#the answer is that it looks cooler/shes suicidal/it's her sister

[righteousdelusions]

Why are you, as a long distance shooter, getting that close to Vi

[kitmon]

Shut Up | Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Summary: Eddie just can’t seem to stop talking when you wish he’d use his lips for something else.

Pairing: Eddie Munson (Stranger Things, 2022) x Henderson!Reader

Word Count: 1.9k

Tags: None, I don’t think, just some gnarly, absolutely disgusting fluff, you sickos

Author’s Note: I want to make it ABUNDANTLY clear that the reader is adopted and is not Dustin’s biological sister. I didn’t use any defining language nor did I describe the reader’s appearance at all so this can be read by anyone, my darlings. Aside from that, this was a just an idea I had while watching Vol. 2 so enjoy my grotesquely sweet little drabble, it’s not much but I thought I’d share.

With the glossy new baseball bat laid across a blue milk crate, you hammer in one final nail to decorate the tip of its barrel before tossing the hammer into the tall blades of grass and lifting the bat in one hand, admiring your work. You drop your arm as you hold it to gauge its weight before giving it a trial spin with your wrist, letting both hands land on the grip before you twist your middle and swing the bat around you, harnessing all of the muscle memory you garnered playing softball back in middle school.

Deciding it works as well as a bat with nails decorating its cap should, you carry it over your shoulders— wary of the obvious danger— towards where Steve and Robin occupy themselves with crafting makeshift firebombs.

“What do you think?” You ask, demonstrating your killer uppercut swing for the pair before stabbing the bat into the ground as a post for you to lean on, your unoccupied hand landing on your hip as you await an answer.

“I think you stole my look,” Steve says as he and Robin continue their work of filling bottles with gasoline.

You gasp in mock-scandal, your hand flinging from your side to lay over your collarbone as if to capture some heirloom jewels that rest there as you grasp for a means of defending yourself.

“I just think you’re jealous that I make it look cooler,” you jeer with a playful tone, wrinkling your nose at him before deciding to let the matter lie.

You drop the bat so that it lays propped up against the side of the RV and you step forward with your arms crossed over your chest and your hands tucked into your sides, letting your eyes wander over the grassy clearing as you release a subdued sigh through your nose. This was the calm before the storm, the last moment of peace and security the nine of you would indulge in before embarking on what could only really be described as a suicide mission to save some hick town that couldn’t care less about any of you; your ragtag team of outcasts, losers, and nerds. Yet here you were, sucked into all of this Upside Down hoopla because of your brother’s rescue slimeball having eaten your precious Mews back in twelfth grade.

The rambunctious giggles of your brother draw your attention to the Shield Squad. You watch from afar as Dustin and Eddie have it out in the grass, wrestling and tossing each other around like a couple of neanderthals. Eddie’s reaching for the edge of your brother’s boxers, in the midst of delivering a devastating wedgie before their horseplay comes to a slowed stop. You watch with curious eyes as they embrace like real brothers, sharing some hushed words between the two of them, words not meant for your ears but you find the interaction endearing nonetheless.

“Would you quit drooling over there? It’s making me nauseous,” Robin teases, interrupting your quiet admiration.

You scoff before turning to her with a cocked head, smiling indignance shrouding your face.

“I am not drooling, Buckley,” you defend.

“Oh, sorry! My mistake!” She exclaims, sarcastically. “I meant to say cheesing. Your cheesing is making me nauseous.”

You roll your eyes at her nonsense and she smiles a cheeky grin at you before stuffing another scrap measure of cloth down a bottle’s neck. You shake your head with a smile stretching your lips as you turn your attention back to Eddie and Dustin, the two separating before Eddie catches your stare. You send him a bashful smile, tinkling your fingers at him in a wave and his cheeks lift with a lopsided grin as he returns the gesture by lifting his hand. Your eyes crinkle at the edges and you twist your head to watch as Steve and Robin distract themselves with their bottles and fuel and such, scanning your eyes around the rest of your stopgap encampment to see if anyone was paying you any mind. Looking back at Eddie, you beckon him over with a directional nod from your head before turning and stalking off behind the RV, trailing your fingers along the side of it before you disappear out of sight.

Eddie’s thoughts are clouded as a distracted expression harbors his face, Dustin’s jabbering muffled and unimportant to him now as he watches you go.

“So, I was thinking, maybe we add more nails around—”

“Yeah, yeah, that sounds good,” Eddie dismisses him, his feet already carrying him off towards the RV before he’s even finished his sentence. “Just… just give me one second,” he tells Dustin, emphasizing his mumbled words by holding up his index finger before jogging away.

“Eddie? Eddie!” Dustin calls after him, but he’s already swinging himself behind the RV, uninterested in anything else Dustin has to say.

As Eddie turns the corner, he sees you looking out towards the bush, your back turned to him as you shift on your feet. You hear the subtle squeak of grass being plodded over and you turn your head to watch as Eddie tentatively steps toward you.

He smiles with his hands brushing his leather layer back as they lay perched on his hips, swaying towards you as he says, “Doest the fair maiden request mine presence?”

You snort at his lame joke and worry your lip between your teeth to keep the embarrassingly wide grin you’re concealing peek through at it. You step closer to him and take his leather jacket under your fingers, rubbing the soft material between your pointer finger and your thumb, the zipper at the end of its track clinking as you pass your thumb over it. Your eyes dart up and connect with Eddie’s, the deep brown of his irises entrancing you for a moment before you pull them away with a demure smile taking over your face as you watch your sneakers kick up clods of dirt and grass.

“I just wanted to thank you.” You finally speak. “For, you know… taking my brother under your wing and all.” Your fingers proceed to trace along the seams and watermarks of Eddie’s leather as you continue. “He’s lucky to have you. I mean, you have no clue how much he admires you.”

Eddie chuckles at the last comment, “I’m sure I have some clue,” he assures you, toying with the rings on his fingers. “They’re not as subtle as they think they are.”

You laugh and press your hands against his chest as he leans closer so his head is adjacent to yours, whispering the last bit to you. It’s moments like these that confuse you; the way that he lets you run your hands and fingers over his clothes, fidget with little bits of his apparel, whisper and stand real close, the way that he looks at you like you’re so… special, or whatever cheezy bullshit happens in romance movies. It fogs your brain and muddles your critical thinking skills and, looking back, you suppose it’s the reason you say what you do.

“I’m lucky to have you, too, Munson.”

Eddie leans back to fully inspect your face with critical eyes; his eyebrows furrowed and his lips parted as his eyes dart over your expression.

“Really?” It’s asked genuinely and you can’t help but giggle at the oblivious look on his face.

“Mmhm,” you hum, your tongue dashing out over your lips as a smile consumes you and your fingers tease the edges of his hair, twirling and weaving clumped strands between your digits.

“I wish I had an Eddie when I was high school,” you recollect, thoughts of flying under the raider and being a total geek-freak spinning through your mind and leaving an unsavory taste at the back of your mouth as you carry on. “When my dork brother called me from Hawkins and rambled on the phone for, I kid you not, hours about ‘the coolest guy ever,’ Eddie Munson, talking about how he runs a ‘killer’ D&D club and listens to heavy metal and has ‘the most wicked’ head of hair to ever befall Hawkins High—” you detangle the strands from your fingers and ruffle the hair at the back of his head as you two share a collective giggle, bringing his face closer to yours so you can whisper the next part to him— “do not tell him I told you that or he will slip cyanide into my Cheerios when this is all over.”

He chuckles before bringing your hand over his heart and holding it there, his rings cooling your knuckles as he says, “Cross my heart, sweetheart.”

You absentmindedly purr out a sigh as your eyes gloss over his features, admiring the way he can still smile, still make you smile while in the course of all this shit. Even with whatever grime was dusting the space above his brow and with his hair tangled and roused from, literally, traveling to Hell and back, he still held the capacity to be a lovely, handsome source of safety; of comfort.

“Well,” you huff, “all this to say thank you for inviting my little brother into your weirdo circle. I’m the only other adult weirdo he has.”

You’re unsure of how the two of you came to be so close to each other; your chests one deep intake of air away from brushing each other while wild wisps of his hair tickle your temples and your forehead, his breath puffing across the apples of your cheeks and causing warmth to spread over them like wildfire. You’re staring into his eyes, picking out the darkened specks of cocoa that swim in layers of honeyed brown in your mind, and, mentally, you’re begging him to kiss you. To just lean a bit closer and exclaim with his actions what you’ve been wanting to say ever since that night in the boathouse, after being designated Munson-Sitter, when you played Gin Rummy in the cold and he lent you his jacket and vest when your teeth started to chatter and your shoulders quaked.

But at this moment, as he fights to keep talking, stuttering out a witty reply and all, you want to give him a proper shake and just scream out the obvious to him.

“Well, you know, just another dutiful day of shepherding the sheep, guiding them towards the light and what have—”

“God, just shut up and kiss me, Munson.” You can’t take it any longer as you grip the open zippers of his coat and bring him down that remaining inch, crashing your lips against his. His body stills for a moment before his eyes are fluttering shut and his timid hands quiver at your sides until he regains his confidence and plants them on your hips.

You sigh as it finally happens, smiling into his lips and making it harder for the kissing to continue properly, but he only encourages you as he’s smiling as well, a giggle passing between the both of your mouths as you desperately try to keep from separating. His hands glide up and settle between your shoulder blades, urging your body closer to his while your hands rub over his shoulders and bury themselves in the knotted locks of his hair closer to the nape of his neck. You tug at the strands a little with your excitement and he groans into you in response, prodding his tongue along the seam of your lips before you invite him in openly.

Just as your tongues begin to get acquainted with each other, a squealing voice interrupts.

“Hey, Eddie, should we— EDDIE! Get your lips off of my sister right now!”

[ramblings-of-a-mad-cat]

(sees another fandom that I can ask you about and cheers) Orphan Black! Thoughts? I don't know Dr Who but Tatiana is one of my favorite actors period.

Anon you are so sweet! I'm always happy to chat about fandoms and characters and whatnot, and I will never not appreciate the majesty of Tatiana's acting. That is one of the greatest parts of the show hands down.

Orphan Black, to me, is a show that had incredible potential, but didn't really live up to the excitement it created. (Loooong post ahead.)

The thing is, Orphan Black builds a chilling mystery and background, the world it gradually creates as it goes for about the first two seasons, got be very invested and made me wonder a lot about where it was going to go and what the answers were. The setup is brilliant, right from the start with that iconic cold open of Beth's suicide. The unknown is what really helped this show get as thrilling as it was, because the actual answers behind the unknown were kind of hit and miss, and it seemed like far too often, the show just wasn't interested in telling it's story. Hijinks where the clones impersonate each other in slice of life events? That's fun at first and it really works well as they're still getting to know each other. But after a while, it gets tedious, and it seems like the show would rather fuck around and have dance parties (seriously, that scene was such a #BigLippedAlligatorMoment) than focus on the story and the threat that the sisters are facing. Virtually all of Allison's plotlines are like this, they feel like they belong in a different show, and for some reason the writers insisted on giving her one of these storylines like, every season. After Allison passively murders her own friend out of suspecting that she's spying on her, I just don't feel like an arc about her running for some PTA office position even matters. It doesn't feel right.

Speaking of that, here's another example: Donnie. Why did the end of the first season suggest that he was this secret mastermind working for Leekie? The whole idea just deflates in Season 2 and doesn't really go anywhere. He just goes back to being the bumbling sweetheart he was before. Why even have him be the spy? Maybe it should have been Ainsley. Do you want to know the exact moment that I think Orphan Black went wrong? Like, the specific scene? When Leekie was killed off. The character who had thus far been the Big Bad, gets taken out in the stupidest possible way, a literal accident on Donnie's part, and it's even played for laughs. After that point, the show really struggled to regain it's footing, though I don't think it completely went off the rails until about Season 4, and it was still generally hit or miss. Like, some stuff was really good. The introduction of the Castor clones, the development of Rachel's character (I'll get to her, trust me.) and the reveal of Kendall Malone. But it seemed like so much else was just forgotten or otherwise not resolved. Whatever happened to Cal? Sure, the show wanted to focus on the sisters...but Kira deserves to know her father if she wants to. That's just one example. It's a crying shame because this show is sometimes incredible. The metaphor that I always use for situations like this, is a card game. The show has all the right cards in its hand, they're just not being played.

The two strongest characters, at least to me, were Rachel and Helena. One of these characters was superbly written and went through a devastating arc. The other was Helena. We need to talk about her. In Season 1, she really cemented herself as a memorable presence with her trademark accent, her scars, her whole damn personality (again, hats off to Tatiana) and of course, that iconic screechy theme music that accompanied her. Which at first made us jump, but eventually made us cheer. I adored Helena, and I loved the development of her relationship with Sarah. Who went from shooting her in Season 1, to being deadset on rescuring her in Season 3, being furious with Siobhan for betraying her. (This is unrelated but Siobhan has the same " twist villain fakeout" at the end of Season 1 that Donnie does, and it's quite frustrating.) And yet, I swear, the writers just didn't know what to do with Helena half the time. They put her on a bus for long stretches, including one point where she just up and leaves Allison's house in Season 4, for no given reason. And the characters just kind of...don't care. The same thing happens when she gets arrested. No one cares to try and find Helena, even though she's unstable and often a danger to those around her. Even though she's by herself with no real ability to function in society. Even though she's pregnant. There is no excuse for this, and no Sarah, that "I'm sorry, I avoided you" scene in Season 5 is not going to cut it. It's such an afterthought.

I'm being rather critical, but I hope you can tell that this is from a point of passion. I genuinely enjoyed this show and getting to watch it. Just that sometimes it didn't feel like the show cared that I was watching. However, this was not true whenever Rachel was onscreen. Look, I'm a Merula Snyde stan, so you can probably already guess how I feel about Rachel. Despite her crimes, despite her constant slipping back the dark side, I felt so bad for Rachel at the end of it all. That scene with Kira really sums it up. "Who hurt you?" "All of them." And no scene is more intense than when she stabs out the eye cam. Like, I'm sorry, I pitied Rachel pretty much from Season 2 on. Her parents were horrible to her, and I'm supposed to think Ethan is the good guy here? He kills himself in front of his own daughter, telling her that she doesn't deserve him. And then Sarah shoots a pencil through her eye, causing brain damage and requiring a long recovery. I'm not saying that Sarah was wrong to do what she did, just that if I were in her shoes, I'd still feel a degree of guilt for Rachel's condition. In the end, I'm devastated that she was barred from Clone Club, when she made the right decision at the point it mattered. But there's just too much history there, and Sarah won't ever forgive her. (Though again, I do feel as though there's blame to share.) Rachel is my favorite character and I never expected her to be. But she's just so complex. Side note: "Enjoy your oophorectomy" is so damn quotable. I don't know why but I love that line.

So, Rachel's my favorite. Who's my least favorite? It might surprise you. It's Delphine. I'm sorry, but I just...I couldn't get on board with C*phine. Not after Season 3. I was waiting for the point that the show would push to finally redeem Delphine for her turncoat role, for all of the hell that she put Cosima through. By Season 5 though? I realized that as far as the writers were concerned? She already was redeemed. Even though she did nothing to earn it, except be presumed dead by Cosima. The way she treats Cosima in Season 3 is actually disgusting. Her reasoning for breaking up with Cosima is circular. She has to love "all the clones" in order to be with Cosima, and the way to do that is to take over Rachel's job, which means they can't date anymore? I'm not the only one who thought that didn't make sense, right? Oh and let's talk about how she stalks Cosima's date, breaks into her house, and threatens her life. Red. Flags. Cosima even says the line, "If you're not going to be with me, just let me go." I'm sorry, that should not be something she has to beg for. Delphine's behavior made me want her to stay far, far away from Cosima. Who is, incidentally, a sweetie and I absolutely adore her. I legit have trouble remembering that Tatiana's playing her because she just looks and acts so different. That said, even though I immensely disliked Delphine, I am so very glad that they made one of the clones gay. Just like I'm glad that they made one of them trans. (Though...Tony wasn't handled especially well.)

