whatever she had been working on. It couldn’t be that long, right?

The correct answer was that it was that long. The sky had begun to lighten by the time they noticed that Elsa blew out her candle. They could see the stones outside now, though they were still matte in the fading night’s light. Anna was thankful too- this part of the castle was rather drafty, especially at night.

Still. Anna glanced at Kai and he gave her a knowing look. Tomorrow then. She definitely needed to talk to Elsa about this no matter what. 

_______________

Indeed, on that fateful morning in Arendelle, Anna finally confronted Elsa about that behavior of hers.

Elsa herself woke to a rather normal start. She was curled up in the chair-bed of a sort that she had fashioned some time before. Ugh, her back hurt. No matter what, there were just positions that people were not meant to sleep in. That apparently, was one of them. It occurred to her that these poor sleeping positions might accumulate, but that was an acceptable sacrifice.

‘I didn’t oversleep, did I?’

Elsa looked out the window to look at the position of the sun. Crap. She had overslept, even if it was by a scant few minutes. Future her would be cursing those minutes lost, especially if they were just the minutes that she would not have but need. Hindsight was something terrible alright. 

Sighing, wishing she could have more time but knowing better, Elsa stood and stretched. She would do the morning paperwork in those next twenty minutes and depending on how quickly she did each task (within the time allotted), she might have time to do some of her morning grooming as well. 

The work chair taunted her with long scrapes on the floor below. Worn, the offending divots reminded her of the paperwork ahead. She blinked, and they were faded. Probably a trick of the mind from exhaustion. But she could not afford leisure lest the feelings of laziness creep back up on her.

Then why did she dread this so?

Her fingers wrapped around either side of the wooden back, but as she began to pull, a knock sounded at the door. It was the most familiar knock of her life, to say the least.

“May I come in?” asked the person.

“Anna?” asked Elsa, who had already begun to fumble with the lock, “Yes, of course.”

She opened the door, and true to word, it was Anna. Immediately, she knew something was wrong. Anna stared- no, glared- with accusing eyes and her lips were pressed together. Her movements were curt and careful, and the door was shut behind her as she stepped in and observed the dreadful mess of a room.

Anna swallowed. Then, like a judge dropping a gavel to give judgement, spoke.

“Elsa, we need to talk.”

Elsa’s eyes widened ever so slightly and her chest felt like someone had violently grabbed her by the heart and the heart alone. Her breath left her for a moment.

“Um, yes? What is it? What’s wrong? Are you alright?” Elsa said, with a shaky smile.

“I’m fine. It’s you that I’m worried about.” Anna replied.

“What do you mean? Nothing’s wrong, I’m keeping up with everything.” said Elsa.

“Okay first off, you’re lying. Second, you’re more than keeping up. I don’t even know what you’re doing at this point, you should not be doing this much.” Anna said, and pointed an accusing finger at the mass pile of papers at Elsa’s desk.

“I’m not- I’m not lying. And Anna, I have to. It’s my duty as queen.” Elsa said.

“Yes, you are. You’re blushing and starting to stutter. You never do that! And don’t give me that ‘I must do it to be the bestest queen ever’. That’s not true.” said Anna.

Elsa frowned, and tried a different approach. No no no no no, this was not supposed to happen! Anna wasn’t supposed to notice or worry, she would atone, and everything would be well!

“How would you know? It’s not like you’re the queen.” Elsa said. Immediately, she knew she made a mistake when Anna seemed to grow annoyed, or perhaps furious. She was inclined to believe furious.

“Maybe not, but I still got royal lessons. And none of those lessons said that it was anything like this!” Anna shouted.

“Well it is, it has to be!” Shouted Elsa back.

Anna swallowed before continuing. “Please, Elsa, I’m worried about you. You’re falling apart right in front of my eyes and I don’t know what to do. Tell me what’s wrong! Whatever it is, just say it out loud- let me help you!”

Oh. 

Anna just wanted to help her and like the foolish jerk she was, Elsa just pushed her away again. Why? Why was she like this? Why could she just never do the right thing? Everything she ever did just came with a dark consequence that she should have foreseen.

“Anna, I…” Elsa stared at Anna, her own eyes beginning to water. “I never meant to hurt you. I’m so, so sorry. I just. I thought that maybe, just maybe if I did all my work then I’d- then I’d…” 

Elsa trailed off and never could finish her sentence. Anna seemed to process this for a moment before wrapping Elsa into a deep hug.

“It’s not your fault, and it never was. I don’t know how to convince you, but it isn’t.” Anna tightened the hug. “What you need is a break. A vacation really.”

Elsa’s insides twisted painfully again. “Anna, I can’t!”

“Yes, you can, and you will. It’s for your own good.” 

“But what about the kingdom? It won’t run itself.”

“Run itself?” Anna scoffed. “Elsa, you’ve probably done enough work to keep it running for at least a month or more, including emergencies.”

“But I-” 

“No buts. We are doing this. Kai already told the court that you will be holding an extended leave of health.”

Elsa gaped. “He did?”

“Yes, because we all care about you. I care about you!” 

Elsa slumped in Anna’s arms and weakly tried to keep up her side of the hug.

“Okay.”

_______________

Their retreat was to a small wooden cabin near a currently frozen lake. Anna silently thanked Kristoff yet again for being an ice harvester. His job came in handy so much, more than one would expect.

The lake itself was gorgeous. Windy swirls of snow fluttered above the gleaming lake, which reflected the sunlight in various patterns. The shore smelt pleasantly of freshwater, and the very land was friendly and welcoming. The perfect place to rest to prevent any undue stress.

Whatever happened to Elsa was terrifying and filled her with worry and sadness. Elsa seemed so frightened and on the point of breaking there, in the study that day. Anna couldn’t determine why. But she knew that Elsa shouldn’t have those under-eye bags or have gotten so haggard. For crying out loud- she was beautiful!

But something did happen. Maybe it had to do with the frozen heart. Yeah, that sucked, but they cured it with true love! How could Elsa feel bad about that? Heck, even the ‘eternal winter’ of roughly two days did nothing! As it turned out, magical frost was much healthier for plant life than regular frost.

Currently, she sat by the shore on top of an old, fallen log. It was a good place for thinking and daydreaming, but it was also a good spot to talk with Elsa with. They would get to the bottom of this, Elsa would get better, and she would support her every step of the way through. 

That was true love.

At some point, Elsa came to sit next to her. It was a quiet affair, the earlier events still replaying in her mind like a broken reel. What could have, what was, what might be all danced in her head, fighting for dominance.

As it turned out, being trapped in your thoughts lent itself to a particular lacking of speech. That was okay though, because silence was a good healer too.

_______________

A few days later, Elsa dropped the first hints to how she felt. 

It was so difficult, the words stuck themselves in her throat. Her eyes watered and her throat became thick with unshed desire. At times it felt almost as if she had cast a geas on herself, unable to speak due to her own mind disobeying her whims.

But Elsa found some work-arounds. The silencing was not intelligent, she could allude if not speak. She could hope that Anna might infer what she meant if she had not already.

Once again, they sat on the log together in comfortable silence. Elsa went to speak but spoke nothing because her tongue disobeyed and her throat filled up with air. It hurt to try and say anything, it hurt to try and even allude. But she had to- she was drowning and needed the hand.

“Hey.”

A single word. Now for another in the call and response of speech.

“Hey.” Anna echoed.

“I love you.” Elsa smiled, contented. Maybe Anna would get closer to the right conclusion this way.

“I love you too.” Anna replied, giving her a glance.

Their hands landed on the same spot on the log. Daring, Elsa did not move. Feeling comfortable, she leaned slightly against Anna’s shoulder. Two displays of attachment. Of the love between them.

Whispering, she spoke. Whispering was always easier, hiding from the thing blocking her words. But these were easy words to speak.

“That really was something, huh.”

“It was true love.” 

Anna sounded so content, so happy that Elsa felt okay for the first time in a long while. Maybe she truly wasn’t as unredeemable as she had believed.

They sat on the log together for a long while, flesh to flesh, comfort to comfort. It was only natural to love the touch of another.

_______________

More time passed. Elsa seemed to have an easier time of trying to say what it was that bothered her so, but Anna knew what it was. It was lovely really, being able to spend time with Elsa. They had never quite had the chance before, and Elsa soon shut herself up when the chance came.

Moreover, she longed to spend time with the person who apparently felt true love for her. Anna adored Elsa, more than anybody else in the world. But she just couldn’t tell what that meant. In the stories, true love was between lovers not sisters. Besides, how would she know that it wasn’t a similar infatuation to that of say, Hans?

Or maybe Kristoff. But while she loved Kristoff, it was always in a much less intense way than she loved Elsa. But how did that make sense? They were sisters, they were of the same mother and blood- how could they not love each other more than anything? And yet, and yet the books in the library always had the girl go for the guy. The guy! Elsa was a girl. Was it okay to love girls?

Well it must be because guys loved girls, and children loved moms, and moms loved daughters. But was that the same type of love? Children kissed their parents and parents kissed each other but neither would ever commit the opposite with the other. Was a sisterly kiss different than a romantic kiss? She didn’t know, they had been separated too young for her to remember. Did it have to be marked by kisses to be guy-girl love?

Love could be expressed by all sorts of gestures! Like hugs, hand-holding and touching, cuddling, spending quality time, gifts, declarations of it! Wait. Wait a second. Wasn’t that what she did with Elsa all the time? They acted like a guy-girl type of love all the time! And if they were true loves, then girl-girl loves must be possible. But how could being sisters come into it? She’d never seen any type of sisterly love in her books that followed the vein of theirs. But maybe that was okay too. Those sisters weren’t denoted by true love. That didn’t make the love any less real.

And maybe, just maybe, if she felt that way, then maybe Elsa did too. At that moment, Kai’s words rang through her head.

‘Her worry is often born of love.’

Her worry is often born of love. Anna knew, in her heart of hearts, that there were two types of loving worry. The motherly worry, and the romantic worry. Elsa was not her mother, and she never tried to be. So it had to be the romantic, loving worry.

It occurred to Anna that maybe that was why Elsa was so concerned as to destroy herself. Maybe that was why it was so hard for Elsa to voice why she did it. Because she did it out of love, and the grief from causing harm overwhelmed her. If true love was that powerful, then pain about the love must be of equal magnitude.

At that moment, Anna knew what she had to do.

It wouldn’t be quick. It wouldn’t be easy. But it would work. She had to show Elsa that it was okay, that she had done no wrong. And maybe she couldn’t do it. Not yet. And she had to accept that, to help Elsa’s wellbeing. They had all the time in the world, and she was nothing if not a romantic.

_______________

They spent even longer at the cabin. True to word, it seemed that the kingdom had not fallen apart in Elsa’s absence. In fact, it seemed to almost be prospering from Kristoff’s reports.

Elsa didn’t know whether that was a good or a bad thing. What she did know was that the kingdom had not suffered terribly from her curses on it. Anna was still here, and the crops were said to have been bountiful.

She felt a quiet stirring of  hope long thought dead that perhaps her atonement would be enough, was enough. It had to be enough, but something in her mind quietly said that it didn’t have to. Somewhere along the way, something had reawoken inside her.

Her counting the time and seconds to a precise schedule began to fade while they were there. She at first had found herself counting constantly, aching for her desk, shivering with cold sweat knowing that all would go wrong without her there.

Or maybe more wrong, considering her disastrous coronation.

But it didn’t. Nothing happened, and as the fear eased so too did her block. It no longer felt like a great cinder stuffed into her throat to punish her. It was still there, but smaller to where she could speak directly around it. Some words were still trapped, but many were not.

Anna sat on the log, waiting for her again. It had become routine for them to quietly sit and watch the sun set while leaned against each other in a seemingly slight display of care.

“Hey Els.”

Not even her full name, a nickname. They had picked this up some time before. It thrilled Elsa in ways she didn’t understand.

“Hey Anna.”She replied quietly and tried to wrap an arm around Anna’s back and lean. Anna reciprocated and wrapped her arm around Elsa’s shoulders.

The sky was truly gorgeous today, and the silence between them was now something of comfort rather than of painful misery. 

Anna liked to talk about true love a lot. Her theories, her ideas- all of which made a lot of sense. Elsa had a horrible suspicion that they might not be socially acceptable, but they were wonderful to hear all the same. Her ideas on love in general, on the person, on emotions- Elsa loved to soak it all up.

And now, more than ever, it felt safe to be with Anna. She didn’t feel like she was too dangerous to harm the most important person in the world. 

It felt good.

_______________

On the most important day of their stay, and among the last, the two were ice-skating together. It was a dizzying ballet of trust and delight, as both laughed with glee on the ice.

Anna was happy beyond measure. There would never be a good enough word in the english language to describe her ecstatic joy. The break had worked. The long time spent helping Elsa heal- it worked, and it showed.

She had never in her life seen Elsa this happy since the accident. And yet here she was, like nothing had happened. They were so close now, and it might have been due to something in Elsa breaking. She still didn’t know what it was that had hurt Elsa so, but she didn’t want to. Some things were not worth the pain, though the reward was the sweetest.

She didn’t even know if that sort of affliction might come back to hurt Elsa again. What she did know was that if it did, she would kick its butt all over again, with the power of true love. Well maybe not true love exactly, but its components. Patience. Kindness. Compassion.

As Elsa glided over the ice, Anna came up behind her and made their solo performances into a duo. Elsa turned with a peaceful smile and determined eyes.

“You know, all I ever wanted to do was atone.”

Atonement. All this time. That single word. Atone for things that she thought she had done terribly. Cruel fate for casting false guilt on her beloved!

“Aw, there was nothing ever you had to atone for.” Anna said, smiling.

“Yeah, but now I have you.” Elsa replied.

“You always had me, Elsa.” said Anna.

“But I’m not scared anymore, and I love you more than anything Anna.” Elsa said softly.

“And I love you more than anything.” said Anna.

Anna buried her face in Elsa’s neck and pulled both their arms into a silent hug. Then there was only their loving silence and the soft schk of blades on ice.

[yourdeepestfathoms]

Sorry for no story today- have these WIPs I will probably never finish instead

Kitty get punched

“Where is Joan?” A crew member hissed, looking frantically around the stage and wings. “She should be here by now! The show starts in five minutes!”

“I saw her earlier,” Maggie said. “So she’s here, at least.”

“But WHERE?” The crew member said, exasperated. Maggie shrugged helplessly.

“Maybe she’s getting changed?” Parr offered.

“She should have done that a long time ago,” Aragon reprimanded.

“And when does Joan ever get ready late?” Anne added, tittering slightly.

“I’ll go find her!” Katherine piped up, “Don’t worry!”

With that, she bounds off to find the music director.

—

Joan was paler than the moon, a somewhat sickly color painting her skin. Her checks were kissed with a slightly pink flush, spreading to her forehead as well. Underneath her eyes and against her pale skin, were dark rings. They hung under her eyes like curtains, pulling her eyelids so they could close. The color contrasted with her skin, making it more vibrant and more noticeable. Anyone could have guessed it; Joan Meutas did not sleep well last night. Now that, was an understatement.

Joan had not slept well in the past week. She was constantly up late at night working on this damned show that was wringing her dry. She was completely exhausted. She felt like a dead fish. Her entire body ached from her head to her toes. The only thing that seemed to keep her going was coffee, and it’s now come to the point that she’ll feel sick if she doesn’t drink any.

The show only increased Joan’s stress level. Everyone always seemed to need her; the queens, the techies, the costume crew, the managers- the demands for her aid or work was never ending. By the time she finished whatever was asked of her, it was time to perform, meaning she had to do her own music director work later in the evening, usually well into the night.

It was just hell. Literal hell.

At that moment, she could feel a headache starting to become apparent. It burned her vision, floating around and flashing like a neon light, tormenting Joan. It only grew worse at the loud clamor of the crew getting ready. And through the blurred and temporary blinding aura, she saw her coffee. It looked revolting to her.

Just the sight churned Joan’s stomach. She closed her eyes, trying to steady her breathing. She was so tired, and her headache was so bad. The chance of getting a sensory overload became more and more likely, which wouldn't be completely crazy, especially since she was so tired she could hardly think practically.

Approaching footsteps sounded like drumbeats pounding in Joan’s ears and the creak of the door nearly imploded her eardrums.

“Joan?”

Great. It was Katherine Howard.

Joan, too tired to reply, huffed in annoyance and buried her face further into her arms. She’s hunched over the desk in her dressing room with only half of her costume on, since she had given up trying to put it on. As Katherine stepped into the room and approached, she tried to ignore the throbbing in her head head, and the dizziness and nausea settling in, as well as the queen.

“Joan,” Katherine nudged Joan’s shoulder, earning a low hiss of warning. “What are you doing? We got a show.”

“I’m not going out today.” Joan grumbled, not lifting her head.

“You have to,” Katherine continued.

“Oh, but that one time you had a panic attack and didn’t go on was fine?” Joan snapped, getting angry. She lifted her head and glared at the young queen.

“There was an alt here,” Katherine defended herself, “Plus, a panic attack is different than...whatever is making you refuse to go on.”

Joan is grinding her teeth, now. Katherine is either too stupid to notice or ignores the warning sign and continues on anyway.

“I’m not going on.” Joan said again.

“Your dep isn’t here.” Katherine reprimanded.

“I’m not going on, Katherine!” Joan yelled, finally rearing up with a slam of her hands against the desk. The way Katherine flinches back a little is satisfying. “Get out.”

“Joan-“

“I said get out!”

A horrible crunch filled the room, followed by a sharp yelp. Katherine’s hands fly up to her face, while Joan’s fist returns to her side. Blood is pouring out in between the queen’s fingers.

“Leave me alone.” Joan whispered, taking deep breaths to quell her anger.

Katherine doesn’t budge, too shocked to move.

That only fuels Joan’s rage, which she gives up on taming.

“Leave me alone, you bitch!” Joan yelled, shoving the queen. Blood drops splatter to the ground, but she could care less. She just keeps pushing and kicking until Katherine stumbles out the door, to which she promptly slams shut. She can head soft crying coming from the hallway, but she just rolls her eyes and slumped back at her desk.

———

Tour!Howard is Tour!Bessie’s biological mom AU

The day started out perfect- Silver rays of morning sun were slipping through soft pink curtains, bathing the bedroom with warm beams. They hit Howard’s face, which has a smile painted on it, even in her rest. The grin only grows once she woke up- she was beaming. And for good reason, too.

She leapt out of bed, but quickly quieted her steps so she wouldn’t make too much noise. She greets the two cats in her room- Sombra and Hermès. She had a hunch where the third feline, Turtle, was.

On sock-padded feet, Howard made her way across the flat and to the second bedroom. She peeked inside and smiled brightly.

There, laying in the bed, was a young girl, barely thirteen, with bleached white hair.

It had been Howard’s idea to do DNA testing. Bessie agreed. Howard had been sipping her coffee, checking through her mail, when she found the document that stated the results came back positive. Tears dripped down onto the paper. Her mug shatters against the floor.

She found her daughter.

Bessie was equally shocked when the news was given to her. She had went very still, eyes bulging, mouth slightly ajar. Just as Howard started to worry that she was repulsed by the turnabout, she leapt right into the woman’s arms, sobbing in bliss.

———

i don’t even know, something with Joan being jealous

February was Kitty’s month. Like how (whenever she died) was Aragon’s month and (whenever she died) was Jane’s month. Whatever month a queen died in was their month, apparently. That unspoken rule didn’t go to the ladies in waiting, even if they could remember the exact month they died in. They weren’t deemed as “important” as the queens to get such a thing. Maybe they could get a week, or a week at the very least, but nothing more.

So, yes, February was Kitty’s month. The different thing about her month than the others was that EVERYONE doted on her. She got tons of gifts, tons of sweet words, tons of hugs and affection and attention. Tons of attention from Jane.

Before you start griping, yes, Joan knew why it was this way. Henry made a law just to chop her head off- yes she KNOWS, she hears about it almost every day, she KNOW SHE KNOWS. You don’t have to bring it up because she’s well aware. Everyone knows about poor, poor Kitty and her horrible life.

And, yes, it was horrible. Joan knows that she will never be able to relate her pain to Kitty’s pain, but, damnit all, is it so bad to want a fraction of what she gets from it?

Kitty got everything. Every-fucking-thing. And whatever may be left were mere scraps upon the ground, fragments of what Joan used to have.

———

Courtney!Anne comforts Joan

Stagedoor was an unpredictable thing. It wasn’t all hugs and compliments and pictures- sometimes there’s a fickle critic or an angry historian that’s mad about the portrayal in the show. Other times there’s the slightly weird, but charming fans who recite facts about the queens, hoping to impress them. But a slushy being thrown into someone’s face? That was new.

Anne only caught a glimpse of it- one moment all was normal; she had just finished taking a picture with a beaming young fan, and then there was an uproar of mocking laughter and several gasps, accompanied by loud splattering sounds. Anne looked to the side and was shocked to see SIX’s music director soaked in a coating of red, blue, and purple slush.