In general, I do think the earlier seasons were stronger. The Brightborn arc, while interesting, didn't really contribute much to the overarching narrative. We got the backstory on Beth's suicide and finally learned the truth about her, I suppose. Still, even though Beth is one of my favorite of the clones, and I never expected her to be either...I feel like the actual reason given for why she took her own life was rather illogical. She apparently did it because the investigation was putting the clones in danger of another Helsinki. Okay, but just because Evie Cho says you should off yourself, doesn't mean you have to. You could just, like...stop investigating. And if you die under mysterious circumstances without explaining anything to the sisters, they're not going to be put off from the investigation. They're going to look into this even more, because they don't know why they're not supposed to. The reveal that she and Art fell in love toward the end adds an extra gut punch, but it also doesn't make sense because wouldn't Art have referenced it during the period that he thought Sarah was Beth? On the other hand, Season 4 also introduced MK. And I have such a soft spot for her. I adore that sheep-masked sweetie. Everyone always asks "Which clone would you date" (because fandoms can think of nothing else I guess) and I never see anyone give any love to MK. Her death absolutely tore me apart. I am glad Siobhan avenged her even if she went down at the same time. Side note, her last word being the affectionate "Chickens..." Broke me.

Season 5 was a strange beast. In general, it seemed like we were finally getting some answers to the questions that were hanging over us. Exploring the deep mythos. But then they kind of turned it around and made it just be a Wizard of Oz style fraud twist. Westmoreland isn't really inhumanly old, he's a charlatan. I don't know why that was necessary in a science fictional show. I've seen the interviews and I get what they were going for, it just feels like it would have been cooler and far creepier if he was actually that old. The puppet master pulling the strings the whole time. We also finally get some answers for Kira's superhuman healing abilities (though we never learn how she's telepathically connected to the clones) and I'm loving it, but the trouble is, it's inconsistent. Ethan "Why is this guy so popular, he's an asshole" Duncan told Rachel specifically that Sarah being able to have children was a fluke, that the clones were "barren by design." I don't know, the whole concept of Revival and of the "magical island" was really foreboding and tied in with the earlier references to The Island of Doctor Moreau. Especially that song about "Revival's Children" just...the shudders, man. But just having it be a regular old scam is...a letdown. I know it may be more realistic, but I don't always need realism in my scifi. The finale is interesting, in that it's mostly an epilogue. I'm glad the clones (sans Rachel) got to live happily ever after, but there are two gut punches right at the end that are total nitpicks but they bother me. Helena naming her kids after Art and Donnie? And writing a memoir that she names "Orphan Black?" Those two tropes can go die in a hole. They can enjoy an oophorectomy, because I'm so sick of them.

The potential of Orphan Black was practically infinite. The results of Orphan Black fell frustratingly short.

[expensiveglasses]

Charming chapter 6

Summary: Prince Jungkook was as infuriating as he was beautiful. In line to one day be king, he requested your guidance in the ways of his people. In turn he will make you laugh, give your family fine gifts, and become an invaluable friend. Unfortunately, he will also make you fall in love with him. But the most unfortunate thing of all was his betrothal…to Snow White

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Genre: Fluff, Fantasy, Angst, Snow white/au

Rating: NC-17

Word Count: 4590

Warnings: This is the chapter the warnings have been about. It’s a heavier chapter in the second half dealing with “death” and attempted suicide. Nothing is graphically described, but if you are sensitive to that subject matter, you may want to avoid the last few paragraphs.  

Trigger warnings are TW: Major character “death” TW: Thoughts of suicide TW: Attempted suicide.  

. .

A month had passed since Else’s wedding and the summer was slowly coming to an end. It made it easier to do chores when the air was cooler; more pleasant to sit outside and do the washing. Though you’d mostly neglected that for the last few weeks.

You hadn’t seen your friend as much since her marriage and so you’d spent even more time with the dwarfs and Snow in their cottage. The prince joined most nights, bringing food and humor with him. You’d quickly learned he was a master of terrible jokes and couldn’t help but like him all the more for it.

This morning your mother had sent you in search of berries. She claimed to want to make preserves, but you were wise enough to know she just wanted to go see a friend and gossip. You didn’t mind so much as you chose to dawdle around the edge of the forest, plucking blueberries from bushes and placing them in your basket.

You saw the prince making his way towards you long before he reached you. The sight of him made your insides feel funny, like little wings sweeping delicately against your ribcage and you bent down to survey a raspberry bush, plucking eagerly at the juicy red fruit.

“Good morning.” The prince greeted as he reached your side and you stood straight to gaze up at him.

“Good morning, Jungkook. You’re out very early today; normally I don’t see you until evening.”

“I finished my lessons early today.” He grinned, something mischievous in his twinkling eyes, and you felt that perhaps he’d snuck out before actually finishing his training.

“I hope you won’t get a tongue lashing for this.” You teased, moving further up the path towards a strawberry bush and plucking one to try. “Mmm, they’re amazing right now. Would you like to try one?”

You moved to take another bite of yours, but the prince was faster, grabbing your wrist and pulling the berry towards his mouth, allowing plump lips to encircle the rest of the berry and separate it from its calyx.

For a moment, everything stilled, your heart thumping wildly in your chest as his fingers remained delicately around your wrist. His gaze was wild; heated on yours as he stepped towards you. Heart racing, you let the end of the strawberry fall from your finger tips and onto the ground.

“Sweet.” He murmured, licking the juice from the corner of his mouth and your vision was pulled toward the sight before you quickly looked away.

The prince paused before stepping back, staring down at the strawberry bush and into your own basket. “You’re picking berries this morning? May I help?”

“Yes, of course.” You nodded, turning back to the strawberry bush and plucking fresh fruit to drop into your basket. “There’s more in the forest.” You signaled, beginning to walk and he followed after you.

“What were you studying today?” You asked as you began to pick from new bushes. Jungkook stood nearby, loading his hand with blueberries.

“Foreign politics and language specifically. These are topics that I studied in school as well, but my father wants me polished in the policies of our own kingdom, of course.”

“Are foreign policies of other lands so different from our own?” You asked, walking closer to him so he could drop the berries in his hands into your basket.

“It depends on the country.” He mused, crouching low to pick from more difficult spots. “The ones nearby are very similar, but across waters it begins to diversify greatly. Of course, all people are human at their core, intrinsically the same if we’re all torn down to the beginnings, but traditions and belief systems vary. It’s good to have a working knowledge of any land we may come to have dealings with.”

“Ah, the duties of a king.” You smiled softly as he stood to his full height beside you. The prince drifted closer to you as you weaved your way deeper into the forest. Close enough that you could feel the graze of his sleeve against yours, smell the fresh saffron against his tunic.

“Duty, I find, is a very inconvenient thing.” He looked at you and you pondered his words curiously.

“What do you mean?” You inquired gently, slowing your pace to match his.

“Always to be bound to one’s duty, never to allow the heart to decide.”

You paused a moment. “And what does the heart wish for?” You whispered, looking up at him. He’d come to a stop and you stilled as well, turning to face him.

“I think you know.” He returned just as softly. The weight of his words was heavy to bear; it brought with it a joy you’d felt was impossible. You had hoped he would say something like that; that he’d been feeling what you were feeling. You were flush with warmth at the admission. 

“But your heart cannot have its desires?”

He smiled sadly, eyes softening as he looked at you. “Duty, you see. It seems it bends for no one.”

“I wish it would.” You admit timidly and he sighed, taking your hand carefully in his own.

“As do I.”

“Snow says we mustn’t worry now, after all, the future continues and we do not know what it holds.” You smiled, feigning an optimism you didn’t really feel. If even a prince could not choose for himself, why should you feel things could be any different for you?

At least you knew you weren’t the only one wishing.

“Should we go see her?” Jungkook smiled and you nodded. He released your hand and you strode ahead of him, leading him further into the forest and eventually into the clearing that held the dwarf’s cottage.

Snow was not alone when you arrived; however, and the two of you stood startled in the doorway as you took notice of her with a young man by the hearth of the fire. They looked up at the two of you as the door swung open and Snow smiled, coming to pull you into a hug.

“You’ve come!” She cried happily. “I was so hoping you would. I wanted to introduce you both to my friend, Diterich. He’s the one I told you of, who saved me.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, your majesty.” Diterich said, bowing low. “Ma’am.” He said, inclining his head towards you and you smiled in return.

He was a handsome young man, dark, shaggy blonde hair and bright green eyes. He was well built and had a bow strapped to his back; you wondered if that was his profession. He was certainly not close to Snow in rank, but he held himself as though he were made for something more than his station in life and you liked that quiet confidence. You supposed Snow did too, based on the way she looked at him.

Love sick. It made your heart ache for her and you looked carefully over at Jungkook. Destiny had not been kind to any of you.

“I’ve heard of your kindness to my friend.” Jungkook said, “When everything is well again, you should be rewarded.”

Diterich shook his head, staring down at Snow, the same look of love she’d bestowed on him, and smiled. “With all due respect, your majesty, I didn’t do it for reward.”

“I like you all the better for it.” Jungkook smiled. “How did you come to find her, though?”

“Snow sent me a communication through letter. One of the dwarfs found me in Snow’s kingdom, at her direction, and delivered it personally. I am indebted to him. It has given me much comfort to see her safe and well. I am only sorry I could not bring her some of her clothes.”

Snow waved his comment away. “It is a small inconvenience. Besides, I am far happier to have your company than to have all my dresses back. All three of you. Will you be staying for supper?”

She looked to both Jungkook and yourself and you smiled with a shrug. “It’s still so early in the day so it’s hard to say, but I imagine I’ll be able to spare some time this evening.”

“I should hope so! By the way, did you happen to notice if there are any gooseberry bushes nearby? I want to make a pie tomorrow.”

You nodded, pointing out the window. “Yes, in fact, there are some just before the tree line. Over there.”

“Wonderful!” Snow cried, clapping her hands together. “Then tomorrow you can expect some pie.”

“I’ll be looking forward to it.” You said.

“Snow has said you’ve been friends since childhood.” Jungkook said suddenly, “but I never did ask how the two of you had met.”

He inspected them with the same interest you had and you wondered if he could see what you could. The prince was intelligent, so you imagined the shared looks of longing had not been missed. Diterich looked to Snow before answering.

“We met as children. My father was a huntsman in their court and I was raised to take his place. As children, we would play in the castle together. We got into trouble a lot,” he grinned, “a princess wasn’t meant to be wrestling with a common boy. Kindred spirits, my mother would say. When my father passed, I took his place as a huntsman in the royal court. Youngest in Vildüngan history.”

His chest puffed as he said it and you smiled. “Your family must be very proud.”

He nodded, expression dropping suddenly. “My mother and sister are all I have left. They’re in hiding, though. As am I. The queen found out about the pig’s heart and ordered my head. It’s why I came here; to warn Snow.”

You looked to the princess in alarm, but she smiled at you with all the serenity of one whose life isn’t in perpetual danger. “She doesn’t know I’m here.” Snow assured, squeezing your arm. “All is well.”

“We need to start thinking of ways to get you back to your kingdom. You’re its rightful heir!” Jungkook insisted and she tutted, moving away from the hearth of the fire and towards the kitchen to keep her hands busy.

“It will all work out somehow, I have faith.” She replied flippantly and Jungkook looked angry.

“Why won’t you take this seriously?” He chastised. “She wants you dead and is actively seeking your heart. Let my father help, we can do something; go against her.”

“No.” She insisted, turning sharply to look at him. “I don’t want anyone else to be pulled into this. No one need inconvenience or injure themselves on my behalf. I’m already uneasy with how many people are involved; how many lives are directly affected because of this…I won’t have anymore.”

“But,” Jungkook began once more but was silenced as she frowned at him.

“I said no, Jungkook.”

The prince sighed, rubbing at his forehead in frustration. “Fine, I can’t make you take your safety more seriously. I must return home.” He bowed before turning towards the door and you looked from Snow back to Jungkook before following him out into the clearing, basket full of berries swinging from your arm.

“Jungkook!” You called, rushing to his side. He didn’t slow so you walked with him through the forest in silence. Just as the trees were thinning, Jungkook slowed his pace, sighing loudly.

“I’m afraid I won’t be seeing you again until the day after next.” At your questioning look, he proceeded. “My father and I are expecting foreign dignitaries this evening and we will play host until tomorrow evening as well. I won’t have time to spare while they’re here.”

“Duty, as you say.” You smiled. He returned your soft smile, nodding and reaching for your hand.

“I will be seeing you.” He said, leaving a soft kiss on the back of your hand before making his way back up to the castle. . .

Your mother was in the garden when you returned, cutting cucumbers from their stalks. She looked up as you came through the gate, waving you over.

“Why did it take so long to pick berries?” Your mother asked with a frown, taking the basket from your arms.

“I went to say hello to the dwarfs while I was in the area.”  You said, bending down beside her and helping to dig up carrots at her direction.

“You’re there too often these days; what business does a young woman have visiting 7 old men so often? Aren’t they in the mines at this time of day anyway?”

You sighed, brushing hair from your face as you dropped a couple carrots into the basket beside your mother. “Well, now that Else is married I don’t always have anyone to visit.”

Your mother frowned. “Perhaps you should think of getting married soon.” She said and you looked up at her startled.

“Get married? It’s not that easy, mother. I’m not even being courted.”

She gave you a look, eyes shifting over to the house. “If you gave a little more effort where prudent, perhaps that wouldn’t be a problem.”

You sighed, shaking your head and pulling another carrot from the dirt. “I’m not in love with Peter.” You whispered.

Your mother laughed, wiping her hands on her skirt. “Love? We don’t have that luxury, my dear. You know that.” She stood, hands extended for the basket full of vegetables and you handed it up to her before standing and grabbing your own basket with berries. “I expect you here all day tomorrow. You’ve been neglecting your duties and it’s time you start preparing to run a house of your own. Time waits for no one, you know.”

She walked into the house and you watched after her, chewing on your bottom lip as you willed the tears of frustration back. You wiped your hands on the apron over your dress before walking into the house and out of the sun.

Peter and your father were in the corner, both working with new fabrics. Peter looked up at you, offering you a small smile before returning to his work and you sighed softly to yourself. Why couldn’t you just love him? . .

Your hands were sore. You’d been at the river all morning with your mother washing linen. It had been your job to beat the linen with a poss-stick as your mother insisted that’s what youth was for. You wondered if you’d ever be able to move again. What good was youth if it was wasted away on chores?

Hands feeling like they might just fall off, you wrung out the last of the fabrics before dropping it in your basket and heaving this onto your hip. Your mother chatted aimlessly as you walked from the riverside and around the edge of the forest towards your home.

You cast your eyes up towards the castle as it came into view around the bend of the trees and wondered idly what Jungkook was doing today. You knew he was entertaining foreign dignitaries, of course, but you couldn’t even imagine what that entailed. Perhaps they were holed up in some room discussing trade.

“Can you imagine living there?” Your mother asked, taking note of your gaze. You sighed, looking from her and back to the castle.

“Only in our dreams, mother.”

She hummed, shifting her own laundry basket in her arms. “If we lived in a place like that, I imagine we could have someone else tend to our washing. Our cooking, too. What must their food be like, hmm?”

You chuckled, kicking a pebble across the dirt path. “I suppose we’ll never know. Grand, I imagine, though. Warm potatoes and bread, sweet dessert’s whenever we ask for them. I would eat everything and die happy if I were them.”

“Thanks to the prince, we can have some share in their prosperity.” Your mother commented and you could see her looking at you from the corner of her eye. “He’s been very generous, as of late.”

You nodded; eyes trained on the dirt path beneath your feet. “Yes, he has been very kind.”

“He was never so kind when he was a boy. I wonder at the change.” She remarked and you wondered if she suspected more than she let on. She’d never seen the two of you together; aside from when he and his father had visited your home a few months ago.

“Perhaps he had a very good education.” You said as the roof of your home came into view. “Rumor has it he went to a school for training.”

“Rumor, you say?” She asked and you nodded, pushing through the gate in front of your house.

Conversation stopped then as the two of you went about hanging the laundry from the lines and working in the garden. Peter and your father were working on mending clothing in the home, so you didn’t feel like discussing the king and his son in their presence. It seemed your mother was also of the same mind set.

As the sun waned and the evening became cooler, Peter left your home with goodbyes and well wishes. You were only just finishing supper when the wind outside began to howl. Your father peaked his head outside the door and you watched as you ladled stew into bowls.

“A storm is approaching.” He commented softly. “I must make sure the animals are secured.” He left the home to the small stable behind your house and you listened as the wind whistled loudly from outside the walls.

“We’ve not had rain in a while.” Your mother said, helping you to bring the food to the small table. “It will be good for the crops.”

The storm raged loudly through the night, rain pounding against the timber frame of your home. It was difficult to sleep with all the noise; thunder and lightning bursting loudly across the sky. You could hear your father snoring from the small room next to yours and it soon lulled you into a fitful sleep. . .

Mornings after a storm were your favorite. The calm as opposition to the fierce raging of wind the night before a reminder that brighter days always followed the rain. You’d managed to convince your mother to allow you to check on the dwarfs this morning. You imagined they were mostly protected from the elements in their place among the trees. Even so.

After a quick breakfast of pottage, you dressed and made your way towards the forest. The sun was already sitting comfortably in the sky, illuminating the crystal blue sky and you listened happily to the sounds of birds singing as you walked through the fields.

You found, to your surprise, the prince already waiting by the forests edge. He sat upon a boulder; legs draped out in front of him as he pulled blades of grass apart as distraction. He looked up as your footsteps roused his attention, smile spreading across his lips.

“Y/N.” He beamed, standing and coming to meet you.

“I’m surprised to see you so early!” You exclaimed. “Won’t your father be missing you?”

“Actually, he and our guests drank well into the evening. They will be spending the next few hours recovering in bed.” He said with a roguish grin and you chuckled, making your way into the forest.

The prince followed quickly. “Did you not drink yourself, your majesty?” You teased and he smiled at you.

“I did, but only a little. I knew I wanted to use the opportunity to see you.”

You looked away with a small chuckle, smoothing hair away from your face.

“Well, here I am.” You smiled. Before you could continue, there was a heavy rustling in the trees and both you and Jungkook stopped, watching with unease as something came crashing through the branches.

To your surprise; it was the dwarfs who came rushing into sight and they stopped suddenly, panting before you.

“Y/N, your majesty!” Doc gasped, clutching at his rounded belly as he took deep steadying breaths. The panic in his tone was palpable and your back straightened in alarm.

“What’s wrong?” You asked. Jungkook seemed just as tense from their unusual greeting and you waited with baited breath for your friends to continue.

“It’s Snow.” Doc finally said and your alarm rose.

“What of her?” The prince asked sharply and all eyes turned to him. The dwarfs were still breathing heavily from their run; disrupting the usual quiet of the forest.

“Your majesty!” Sleepy blubbered, hardly able to contain himself. “Snow has died.”

“What?!” You gasped, eyes swiveling desperately to each face, each as stricken as the next.

“How?!” The prince demanded and Doc was quick to try and calm the atmosphere.

“She has not died.” He pacified. Your chest was so tight you thought it might burst. How could someone possibly die and not die all at the same time? “She’s been put under a spell; a sleeping spell.”

“I don’t understand.” Jungkook said tersely. You’d never seen him look so distraught.

“Allow me to explain.” Doc continued, “An old hag came to the cottage when we were away. She had a basket of apples. I’m unsure how, but Snow came to acquire one.”

“It was poisoned and that foolish girl took a bite.” Grumpy cried furiously.

Doc tried once more to continue, but Happy spoke first. “We chased the hag, but it was difficult in the storm. Chased her up the mountain but she slipped and fell off. It was the queen, your majesty. It was her stepmother.”

“Did you capture her?” Jungkook asked angrily, back ramrod straight as he paced back and forth. “Did you tie her up to be tried for her crimes?”

“No need,” Bashful said, shaking his head. “The queen is dead. She died from the fall.”

“What of Snow?” You rasped, “where is she?”

“That’s why we were coming for you, your majesty.” Doc said once again. “It was old magic the queen used; ancient. Unless she can find true loves kiss, she’ll remain asleep forever. We can take you to her.”

“True loves kiss?” Jungkook asked, voice cracking in his grief.

The dwarfs nodded. “It’s the only cure.” Sneezy bemoaned. “That’s why we came to find you, your majesty.”

“Me?” Jungkook asked, looking to you and back to the dwarfs.

They looked to you; gazes filled with pity before Doc spoke once more. “You are her betrothed, your majesty. If not you, then who?”

The pain in your chest was severe. Fracturing from the loss of a friend; ripping apart as the prospect of losing the one man you truly loved loomed like a shadow over you.

“What do I have to do?” He whispered and you looked up at him.

“True loves kiss.” Dopey murmured, eyes shifting over to you sadly and then back to the prince.

It was silent for what felt like eternity, the gravity of the situation sinking in and you felt buried under the weight of it; the forest floor waiting to accept you. The prince looked to you, tears already in his eyes, but your own vision of him quickly blurred.

“I have to try.” Jungkook choked and you could feel your heart break a little more, “she’s one of my closest friends. I can’t sit back and do nothing; I couldn’t live with myself. I have to try.”

“I understand.” You murmured. “What if you’re able to wake her?”

Jungkook paused, his eyelashes fluttering closed, a line drawing between his eyes. “Let’s not think about it right now. I have to go.” He gave you one last glance before darting further into the forest with the dwarfs and out of sight. Was it possible to die from a broken heart? You were sure the question had been asked before…you were also sure the answer was yes. Your heart ached in a way you’d never imagined it could.

The love of your life was running to the side of another woman, and though you knew his reasoning was righteous and sound, you ached for the inevitable outcome. A prince was meant to be with a princess. This was no fairy tale, not for you, at least. You can’t always have what you want.

But as you stood there in the grass, surrounded by your broken dreams, you mourned what you could never have had. Even if Snow had not eaten the apple, even had she not been born at all, you would never have been given your heart’s desire; your class was decided before you were born and you would do well to remember it.

When Snow awoke, as she inevitably would, you would be left to watch them marry. Worse still, your father would likely be commissioned to make Jungkook’s wedding clothes and you would be expected to help. That was a bitter truth you could not swallow. To carry the wedding clothing of the man you were desperately in love with…only for him to wear them with someone else.  

You could not do it.

Your feet began to take you before your mind could catch up. The dwarves’ home, tucked delicately between the trees and the stream. The lighting surrounding the cottage was dim despite the morning hour, the house dark in the absence of the once warm lighting; filled with the dwarfs and Snow’s laughter and song.

Now it felt as empty as your heart. The evening turned chilly, the storm from yesterday taking with it the sun from the late summer and you shivered at the thresh hold, lifting your hand carefully to push against the door.

With a soft creak, the door swung open and you glanced inside. In their haste, everything had been left exactly as it was. An uncooked gooseberry pie sat on the counter top, flour strewn across. The fire in the fire place had long gone out. And there, by the table, an apple with one bite.

You stood in the door way a moment, staring down at the beautiful red skin of the nearly pristine apple. Contemplating. You could not bear to face a future without him in it.

With three quick strides, you picked up the apple and ran from the house, seeking out the privacy the trees afforded you. Not far from the home, in a particularly dense part of the forest, you stood staring down at the beautiful, red fruit.

A choice, so simple yet so difficult. One bite; you knew that’s all it would take…but was it really worth it? The light was fading fast this deep in the forest and you shivered, looking around in the darkness.

You thought of Jungkook again, of his handsome, smiling face. His kind and gentle heart, his loyalty and good nature. Was he with Snow White now? Had she already woken up? He was no longer your Jungkook; forever the kingdoms Jungkook and your heart wept.

You wouldn’t even be missed.

Staring down at the apple you closed your eyes, breathing slowly out of your nose before bringing it to your lips and taking a bite. It was bitter, acidic, and it burned. You coughed, dropping the apple to the ground and fell to your knees, spluttering, eyes watering as your tongue swelled and you felt your blood turn to ice in your veins.

Everything hurt, your limbs felt like they were made of fire, burning, burning, burning and then black.

.

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Here’s the second to last chapter! The 7th is already finished and in editing. I hope you loved this chapter as much as I loved writing it and I can’t wait to hear from you! <3

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Copyright © 2019 by Taeken-My-Heart. All rights reserved.

[elsanna-shenanigans]

October Contest Submission #20: Tracing the Soul

Setting: mAU Lemon: No Tags/CW: angst, depression, self-harm, suicide mentions, suicidal ideation

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Anna should have known that last shot of Fireball was a mistake. Well, if she was being honest with herself she had known. But the previously imbibed quantities of alcohol had made that an easy hurdle to leap, or in this case, crawl over. 

Squeezing her eyes shut briefly, the flushed redhead attempted to shake off some of the dizziness as she slid along the wall towards the bathroom. This, predictably, had the opposite effect, causing Anna to topple forwards, only to catch herself on the trim of the bathroom door.

“Nailed it,” she muttered to herself, casting a furtive look around to see if anyone had noticed her mishap. 

Satisfied that she hadn’t further embarrassed herself, Anna slipped into the bathroom, just as she felt her stomach start to heave. Abandoning any sense of dignity she had left, she rushed over to the toilet, yanking down the hood of her wolf costume as she went. 

The relief offered by expelling the contents of her stomach was offset by the tension in her gut, and the acrid taste in her mouth. She slumped back against the wall next to the toilet, and while she waited for the after-heaves to settle, she fumbled for some toilet paper to wipe her mouth. 

Absent of the urgency that had driven her to the bathroom, she felt a wave of lethargy and drunkenness threaten to overwhelm her. Shitttt, I’m definitely not gonna be driving like this. With muttered curses about poor decisions, Anna managed to pull herself up from the ground and make sure there was no evidence of her intoxication left, before splashing her face with some cold water. 

Satisfied with those measures, the redhead pulled out her phone and started dialing, steadfastly ignoring the time as she swayed towards the door. The call rang for so long that she was about to cancel the call, when she heard the small, soft voice of her sister. 

“Anna? Whats up? Are you okay?” 

Elsa’s voice was tired and quiet, yet still managed to convey concern and affection. It brought a smile to Anna’s face; her sister’s love and consequent worry had always made her joyous. 

“Els, hi! Yes I’m okay, I mean, I am rather trashed right now if I’m being honest, but I’m on my way towards water,” she quickly veered off towards the kitchen as she spoke, hunting for the cooler of water bottles she’d spied earlier. 

There was a small sigh through the phone, and Anna had a very clear image in mind of Elsa pinching the bridge of her nose in exasperation. 

“You need a ride don’t you?” She didn’t quite sound annoyed, but it was clear she wasn’t happy about it either. 

“Yeahhhh… I’m sorry. I’ll make it up to you though, I promise! And for what it’s worth, I didn’t try to get this drunk. I was just having fun and lost track and well, I like alcoh—” she was interrupted by sharp hiccup, and the blonde on the other end took the opportunity to cut in. 

“Okay, I can come and get you, but I’m leaving now. You at Kristoff’s?” 

Anna winced at the tinge of annoyance in her sister’s voice, but she refrained from dwelling on it too much, and nodded in answer before remembering they were on the phone. 

“Yup! You know where that is right?” 

“Yeah, I have it in my phone. I’ll be there in 15.” The words were followed closely by the beep of the call disconnecting. 

Anna pocketed her phone, before grabbing several water bottles from the cooler she’d finally tracked down. Cracking one open, she meandered through the party looking for Kristoff. 

It wasn’t difficult; she almost immediately heard him yelling with boisterous excitement, out by the beer pong table. Damn, I never got to play that game with Kristoff, maybe he forgot though. Unfortunately, she had no such luck. 

Kristoff and his buddy Sven had dressed as Han Solo and Chewbacca, and were predictably playing together at the pong table. Kristoff had somehow managed to lose the shirt to his costume and was now just wearing the vest. She was surprised he could handle the chill of late October so well, but then again; she was pretty well insulated with alcohol herself, and from the looks of it Kristoff was far from sober. 

Despite the clear drunkenness, he spotted her as soon as she stepped outside, and pointed directly at her while yelling: “Anna! Get over here, we’re gonna destroy them!”

She glanced over at the other end of the table and groaned in disappointment as she saw Hans and another kid she didn’t know polishing off some bottles from the last round. 

“Okay, don’t be mad please, but I accident—hic—accidentally got very drunk, and Elsa is on her way to pick me up now—hic—but next time I promise!” Anna finished the sentence a little out of breath from the hiccups and quickly guzzled down the rest of the first bottle of water. 

“Oh, yeah, uh, no worries then! Glad you’re drinking water. You just gonna get your car tomorrow?” Anna could hear the disappointment in his voice, despite his attempts to contain it. She felt really bad about it, but knew that she was too drunk to keep her promise tonight. 

“Yeah I’ll get Elsa to drop me off or—hic—something,” she reached out her arms and gave him a big hug speaking quietly as she did, “hey I really am sorry, I’ll make it up to you, okay? Also, put a shirt on you moron!” 

She felt him chuckle and give her a small nod, which was good enough for the moment. Pulling away she glanced at the other end of the table again before smirking: “kick Hans’ ass for me okay?” 

“Have done, and will continue to do!” He declared with what she assumed was supposed to be a salute. 

“Alright, well thanks for the party and all, it was a blast! See ya!” She waved to him, Sven, and the couple other people that offered their goodbyes as she made her way to the front of the house. 

Despite the many years spent with Elsa, Anna was still not used to her being as on time as she was. When the headlights of her sister’s car pulled into the driveway, she was certain it had been less than 15 minutes since the call—though she didn’t care enough to check. 

As she began to make her way to the car, someone in the backyard cranked up the music to a volume that would certainly receive noise complaints, but as Anna was leaving she didn’t care. Instead she started dancing and twirling while she walked, feeling the tail of the wolf costume swing around as she performed for Elsa and whoever else might be watching. 

When she got close enough to the car she could see Elsa hiding part of her face in her hands, looking mildly embarrassed, but it didn’t hide the smile that had crept onto her face. 