Joan was stiff and still, as if the cold beverage had frozen her. The colorful residue slides into the creases of her horrified expression, which slowly become more and more humiliated as seconds ticked by. Then, her wide eyes glance around wildly for a moment and she sprints back into the theater.

———

Wings of Fire AU

The worst part of Parr’s day was approaching- closing the library. She always hated leaving the peaceful, serene cavern at the end of each evening, but Aragon insisted she slept in an actual cave. Arguing against this proved to be fruitless- the queen just had an aura to her that was impossible to beat in a bickering match, so she retired to her room each night.

Sighing, Parr rolled up the current scroll she was working on, cleaned the ink from her talons, and swooped down from her writing ledge. She walked down the aisle of polished mahogany shelves, observing each one to make sure everything was in place and not burnt (there were some younger dragonets weaving in and out earlier that day- she never trusted them with the scrolls).

———

Zombie Apocalypse AU

You get used to the smell. Rot, decay, organs, blood, death- you get used to the scent of the end of the world real fast. If you don’t, it may just drive you insane. More insane than seeing the actual cause of the odor, maybe. Some people react to things differently. But one thing everybody has in common is that nobody gets used to killing. Nobody gets used to sacrificing others, nobody gets used to putting their loved ones or even strangers down.

Nobody gets used to the damn Walkers.

But it’s the way it is. The apocalypse doesn’t seem like it’ll be having curtain call anytime soon, so you have to make do. Learn how to shoot, find a group, get shelter, don’t go hungry- those are the basics. Or just put a bullet in your brain and don’t even bother with survival. In the end, it’s your choice.

Sometimes Joan considers shooting herself in the head. The will to live is still kicking within her, but it gets hard. Being alone doesn’t help, either.

Well-

Scratch that. She wasn’t alone. She had some company.

“Hey, will you cool it?” Joan snapped, tugging on the rope that was around her newest Walker’s neck. She found this one wandering on its own in the woods and decided it would have to do- one quick slash of her knife removed the rotting bottom jaw and rendered the thing useless. At least when it came to infecting others. Its scent will keep away lurkers. Hopefully.

[inkstaineddove]

Mistaken Identity

Ships: PruHun

Characters: Prussia, Austria, Hungary

Summary: After months locked inside, all Gilbert wants is to get back out and have a good time. Erzsébet wants to follow the rules, which isn't any fun with me. In comes Roderich and a tacky-yet-apt masquerade ball as Gil's only refuge.

Budapest, 2020.

 Erzsébet sat hunched over her desk, her eyes burning from staring at a screen for far too long. Each day brought more work than she had ever remembered dealing with – more than that brought on by war, which pushed every official to their limits. The futility of it all hit her. Any dent in it she made today was meaningless compared to tomorrow’s downpour of papers, emails, and conference calls. She shut the folder she had been staring at. If she stayed here any longer, she was certain she would go mad. A break was needed.

In a few steps she was in her bedroom, crashing down onto the bed. She closed her eyes and snuggled into her sheets, a small smile appearing on her face. At last, she found peace as her responsibilities melted away.

 “Erzsi!” Gilbert’s voice called up to her from downstairs. She heard feet marching towards her. She hid her face beneath the blankets, childishly hoping that if she couldn’t see him, he would give up and leave.

Silence settled over the home and she didn’t dare breathe. ‘Five minutes alone,’ she half-prayed, half-chanted to herself in her mind.

 It wasn’t to be. The bed groaned under the weight of an intruder and a calloused hand lovingly rubbed the small of her back. “Are you alright?” When she didn’t answer, he tried asking again, this time in Hungarian.

 Damn his persistence. “I’m fine. It’s been a long day.” Erzsébet moved the pillow, smiling weakly at him. “I was hoping to take a little nap before dinner.”

 “Rest up. You’ve been working so hard.” He leaned down and kissed the top of her head.

 She waited for him to leave. Instead, she felt him shift into a more comfortable position. She sighed softly through her nose. “Gil, I was hoping to take a nap alone.”

 “You were? I didn’t realize. I’ll go.”

 She felt his presence in the room still. She opened one eye to see him standing in the doorway, looking unsure. “Something the matter, kedvesem?” She didn’t care that her irritation came through in her tone. All the better for him to finally get the memo that his presence was unwanted.

 In any other time, his bashfulness would’ve been charming. Gilbert scratched the back of his neck, his eyes studying the rug at the foot of the bed. “Nothing! Nothing really. I just…saw online that our favorite bar reopened and, since tomorrow’s Saturday, I thought it would be nice if we went out. For one night.” He saw her disapproving look and took a step forward, his hands held together as if he were praying. “Please, Erzsi. We don’t have to be there for long! One hour, that’ll be enough! Shit, if that’s too long we can have a drink and leave!”

 This again? “No. We’re not going. How many times do I have to tell you that? We’re to set a good example.” She shut her eyes and rolled to her side, willing him away with her mind.

 “What does it matter what we do if the fucking country is open? Who are we setting an example for, the elderly?” Seeing that he failed to get a reaction from her, he crawled to her side of the bed on his knees. “I need to leave this house. I haven’t been to a bar in months! I miss talking to people! I’m going insane. I’m on the verge of a breakdown. I might start drawing faces on inanimate objects and talking to them!”

 “I understand, Gil. But it’s important to do what’s right. Now, please, let me sleep. I’m tired of having this argument with you.” She kissed his hands before turning her back to him.

 “Fine then. Be that way. I’ll go out by myself,” he grumbled.

 “Having the house to myself? Don’t threaten me with a good time,” Erzsébet smirked. An idea began formulating in her mind. She jolted up, grinning. “Wait! I remember! You know who said he missed seeing us? I can’t leave since I’m so weighed down with work, but I’m sure Roderich would love to have you visit for the weekend.”

 Gilbert gave her a skeptical look. “He would never say that.”

 She rolled her eyes. “Sure, he wouldn’t say it to you, but to me is another matter. Why the hesitation? Wouldn’t that get you out of the house and around other people? There’s no downside to visiting.” A mischievous glint flickered within her eyes. “It’ll be good for us, too. Isn’t it always better to see each other after a little time apart? Think of the reunion.”

 There was something he couldn’t argue with. Sufficiently persuaded, he rose from his place at the side of the bed. “I’ll start packing now.”

…

Vienna.

 Roderich had never felt more alive. What a glorious time this was! Gone were the days of hurrying between government buildings, of watching Parliament argue with dull-eyed boredom, of having to deal with each nation and their idiosyncrasies in negotiations that never ended. The only reason he left home now was of his own volition, not due to the mandates of the day. While having only a fraction of his usual servants on staff presented its own challenges, the fact that he no longer had to make monthly trips to Brussels to hear France and Germany argue with Britain over the minutiae of trade outweighed it all.

 His fingers glided over the soft ivory of his piano. A triumphant melody rose from them, one his heart had specially crafted for this moment. He closed his eyes while he played, allowing himself the luxury of getting lost in it. A light knock on the door interrupted him. In too high of spirits to be annoyed, he swiveled to face the butler. “Is something the matter?” Roderich’s voice held no malice or irritation, only curiosity at what was so important that it had to be discussed now.

 “Herr Beilschmidt is here, sir,” the butler spoke with an apologetic smile. He had been employed here for some time and had heard many of Roderich’s complaints over the years.

 “How odd. It’s not like Ludwig to pop in without telling me beforehand. Did he seem distressed? Something must be wrong for him to – you’re shaking your head? My God, don’t tell me.” Fear sunk like lead in Roderich’s stomach. He didn’t have the patience for whatever antics this would entail. Not when these last few months have been a peace he hadn’t known in centuries. “This is an absurd ask, but you understand. I need you to buy me time. I’ll escape out the upstairs window. Thank you.” He gave the poor butler no chance to respond as he scurried out the room.

 Never had Roderich been so grateful for the size of his home. He cut through the servants’ quarters, knowing that would be the safest route. Halfway up the stairs, he heard Gilbert’s outrage and the sound of his voice growing nearer. Hurrying faster, he took the stairs two at a time, no longer caring if he was noticed so long as he got away.

 With his adrenaline pumping hot through his veins, he fumbled with the window latch which cost him precious seconds. He looked down, trying to determine whether jumping or climbing would be the better option. Whatever damage he may incur from jumping would be minimal in the grand scheme of things, it would be quite the humiliation if he were caught. While he knew Erzsébet had climbed out from the bedroom window many a time while they were married, she had athleticism he lacked. Wouldn’t the embarrassment be worse if he were found barely hanging onto a windowpane and required Gilbert’s assistance? He would never be allowed to live that down and would, at least, face Ludwig and Erzsébet’s teasing for that. No, jumping would be the better option.

 He felt a firm hand on his shoulder and knew the chase was over. “If you miss the times when Czechia would throw you out a window, I’d be more than happy to take over for her.” He could hear the smirk in Gilbert’s voice and wanted nothing more than to smack it off him.

 “I would prefer if defenestration remained one of the few tortures you haven’t subjected me to. Though I will remember your kind offer.” Roderich shrugged his hand off him and turned around, arms crossed. “Why are you here? Is your visit more bad karma for another of my supposed crimes?”

 Gilbert rolled his eyes, fishing around for something in his pocket. “What’s all the melodrama for? Is the only way you can admit you’ve missed me is if I’ve been locked up behind a wall for thirty years?” Finding what he was looking for, he shoved a square of paper into Roderich’s chest with an annoyed smile. “Erzsi told me to give this to you and made me promise not to read it. Maybe this will get the stick out your ass enough to let me stay.”

 If he wanted to be welcomed, Roderich would give him a welcoming. He began fanning himself with his hand, contorting his face into one of mocking admiration. “You’re right! How could I be so rude to his greatness? I should be kissing your ass more for daring to grace me with your presence! My most humble and sincere apologies.” He curtseyed with a smirk, fueled by Gilbert’s own irritation. He took the letter and opened it, reading:

 ‘Dear Roderich,

             I’m sorry to drag you into the middle of this, but aren’t you used to that? I can’t take another moment of us living together when neither of us can leave the house for hours on end. If I sent him back to Berlin, I know he’d get on Ludwig’s nerves and I’d feel too guilty about that. Have you talked to him recently? The poor little thing sounds so much more stressed than usual! I can hardly blame him, but I don’t want to add to it unnecessarily. Not for my own selfish needs.

           And, while I’m sure you’re just as stressed, at least you can lock Gilbert away in some far corner of the house. There must be plenty to do with a reduced staff – my heart goes out to you for our last call when you bitched about it repeatedly – so he would be kept occupied for a few days. Why am I acting like he’s such a burden? I don’t have to be worried about either of you killing the other anymore.

           Do I? This means the world to me that you’ve agreed – you won’t turn me down. Think of all the years you owe me for – and I’m sorry for imposing on you so suddenly. Oh! And before I forget: he’s like a dog yet to be trained. Despite all his begging and his pathetically cute pouting, don’t let him leave the house. I’ve tried to tell him how important it is to set an example, but he’s too damn stubborn.

 With love,

Erzsébet’

 Roderich smiled and nudged Gilbert, who was reading over his shoulder, with his elbow. “That’s rare. She closed a letter to me ‘with love.’ That’s only happened three other times before and one of those was when she wrote telling me she wanted a divorce.” He gave a self-deprecating little chuckle and slipped it into his pocket. He noticed Gilbert’s wince and rolled his eyes. “Spare me your pity. I wouldn’t have told you if I didn’t find it funny. Is she really keeping you cooped up inside? That’s ridiculous.”

 “Isn’t it? And it’s not just her! Fucking Ludwig gives me no mercy whenever I’m back home to take care of whatever. He even forced me to live with him while this is going on so he can watch me. As if I’m the child that needs to be disciplined!” Gilbert crossed his arms and scowled. “It’s insulting, Roddy. All under the guise of ‘setting an example’ and ‘being a moral leader,’ as if anyone’s turned to me for morality!”

 Roderich found himself annoyed on Gilbert’s behalf. He shook his head, taking a seat at the foot of the bed. “I’m assuming all you’re begging for is one measly little beer at whatever bar that’s closest.” At Gilbert’s nod in the affirmative, Roderich scoffed. “Ah, yes. Going for a pint will surely bring about the fall of civilization! Thank whatever divinity control the fates that Erzsébet and Ludwig are working so valiantly to prevent it! And the nerve of him! This is what you get for telling him you two were brothers. If he were raised to view us as fathers, he would have a bit more reluctance to tell you what you could and couldn’t do.”

 “Yeah, well, just add that to the ever-growing list of my fuck ups. Mind if I smoke in here? This is getting me all riled up again.” By the time he asked, he already had a cigarette between his teeth and was fishing for his lighter.

 “You can if you give me one. I ran out this morning. The ashtrays on the dresser.” Roderich caught the cigarette tossed to him and the lighter that shortly followed. He shook his head. “It’s your fuck up just as well as mine. Saved us trouble then only to get us into more now. Whenever I’ve talked to him over the past few months, he’s been on my case as well. One time I hung up on him because he was getting too sanctimonious even for me.”

 Gilbert exhaled the smoke from his nostrils, giving him the appearance of a dragon. “Honestly, I could handle it if it were just him. He tried the same act during the war to get us to stop smoking and look how well that turned out. But Erzsi! What happened to my partner in crime? I can’t even look at the front door without hearing a lecture! When did the rules start mattering to her? Goddammit, until now, they’ve always been meant to be broken!”

 “It is rather rich coming from her. Could bend every rule for centuries as long as it was for her own gratification. And, for that to happen, you would be the one to drop everything and break into my home! That’s fairytale devotion – and lawlessness, thank you for stopping that after the divorce – so why is it so impossible for her to reciprocate?” Roderich flicked some ashes on the floor. They would be someone else’s problem to clean up.

 “If I knew where it went, believe me, I’d be back home!” He paused, hung up on a technicality. “Well, her home. No, fuck it, it’s my home too! Whatever! I tried asking her about it, but lord. You would not believe the bitching she can do!”

 Roderich gave him a look. “Believe me, I know.” Rolling his eyes at the memories, he sighed. “It’s a shame that she’s turned into a complete killjoy. I hope for our sake this is only due to stress. The dynamic wouldn’t be the same without her.” An idea came to mind and he straightened up, thrilled with his own brilliance. “But who needs her? I almost forgot I was invited to this little soiree tonight. I’ll take you with me! It’ll be like a boy’s night out!”

 “I’ll go if you never say ‘boy’s night’ to me again. Don’t try to be what you’re not.” Gilbert thought it over. While he was sure whatever kinds of things Roderich got invited to wouldn’t normally be his thing, the prospect of social interaction was too great to turn down. Besides, what was there to lose? “What kind of party are we talking about?”

 “A masquerade. It’s appropriate, but the tackiness initially turned me off. If it weren’t for you, I would prefer to sit this one out. Lord knows I’ve done enough schmoozing with old and new money to last me several hundred lifetimes. What? Why are you scowling like that?”

 “You know I hate shit like that. Everyone’s always so uptight and you have to be on your best behavior. There’s no way to have any fun!” Gilbert smirked, remembering the few he enjoyed. “The only reason I came to yours was because the afterparties were mind-blowing.”

 Roderich held up a hand, a look of disgust on his face. “Don’t paint me a picture when I’ve already seen the film. Multiple times.” He shuddered. “Stepping out of the past, whatever happens in the present is up to you. I’m more than happy staying home. Unlike you, I’ve been living the good life. But you should be smart. This could be the only chance you get to see your fellow man. You’ll have to go home eventually and who knows when she’ll let you outside.”

 He laid his back on the bed, staring at the ceiling with a smirk. He knew all it took was a little prodding from the devil to get Gilbert to act. While he normally preferred to not be so heavy-handed in his persuasion, it was necessary in certain cases when dealing with a particularly dense individual. Roderich puffed some smoke out the side of his mouth and checked his wristwatch. It was only a matter of seconds now…

 “You’re right! Let’s go, we can make it fun. And it’s a masquerade so I don’t even have to worry about embarrassing you. It’s perfect!” Gilbert put out his cigarette in the ashtray. “We’re close enough in size, right? I’ll have to borrow something.”

…

They were there for all of five minutes and Gilbert was already regretting their decision to go. He had been abandoned as soon as Roderich sighted some aristocrat or other who needed to be fawned over. The few Gilbert had interacted with wanted nothing else to do with him once they’d sniffed out his quickly falsified noble ancestry. Apparently, all feuds between Austrian lords and Prussian Junkers hadn’t been forgotten.

 “Bunch of fucking snobs anyways. As if I’ve ever needed their approval,” he grumbled into his scotch. The only mercy was the fully stocked bar he could camp out by. If his only entertainment would be to get so drunk he’d have to be carried out, then so be it. What did he care? Not like he was the one who had to pay for anything.

 He sighed. Where were Francis and Antonio when he needed them? Hell, he was so desperate he’d even take Ivan, if only to have someone he could get away with being a jerk to. The guy would’ve probably smuggled some homemade vodka in and all Gilbert needed was half a bottle to be on top of a table, singing battle hymns at the top of his lungs.

 Looking around the room, he finally found his entertainment. Roderich was talking with a beautiful woman – not only that, but he seemed to actually be making her laugh. A surge of pride filled him. Gilbert resisted the urge to start cheering him on. Instead, he watched closely, living vicariously through his every gesture. He hardly touched the drink beside him that now grew warm.

 Then, suddenly, there was a change in the woman’s posture. Without hearing what was said, he could only speculate, but he’d seen Roderich at work enough to have some educated guesses. Gilbert kicked himself for hanging back this long. If this were to be saved, an expert wingman was desperately needed.

 As Gilbert started making his way over towards them, a better idea sprung to mind. Where would be the fun in helping Roderich along? If he was going to interfere, why not gain some personal satisfaction too? He had no intentions of trying to bed the woman – that would go against one of his three principles – but a little flirting to get in his cousin’s head? Well, wasn’t that his favorite blood sport?

 Coming up behind him, Gilbert clapped Roderich on the shoulder. “Roddy! There you are. I’ve been looking for you.” Taking in the sight of the woman before them, he feigned surprise. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize I was intruding on something.”

 “Now you know so go away,” Roderich hissed under his breath, jamming his elbow into Gilbert’s side.

 The woman appeared to sigh in relief at the company. She smiled at Gilbert, making her beauty all the more apparent than it was when he was still at the bar. “You’re not intruding at all. I hadn’t realized you had someone with you, Roderich.”

 Both men spoke at the same time, wishing to combat any insinuation they came as a couple. As Roderich rushed out that they were cousins, Gilbert blurted out that they were brothers. They stared each other down, silently willing the other to concede and kicking themselves for not ironing out a story until this moment.

 Thankfully, she only seemed bemused by their mistake. “Must be one complicated family tree you two have.” She studied Gilbert carefully. He could’ve sworn he saw something like familiarity in her eyes, but he was hardly paying attention to such trivial things. He was too fascinated with the way the gold on her mask brought out the streaks of amber out of her eyes. He swore they had some magical property to them. “I hope I’m not being rude, but I swear I’ve seen you before. I don’t think yours is a face I would ever forget.”

 “I doubt we have. A man would have to be blind and stupid to not remember a woman with your beauty. Damn, look at me. Get me out of the house and I forget all my manners.” He took her hand in his and bent down, bringing it too his lips. His eyes looking up at her, enclosed behind their wolfish shell, truly made him appear animalistic. “My name’s Gilbert and I hope my…friend hasn’t been harassing you for too long. He never knows when to shut up.”

 Roderich stared at them with open-mouthed fury. “We were having a perfectly fine conversation before you sauntered along and had to turn the spotlight back on yourself. And now you’re going to put on this whole chivalrous act, as if anyone in their right mind would believe it.” He straightened up, turning to the woman with an incredulous roll of the eyes. “He owes you, and any other poor woman he’s berated, his sincerest apologies. Especially since he has a wife back home who would be thrilled to hear of this.”

 That got her attention, though Gilbert feared it was for the worse. If only the snout of her fox mask didn’t obscure the little smile she tucked away. She leaned over, pretending to examine his left hand. “A wife? Where’s your ring? Did you cheap out on the poor woman?”

 Roderich was in his element now. He clutched a hand to his chest, sighing dramatically. “A scoundrel like him? He couldn’t even afford to buy a ring from a pawn shop, much less going to any actual jeweler. Years ago, he might’ve been able to. Poor fool disgraced our father and he cut him out of the will.” He bent down to the woman’s height and cut a sharp glance at Gilbert before stage-whispering, “I only take him to these events out of pity. Charity to the poor and all that.”

 This was really how they were going to do it? Gilbert straightened up, ready to defend his faux reputation. “My ring got a bit small; I’m having it resized. And I’m not trying to run around behind her back. When you have a good thing, you don’t intentionally ruin it.” He sneered at Roderich, all the knives out. “Though, he is the expert on sleeping around. How many marriages have you been through? Better yet, how many affairs? Actually, don’t start listing them. We’d be here through next month.”