With a wide grin, the redhead slid into the passenger seat and gave the blonde a cheery wave. Elsa let out a small chuckle as she put the car in reverse and started backing out of the driveway. 

“You have a good time?” The blonde asked after making sure the app on her phone had the right address. 

Without hesitation Anna launched into what was in all likelihood, a description of the party filled with unnecessary detail, and several tangents.

“And well, it would have been great to stay and beat the shit out of Hans—in pong that is! But I would probably have played like trash at this point anyway, and also, you were on your way so—hic—probably good I didn’t. Ah, it was so much fun Elsa! I wish you had come along.” 

The words settled heavily in the quiet that followed. Despite her desire to keep on talking, she kept her mouth shut, hoping that she might offer something in response. When the silence pervaded she turned her head to look at Elsa, and almost did a double take. 

Anna had been so preoccupied earlier that she had neglected to notice the appearance of her sister. The blonde’s hair was up in a messy bun, revealing  the irritated skin on the back of her neck, which she often held and scratched when upset. The cuffs of her sleeping shirt were mildly damp, probably from a combination of tears and snot. And in the brief light of a passing car, she saw the red and puffy eyes of recent tears. 

Damn it Anna! Definitely should have noticed sooner… though I am drunk—but no! That’s not an excuse, I should still be more aware. The realization yanked Anna partly back into sobriety, and she pushed the rest of the haze away as best she could before reaching over and resting a hand on her sister’s thigh. 

Elsa glanced down at the hand, and then over at Anna, but in the absence of an explanation she didn’t say anything, instead resting her hand on top of the redheads. 

Before long they pulled into the driveway and Elsa parked the car, but neither of them moved immediately, instead choosing to stay in the comfortable silence that had settled in. 

Anna cast the occasional furtive glance at Elsa as they sat, checking for a hint of her sister’s current emotional state. What am I doing? This is silly, I can just ask her… right? She won’t mind that—I think. 

“Hey, lets go inside. It’s a little cold out here.” While Anna wanted to make sure her sister was alright, she also knew that a degree of physical comfort was needed for her to be able to open up, and so she resolved to be patient for a little longer. 

Elsa nodded, and made her way out of the car while Anna made sure she had all her water bottles before following the blonde into their apartment. Shutting the door, the redhead looked over and saw Elsa standing near the center of the room, her shoulders slumped in such a way that let Anna know she was wringing her hands in front of her stomach. 

Approaching from behind, the redhead wrapped her arms around Elsa, resting her head on her upper back. She breathed in the scent of her sister, and made little cooing sounds as she gently rocked her back and forth. 

“Hey, you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, but what’s up?” Anna tried to make the words as unimposing and warm as she could. Witnessing her sister’s state had awoken a desire to help and protect her, but she knew not to try and impose her will when it was unwelcome. 

Anna felt Elsa’s body tense and she clenched her hands around the redhead’s briefly before releasing some of the tension in an exhale. 

“I… yeah, I mean, I don’t really know where to start, but I thi-think I’d like that.” The timidity and fear in her sister’s voice brought forth a sharp pang of grief and love. Gods, it isn’t fair she has to deal with so much shit.

“Okay,” she said with a squeeze before taking Elsa’s hand, “come with me then.” Moving slowly, she tugged her sister along while stroking the back of her hand with her thumb. 

Anna led them to her room, and pulled Elsa towards her unmade bed before sitting and patting the space next to her. Elsa’s head was ducked, but Anna saw the blonde sneak a glance at her with a smile of gratitude. 

Slowly, Elsa approached the spot Anna had indicated and sat. The motion caused some of her platinum blonde hair to fall loose from her messy bun, obscuring emotions that were no longer confined beneath the surface. Anna reached over with a swell of affection, and tucked the hair behind Elsa’s ear. Her hand lingered on her sister’s cheek for a moment before she moved her arm around her shoulder and pulled her in gently.

Elsa followed suit, leaning in to rest her head on Anna’s chest. It wasn’t long after that a sharp sob shook her body, quickly followed by many others. 

Anna continued making cooing sounds, stroking the back of Elsa’s head and neck. Oh Elsa, I’m so sorry you feel this.  

“I’m sorry Anna—I-I-I didn’t mean to, to… to be like this.” 

The words came as a surprise to the redhead; Elsa rarely voluntarily began speaking in these states. Pulling her head back a bit Anna gave a fake glare to the top of Elsa’s head, though she knew she couldn’t see it. 

“Elsa, we talked about this. I am never, ever going to be upset or unhappy because you’re upset.” 

Anna caught a glimpse of the blonde’s eyes as she sheepishly glanced up for a moment. With a deep sigh the older girl sat back on the bed. She wrung her hands nervously, glancing up at Anna periodically before she began speaking. 

“Yeah I, I know. I mean, it’s just I-I-I can’t help it sometimes. I’m sorry.” 

“It’s okay sweetie, I know,” Anna paused for a moment, letting the words sink in before continuing: “do you want to tell me what happened?” 

It was hardly unexpected, but it hurt nonetheless to see fresh tears form in her sister’s eyes at the question. 

Elsa let out a wry half-chuckle and shook her head to herself, before looking up at Anna again.

“Nothing. Nothing happened, I-I-I just felt—feel s-s-so… so alone.” The words were accompanied by a fresh bout of sobs, which Elsa quickly tried to dampen with a hand.

“Oh Els, I’m sorry!” 

It was admittedly not the first thing that Anna wanted to say. As illogical as she knew it to be, a part of her still wanted to try and prove to her sister that she wasn’t alone. But she knew better than to do that now.

“Thanks. I… I don’t know, I’m just—I know that I’m not alone, but I just feel so isolated and… unwanted. And I can’t—I just, I can’t—I don’t want to keep going on like this… not anymore.” Her voice trailed off until it was barely audible at the end.  

It hurt deeply to hear those words. Anna knew the unspoken implication, and though she hated that with a passion, she felt only love for her sister. Taking a steadying breath to control the knot of fear in her stomach, she nodded before leaning in and planting a soft kiss on her sister’s forehead.  

“I know you do Els. I… I’m so sorry that you have to feel that way. I know it doesn’t really change that… that feeling, but, as much as I can, I do understand, and I’m sorry—I really am. Please know that no matter what, I will always love and want you, okay?” She said the words with as much sincerity as she could muster, trying to channel the truth of the words into her eyes which were locked on Elsa’s. 

Tears sprung to Elsa’s eyes again as she listened, but this time she didn’t look away. 

“Anna… I, you don’t know how much that does mean to me; I love you.” 

The returned sincerity was not un-welcome, but Anna had not been expecting it. Tears welled up in her own eyes as she looked at her sister, hoping to convey the love she felt. 

Elsa ducked her head first, the small flash of happiness swallowed up in the turmoil of her mind. Anna saw the shift, but at that moment it felt like words were not what her sister needed. Instead, she scooched up the bed a littler and gestured the blonde towards the other side. 

As Elsa hesitantly crawled across the bed, Anna emptied her pockets of the last two water bottles. She handed one back to her sister, and took several large gulps from the other before turning back towards the blonde. 

Elsa was where Anna had intended, but instead of lying down, she was sitting with her legs against her chest and her arms wrapped around them. There was a distant look in her eyes that immediately concerned Anna. 

“Hey hey, stay here with me okay?” She reached out a hand and rested it on the back of Elsa’s neck as she spoke. 

The physical contact seemed to be enough to bring Elsa back into the present—at least for the moment. She shook her head slightly as if to rid herself of a thought, before glancing over at the redhead again. She looked hesitant, opening and closing her mouth a few times before she finally spoke: “Ca… can I stay here tonight?” 

Anna couldn’t help the warm grin that spread across her face, not that she would have wanted to. 

“Of course you can Els! Come on, let’s get you tucked in.” 

It took a little bit of prodding and reassurance, Elsa’s movements were slow and somewhat clunky, but eventually Anna was able to get the blonde to lie down under the blankets. 

Not wanting to take any time apart from her sister right now, Anna left the wolf costume on, twisting around so that she was lying face to face with Elsa. 

She looked happier, or at least less sad, but Anna could still see traces of the distant look she’d had in her eyes before. Choosing to maintain the silence, she reached out and took Elsa’s hand, gently rubbing it with her thumb.

They stayed like this for a while, as the quiet stillness settled over them like an embrace. 

There was much that Anna wanted to say to her sister, but as they lay there she felt Elsa slowly begin to relax, and she had no desire to disturb that peace unnecessarily. So she lay there quietly, holding her hand. 

She wasn’t sure how long they rested like this, enjoying each other’s company. But as the impending void of alcohol-fueled unconsciousness began beckoning to her, she knew she wouldn’t be able to stay awake for much longer. 

She stirred gently, forcing her eyes fully open to find Elsa looking back at her. There was a maelstrom of emotion she could see hiding deep within her eyes, but for now Anna could tell that she was stable and focusing on the present. 

The redhead offered a pleased smile before she shifted to get a bit more comfortable; as she moved, her hand brushed against the ridges on Elsa’s wrist and she froze. It wasn’t new, and she knew it shouldn’t bother her anymore. Anna had held her sister’s scars before; she had kissed them to show Elsa she wasn’t angry. But that night it brought fear to her mind, and opened a well of deep sadness in her gut. 

“H-hey Elsa?” She waited for her sister to nod before continuing: “I-I’m sorry for asking but did—did you… di-did you…” Unable to say the words, she moved her hand up her sister’s arm, gently trailing  her fingers up the scar tissue on Elsa’s forearm. 

Predictably, Elsa ducked her head at the question, and almost pulled her arm away. Anna was grateful when she didn’t fully retreat, and before long the blonde timidly raised her eyes to Anna’s and shook her head.

“No, I… I wanted to, but I didn’t.” 

Relief flooded the younger girl’s chest, and she leaned forward to press her forehead against Elsa’s. The blonde felt stiff at first, but soon melted into the gesture until she was nuzzling into the crook of Anna’s neck.

“That makes me happy to hear Els,” she murmured as she adjusted to leave room for Elsa to breathe. 

The older girl nodded in response, but quickly pulled her head away, her nose all scrunched up as she rubbed it furiously. Oops. 

“Sorry, I forgot how ticklish the outside of this darned outfit can get. Here, I can take it off,” Anna offered, identifying the source of the irritation to be the hood of her wolf costume. 

Having relieved the itch, Elsa reached out and tucked the hood further back, out of the way before she shook her head. 

“I kinda like it,” she mumbled after resting her head on Anna’s chest. “It’s soft and comfy… besides, you make a very cute wolf.” 

Anna chuckled deeply at the statement, bringing her arms up to cradle Elsa’s head. Letting her eyes drift shut, she snuggled in, and with the assistance of the liquor, it was not long before she was fast asleep. 

Though exhausted, Elsa ended staying up for a while longer. She cherished the feeling of safety being held by her sister, and so she lay there, letting her mind drift to happier thoughts. When she finally succumbed to the pull of sleep, it was to the steady rhythm of her sister’s heart. 

—— 

Anna could never have been prepared for the chaos that struck her when she walked into her apartment. The central room itself wasn’t really messy at all, but the room held an oppressive and dark atmosphere that immediately drew Anna’s eye to the figure of Elsa. 

She stood hunched over next to the dining room table, gripping the edge of it with both hands as her whole body was wracked by silent sobs. Her hair hung loose around her face, obscuring it, but Anna could see the tears that fell to the table. 

Kicking the door shut behind her, Anna dropped her coat and purse on the floor as she rushed over to Elsa. Shit shit, what the fuck? God, I hope she’s okay! Though she desperately wanted to wrap Elsa in her arms, she knew better than to do that without asking when the blonde was this distraught. So she leaned down on the table trying to make eye contact with her sister. 

It seemed to take noticeably longer for Elsa to respond to the redhead’s presence, but eventually she raised her head just enough to meet Anna’s eyes. The wild look of fear and pain in her icy eyes was almost too much for Anna; it threatened to sweep her up in it’s swath. But she reigned in the reaction as best she could, and gave Elsa a small smile. 

“Is it alright if I touch you?” Anna tried to make the words as soft as she could, but they still felt jarring to her. 

Before she had even finished the question, Anna could see Elsa’s face screw up as tears began to slide freely down her cheeks again. But she managed to open her eyes again long enough to look at Anna and nod. 

“Okay, I’m here Els, I’m here.” She spoke quietly, soothingly, while reaching out and resting her hand on her sister’s shoulder.  

Elsa did not respond to the contact at first; she stood there breathing heavily, in her own world. But as Anna moved her hand around to rub the spot in-between her shoulders, she lifted her head and shifted towards the redhead. 

It was a rather ungraceful scene to behold, and under different circumstances Anna would have had fun teasing her sister, but it was the farthest thing from her mind in that moment. Elsa, seemingly not capable of holding up her own body weight, shifted and slid along the table until she collapsed into Anna’s embrace. 

Anna immediately wrapped her sister in her arms and held her firmly yet gently—stroking the back of her head with one hand. It took a little bit for Elsa to relax fully, but before long she began reciprocating the hug. Gods, what the fuck could have happened? Please Elsa, talk to me. 

Despite her internal anxiety for information, she maintained the calm and steady demeanor. She began rocking her sister back and forth gently, until her sobs became audible again, and she clutched onto Anna like a lifeline. 

The sheer pain and panic in Elsa’s cries brought tears to Anna’s eyes. Some leaked out, but she clenched her jaw against the emotion that bubbled in her chest. Taking a few deep breaths, she willed her mind onto focusing on being there for her sister. 

It was a torturous wait, and yet, when Elsa finally began speaking, Anna felt like no time had passed at all.

“I-I-I ca… why didn’t you answer?” 

Her voice was so faint Anna didn’t catch some of her words, but she could guess what she had said by context. Shit shit shit! Of course this would happen today. Fuck!

“Shit Elsa I’m so sorry. My phone, it died earlier today, and I didn’t have time to charge it at work. God—I’m so sorry! I promise I wasn’t ignoring you okay?” It was difficult for her to keep her voice completely free of the frantic mess of emotions she was experiencing, but she thought she did well enough to not cause worry. 

Elsa didn’t say anything at first, she seemed to be processing the information, but before long she nodded and whispered an acknowledgement between her tears.

Anna was very relieved her explanation had gone over so well; she knew Elsa would never actually blame Anna, or hold it against her. But when she was in a state like this, Anna knew how possible it was for any truth to be twisted. 

The redhead built on the initial inroad she had made to help stabilize her sister. She held her tenderly with one hand resting in her blonde hair, the other gently rubbing her lower back. Anna quietly hummed the lullaby their mother had sung for them as children as she held her—interrupted only by occasional reminders to breathe.

Slowly, Elsa’s weeping subsided, and she seemed to become a little more present and aware. As she reached the end of the lullaby, Elsa shifted her head so that her forehead rested on Anna’s clavicle. The blonde unwrapped one of her arms with a sniffle, and wiped her nose against the cuff of her shirt. 

“I miss mom and dad.” 

A rush of heartache and love swept through Anna, and this time she didn’t try to stop the tears that quietly slipped from her eyes. Gods, how I wish they were here for you now Elsa.

“Yeah… I, I miss them too.” 

The loss of their parents was an old wound for the sisters—deep and full of pain, but something they had learned to discuss without breaking down. Though in that moment there wasn’t more that needed to be said. 

“Hey, do you wanna tell me what happened?” Anna tried to ask her as gently as she could, feeling that now was the right time. 