 The woman pretended to gasp, quickly covering her mouth with her hand. She didn’t wish to bruise their egos by letting her laughter slip. “I don’t know how anyone could cheat on their spouse. It’s the coward’s way out of the relationship.” She stared Roderich down, biting the inside of her cheek. “I’m sure you’d agree, Roderich.”  

 Roderich tensed up, his hands balling into fists by his side. It hardly helped that Gilbert was snickering besides him, feeling oh-so-proud of the ship he was sinking. “Believe me, I agree completely. He’s the one who lacks all understanding of these things. I can’t believe he’s neglected to mention how he met his wife. How odd, considering that’s one of his favorite stories to tell.” He tapped a finger against his chin, sighing wistfully as he recalled the memories. “I can’t believe you haven’t brought up the fact that the only reason you have a wife is because you stole mine. Right! You’re so ego obsessed that it must’ve slipped your mind due to the unflattering, yet all too accurate, picture it paints of yourself!”

 Gilbert immediately jumped to his own defense. On and on they bickered like this, throwing in barbs both old and freshly invented. It didn’t take long for them to forget they had an audience until they were only focused on each other and inflicting as much pain as possible. When a few glances were passed their way, they finally had enough good sense to retreat into a corner of the room.

 While receiving an earful about setting Gilbert’s newborn on fire, Roderich began impatiently looking around the room. Only then did he realize how alone the two of them were. “You ass! Look what you’ve done! You scared the poor woman off and ruined any chance I had.”

 Her disappearance snapped Gilbert out of his fog. He blinked in confusion, staring lamely ahead. “No shit?” Her absence completely took him by surprise, deflating him. “Huh, I figured that would turn out better than it did. Damn, what a waste. That’s not as fun as it used to be.”

 “That’s why you went through with that? As some kind of perverse joke at my expense? You bastard! You absolute bastard! My happiness is a joke to you! Still, after all these years!” Roderich began hitting him in the arm, increasing in strength and speed each time. “I had a chance! I had a good chance and you had to waltz in and ruin it for me! All for your own amusement! Are you laughing, yet? Are you fucking laughing?”

 Gilbert grimaced, doing his best to protect his face. “Give it up. I only came over when I saw she wanted to get away from you. The only chance you had with her was in your fantasies. You should thank me, I’m the whole reason she stuck around for that long.” When a blow landed on his cheek, he scowled. “You hit me again and I’m breaking your damn arm.”

 As Roderich opened his mouth to retaliate, the host began clinking his glass. He huffed, glaring with an intense hatred that hadn’t been there in at least a century. “You haven’t heard the end of this. When we get back home, you won’t know what peace is.”

 Like any mature adult, Gilbert stuck his tongue out. “I’m shivering.”  

 They hung to the back of the crowd, neither wanting to draw further attention towards themselves. They listened passively to the host’s speech. It was nothing important, the usual platitudes and calling out certain guests to thank them for coming. The only recognition either gave that they were listening was a polite little nod Roderich gave upon his own name being uttered.

 What snapped them back to reality was the woman’s name being called and her long trip from Budapest being commented on, which Erzsébet politely laughed at. “I don’t know how, but I managed to sneak out for one night,” was all she needed to say. It was enough, it was enough for them both.

  An understanding passed between them. There needed to be payback, some retaliation for the grief she’d too willingly put them through. And it had to be soon, before the moment passed.

 Gilbert cupped his hands around his mouth. “Erzsi! We love you! We’re your biggest fans!” He went all in, cheering her on as if she were some starlet at a movie premiere. Why did he care about dignity, anyway? He had embarrassed himself plenty of times in front of these aristocrats’ ancestors and he would provide their descendants with a show now. It was all the same to him.

 Surprisingly, Roderich joined in with full enthusiasm. Begging for her autograph, asking who she was wearing, and any other absurd request he could think of. If pressed about this later by any of the other guests, he decided he’d plead either temporary insanity or drunkenness. He wouldn’t be surprised if they believed him; most in attendance here were vacuous enough to believe anything if it were inane enough.

 There was no question that they’d be allowed to stay after such an eruption. Some block-headed guards escorted them out of the home, but neither cared. The look of outrage on her face – the embarrassment, the upset – that had been worth it in the moment. Sitting out on the curb on cold and uncomfortable concrete, it was worth it if it humiliated her just the same.

 Roderich’s head was buried deep in his hands, mask discarded in his lap. He was statuesquely still, deep somewhere in the recesses of his mind. Out of nowhere, he began laughing and shaking his head. He tilted his head back up at the stars. “Damn her,” he exhaled out.  

 Gilbert, confused by the sudden outburst, leaned away from him. God forbid the momentary madness was contagious. “What’s your problem?”

 “Don’t you get it? This is all our existence is ever going to be, where she curses us to keep debasing ourselves for her amusement and favor. Any of the noble pretenses she’s claimed it was about, that’s never mattered! Not love, not autonomy, not any of it! Our mental health is worth nothing more to her than a couple cheap laughs and a power trip.” He ran a hand through his hair, messing it up and giving him the appearance of something wild. Roderich barked out another laugh. “And, to think, it took me this long to realize it! All the fighting, all the animosity, all of it for nothing. Tonight proves we wasted centuries.”

 “Do you hear yourself right now?” Gilbert rolled his eyes. “Why are you looking for deeper meaning in this? We got tricked, we got back at her, and now all three of us are jackasses. As it was before and as it always will be.” He paused, considering the weight of what he just said. Resigned to fate, he sighed. “Dammit, I think I see your point.”  

 At the sound of high heels clip-clopping their way over, Roderich jumped up. “There she is! The master of ceremonies for the evening’s disaster!” He mockingly bowed at her. Once upright again, his smirk became apparent. “Any other humiliations you plan on subjecting us to or was this all you had planned? Take your time, us loyal dogs will be waiting faithfully until your next command.”

 “Give it up, Roderich. You’re acting like this is the worst I’ve done to you.” Erzsébet smirked. She was relieved he was joking about it, in his strange way. “If I found a new pair of toys to mess with, what would you do without me? That would be crueler. You know I couldn’t put you through that. Though I should be offended it took you that long to realize it was me. You too, for that matter,” she nudged Gilbert with the tip of her shoe. Now, she allowed herself to laugh. “What? Was I wearing too many clothes for you two to recognize me?”

 Roderich rolled his eyes, wishing he were more shocked at that jab. “You’re a piece of work, you understand that?” His tone was almost affectionate. “I will say, if you’d started performing a strip tease in the middle of the room, while it would’ve broken your cover sooner, I do think we would’ve preferred it. No, actually, finding out how we did was better. It would’ve been quite the nasty shock to us both had you gone home with me. The vengeance would’ve been sweet in the moment, sure, but the guilt afterwards? After enough decades, it would’ve killed me.”

 “Thanks, Roddy. You’re always a friend,” Gilbert mumbled under his breath.

 “Pulling no punches, huh?” For Gilbert’s sake, she tried not to laugh and failed. “Sorry to your ego, but that wouldn’t have happened. You lost your grand chance for retribution when I realized who you were. Then, when I saw your guest, I knew which one I wanted to go home with. Speaking of,” she knelt down, resting her chin on Gilbert’s shoulder, “nothing to say to me, kedvesem? Not like you to be so quiet.”

 He gently shrugged her off him, eyes still fixed across the street. “Aren’t you supposed to be back home? I don’t think a ‘moral leader’ would be out at a party right now.” He felt the air shift around Erzsébet. Clearly that wasn’t the right answer and Roderich’s childish snickering didn’t help the matter.

 “Really? You’re still pitching a fit over this?” She huffed. “So I snuck out of the house, big deal. You’re guilty of the same. Neither of us have the moral high ground.”

 “Bullshit! I, at least, was open about what I wanted to do!” Gilbert crossed his arms, glaring at her from the corner of his eye. “If you hadn’t been caught, you were going to keep this to yourself. Either that or you’d have run off to tell Feliks and act like gossipy old hens about it.” Her telling silence caused him to roll his eyes. “See? It’s almost like I know you.”

 Deciding against escalation, Erzsébet offered him a hand and pulled him up off the ground. Her expression softened when he didn’t pull away afterwards. “Fine. I’m sorry for being a hypocrite. I planned on skipping this stupid thing, but you were gone and the thought of you having fun while I was home, stressing about bureaucratic horse shit, lead to an impulsive decision on my part.” She shrugged in faux apathy. “And this was thrown by one of the only tolerable families. Going felt like the diplomatic choice. I didn’t want any hurt feelings.”

 “I don’t think you could’ve come up with worse reasoning if you tried.” Despite himself, Gilbert felt the corners of his mouth lilt up. “Seriously. That’s what you’re going with.”

 Called out, she giggled. There was a mischievous glint in her eyes. “That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.”

 Their moment was interrupted by the sound of Roderich groaning. “Really? You come bursting into my home, all up in arms about this, and now you’re just going to let it go? Have some dignity, some spine! You could at least try and manipulate the situation to your advantage rather than let bygones be bygones.” At the look they both gave him, he shrugged. “You may judge, but we all know I’m not exactly wrong.”

 “Why would I want to do that over something so minor?” Gilbert stared at him as if he’d gone completely mad.

 “Because it’s effective. Watch and learn from the master.” He pushed Gilbert aside, stepping in to take his place. He shifted his whole demeanor to that of a wounded animal. Eyes cast aside, arms folded across his chest. It was a pathetic sight. “After what’s been done to me tonight, I don’t know how I’ll be able to look any of them in the eye again. My name! My reputation! All tarnished in a matter of hours, never to be regained until next month when everyone inevitably forgets it! Erzsébet, do you not see how you’ve ruined me? What do you have to say for yourself?”

 She gasped, eyes widened in horror at her insensitivity. “How could I? That’s one less group of socialites you’ll have to kiss ass to. Poor Roderich, how will you go on?” She tapped an index finger against her chin. “Should I get on my knees to grovel for your forgiveness now or should I save that for later?”

 Roderich held up a hand. “Save it. There’s no need for us to go overboard.” He gave a smug little smile to Gilbert. “See? Works like a charm every time.”

 “I’m never doing that.” He scrunched up his nose in disgust. Roderich’s overinflated satisfaction was nauseating. “All the drama and that’s what you wanted. Aren’t you pathetic.” Gilbert could hardly contain his smirk.

 “What? Sometimes an apology is all you need. Despite all evidence to the contrary, I have feelings too. Besides, you were fishing for the same.” Roderich smiled at Erzsébet, all prior theatrics tossed aside. “Now, are you coming home with us?”

 “Thanks but no, I still want that weekend to myself. This has been more than enough excitement to get me through the next few days.” She waved them off, watching as they headed back in the direction of Roderich’s home. Once alone, she smiled in relief. Now her weekend could really begin.

[7team7]

I'm twenty when I'm with you: chapter three

Chapter title: Floor mates

Summary: Soulmate AU: Sasuke and Sakura go to the same college, where they end up being floor mates in the dorms.

Rating: T

chapter one / two / four / five / six 

Sakura had just moved into her new college dorm and everything was looking good so far. Scented candles that were technically against the rules to light? Check. Too many pillows on the bed for her to use at once? Check. Cute pictures of her and Ino all over the wall? Check. She left her door propped open in hopes of someone stopping by to say hello while she continued to unpack and tidy up her space.

So when the biggest spider she’d ever seen decided to drop down to her floor from the middle of the ceiling, the entire floor must have heard her piercing scream.

She was frozen. Of all things to greet her on the first day, a big ugly spider had to be it?

Someone—her savior—knocked on her door frame,“everything okay?” (The deep voice sounded slightly out of breath, as if they heard her scream and came running.)

“Can you please come kill this spider—oh! It’s you!”

Sakura had her fair share of embarrassing moments in life, but this one was looking like it would take the cake for “most mortification felt at one time.”

Sasuke Uchiha, her secret crush since the day she saw him one year ago, and who she hadn’t really seen much of since he delivered her food, was leaned against the doorway looking an illegal level of handsome. All while Sakura thought she was going to die because of this very unwelcome spider.

He nodded once to acknowledge her, like yes, it’s me. Of course. Who else would the universe bring to you?

Then he took a look down at the floor and Sakura felt marginally better when his eyes widened at the size of the spider. But then she realized he has to be kind of insane because he marched into her room with his bare palm open, as if he was going to slap the spider out of existence and into the next dimension.

“Ah, ah, wait! I’ll grab you a tissue,” she said as she gingerly stepped around him to avoid walking directly over the spider. But he was standing right in front of the shelf with the tissues, and if he moved any further into her room, he would be the one standing over the spider, and that just wasn’t okay either. So Sakura had to slide against him to pluck a tissue from the shelf as Sasuke stood rigidly in front of her, keeping watch of the spider. She was still standing awkwardly behind him, not wanting to step any closer to the unwanted guest, so she reached around his very broad back to hand him the tissue.

Sasuke moved too quickly for her to notice the faint redness dusted across his cheeks, but after he crushed the spider with far more force than needed, he muttered, “let me know if more show up.” It simply wouldn’t do to have the floor infested with easily exterminated spiders, especially if they insisted on bothering his pink haired floor mate.

.

It turned out Sasuke and Sakura’s schedules aligned just as well as they did in high school. They took many of the same entry level courses and therefore left the dorm at the same time each day. Sakura’s chattering helped him wake up and prepare for morning lecture. Even during their downtime, the two seemed to drift together naturally. It mostly started when Sasuke stuck around the library at night until Sakura was ready to pack up so he could walk her home. It unsettled him to think of someone so small, so easily startled by a spider, to walk in the dark by herself.

She had yawned and closed her laptop, signaling that she was calling it a night. Without a word, Sasuke finished up what he was working on and started putting his things away as well. They got up from their chairs at the same time, and Sakura’s brain was so fried from studying, she simply thought it was a coincidence. He was glad she wasn’t too tired to smile at him.

“You’re leaving too? Perfect, we can walk together,” Sakura said as they made their way to the library’s exit.

Yeah, together, perfect. All that.  

It turned into Sasuke often knocking on Sakura’s door with a simple, “study room’s open, saved you a spot.” Sakura made sure to bring Sasuke a bit of food from the dining hall on weekends since Sasuke tended to sleep in past the breakfast hours. He always picked up a copy of the school paper and handed it to her with the pages turned to the crossword puzzle.

Even when she convinced him to take kickboxing classes with her at the gym and he learned of her terrifying strength, he still insisted on walking her home at night. Although she clearly didn’t need his protection, he enjoyed her company. With fewer students out and about, the cool night air and twinkling stars were a comfortable and intimate setting. Did the moon notice the way they looked at each other?    

Sakura had spent many nights wondering why Sasuke occupied her thoughts so often when he hardly interacted with her during high school. Why did he fit into her life schedule so easily these days? Why was it so easy to be around someone who had a tendency to freeze people out? She didn’t want to get a big head, but it felt like he paid particular attention to her.

.

The worst part of living on the same floor as Sasuke, though, had to be the way he came in and out of the shower with only a towel wrapped around his waist. Once, when she was trying to apply a face mask by the sink, she asked him why he didn’t put on a robe and wasn’t he cold? He scooted past her by placing a hand on her lower back, “Hn. A bit. Lend me yours?” Sasuke stepped into the shower and shut the door before Sakura could respond.

Sakura, clad in a fluffy red robe, had to bite her arm to keep from screaming. Didn’t he know it was a safety hazard to look like... that ? Truly a distraction. She should be able to put on a mud mask in peace.

.

A/N: yes I lived on a co-ed floor my freshman year and yes we shared bathrooms, it was actually a fun gathering space but also gross because ew teenage boys

If anyone needs a layout of the spaces I can try to show you on twitter lol

[venusofrapturearchived]

( am I too late for ) Dr. Tenenbaum has died.

“…..HAS DIED.” FINISH IT IN MY ASK. / ACCEPTING

Whispers. How the girls of Eve’s Garden liked to gossip. Jasmine Jolene walked through the room and those whispers faded into an unnerving silence. How those girls knew everything that went on in Rapture. Jasmine took notice of this, notice of how they had become transfigured with a hush, as impartial yet grim like the stony face of a grave. Their eyes followed her as she crossed the dressing room, some glancing away as if they couldn’t be bothered with whatever existed now where all was dusty with powder and dim with only bare bulbs’ florescence creating a nauseating pool of white around the girls. Like a funeral with women who were dressed in bright colors, sequins shimmering, feathers wavering, rouge lips drawn in neutral lines. A game of cards was being played before Jasmine arrived. As she stepped through the door, the words returned just within earshot: ‘Tenenbaum’, ‘killed’, ‘disgusting’. Those words like ice, burned cold holes within her heart. She didn’t stop, however, kept walking through the doorway and out into the empty lounge where chairs were overturned on tables, someone was wiping the bar down, the scent of lazy cigarette smoke and the clean twang of lemon. Her movements were lost to habitual sensation, thoughts captured by emotion that demanded all of her attention, demanded reason to those snippets of words she had overhead. Killed. It stood out, an ugly, jagged word. A word that brought a fear so great it almost overwhelmed all other senses. Killed. Killed. Tenenbaum, killed? How? Why? What had Brigid Tenenbaum ever done to deserve to be killed? The steady clicking of her heeled shoes picked up in rhythm, faster, faster. She was trotting, jogging, through Fort Frolic, heading for the Metro. Shop windows gleamed past, reflected her dash in a passing image of silvery blonde and the solemn blue of her dress. Someone spoke to her. She didn’t respond, only continued her pursuit in a run. Brigid Tenenbaum could not be dead. They had planned to meet that night at her apartment, spend the time chatting as they always did. There was something important Brigid had wanted to share with Jasmine, something that the doctor had said that she had been waiting to talk about for a long time. Conspiracies came and went. What was it that Brigid wanted to talk about? Had she been killed to prevent the conversation from taking place? All this, and Jasmine had no idea if her friend was even truly dead. While it was unnatural the way Eve’s Garden was utterly perceptive to the goings-on of Rapture, it was not unheard of that some of the information passed were rumors only and nothing more. Jasmine simply had to find out.

The journey back to her apartment in Olympus Heights was unbearable. The train ride felt like an eternity, and in that tormentingly long spell, Jasmine was left with her own thoughts that served only to worsen her state of being. A tremble had begun in her hands, to the point where she needed to grip her purse tightly to disguise the fingers in their white gloves . Someone noticed her worried, slightly petrified expression and offered her a drink to settle her nerves. She could hardly get out that she was too tired and needed to go home. From then on, her eyes fixated out of the window yet saw next to nothing. Brigid was the paramount of her mind, the quiet yet gnawing terror that what she had heard was true. Brigid was a lifeline, a god-send, a person whom Jasmine had grown dependent on. Her company was consoling, her intellect inspiring, her no-nonsense and matter-of-fact personality offered something Jasmine had not known in others whom she had gotten close to. To imagine that suddenly gone, forever, was a deeply disturbing idea. Maybe it was all a malicious prank. A lot of the other dancers in The Garden were becoming bitter towards Jasmine, several actively employing nasty attitudes towards her. Since she became the headlining act, it had been this way. It was not so unbelievable that someone had the wild plan to frighten Jasmine with the fleeting word of her dear friend’s demise. It would be a cruel and horrid trick, but that was what Jasmine desperately was hoping for. A trick, nothing more than a horrible joke. One that she and Brigid could laugh about when it was all over with.

The Rapture Metro sighed and lurched to a stop. It was only a short walk to Olympus Heights, and an even shorter distance to Brigid’s apartment. At this hour, the massive entryway and towering staircases of the grand palace to Rapture’s elite was deserted, desolate of people. Silent, still. There was the steady hum of neon signs. A slow, muted grind of a cigarette machine that awaited someone’s patronage. Quiet. Deathly quiet. It did not help her feel at ease, the disquieting sensation of utter solitude within a place usually vibrant with life and wealth. She didn’t release her taut grip of the silken handbag, almost resented the clicking shoes that upset the silence as she walked towards Brigid Tenenbaum’s apartment. There were no voices anywhere, no sense of movement or the occupation of space by another living thing. This entire complex could be abandoned, that was the way it felt. She continued, on and on, up the stairs, around this way and that, finding the gilded numbers hammered into the door. She listened a moment in a spell of hesitation, and like everything else around her it was quiet. This was it. The time of discovery was near, the truth that would bring her to her knees to weep or have her toss her head in a sheepish laugh. How silly she would feel if all of this was simply her overactive mind, running wildly away at a mere passing rumor. A breath, gathered in her chest, smooth release that did not relax her in the slightest. Trembling hand rose, knuckles knocked on the door. Thrice. She waited. Several seconds passed. Seconds to a full minute. Jasmine didn’t like this. She knocked again, more insistently, four or five times. Time moved, Jasmine did not. Another knock. Her palms began to sweat, a coldness sweeping over her in a rush like a shadow engulfing her entire being. Still, she wondered what she could do. It was late, very late. Perhaps Brigid had fallen asleep. Perhaps she was out working in her lab, planning one of her infamous days-long endeavors. It wasn’t impossible.