Thankfully, Elsa didn’t seem to mind the question too much; she froze momentarily, before she nodded at the same time ducking her head further into the crook of Anna’s neck.

“I… th-th-they—I mean, I-I-I lost my job.” 

Shit. 

“What the hell? Why?” Anna winced at her immediate response, quickly adding: “I mean, that doesn’t matter right now—sorry. Shit, I’m really sorry Elsa, that sucks.” Elsa’s relief at the shift away from questions was palpable, and Anna was grateful she’d had the wherewithal to catch herself. 

Despite this, Anna felt Elsa began crying again, and through the occasional sob, she could just catch the words Elsa was whispering repeatedly: “I can’t, I just—I can’t do it. I can’t I can’t I can’t.” 

Goddamnit! Of-fucking-course she’d be handed this right now. 

Anna took a few moments to breathe and refocus her mind before speaking; she had that feeling in her gut that let her know she could not be distracted right now. 

“It’s okay, hey it’s okay sweetie. You don’t need to, you don’t need to do anything right now. Just breathe, okay?” 

The words seemed to reach some part of Elsa, as she at least managed to stop the recitation—though tears still trailed her cheeks. 

“That’s good Els, you’re doing good. Just focus on voice okay? Things are gonna be okay, you’ll figure it out, I promise.”

The words were quickly followed by a sudden shift in Elsa’s body language that rippled through Anna, halting the next words she had been about to say. Elsa was pulling inward, her arms were now against her chest, putting distance between her and Anna, and her whole body was shaking again. 

“Please, please, I need—I need space, please!” 

It took Anna a moment to process the whispered words, but as soon as she did she quickly withdrew her arms from her sister, and took a step back. 

As Anna moved out of her space, Elsa clutched her chest with her arms and squeezed her eyes shut. She wasn’t crying, but she was periodically wincing as if in pain, and each time she would shift her head sharply to a different position. 

Fuck! Okay, this isn’t good. Shit, you got this Anna, you can do this!  

Maintaining the distance her sister had requested, Anna spoke to her, unable to keep all of the urgency she felt from her voice. “Hey talk to me? What’s going on? Please talk to me Elsa.” 

Slowly, Elsa opened her eyes to look at the redhead as her lower jaw trembled—trying to form words. 

“I-I-I, I don’t want—I can’t, I just I can’t! I can’t do this anymore Anna,” the words were punctuated by a sob, echoed by one from Anna. “Things aren’t just going t-to magically be okay, I can’t—I don’t know what to do, I don’t—I don’t, I don’t know what to do!” 

It was a lot to take in in one moment, leaving Anna unsure of what to say. Her mind raced to figure out what the best approach was as she watched Elsa continue to unravel. 

Elsa’s eyes were dry, but wide, and full of terror, and she was trembling as she repeatedly raked her hands through her hair. 

Anna took a small step forward, as much to get Elsa’s attention as it was to remind the blonde of her presence. She opened her mouth and almost began speaking in an attempt to comfort her, when she spotted the  lines of blood that had stained the upper arm of Elsa’s light blue shirt. Her stomach dropped sharply, and Anna couldn’t stop the tears the sight reawakened.

Elsa noticed the shift instantly, looking at Anna with concern—everything else forgotten for a moment—she followed the redheads eyes to her shirt. Immediately she covered the blood with a hand and looked frantically back at her sister. 

“Els… how bad is it?” Anna asked the question as lovingly as she could, but it just sounded like sadness to her ears. 

“No-not th-th-that bad,” the blonde paused to swallow the dry lump in her throat. “I’m sorry Anna. I’m really sorry! I just—I didn’t know what to do—I had to do something, I just, I couldn’t stop it… I’m sorry.” There was deep shame and fear in her voice, and as she spoke she took a step back.

“No, hey it’s okay. Shit, I’m sorry Elsa, I just… I’m sorry. I’m just glad you’re okay.” It was a rushed sentence; Anna could feel Elsa retreating, and she desperately sought to regain the brief stability from before. 

The words seemed to wash over Elsa; there was no sign, or acknowledgement that she had heard them. Instead she started pacing rapidly, looking all around the room as if to find some answer hidden away.

Okay, okay. Shit, this is getting bad, maybe I should call someone? God, she’ll never let anyone else get close. Resolving to breach Elsa’s personal space if needed, Anna took a step towards her. 

“Hey Els, can you look at me please? I know—I know you’re feeling overwhelmed and like nothing is gonna be okay, I get that. But I’m here, focus on me, nothing else matters right now, just be here with me ok—no Elsa!” 

For a moment Anna had thought Elsa would let herself be held. But as she spoke the blonde suddenly bolted past her, pulling the front door open and running out into the night. 

Shit!

Anna spun around, rushing to the door. As quickly as she could she grabbed her coat from the floor, and her phone from her purse before promptly remembering that it was dead. 

“Fucking hell! Of course this would bloody well happen today—fuck!” 

Adrenaline pumped through her veins and she dropped her phone, quickly running over to the table and grabbing Elsa’s phone from where it had been sitting. 

Anna ran out the door scanning around wildly to see where Elsa had gone. She was just able to catch a glimpse of blonde hair in the moonlight to her right, and she dashed after it, the door to their apartment left hanging open. 

Anna had never been very athletic, but with the adrenaline coursing through her body like fire, she flew down the sidewalk. Jack-o’-lanterns decorated the porches that passed in a blur; out of the corner of her eye Anna caught small glimpses of families through their front windows. They seemed happy, and normally Anna would have loved to appreciate the uniquely carved pumpkins, but the thought slipped from her mind as fast as it had come. Her sole focus was on catching up to Elsa. And so she ran—she ran like the devil chased her, any concern for her own well-being far from her mind.  

She could see the distant form of Elsa ahead of her, slowly getting closer. Even from behind it was obvious her sister wasn’t okay; she ran wildly, almost flailing her arms as her hair streamed out behind her. 

“Elsa!” Anna called after her, throwing away any worries of being too loud. “Elsa please, stop!” 

There was no way Elsa could not have heard her, but she showed no signs of acknowledgement, or slowing down. 

Anna had no sense of how long she chased after her sister, but by the time she saw Elsa start to slow down in the distance, her muscles and lungs had long since been burning in protest. But she didn’t allow herself to lessen her speed especially as she quickly noticed that Elsa had halted in the middle of a bridge. 

The moon was near full that night, and it shone down brightly on the bridge and her sister, giving Anna a clear view. Elsa was gripping the metal rail, her head hung low as her whole body heaved with dry sobs and gasps for air. A strong wind was blowing west, following the river’s current, and it swept past Elsa, flinging her hair out behind her. 

As Anna neared the figure of her sister, she couldn’t help but notice the way the moonlight illuminated Elsa’s platinum hair. With the wind spreading it out, her hair almost seemed to glow silver, radiant in the dark. 

Despite the situation, her sister’s beauty struck Anna; she knew Elsa was a beautiful woman—but sometimes, her beauty was otherworldly—seemingly indescribable . What a weird ass thought to have right now.  But all thoughts vanished from her mind as she closed the distance between them.

Anna slowed down just as she reached her sister, avoiding a collision, but as soon as she was close enough, she didn’t hesitate to wrap her arms around Elsa’s torso. 

“Elsa… please… I… sorry.” The exertion of her chase caught up to Anna promptly. She gasped for air between each word as the chill breeze turned her sweat cold. 

With Elsa in much the same state, Anna chose to take a minute to regain her breath before trying to speak. She also took the opportunity to slip underneath one of Elsa’s arms, placing herself between the blonde and the edge of the bridge. Once there she wrapped her arms around Elsa in a loving, if sweaty, hug.

It took a while for Anna’s lungs to feel near normal again; the lack of water left her with no respite for her parched throat. As they both recovered, she tried to assess her sister’s state. Elsa hadn’t looked at her once since she’d run, but Anna could still see the distant look of dread on her face. It was clear her flight hadn’t really changed her state—if anything it appeared to have made it worse. 

Goddamnit Elsa! Please just let me help you. 

“I-I’m sorry—fuck! I’m so sorry!” Elsa spoke unexpectedly, and the words were promptly followed by whimpers as tears returned to her eyes. 

Anna was taken aback at the sudden apology, but she recovered quickly—rubbing Elsa’s back softly as she spoke: “it’s okay Elsa. I’m not mad, I promise. I’m not mad. I’m just happy you—you’re okay.” 

Loud sobs broke from Elsa’s throat, and she tried to pull away, but the redhead held on fiercely, not giving any ground. She struggled for a little while before giving up, fully collapsing into the embrace as she wept freely into the autumn wind. 

Anna held her trembling sister tightly against her, ignoring the dampness of their sweaty clothes. She brought a hand up to the back of Elsa’s neck, gently massaging the tense muscles as she murmured reassurances of her lack of anger. 

The chill had started to seep in, but Anna only remembered the coat she’d brought when Elsa began shivering. She gave her sister a stern look to not move, before quickly grabbing her coat from where she’d dropped it. Anna placed it on Elsa’s shoulders, pulling it around her, and as she looked up she made eye contact with the blonde for a brief moment. 

There was a look of gratitude in her eyes, but it was quickly swallowed by that wild look of fear and sadness she’d had when she ran. 

“Hey, hey, I know everything seems crazy right now. I’m-I’m  sorry you’re feeling so overwhelmed by everything Els. I understand that nothing feels worth it right now—I get that, and gods, I am so sorry.” Tears flowed down her cheeks as she spoke, but she didn’t let the emotion overwhelm her voice. “Remember what we talked about? When you feel like the world is collapsing around you, all you need to do is find something physical and tactile to focus on, okay?” 

Elsa raised her head, looking at Anna briefly before she squeezed her eyes shut and nodded. 

“Okay.”  

Anna gave her a smile, though she knew she couldn’t see it, before patting down her pockets in search of such an item, but all she found was Elsa’s phone. Definitely not the right thing for her to have right now—oh! 

Gently, she took one of Elsa’s hands, and brought it to rest on her chest. She shifted her hand to cover the back of her sister’s, and pressed it down so she could feel every beat.   

Elsa’s eyes shot open at the sensation, and Anna was struck again by how the moon highlighted and accentuated her sister’s beauty. From this angle she could see the moon’s reflection in Elsa’s wide pupils, framed by her shining silver hair.  

“Elsa… I love you, so fucking much. You mean everything to me, I—I know things are hard, and I know you feel alone. But Els, I promise you, you’re not. I can’t take away your pain, but I promise you that I will be by your side no matter what comes. Gods—I, I love you Elsa.” 

Anna maintained her eye contact with Elsa in the silence that followed; she could see her sister was having a hard time accepting the words, but she waited patiently—for the most part. 

Damn it, why doesn’t she see how much I fucking care about her? Bloody hell, why isn’t there a way to express this? I just want her to know how much she means to me. 

A solitary sob shook Elsa’s frame, followed closely by the last few tears her eyes had left to give. Anna immediately pushed away her other thoughts, focusing on her sister, as she saw her open and close her mouth in an attempt to get some words out. 

“Anna—I, you don’t—it’s… I’m j-j-just not enough.” It was a quiet confession, and Anna felt the weight of it settle on her and Elsa.

“No Anna, I just—it’s true okay?” Elsa spoke swiftly as she saw Anna open her mouth to rebut her sister. “I’m not. I’m not enough. For myself, or anyone else, e-e-especially y-you; I’m not!” 

The conviction in her sister’s voice hurt more deeply than Anna could have expected. The dejection and hopelessness of the statement shook her deeply as she looked into Elsa’s eyes, searching for the right words.

Anna didn’t recall making the decision, she didn’t recall any thoughts of it crossing her mind. One moment she was looking at Elsa, the next her lips were pressed against her sister’s.

As the realization of what she had done—was doing—hit her, she fully expected Elsa to pull away from her, to run again, but she didn’t. 

Bathed in silvery moonlight, with the quickened pulse of Anna’s heartbeat against her palm, Elsa softly pressed her chapped lips into the kiss. 

What the actual fuck? Shit shit shit, what the fuck was that? Shit okay, not right now Anna! Fucking keep it together, she still needs you. 

With great force of will Anna shoved down the intrusive thoughts and concerns about what she had just done as she broke the kiss. She leaned forward and rested her head against Elsa’s chest, taking a couple deep, if shaky, breaths. They stood silently for a while, holding each other as the wind whistled past. Anna didn’t want to break the silence, but she knew she would have to eventually. 

“Um,” the redhead paused to clear her throat and gather her courage, “Elsa, I… I’m sorry I don’t, um, I don’t really know what that was about.” 

There was a brief moment of quiet before it was broken by a soft chuckle. 

“Yeah, I… I don’t really either.” 

Wildly confused, Anna pulled back to look at Elsa, only to find that the blonde was already looking at her. Anna could still see the torment of the night hidden in expression, but at that moment it was covered over with confusion, and the hint of a smile.

A chuckle escaped the redhead’s mouth, accompanied by a blush to her cheeks as she gazed at her sister. Upon seeing this, Elsa’s lips twitched into a  half smile, temporarily wiping away any concern for the kiss from Anna’s mind.

“I am sorry about that Els,” Anna looked away from her sister when she finally spoke. “I—it wasn’t planned or anything, I promise! I just,  I don’t know… I just needed you to know how much I care about you—I… I wanted you to feel loved.”

“Anna, I—it’s okay. I mean, I admit it was unexpected and  a little weird, but… but I didn’t, um, I didn’t really mind it.”

The redhead blinked a couple times at her sister’s response, processing the lack of anger and fear—of any negative emotion. 

“Oh…”   

“Um, I was wondering though uh… did—what, um, what you meant when you said you care about a-a-and love me?”

What I meant…? Oh! Oh shit, she’s asking—god, what the heck do I say? 

“Oh, um… I—honestly, I um, I don’t really know,” Anna winced as she spoke, the answer feeling insufficient. “I’m sorry, I know that doesn’t really, um, answer your question. Yeah, I just, I haven’t super had a lot of time to think about any of this, and I was just kinda acting on instinct so yeah…”  

Anna felt her cheeks darken as she realized how that must sound; she opened her mouth to clarify, but she was interrupted by another chuckle from her sister. Her blush deepened and she moved to speak again, only for Elsa to interject once more. 

“It’s okay Anna. I know what you meant. It just, well, I don’t know, sounded funny.” As if to prove the point the blonde began chortling again, clearly remembering the phrase. 

Anna had no idea how to respond—her mouth hung open as she watched her sister’s chuckle turn into a full laugh. It wasn’t long at all before Anna joined in, swept up in the mirth of exhausted minds. They laughed until their bodies reminded them of how exhausted and sore they were. 

As their laughter began to fade, Anna couldn’t help but admire her sister. The moonlight shone brightly, illuminating her hair much as it had before, but this time the moon was reflected in eyes crinkled with joy. Fuck me, you’re beautiful.

She was more aware of her actions the second time she kissed Elsa. But whatever part of her questioned it—she shoved down in deference to the love she felt for her sister. 

The kiss was shorter this time, but it was undeniably clear that Elsa leaned into it. Their lips pressed softly against each other, moving in a slow dance of affection and discovery. When they pulled apart, Elsa rested her forehead on Anna’s, breathing deeply. 

“I feel loved right now.” She whispered it to Anna, as if to keep it a secret from the world. 

A grin split the redhead’s face, and she pulled Elsa into a warm hug, squeezing her tightly for a moment and whispered into her ear, “so do I.” 

It was a happy moment, and Anna was grateful for it, but as a cold gust of wind cut through her shirt and knocked her coat off of Elsa, she recalled where they were, and why. 

“Hey, um…” Anna spoke as she grabbed her coat from the ground and helped Elsa put it on, properly this time. “How are you doing, like with all… all the stuff from before?” 

Elsa sighed heavily as she considered the question. “I’m… not entirely sure to be honest. Better, I guess? But it’s all still there in some form, just… not as present.”

“Yeah, that makes sense. I’m just really glad you’re okay Els.” 

“I’m sorry for worrying you Anna—I… I shouldn’t have run, I just, I wasn’t thinking clearly—or really at all I guess.” 

Anna nodded as her sister spoke, “I understand, and it’s okay. You had a lot going on; just know that I’m not mad and I don’t blame you for anything.” 

Anna felt a disconcertingly strong urge to kiss Elsa again as she reassured her, but she refrained this time. Best to not push anything right now—we still need to figure out what the fuck the first two meant.

“And all that being said, we’re gonna need to talk about this more, sometime. I’m not going to let you go through any of this alone Els—I did promise.” 

Elsa sighed and nodded, clearly hesitant to discuss her breakdown in any detail. But Anna could see the trust in her sister’s expression.

“Not tonight though,” Anna teased lightly. “Also, we definitely should head home; it’s getting pretty damn cold.” 

Elsa glanced around, taking in their surroundings—she seemed almost surprised to see where they were, but she gave the redhead an enthusiastic nod. 

“Alright then! Come on, let’s go.” Anna took her sister’s hand and began to lead her off the bridge. 

Elsa gripped the redhead’s hand firmly, following her as they began walking back to their apartment. 

They hadn’t walked very far before they both stopped somewhat abruptly, looking around at the unfamiliar neighborhood.

“Um… Anna, do you actually know where we are?” 

“Nope, I have no idea. I was kind of hoping you would.” 

“Do you want to get an Uber?” 

“Absolutely.” 

[twdmusicboxmystery]

Symbolism in TWB 1x01: Brave + AK Mentions Beth

Okay, I said I’d talk about symbols I saw in The World Beyond premiere. I won’t go into too much detail about these symbols or what they may mean. It’s really too early in the story to decide how they will affect the characters or the arcs. I just want to point out that they’re there and then I’ll share something I just saw yesterday that is proof that they correlate symbolism between the different TWD series.

Here’s what I saw in TWB. I’ll link theories I’ve done on each of these beside them:

The biggest thing that jumped out at me from the get-go is them saying that the girls’ father is helping the helicopter people (CRM) do research for a cure. That’s really huge, guys. It means that if we’re right that Grady was a part of them (and we totally are), the Cure Theory just became a reality. (Cure Theory)

Lots of mentions of the Omaha colony. Remember in S2, right around Beth’s suicide arc, there was an episode called Nebraska. Nebraska references have been around for a long time.

School buses were very prevalent. (X)

Felix’s friend was named Huck. Huckleberry Finn reference. (X, X)

Hope flips off Elizabeth the first time she sees her.

Hope also visits a graveyard with white flowers.

Silas is an interesting character. No idea where they’re taking him yet, but at one point he was wearing headphones (music) and holding yellow flowers (think Alone).

They’re receiving forbidden messages from their father via fax machine (Communication theory).

They call the security guards (i.e. Felix) pigs.

Hope brewed a bunch of illegal alcohol. It doesn’t say it was moonshine, but still. 

Julia Ormond’s character is named Elizabeth. I know Beth’s name isn’t short for Elizabeth, but I still feel like this woman will be a massive anti-parallel to Beth. (And a parallel to Dawn.)

When the sisters were kids and “the sky fell,” they were dealing with a plane crash. We’ve seen a theme for that in FTWD, and many of us believe planes are synonymous with helicopters symbolically. Just think machines that fly. (They also have symbolic correlations to birds.) (X, X)

I definitely saw potential parallels between Iris and Hope as sisters to Maggie and Beth. Their mom died back near the beginning and they were raised by their dad. They’re very close. And there’s a whole backstory about how that night, they got separated and Iris feels like she let her sister down. How her sister had to face things along and Iris wishes she would have been there to help her. Possibly a parallel to Maggie leaving Beth behind. 👀

There’s the blue spray paint that a Nonny sent in about a while ago. In the show, they’re “tagging” walkers with the paint in order to study their migration patterns. Being a geek, I actually think that’s really interesting. But the blue is symbolically important. In terms of TWD, there are all blue coolers we’ve seen, and plenty of other blue symbols @frangipanilove​ affectionately calls “blues clues.” In terms of FTWD, Alicia was painting trees the exact same shade of blue last season, and she painted phoenixes on them as well. 👀 (Blues Clues Theory Here)

I also saw parallels between Felix and Daryl. Huck was talking about someone named William and, at first, I mistakenly thought William was his brother. That’s what made me think of Daryl. They talked about William in much the same way Beth and Daryl talked about Merle. Asking if he “missed” him and such. We also learn that Felix had terrible parents that dealt him a bad hand, though we don’t know what that bad hand was, yet. Sounds like Daryl to me. As I said, I was mistaken. William is actually Felix’s boyfriend, not his brother. But the parallels remain.

There was an “are you serious” line between the girls. Not sure what to make of that, yet. It may apply to them, demonstrating their father returning to them, or them leaving to find him but returning at a later date. Or it could be a Beth thing. Time will tell.

There was also a few instances of the “just gone” theme.

This next thing is something of a tease, but in the show, the girls are headed to New York because Elizabeth told them their father is there. No idea if they should be trusting that intel, but they are and that’s where they’re headed.

So, the interesting thing about this is that @frangipanilove has a theory about New York. I’m not going to hash it all out here because she’ll probably post it at some point. I’ll just give you one hint: New York is often referred to as The Big Apple.

But the funny thing is that she told me about this theory about a week before TWB aired, saying that New York might be important for Beth. So I sort of gasped when they mentioned New York in the show. It’s something we’re going to be keeping a close eye on.

Okay, so as you can see, we’re definitely seeing TD symbolism in this show, which might suggest Beth returning through it. Let me address that for a moment.

As disappointed as I was that she didn’t show up in 10x16, the way they’ve set up the story here makes perfect sense for how Beth might return in this spin off. I’m not saying she will for sure. I’m just saying it’s a strong possibility, and I will continue watching the series for more clues.

These kids are heading to New York where members of the helicopter group and various scientists are working on a cure. That just screams Beth to me. And then there’s all the Beth promotion and social media hints we’ve been getting lately. If they were about TWB, rather than 10x16, the timing still makes sense.

My fellow theorists and I also talked during the long hiatus about how weird it is that they never aired TWB. I’m still not sold on them not being able to air 10x16 on time. But even if there’s something behind the scenes that I don’t understand, TWB was 100% done by the time CoVid hit. It would have been a good way to tide fans over until we could get more regular TWD episodes. But they wanted to wait.

We’re still not sure exactly why, but our theory was that they wanted to wait until 10x16 aired before showing TWB, because they would connect in some way. Given that Beth didn’t show up in 10x16, we don’t know what that connection will be, but it may still be the case.

Okay, finally, a member of my facebook group @rabia, sent me an article that’s, well, kinda super-cool. In it, an interviewer asks Angela Kang if Maggie’s earrings in the episode are keys and if they might tie to the key communities in FTWD.

If you study AK’s response, the answer is pretty much no. She kind of babbles and stumbles through the answer, saying she doesn’t know what earrings Maggie is wearing and she’ll have to look into it.

Now, we always laugh when they say things like this. Angela knows EXACTLY what earrings Maggie is wearing and what they mean, as evidenced by the fact that she says she doesn’t and then goes onto explain what they mean. Lol. Yeah, she totally doesn’t know. 🙄

Now, we don’t know what the earrings actually are. We’ve tried to zoom in and the shot just gets blurry. But we’ve theorized crosses, birds, or possible boat anchors.

But then look at AK’s further response. She says what Maggie is wearing are bits and pieces of lost family members. People have already noticed her wearing Glenn’s wedding ring, but AK specifically mentions Beth. That’s kind of huge. Because whatever the earrings are, AK just confirmed them as a Beth symbol.

What I actually wanted to show you in relation to TWB symbolism is that last line. She says that “in this case” they weren’t trying to tie the earrings to another one of the series. Which means that there ARE cases where they do exactly that.

And I just wanted to show you all this so you understand why we also look for symbolism in TWB and FTWD. Even though there are different writers and showrunners, they all operate under Gimple as the “chief content officer,” and thus the symbolism runs through every show in the franchise.

I’m working on a mega theory that probably won’t be done for a few weeks, but when it is, it will show more effectively that the same story and templates are being used across every show. So stay tuned for that.

That’s it for today. Thoughts?

[princessdianaartemis]

Brainstorm Vomit

TW: Bullying; Emotion Manipulation Mention; Panic/Anxiety Attacks; Suicide Ideation; Self-Harm Mention; Death; Cursing; Description of Injury; Slight Misogyny; Depression; Anxiety; Description of Dissociation

Being made fun of in the 5th grade made me become a monster: mean, biting, sarcastic - nothing to make tears flow other than the pain that came from wanting love and even that was something no one knew about me. Just a child and already fighting with the desire to be loved. Already fighting down the thoughts of wanting to die, that everything would be fine, or better, without me.

I wasn’t enough. I wasn’t pretty enough to not get bullied; wasn’t normal enough not to be compared to things associated with taunting culture: ‘Lety la Fea’, ‘Harry Potter’s sister’, names that echo for years in this strong memory vault. Not funny enough to be approachable - that was my Feffy - not the right culture, language, look, speech. Did they see me sweet back then, or was I the carry-on for people cooler than me even back then. I shared the world of my imagination when it’s still fun to pretend in the fifth grade, when you can still be a kid, but not for much longer and the imagination had to be silenced when it wouldn't go away.

By sixth grade, I was a new me. Hard, not afraid to manipulate - adults believe anything when you’re sweet - throwing my weight around to get my way. I was told I was too mean and it stung, but anything softer and I’d be trampled to the ground - at least that’s the way it felt. I used the muscle around me to protect me, the sharpness of my tongue. Hate was easier than love, then friendliness - that was meant for paper - and I had seen how the world corrupted softness into cruelty until it disappeared.

I saw that no matter how much I primped and preened, someone would always be more beautiful and I hated every inch of me: every hair, roll, color, zits, glasses, smile, everything. I turned to my imagination to build perfection and pushed everything childish into the safety of home. Paper was my sanctuary, where kindness was allowed, where my childish likes wouldn’t be judged, and the beauty I would never be able to be came to life.

I think 7th grade saw the realest me. Joking around with Darius and Zach, the humor of my friends, the artistry, the sarcasm directed at someone who laughed it off - a father figure I hadn’t given that title to - a friend that wasn’t ashamed of my likes and my heart safe because this time I’d keep it all a secret and maybe life would take pity of find me worth and give me a chance It didn’t matter that if felt impossible when the friends around me encouraged my heart.

With eighth grade came pressure. New people with new ideas that could cost me my friends and so, like a chameleon, I adapted. Swathed in black and safe in a subculture that said it was okay to be dark and quiet and edgy but not fitting in because the darkness hit too close to home and the openness behind hurt culture shocked. Because I’d rather hoard friends: old friends, edgy friends, Latino, Black, white, rather than lose them. Not fitting into any one group but pushing into all of them. Hate mainstream ideas - the football player behind you, the cheerleader next to him because that’s what the media taught. You don’t understand why when you don’t see anything wrong with them other than the entitlement given by others, the privilege of their birth. Collecting friends so that if - when - you’re forgotten, you’d always have someone else there to catch you.

Depression, real depression not what emo culture thought it is, hits in the 9th grade and you think it’s just the leftover from those fake-dark days. You think the pain from lightning through your veins is because of the lightning in the sky and has no correlation to the heaviness in your chest, the tears you hide into pillows, screams and sobs into your palms to not wake the house. You’re 14 and surrounded by children that you still play with, down to their levels of imagination and scraping knees on carpet, and you think it’s okay because they’re still children and you’re just entertaining them.

High school means being flooded with questions about college and your plans after graduation and you’re smart so everyone assumes you know everything you’ll need in order to take those next steps. No one asks if you need help, you face that world blindly and it returns to bite you in the ass. Your head and heart finally agree and for a few blessed months you’re free of liking, of wanting to be loved, yes, there is bitter anger but you hope it teaches you never to fall again. You find a home on the stage and think that maybe there’s some talent in you after all. The words flow from your head and your mouth to the page and you start to think that maybe, maybe, life can be okay.

Tenth grade and fuck up...and you don’t even realize until that you have until it’s too late and you’re drowning. Drowning in a feeling that starts off like a crush but ends up feeling like so much more. You’re scared - you freak out a ‘trusted adult’ trying to figure out your feelings, she thinks you’re gay and afraid (you’re not but that’s a discovery for later). He says you’re aggressive and, for once, you listen, You learn not to smack people in the arm when something stupid comes out of their mouths, the sweetness you buried deep inside starts crawling back out and people like her so you like her, you parade her around and sure, she can still turn a sweet smile into a shark’s grin, but she’s kind, sweet, what he might like - might be looking for. You heal certain wounds and never say ‘love’ because that’s heartbreak ready to happen. People encourage your feelings with playful testing, the harmless pushes of ‘maybe he likes you, too’ that fuels a heart waiting for someone to love it because…

INTERMISSION

It’s easy to put on a happy face and pretend that everything’s okay when people only know one side of the dice that is your life. They don’t see the years of hurt in your own home. The poison dart glare of your mother and its returned one from your grandmother, a cycle of anger they throw each other into, of burning cold silence and explosions and you stuck in the middle. Of fearing our grandmother walking out and leaving you with the weight of caring for others, of the storming out of my mother when she’s had enough, the way grandma looks when she does disappear into the night. They don’t know that you’d sworn to yourself that those three younger than you would never know how it feels to be trapped between them. All they know is that your home life is a mystery - you don’t have a nice house, a nice neighborhood, neighbors that like you. They don’t know about all the times you put yourself before the littles so they don’t get in trouble, don’t get yelled at, don’t fear. They’ve never seen the terrifying flare of your mother’s nose, the disappointment that curls your grandmother’s lip - both of them seeing you as an echo, a step away from making the same mistakes. You feel anger, resentment, more fear than love - but like in every case, you love them because you don’t know better. When have you ever truly felt love that didn’t come without a warning sign - that this feeling is fleeting for anger and fear might be on the horizon.

END INTERMISSION

Those feelings for him is your escape - a place to channel all the hope you feel. You think if he can love you, you can have a world away from the pain you’ve seen and he pays attention in ways no one else has. And still your imagination flourishes. You don’t share your likes because you’ve learned they quickly become obsessions - hyperfixation is not a word you know yet - and that’s not normal. And Junior Year starts beautiful and full of promises, of hope and ends with still more pining for a feeling you think is impossible and for a future that, for once, doesn’t seem like a stretch.

Senior year.