KILLED echoed through her head. Jasmine peeled her gloves off, stuffing them into her purse, and jiggled the doorknob. It gave way in her hand, turning with a disturbing ease that she had not expected. Killed, killed, killed. A glance tossed over her shoulder, then she slowly, slowly, stepped inside. Listening, listening. Was that a voice she heard, far off into the spacious dwelling? Like a mausoleum, chilled and quiet, minimal features to a large, climbing area. Devoid of personal identity as if freshly moved into. At least nothing was in a disarray. Neat stacks of papers, books in that orderly chaos that ruled Brigid Tenebaum’s life. All was still with that peculiarity of the late night. How she hated how her heeled shoes tapped against the floor, softly yet with careful slowness, watching each room, looking for something out of the ordinary. The voice that came from several rooms back continued. It was silent, light, so soft the emotion of the tone was not clear. Jasmine would follow it, but not without checking the places she passed. The kitchen was untouched, as it always was. There was a study, and it was as she remembered it, albeit with a neater look as some papers were cleared from the desk. The hall was dark and bare. The bedroom was the final room, the door hanging ajar like a slack jaw. Already, Jasmine could see the shadowed room by just a sliver, the corner of a simple bed. No lights were on, none that she could see. The voice she heard earlier was sourced within the bedroom, soft, insistent, strangely rhythmic. Something twisted in her gut upon approaching that door. Within her, there was hesitation, an alarm that dared her– no, begged her– to turn around and go back. Who knew what she would find in there? Killed. It conjured horrible images, grotesque and morbid nightmares that could very well lay beyond the bedroom door. What would become of dear Brigid? What terrible, awful thing could have happened that Jasmine was about to be witness to? It was now the time that Jasmine might be able to leave and never come back. All of this could be a silly overreaction. Brigid could be fine and Jasmine had worried for nothing. But there was a part of her, a daring, sympathetic part of her, that implored her to go on. She needed to know, right then and there, if Brigid Tenenbaum was indeed dead. Jasmine would not be able to sleep that night without knowing with absolute certainty, had to know if her friend was okay. 

She took in a long breath, brought her hand out before she could stop herself, and pushed hard at the door and let it fall back, the hanging maw that revealed the dark room. Peering hard at the shapes that presented themselves to her, Jasmine entered the room, slow, careful, letting her eyes adjust before feeling out the light switch. A burst of light overhead. The first thing Jasmine noticed was that the bed was still made. This wasn’t so unusual for Brigid. Jasmine knew the woman could spend time plagued by bouts of sleeplessness. There was the common, helter-skelter organization Jasmine marveled at, things of Brigid’s scattered about the room. Nothing sinister, nothing too out of place. Aside from her various belongings, there was no sign of the woman herself it seemed. The voice she was hearing came from a desk where a record player sat, spitting the same verse of a song over and over. ‘End of the wor- end of the wor- end of the wor-’ The scratch the record made every time it skipped should have made it obvious that it wasn’t what she had worried, that it was someone back here, planning some nefarious deed. No body, no blood, no signs of a fight. Just a lot of a silly woman’s overactive fancies running away from her. Jasmine was almost relieved as she went over to the record player and picked the needle up off the record. Almost. She still felt the soul deep sensation of something being OFF. She couldn’t place the cause of it, just that it existed and made her unsatisfied in her findings. Where was Brigid, if she wasn’t here? They had made plans to see one another. It wouldn’t really be like Brigid to blow her off without at least phoning ahead that she was busy. Something ominous still lurked in the apartment, something just outside of Jasmine’s view. 

She quietly wondered why she continued to feel so strangely put off by the silence that encased the empty apartment, the loneliness of the quiet bedroom, scattered with the doctor’s belongings and papers and all sorts of things Jasmine had seen a hundred times yet couldn’t quite remember. Standing alone in Brigid’s bedroom was, in itself, an odd feeling. Jasmine could not say there was a time she had been in Brigid’s house without her there, especially the bedroom. The troubled woman turned away from the record player to give the room a quick, searching glance one more time, looking more to ease her worries than to find something to confirm her fears. Again, she moved slowly, as if unsure of herself, wrought with her anxieties that encouraged stillness opposed to curious motion. Patented white heels moved along the floor, muffled by carpet, silent in her exploring gaze that still yet found nothing unusual. It had to be a simple lie. A misunderstanding. A rumor. Whatever it was, it wasn’t true. Brigid had to be working, that was that. Jasmine figured she would go home to find a message for her explaining their plans were off because Brigid was doing experiments or inventing god-knows-what. That was most likely the situation, and Jasmine felt silly for even being worried, creeping around her friend’s apartment like a prowler. How embarrassed she’d be when she told Brigid about it. If she told her about it. 

Satisfied enough with her own conclusions, Jasmine made for the bedroom door that had drifted nearly closed, ready to return to her own home for some much needed sleep. While she wouldn’t have admitted it or turned down their plans, the week’s run of her latest dance number was demanding and she was feeling the soreness of it and then some. It seemed that now, since she had calmed down a bit, she was becoming aware of how tired she truly was. Maybe it had been a good thing that Brigid had cancelled their plans. She reached for the doorknob, thinking about pouring herself a glass of wine and taking a long bath before sinking between her satin sheets. It had really been a long and tiring day, and the added stress of what she had put herself through was the final wallop that drove her to ignore her instinctual paranoia in favor of what had to be true. How could she have taken it all so seriously? Was she really so naive as to believe every tidbit of gossip she overheard? Wine and rest. Jasmine had one thing on her mind now. She began to tug the door back to step out into the hallway, when something made her stop. It took a few moments for her to understand, what it was she was hearing. Soft, a click, then the unmistakable sound of a voice. A second passed, two, in which she strained to hear the voice and quickly came to the realization that, whoever’s voice it was, it was not Brigid Tenenbaum’s.

Frozen. Jasmine did not move, only listened. Listened as the voice moved, the footsteps of someone wearing heavy boots like the kind she remembered her own father wearing. Workers boots. Jasmine knew Brigid had never worn shoes like that, could not recall the doctor ever wearing them in her presence, would’ve remembered those steps that, as they got closer, belonged to someone of a bigger frame than Brigid Tenenbaum. Dread returned to her, and yet it was with an intense curiosity she struggled to make out the words that were being spoken. Low. The voice was low and was joined by another sound, crackling like an old radio. Jasmine didn’t understand, the words, the strange noises, the reason this stranger was now within her friend’s apartment. She didn’t know if this person was a threat, or if it was some colleague of Brigid’s seeking something out for the doctor on an errand. She didn’t know, she just couldn’t be sure. She wondered if she should simply step out and greet the person, see for herself who and find out where Brigid was. It could possibly save her a lot of worry if she merely came out and asked. But a pull in her gut, something cold, uncertain, told her something still was wrong. She did what she could, and so she simply waited. Waited, and listened still. The sounds were moving, the voice trailing in and out, figuring that whoever it was was going room to room. This alarmed Jasmine, fearing the thought of being discovered, lest this intruder be a danger to her. She turned silently, searching a spot that she might hide herself, the easiest and quietest place that might help her disappear. The steps continued, slow, unhurried, closer and closer, words now becoming clearer fragments. Jasmine could hardly breathe. ‘got no business telling secrets that aren’t hers-’, ‘dame oughta seen it coming, if she was so smart-’, ‘bloody mess those meatheads left behind-’.

Everything slowed down all of a sudden, and yet it felt as if everything was happening in a blink. The steps were coming down the hallway now, to the bedroom where Jasmine stood stiff in terror as so many things were occurring to her, the cold dawning of her fears come true. Was it real? Was it true? Who was this? What happened to Brigid? There was no time, no answers, no anything. Just the adrenaline rush that would save Jasmine’s life. Within seconds, the blonde woman retreated from the door as the voice on the other side approached. She whirled in panic, gripping her purse for dear life as she flung herself as silently as possible on to the floor and wiggled herself underneath Brigid’s bed. All this, just in time as the door creaked open and the man in a pair of grimy overalls entered the bedroom with a handheld radio in his fist, speaking gruffly in a rough accent into the receiver of the device. “ I’m tellin’ ya, boss, it was a damned, real MESS. Messiest killin’ I ever saw, and my pa used to be a butcher. Don’t know nothing ‘bout how it happened, alls I know is that they made the bitch SUFFER. No way in hell you kill somebody with that bigofuva mess without ‘em sufferin’. ” Those footsteps felt like thunder, pounding on the floor, echoes that rolled beneath the helpless woman’s body, withholding a sob. “ Yeah, sure. Ask ol’ Teddy ‘bout it. He was the one ya got to do the job, didn’tja? Real SICK son’vabitch, Teddy. Probably liked it, torturing the broad. Real fucked up. Why ya got him to do it, didn’tja? ” Papers rustled. The room ignited with the smell of fire. A snap of the fingers and evidence vanished. “ She was a real creepy bitch, wasn’ she? Heard that much ‘bout her. Heard a lot of other things, too. Makes me wonder how many people’ll notice she’s even gone. Becomin’ more ‘n more reclusive, wasn’ she? Makes it easier on you, eh? Sure, somebody’s bound to notice. Anybody kick up a fuss, get ol’ Ted on ‘em. ” A throaty laugh. It made Jasmine sick to hear how genuine it was. Her head was spinning. “ Yeah, yeah. Just ‘bout finished in here. Burned everything ya told me to. Mighty fine place, if I do say. Damn shame it’ll stay empty ‘cause these bigwigs don’t want anybody else living among their ranks. ”

Jasmine felt hot tears trailing down the side of her face, covering her mouth with her hands as she cried. In her mind, she was practically screaming for this man to leave, unable to listen anymore to his disgusting jokes and jests about the murder of Brigid Tenenbaum. She couldn’t believe it, even if she had been expecting it just moments before, now that it was real, the actual truth that she faced, it was enough to cause her to faint. She didn’t, though she fought with this chilling revelation, fearing that the brute would peek under the bed for anymore of whatever he was sent to find. She tried to remember the name he had said: Teddy. Who was he? Who had sent some bloodthirsty monster to kill her dear friend? What was she going to do? She couldn’t stop crying. Minutes went by but it seemed like an eternity. The man searched the room, burned a few more things, then left, his crude and unfeeling laughter still echoing in Jasmine’s head. She laid there for another eternity under that bed, unable to move, too afraid, too struck with grief. It was madness, everything that she had heard, absolute and utter madness. Laying there, she could only weep in a choked hush, trying desperately to think of what she needed to do. Go home. And do what? It didn’t matter right now, she would think more about it when she was finally safe, away from the tomb of her dark-haired doctor, away from the pounding footsteps and the cold voice and the buzzing radio that would haunt her dreams for weeks after. It took a long time to gather the courage, but she finally did push herself out from under the bed, silent as a ghost, slipping off her heeled shoes in order to be utterly silent. The apartment was empty, she made sure of this before she went out into the hallway. No sounds but her own flying heartbeat. Numbed, she walked, slow as she could, down the hall to peer out into the rest of the apartment to make sure it was truly safe. Once she saw it was so, she moved much quicker, a startled doe that leapt and dashed for the door. She wondered what time it was, where everyone else was, why she felt like the only person in the entire city at the bottom of the sea. The frightened, mad dash she made for her own apartment was all a blur, nothing but panic and fear and penetrating sorrow. She was shaking when she finally slammed her own door shut and locked it, leaning against it as she broke into a fresh and heart-breaking cry. Brigid was dead. Brigid was dead. No, no. Brigid wasn’t only dead, she had been brutally KILLED. It was true. It was horribly, painfully true and she had found out in one of the most mortifying ways possible. Now, she was left with the most upsetting of questions: WHO, WHY? And just WHAT was she going to do about it?