You don’t know what to expect except for what you know from screens and books - the culmination of your life and the beginning of it all. But things soon take a bitter turn, promises sour. You realize that before the heartbreak breaks you, you’ve gotta let go...because the feelings aren’t going away. So you try...and try...everything up to tearing your heartstrings out themselves, but you’re blamed for hoarding, for selfishness in something uncontrollable. But you try because you know that the happiness they’d feel would be enough, but he asks you for advice and you give it…and you get blamed for tilting the situation in your favor. You’re hurt…a friend is lost but you Go ON. Things slowly fall back in place. You make deals that you don’t know, one that people say to believe in: Give me Love returned or take these feelings away before it’s too late. Please. Please. You dance together at prom and you hate the way it feels. You try to pray the feelings away with no answer. He sits next to you in your tiny car, close and just hidden from the world and you’ve never wanted to kiss someone so badly and you pray that these feelings disappear in the next few weeks or you’re doomed. And still they remain. In hindsight, you wish you’d told him to reject you. A clean cut to set you free.

Graduation is supposed to mean the end of one chapter and beginning of the next, but it becomes the difference between a coming-of-age story to a tragedy. It’s hot and full of happiness…and sadness. Wanting desperately for a movie moment, a final act that seals a love that has always been there and making those dreamy romantic notions reality. But the buzz is too much and you lose him in the sea of people. Sourness in your stomach, the words of nights before echo: “Don’t let me make it past graduation. I know that everything will go downhill from there.” Sealed fate. Abu crying in joy, or was it acceptance? Her touching my hair and telling me how long it was getting. A lunch together before I take off to be with friends - so many friends and I think that I will never be forgotten. I said goodbye and rolled my eyes when my grandmother told me to be careful. I should’ve said I love you. I should’ve said something. Party hopping: joy, Joy, JOY because I’m accepted, I’m loved and it feels like I’ve made it. Like I’ve basked in Love meant for me, missing that one piece, but still drunk in joy…and it all crashes down with reality.

Chaos.

Police interviewing Mom, Police interviewing Brother, can’t see the littles and wonder if it’s about them. Then the words: grandmother, car - chaos. Be the strong one, be the steady one: Mom’s hurting, Brother’s hurting, littles are panicking, be the one with strength. Call him. You need his steadiness, his cold detachment - you need someone who doesn’t care but cares enough to keep you balanced. “Distract me,” you say and that droning voice does enough to push you forward. You are strong. So many times being told it and it becomes a mantra. But it’s also your downfall. You bite your tongue that says she won’t make it and ride that thread of Hope until it snaps. Excuse yourself. Pull yourself together in the hospital bathroom, be steady for the rest of them. Ask to see her. Don’t wonder about the bruises, the lifelessness of an eerily quiet body - so different from its snoring slumber, don’t focus on the stumps where legs should be - don’t think that this is the better option than seeing her live crippled. Don’t wonder how exactly it happened. You call him in a garden, May-warm night that feels cold and the stupidly selfish part wishes it’ll happen, that he’ll be there in this dark time and love could blossom.

You have a job to do. Hold yourself strong as mother and brother mourn, keep the younger ones joyful, fed, happy, clean - the world didn’t end, we just have to adapt. Become the missing person and pick up where she left off: distract the kids, fall into the quiet trap of summer. Summer had always been lonely, now it’s a different type of darkness.

The medium comes to your house and you’re a skeptic - this woman has been told about your grandmother beforehand and will tell you what you want to hear. She says vague things at first and you’re still standoffish, then she gets specific - things no one knows - and she echoes familiar words from the deceased: “They’re not your kids.”

But it’s too late.

You’re short on tuition, scholarships you weren’t good for, the things that they didn’t teach you have caught up and you resign yourself to not go to school - get a job to help the house - by some miracle you get the money, you make it in. Far from your dream - away from Spanish moss covered streets or a French castle - and into a world of hours in traffic, walks in a metropolis. Acting is a vague dream, so you turn back to the imagination you pen. You don’t learn to live on your own and instead learn how to care for, serve, others (in your head you feel Chris cackling somewhere, that you’ve served your rightful place as a woman). Everyone else is growing, learning, loving, and you’re still playing with littles, still trying to find connections among peers - both past and present. When everyone is much more applied, talented, artistic, open and you close up.

Your foolish heart still wants him, but your brain knows better - know that you’ll never see him again. That he’ll fall for a lithe and kind thing, traditional, safe - things you’ll never be. You want to rip that bandaid away, push him out of your life and hope that it snuffs out the flame. So you block him - he might’ve reached out to you - but you don’t know - and the question haunts you. You know you need help. It’s not healthy to lock yourself up and cry in the bathroom, mourning alone so no one hears, so you can stay strong, and hope that no one catches you hurt. You wait for your mother to explode in anger - it's been a while and you can sense it in the air. And now Abu isn’t there to protect, to take the brunt, to tell her off - what do you do. The therapist says to create boundaries and be able to live your life and you try - she made you say the word ‘love’ and you hate it - the kids need protection, they need someone to buffer it - your brother is in a dark place and spiraling, no longer the sunshine of the house. Like you predict, mom explodes and you stand up. Tell her you’re all terrified of her - of her anger, of tiptoeing around her. She withdraws and the fear paralyzes you, lives inside of you like ice, but the kids need to eat, need to play, need school, so you go on with your days, And eventually, she speaks and says she’ll do better. For the kid’s sake, you hope so, it’s too late for you.

You find yourself not liking anyone new. Discover a term you identify with: asexual. Because the body and its orifices are disgusting to you even though you still want to be cuddled, coddled, loved. You say demi because you’ve never been attracted at first sight, not until the strands of their being have been exposed to you and things make sense - why you can’t let go, why you can’t build something new when you can’t get to know anyone. Suddenly things make sense.

Your imagination is dimming. The world you're so meticulously poured your lifeblood into now withers and becomes hollow. Poetry mixes into the page, melancholic and sadder than it has any right being. The feelings you’d wished would dissolve come and go in tides, in sighs that replace his name, your heart aches and the heaviness fills your bones like lead. You try to make friends and, despite the privilege etched into the world of the young woman, you think you've made one - and then she drags you under a bus. All the while, you’ve been pushing people away, people that loved you. You still have such a strong love for all those people in your heart, people you’d written to, but your obsession lies in knowing if you’d even meant anything and you come up empty. You were never a friend, just a passing character in their lives. Again, you hide yourself. It’s too late to build up these walls that made you tough and mean, but the cynicism creeps back in.

Someone had once said they’d seen you become less cynical - they'd be sad to see it return, but they’re not around anyway.

You chose your family over yourself, over friends, over making a life, and now...People get engaged. People get married. People have children. They have friends they meet up with - friends they want to meet up with. They have significant others. You know it’s a matter of time before you break. You’re not envious, you’re so happy for them, but you feel so hurt and chillingly alone. A burden on everyone you come across. But you made yourself this way. You’re afraid of being jobless, a financial burden in the household you’re still living in, so you find a job in the one place you can fall back on - school. In the place you think appreciation lies. You want to help kids not become you. You forget the specters of pain hiding in corners - you forget that memories can quickly become tangible. Not ready for the emotional weight this job brings, the kids you cannot help. The kids it’s too late for, the disrespect because people still see a child and that’s all you’ll be - never enough for others. Cynicism settles in your heart, quiet is your friend, self-flagellation your comfort.

It gets better.

Then it gets worse.

Realize how you’re bound to this land when your brother gets to leave. What blood-spilled oath has tethered you to this place and refuses to let you escape? You chose to stay and protect children that didn’t ask for protection. You chose this job. YOU chose your family over yourself, over friends, over making a life, and now YOU’RE TRAPPED and there’s no escape. You try to do things you love, you make an exchange, a deal, with higher beings: If this doesn’t work out. It’s a dream not meant to be.

See unfortunately that’s how I see the relationship with God works. They will never give you anything without taking something else away. It’s an exchange, not a gift.

It doesn’t work, but someone does get that dream and you try not to be upset. To be happy. But bitterness sets in because you wanted a moment to get to shine again, to be more than a shadow and they seem to grow brighter as you dim. Cold settles…colder than it’s ever been. This is depression like you’ve never known and it claws at every strand of joy, every light swallowed. For the first time, you want to draw blood. First, it’s kitten scratches, nails biting into flesh. Then you find a tool of irony - the broken fragments of a happy family picture - and cut deeper. The beads of blood you offer to the Heavens and hope that, for once, it appeases the being that seems to be set on punishing you so soundly.

Am I a scapegoat of some familial fault? Payment for the sins of my parents? My grandparents? For my own cruelty? Am I such a horror that I deserve a lifetime of torture and punishment at my own hands?

You feel lonelier than ever. Push away people because you don’t deserve joy and people don’t want to be brought down by a killjoy like you. Feel the sharp edge of childhood in your face as sneers replace smiles, as stoic faces replace shallow happiness. Fuzziness. You move like a robot. Disconnected between mind and body. Watch yourself, detach from the body. People question the scars and the lies fall easy, swallowed down because it’s easier to accept that self-mutilation. And all the while you’re searching for Home. You don’t know what that is because you say it in the comfort of your bed. Find comfort in sleep, find comfort in your new hyperfixation - in the angel and demon on your shoulders and their love, fictional or maybe hovering over you - it’s the only thing keeping you going. You imagine them loving you and it almost feels real. Until the illusion shatters and the loneliness returns. You’re a bird of paradise, flaunting around in bright colors to hide the numbness inside. And you know for the first time in your life that the chemical imbalance needs to be fixed. Medication helps. Meditation helps. And, for a short bit, religion helps. But there is always numbness underneath.

Then slowly things start to come apart. Blame the distance, blame disease, blame that “everyone is feeling the same”, but you feel less than before. A new void of nothingness - even the sweet brushes of hopeful love extinguished and you want to be alone. Alone keeps you safe. You’re gone and no one notices. You’re gone and want to stay gone. Spirited away by feathered embraces, to a place where there is Love.

Writing comes and writing goes. That world you created, that you loved and filled with people you loved is now an empty chasm or what might’ve been. You can’t enter that headspace because they’re gone and you’re alone and - and they were never real to begin with. She faded with your spirit, the world you thought would always be there is now something you don’t even recognize anymore. It was a world built on the hopes of a girl - with the promise of love and a future that this woman no longer sees. So you pen the outpour of your soul, the things you cannot tell people out loud.

You don’t want people to reach out, because it’s always the same. Offers of help that you can’t take. You’ve always taken care of others but you can’t take care of yourself, can’t let others take care of you because you’re a burden. People that get busy and you can’t drag them away from that just because you’re hurting, that’s not their job - it’s not what they signed up for. Let them be happy. They can be happy. Don’t drag them down with you. So stay in your little corner and hide stare yourself in the eye and see if you can pull yourself out of the hell you created. You don’t want the supportive words that you can’t even process, that you hear but can’t let them sink in anymore. Affirmations mean nothing. Touch is no longer allowed with this fucking virus and it’s all your hungry soul want. You want love - a love you don’t have to share - a type of love you don’t have to share, but your hunger for that needs to be starved.

Plus, you’re only word vomiting, not asking for help, not asking for attention, just letting it all hang out. You haven’t had anything to hide in so long, just that no one listens - no one has the time - and you suck at writing. You can talk about all the new medical shit, the imposter syndrome you had this week, the anxiety, the seasonal depression peeking and shaking hands with the regular depression. But what’s the point. Just write it down, let it all out and hope you can ease your fuzzy mind.

[salaciouscrumpet]

Whumptober Day 22

Whumptober Day 22 Prompt: “Hallucination”

As is becoming my norm I had a few different ideas to take this prompt in, but I ended up deciding that one of those ideas is big enough to be put in one of my future books, so I’m holding on to that one. Instead I decided to use this prompt to share a little backstory.

Introducing yet another new character who, for reasons that will immediately become obvious, won’t be featuring too heavily in the actual series.

CW: suicide (not a main character), suicidal ideation, complicated feelings about suicide, non-graphic references to childhood sexual abuse, victim blaming, homophobia, implied alcohol abuse, foul language

I don’t think it’s a particularly dark ficlet, even for Whumptober, but given the triggering nature of these issues I thought it important to caution for them.

Characters: Luke, Danny 

Once upon a time the rocky outcropping on the north end of the island had been Luke’s refuge. It was far enough away from the house that his parents couldn’t be bothered to come find him there unless he was in real trouble, and his younger sister Alice didn’t like the cold breeze that always seemed to come in off the lake. Milena was too young to wander off on her own, so she was easy enough to escape. The only person who looked for Luke there was Danny, and that was okay, Luke idolized Danny. 

Luke had idolized Danny. 

“You’re dead,” Luke said, facing out towards the water as his brother joined him along the rocks. The lake was especially choppy, dark waves topped with whitecaps. The water would be cold if he were to wade into it, and the air would be even colder when he got out. 

“Yup,” Danny agreed, sounding ridiculously complacent about it. He also sounded … young. 

After a moment of silence Luke turned and faced his brother, sucking in a startled breath when he saw him. He didn’t know what he’d been expecting – something gruesome, maybe, given that Daniel Kandarian Jr. had been dead for twenty years – but it wasn’t the young-looking person beside him. Danny had been three years older than Luke, and in his mind Luke always thought of his brother as being perpetually older than him, even as his memories of what his brother had looked like remained untouched by the years. Danny had died at sixteen, however, and while that had seemed so much older to thirteen-year-old Luke, thirty-four-year-old Luke recognized him as the child he’d been. And yet, still, Danny somehow seemed older than Luke. 

“This isn’t real,” Luke said, turning away again. He was glad Danny didn’t look the way he should look after being buried for two decades, but at the same time it cut something deep inside to see him there, that face so familiar and yet so painfully young. Sixteen had been too young to die; even twenty years later, Luke wanted to scream at the unfairness of it. 

“Nope,” Danny agreed, still cheerful. He’d always been a little shit; he’d just seemed cooler to the younger brother who had idolized him. He gestured vaguely out towards the water, and for a brief moment Luke thought he saw … something … out beyond the horizon. Glimpses of a hospital room, machines with too many wires and flashing lights, and a set of anxious faces bowed over the bed. Then it was gone, and there was nothing but the waves and the skyline, dark and forbidding. 

“Something’s wrong with me.” Luke frowned out at the water, trying to remember. There had been a patrol, he recalled that much. He’d been with Kate and Gin and … one of the new recruits, a young man whose name eluded him at the moment. Carter? Kerry? Carson? Something like that. They had stumbled across a nest of fledgling demons and then … Nothing. It was all blank. His body ached, though, all through his joints and muscles, and there was a sharper pain in his side. He felt cold and sore and unbelievably tired. He glanced at Danny out of the corner of his eye and saw his brother watching him intently. “Am I dead? Dying?” 

Danny shrugged. “Beats the hell outta me, dude. This is your dream.” 

“Right.” Luke sighed. “Great.” 

He turned away from the water, unsettled by the vague glimpses of an outside world that he kept getting beyond the waves. In the opposite direction there was nothing but trees, although he knew that if he were to walk further in he would soon come to his parents’ house near the middle of the island. He hadn’t been ‘home’ in over a decade, not since his father had disavowed him. He imagined not much had changed; his parents had never been big on changing. He’d learned that at a young age, and both he and Danny had paid the price for it in their own ways. 

“I never really forgave you, you know,” Luke said softly. He shifted restlessly, one foot to the other, and the fact that he could hear the wind through the trees but not the sounds of his booted feet scraping against rock reminded him that he was dreaming, or maybe hallucinating. It seemed his brain could only fabricate so much of the world around him; anything more, and the details just weren’t there. 

“Yeah, I know,” Danny replied, his own voice just as soft. He didn’t sound apologetic, exactly, but that might have just been because he, too, was a fabrication of Luke’s mind, and Luke didn’t have many memories of his older brother sounding genuinely sorry about anything. 