[cosmicboredomworld-blog]

Supernovae

It was cold.

That's what he remembered most, the air was cold, the ground was cold, the people were cold.

He remembered running. His legs ached with it, a starch contrast from the biting wind and slicing snow. His skin felt like it was always bleeding, though there were no wounds to corroborate this. His arms and back were stiff from shivering, unable to move more than necessary. Hair was not something he could even be thankful for, but what little was there kept his ears from falling off from frostbite.

But there was the gate, and so to was some semblance of warmth. If even it was only the fact they were all crammed together in such a small clearing.

His feet hurt, from blistering and running, the bandages were nothing to stop the flame of infection. Every step caused great pain and he stumbled as they all slowed almost to a stop before continuing at a torturously slow pace. It was pure agony to feel his weight- meager as it was- on his heels, shifting to walk was Hell incarnate.

As a mindless, shapeless crowd, they marched in time to a beat only the dead could hear. Past iron-wrought gates, and dark shadows of men lined in heavy, dark linen. Through mud and sand, and into a severe-looking encampment. He dared not look up, so as not to catch any eyes, fearful of the beatings that would ensue after such indiscretions. The war had taught him well.

The wind picked up and stole whatever heat they had managed to gain, leaving him shivering and his fingers numb. They passed open swathes of farmland and train tracks, he saw black carrion birds circling in the sky somewhere above the grass. There were heavy clouds behind them, a harbinger of more cold, more death, more disease. To the left, he saw the bleak, red brick buildings that would serve as their home. It was a testament to the elements that he was glad to see them.

But even as he watched the buildings grow large, he knew he would not be leaving this place. For he was hallucinating the bright yellow glow over the place, he was sure of it. The sun was long since hidden by thick cloud to produce anything like that light.

But light, to him, meant warmth and rest. He was going to die there in that warmth.

It was better than freezing to death.

He stumbled along in his herd, mindless as the sick sheep that follow along so as not to be picked off by ravenous wolves, until suddenly, as one, they stopped. They were being filed in, now. Made to stand in rows, as their numbers were called, and made to wait for any relief. In the shadow's eyes, they were expendable like that.

The standing hurt most, and he was forced to lean on his right foot. His left was on fire.

At a shuffling pace, they were packed into the small, fenced clearing as the sun continued to dip towards night. The ground here was warm, as if a hundred million feet had left there impressions behind, he could feel it through the rough cloth wrappings. Numbers were called out, the words familiar in his ears but just barely. Five years of hearing his identification numbers made it easy to associate, his head lifted when he heard them, but his eyes were fixed on the ground. He wished they would bury him in it.

The glow he saw earlier had grown smaller as they approached, and even now it was getting smaller, as if it was moving to him instead. He waited, sure that this angel would wait for a proper time to steal him away. But the light just shifted to another color as it got closer, to a bright, almost sky blue. He didn't want to die right here in front of everyone and these shadows, the light mesmerized him to the point of not caring.

The light was moving! It was moving towards them, and was obscured by bodies. When it stopped, wavering like a little star, he strained to see it through the crowd, wondering not for the first time if it was looking for him, if it was real, what it would do to him if it was. No one else was looking at it, no one dared to, he was probably breaking a thousand rules beat into his subconscious. But only he could see it.

It started a slow circle around the crowd, looking for something, someone, him. The flicker of it could be seen even as he gathered his senses and turned his face downward.

What was it? It wasn't any kind of electric light he had seen, it was far too clear to be firelight, and what kind of wood would turn the fire blue? These questions raised more questions, from which arose ever-more questions.

Roll call was over, a medic would be sent out to examine each of them. Those too close to death would be sent to the infirmary, the rest were put to work. He was not surprised when the medic sniffed at him pompously and made a mark on his list. He knew he looked like the dead walking, because he felt like the dead and here he stood. A shadow escorted him across the clearing, where another line had already formed, though not as thick as the one going to Nordhausen. The light was nowhere to be seen.

Here, in Mittelbau, would be his final stop.

This group was small, but not too small. Others looked better than he, and even more looked worse.

They were moved to a large building, where the doors were made of metal, and the floors were tile. Outside, everything was red. Inside was white and clean, no personal items, no paintings, no plants. The air was stiff with cleaner, and each bed was crisp like paper. They were put five to a room, some were taken to other rooms for first aid. That was his most obvious sign that he, indeed, would perish.

He forced his arms to move, they cracked and popped at the joints, but he forced them to pull him onto the bed, to alleviate his tired legs and sore feet. But that was all he could ask of them, and his legs hung over the side of the bed, he was too tired to correct himself.

And he wanted just a few more minutes before he laid down and never woke up again.

The air was warm, he could feel that now, he shivered from the cold in his bones. The sheets were starched cotton, good for sanitization. His fellows didn't look as bad as he did, perhaps they would survive.

His thoughts, his final thoughts, were interrupted by the door opening and a male nurse stepping into the room.

He spoke Polish. “Good evening, Juden. I am Edward, I will be speaking to each of you momentarily.” Then repeated it in German, and in the harsher Slovak languages, of which he could never decipher without the first two translations.

It surprised him, in other infirmaries, no nurse had ever spoken to him during his time in them. And he'd been in far better conditions then.

Edward took his time with each patient, and Jakob expected less when it came to him, his issues were plain, he was dying. But the brunette man was all smiles and kind words, asking him which language he preferred, asking him to describe every pain, when he'd last eaten, how far he'd ran, where he was coming from, where he lived originally. It was the most invasive experience he'd had in five years.

“Good, I will inform the doctor and he should begin your treatment soon.” Edward said when he had seemed to fill his pad with notes on just him. “One last question, do you have a name? I'd like to put it next to your identification number for the doctor.”

He blinked, slow and quiet. Did he have a name anymore?

“Jakob.” He rasped and the air from his lungs was too hot.

“And your last name?”

He closed his eyes. “Mudë.”

“You are German?”

“Yes.” He opened his eyes, maybe they would write his record for others to find. Maybe he wouldn't be forgotten.

Edward smiled sadly and capped his pen. “So young, what could you have done to end up here?”

“I- my father.” He breathed. “He was an enemy of the state.”

“Ah, so you first went to Auschwitz.”

“Yes.”

“There have been numerous outbreaks of Typhus there, and I'm afraid I'm going to have to inform the doctor. It may result in quarantine, but do not be alarmed, it is for the safety of all present.” Edward said in a clinical tone, but he accompanied it with a smile. “We are experienced with taking care of the problem before it begins to spread. So worry not, friend. You will be healthy in no time.”

He nodded, he didn't have the heart to tell Edward that he was already slipping away. Edward made a few more notes and left him with a frown, continuing on his scheduled route. He sagged and breathed out.

His eyes were closed, and he felt a hand on his back, causing him to gasp and open his eyes again, to blinding light.

“Is this him?” A deep voice asked, he couldn't focus enough to look around, to see.

“Yes, he was in Auschwitz during the Typhus outbreak in ‘39.” Edward said, appearing in his sight, the brown hair looked soft and feathery.

“He's barely conscious,” the other voice sounded grim. “Get him in the containment room anyway. It'll allow him room to breathe and I will begin his treatment plan right away.”

Edward's hands were steady as they lifted him, off the bed and into the air, and the lights passed him as he was carried down the hall.

“He looks like he is on death's door.” The other voice said in the silence.

“No, his blood pressure is too stable. It may just be an infection.” Edward's voice rumbled into his body, he was being held close to offer warmth. Was this pity?

A door opened and so did his eyes as they let him down on a cool bed. He groaned, a meek thing since he'd hardly used his voice these days. They stretched him out and pulled the covers over him and the warmth seeped from his body into the mattress.

“He looks no older than fifteen…” the other voice wondered.

“He says twenty. With no previous medical records saying otherwise, we cannot confirm or deny.” Edward sounded like he was reading from his pad again.

“Get him on an IV, he needs a shot of penicillin, and then he can sleep on Morphine.” The doctor- or so he assumed- said. “With that, he'll survive the night.”

He almost screamed at them, but he couldn't speak very well with exhaustion setting in. He couldn't move to get their attention either. He didn't want to survive the night. He deserved to die in his sleep.

“The Commandant would want to hear about this. He would flay you if you kept a Typhus carrier without his knowledge.” Edward was saying, to which the doctor snorted.

“Go ahead and tell him. He knows I would never endanger this city.” The doctor harrumphed. “Make sure he is taken care of, the Commandant also likes to keep his workers alive. His death would be on your hands then.”

There was no way someone like Edward would let him pass in his sleep. The man was too polite, too gentle to leave him neglected, and whatever policies were upheld here were obviously punishable by some sort of social death should one break protocol. He sighed heavily, they would not let him rest. Not really.

The needle in his arm was a slight shock, but his exhaustion had deadened a significant amount of his nerves to make it seem more pleasant. The oddity of the metal in his flesh was uncomfortable but he couldn't do anything if he wanted to. Edward rolled him over a bit and pulled the covers back. Another needle to the curve of his rear, and this one hurt.

“Penicillin,” Edward explained quietly, as if he wasn't sure whether he was heard. “It will hurt but not much, and not for long.”

Jakob whimpered as he was rolled back, the covers replaced. His whole body hurt like it had been run over and dragged hundreds of miles. The needle in his arm shifted and suddenly he was groggy.

“Sleep, the Commandant will see you in the morning.” Edward said to him, and the door then his eyes closed.