“For a long time I thought maybe they’d done it. I know Dad had the coroner’s report changed so that your death was ruled an accident, but I thought … maybe it wasn’t you. That it hadn’t been you who’d done it to yourself.” 

Danny let out a startled laugh. “That’s fucked up, dude. You’d rather think Mom and Dad killed me, than I killed myself?” 

Luke nodded once, jerkily. It was fucked up, but as a devastated thirteen-year-old he couldn’t understand why his older brother would have done something so selfish. How Danny, who he adored and worshiped, could just leave him like that. It wasn’t that it had been easier to believe their parents had killed him – or had had him killed – it was just that it was impossible to imagine Danny had done it to himself. It was only years later, as an adult, that Luke could look back on the situation and realize that although he hadn’t seen it at the time, his brother had been profoundly sad and troubled as a teenager. What had made it particularly confusing for Luke at the time was that in the days leading up to his suicide, Danny had suddenly started seeming happy and hopeful. Up until the moment that Danny was found hanging from a belt in his bedroom, Luke had thought he was finally, finally getting his big brother back after months of Danny being distant and cold. Adult-Luke recognized that brief period of hopefulness and happiness as a sign that his brother had made the decision to kill himself; child-Luke had had no idea. 

“They didn’t kill me,” Danny said. His tone was still unbelievably soft and gentle. “You know that, right, bud? I killed myself.” 

“Yeah,” Luke acknowledged. He did know, now. 

He wanted to ask why. Why had his older brother ended his own life? But the reality was, this wasn’t really his older brother standing here, and any answer this version of Danny could have given him would have to come from Luke’s own mind. And while Luke wanted to pretend that he didn’t know, the truth of the matter was that he suspected a number of things had played a factor in his brother’s decision to end his own life, and he would never truly know which reason was the real reason. Maybe they all were. 

Was it because their parents had put too much pressure on him, the same as they had done to Luke – to all of their children, really, except for Sam, who had been born six years after Danny’s death. Sam had been born and was instantly the golden child who could do no wrong, and even after Luke’s disavowal from the Order he had remained mercifully untouched by their parents’ abuse. Danny had been the Heir, the Kandarian who would go on to join the Knighthood and continue bringing glory and honour to the family name. He would marry well, and he and his wife would produce strong Incarnate children who would also carry on their legacy. 

Only Luke suspected that his older brother had been gay and trying to hide it, knowing full well that it wasn’t accepted within the more conservative members of the Order – including their parents. That knowledge had prompted Luke to hide his own interest in boys later on – that, and a persistent fear that Sleswick had made him be that way – and focus instead on his equal interest in girls. He had been able to hide that he was bisexual, but he didn’t think Danny had been able to successfully hide his homosexuality. Luke remembered the camp their parents had sent his brother to as a teenager, the camp he’d hated that had seemed nothing at all like the summer camp Luke had gone to with Ben and Adam. He would never be able to prove it, but he suspected that ‘camp’ had actually been a gay ‘conversion therapy’ camp, and that their parents had known about Danny and had tried to change him. 

Danny had come home from camp and a week later he’d been found hanging in his bedroom. He’d strangled himself with his belt, had tied himself up from the rafters. He hadn’t died right away, but had lingered on in the hospital for three days before his parents had agreed to let the doctors pull the plug and harvest his organs. Luke had never been able to step foot inside Danny’s bedroom again. 

At the time Luke had been so hurt and angry and confused. He had wanted to believe their parents had had something to do with it – and perhaps, in a way, they had, at least by contributing to the psychological factors that had led to Danny’s suicide. Luke had been working up the nerve to tell his older brother about Martin Sleswick, secure in the knowledge that even though everyone else might have thought Luke was just making it all up, Danny would have believed him. Danny would have known how to make the abuse stop. Danny wouldn’t have blamed Luke for it, said that he asked for it, said that he knew Luke had wanted it and had enjoyed himself. (All the things Sleswick had told Luke, when Luke had asked – begged – for him to stop and to leave him alone. It was Luke’s fault for leading him on. Luke’s mouth might have been saying no, but it had been obvious his body had wanted it. Look at the mess you’ve made of yourself, of me. We don’t want anyone to find out about this, do we? To know what a disgusting slut you are?) 

“He was an asshole, you know that, right?” Danny’s voice caught Luke by surprise, and he sucked in a sharp breath, looking at his brother in shock. “None of what he did to you was your fault.” 

“How did you …? How …?” 

“This is a dream, dummy, remember?” Danny grinned at him, but there was kindness and sympathy in his eyes. Luke realized, in that moment, that he and Danny had the same eyes. Was that a trick of memory, that he was simply seeing himself in his older brother, or had they always looked so similar to one another? “I know what you know, dude.” 

“Then you know I don’t really believe that,” Luke replied, stung. 

Danny let out an indignant snort. “I just said it, didn’t I? So that must mean at least a little part of you believes what I said.” 

Luke supposed that made a kind of sense, even if most of the rest of him still privately believed what Sleswick had told him decades ago had been true. He knew, intellectually, that Martin Sleswick had been grooming him almost from the moment he had arrived on the scene, and that his parents’ abuse and frequent absences made him a perfect target for a predator like him. Luke had been isolated and lonely and scared, and he’d been raised to shoulder more than his fair share of the responsibility – so why not the burden of initiating a sexual relationship with a man thirty years his senior? If he could be responsible for killing monsters and protecting humanity, then why not also be responsible for seducing an older man (even though at nine, when the abuse had begun, he’d had only the most fleeting notion of what sex even was, and no idea at all about the concept of seduction – or sexual grooming. He’d just been grateful that this kind, friendly man who everyone else respected and admired was paying attention to boring little him). 

If there was a part of him that knew not to blame himself for Sleswick’s abuse, then that part surely came in the form of Charlie and Kate. He’d gone through a period in his teens when he’d slept with every girl and woman that expressed interest in him in an effort to prove to himself that he wasn’t gay and that what he’d done with Sleswick hadn’t damaged him. Then, when he’d gone to university in Toronto – far away from his parents, his family’s fucking legacy, and a small town where everyone knew everyone – he’d gone all-out to demonstrate to himself that he could enjoy sex in spite of everything, in all its forms. Exposed to anonymous hookup culture for the first time and far away from anyone who could judge him, Luke had spent almost his entire four years of university drinking and sleeping his way through life. If someone so much as batted their eyes at him or offered to buy him a drink he’d go home with them – hell, some nights he’d just disappeared into the nearest washroom or out into the back alley, only to pop out again later in search of his next fix. Partying and sleeping around hadn’t made him feel much better about himself, his sexuality or his past, but it was the first real time he had ever rebelled against his parents and his upbringing, and while he’d thought he was sticking it to his mother and father what he was really doing was trying to destroy himself. Then he’d run into a mouthy redheaded bartender who didn’t care what his last name and who didn’t put up with any of his shit, but who liked him for who he was, not what he could do for her or to her or for the connections he had. (The fact that Kate was half-demon only served to entice him further, and in the beginning being with her had been a way of thumbing his nose at his parents.) And Kate didn’t really give a crap if he got his business degree or went on to become a famous politician, but she did care that he was throwing his life away, and so with her support he had just … stopped. Stopped fucking around, stopped partying, stopped drinking, stopped trying to self-destruct. He had graduated – by the skin of his teeth, but it still counted – and, stupid degree he’d never wanted in hand, followed Kate around Toronto like the lost puppy he’d been. She’d quit her job bartending because he’d made the decision to stop drinking and she didn’t want to risk his sobriety, they’d both found work, they’d found a place together, and for the first time in twenty years Luke was his own person. 

Then the Scions of Unforgiven had found him, the Knights of Oberon had kicked him out, and he’d joined the Alliance. And the hot Asian guy who’d always just been Kate’s best friend saved his arm for him and things had … sort of fallen into place. Kate had been the first step towards reclaiming himself, but Charlie – who’d grown up with an abundance of love and support, and who seemed determined to spread that wholesomeness around – had been the one to really spur Luke’s recovery and self-acceptance on. Kate had always had only a very marginal interest at best in sex, but Charlie had been raised in a very sex- and body-positive manner, and it had been eye-opening to see his approach to life and love. There was no slut-shaming in Charlie’s world, no kink-shaming, no doubts about his sexuality or whether or not it was right or wrong. Kate had taught Luke that sex didn’t have to be the big deal he thought it was; Charlie had made him appreciate that it was like any other pleasurable thing, something that could be enjoyed in a healthy manner, rather than an all or nothing deal. Kate had been like the first drops of rain after a lengthy drought; Charlie was like sunshine after a long and dreary winter. Both very vital and necessary to Luke’s growth, but in very different ways. 

“They’ve been good for you,” Danny commented, spurring Luke out of his thoughts. Well, maybe not exactly out of his thoughts, since Danny was just a figment of his imagination too, but still. 

“Yeah,” Luke agreed, turning back out to the water. The sun seemed to be coming up on the horizon – which made no sense, because his craggy refuge had been at the north end of the island, not the east – and he could see that faint … something … that was off in the distance more clearly. There was a beeping sound that didn’t belong out on the rocky shoreline of a small island, and the gentle murmur of familiar voices. 

He glanced back at Danny, who was standing by the water, his hands shoved in his pockets. The longer he looked at his brother the younger he seemed, and it brought to mind just how young Danny had been when he’d died. Sixteen. He’d had his whole life before him and yet he’d chosen to end it. Luke had gone there himself, more than a few times; he’d come really, really close, and even without necessarily meaning to there had been moments while out on patrol or in the midst of a skirmish where he’d thought about how easy it would be to just not fight. It wouldn’t even really be suicide, then, if he’d just let the monsters kill him. He could stop, and his family could rest easy in the knowledge that he’d gone out like a Knight of Oberon, falling in battle to an enemy. 

And then he’d snapped out of it, and fought harder, because he remembered what it had felt like to lose Danny, and he wasn’t doing that to anyone else – not even himself. 

“You don’t think it’s weird?” he asked, after a moment. “Me and Charlie and Kate?” 

“No, man.” Danny shrugged, grinning broadly. It made him look even younger, and Luke realized that had more to do with the fact that he primarily remembered Danny smiling like that when he had been younger. Danny, in the last few years of his life, hadn’t had much cause to smile. “I’m inside your head. You don’t think it’s weird, so I don’t think it’s weird.” 

“Huh. Makes sense, I guess.” Most people who found out he was in a polyamorous triad with Charlie and Kate wanted to know the details of how it worked. Don’t you get jealous? How do you make it work? Do they take turns? Most other people just wanted to make sure he knew they were doing it wrong, that it was supposed to be one man and one woman – or, grudgingly, two men together, but absolutely not three people, that was just wrong. There had only been a few people in his life – almost all of them other members of the Alliance – who simply took his relationship with Kate and Charlie as normal and none of their business. There had been some growing pains in the early stages of their relationship, just as there would have been with any relationship, but for the three of them it just worked. 

Danny snorted again, laughing quietly to himself. He faced the water, peering intently at the sun breaking across the waves. The skies were clearing and the water was growing calmer, even though that stretch of the lake was never calm. 

“You should go back,” Danny said, speaking out to the water. “They’re waiting for you to wake up.” 

“Yeah, I know.” Luke shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans. Somewhere in the distance he could hear a woman’s voice, and thought it sounded like Ardyn, low and calm and reassuring. He looked at his brother again. “I kinda wanna stay here with you, though. I miss you, Danny.” 

“Yeah, I know,” Danny echoed him. “But Luke, dude … You know I’m not real. They are. And they’re waiting for you.” 

Luke opened his mouth to reply, to say something about how it had been twenty years and he still thought about his brother every day, but when he turned to face Danny his brother was gone. The air was still and the sun was out in full force, glistening over the waters he’d known since he was a little child, the lake he’d grown up on. His body ached and his heart was sore, but the incredible exhaustion that had seeped into him seemed to be dissipating. The noises around him were shifting, changing from waves lapping up against the rocks and wind blowing through the leaves to the beeping of medical equipment and the whispering of voices around him. 

Luke gazed out at the water one last time, then opened his eyes.

[lenjaminmacbuttons]

tl;dr: I’m staying alive.

(image source)

Earlier this week, a student fell from the fourth floor of the BYU N. Eldon Tanner Building in what was later confirmed as a suicide attempt. She was taken to the emergency room in critical condition, and today it was released that she died in the hospital.

The entire campus is shaken. Long, heavy conversations on the topic have been the focus of several of my class periods. Faculty and other students are fervently reminding of and encouraging toward the many mental health and counseling options available to help us (but that, apparently, weren’t enough to save this student). For me, it’s been a jarring catalyst forcing me to examine my own experiences and relationships with suicide--the deaths of people around me, and the thoughts and ideation I’ve personally had.

I don’t know who this student was. I probably never met her--I might have passed her on campus, maybe even exchanged a “hello” or “i like your shirt!” something; I don’t know. But her death has struck me much harder and more directly than any other, even though I can think of three different people who I knew much better who have committed suicide in my life.

The first person who always comes to my mind with this topic is Katira, a girl I knew from church back in Wisconsin before we moved. Katira was sort of an enigma to me; she was several years older and thus, I thought, much cooler than me, in an intimidating way. She gave deep, insightful answers in Sunday School classes, and she had gorgeous hair and great fashion sense. Her best friend and her older sister were cool in a more friendly way, joking around and sometimes reaching out to awkward twelve-year-old me as mentors. But whenever I interacted with Katira, I honestly remember her being kind of rude. My mom found out about her death through Facebook after we moved (if I’m remembering correctly), and when she told me, I didn’t know how to react.

 A little while before that, it was Kaitlin, a classmate in my middle school orchestra class. Katilin and I both played violin, and for a few weeks we were stand partners, sitting next to each other and sharing sheet music. But we didn’t talk much, and never became friends, though she did have a bit of a special place in my mind. The day the teacher told us she’d committed suicide, he spent the rest of the class period locked alone in his office and had us all practice our music independently. For the final concert, we were playing a sweet little song titled “Lullaby”, and it was dedicated to her. My family moved away before the school year ended, though, and so I wasn’t able to participate in the performance. 

Then there was Jasmine. I didn’t really know Jasmine any better than Katira or Kaitlin, but she was much more important to me. She was a sophomore (I think) when I was a senior, and apparently she had noticed me in theater or something while we were both in the school-wide play, and one day she snuck a piece of paper into my coat pocket with a note saying she thought I was cool and wanted to get to know me better. I was (still am) really confused by it, but I thought “what’s the harm” and she sat with me and my brother at lunch once or twice, and we exchanged emails. Finally, through email, she confessed that she had wanted to get to know me because she had a crush on me.

I panicked. I felt like I barely knew her, I didn’t (still don’t!) have any idea how to deal with people liking me, I was in the just-barely-baby-steps stage of being confident in being gay, I had no clue what I should do. So I reacted in probably the worst way possible: I ghosted her. I never responded to her email. When I saw her in the hallway, I pretended I didn’t. I avoided all possible contact. I think that I was hoping that eventually she’d confront me and I’d be forced to respond directly, or that somehow I’d magically figure out the perfect thing to say, but I never got the chance. And I never would: a few months later, after the school play was over, I learned that she’d died.

Hers was the only of these deaths I was able to really cry over. To this day I still struggle with the guilt, while simultaneously feeling incredibly self-centered to think that I had any sort of really important role in her life. Regardless, I know I did the wrong thing, and I could have helped her if I’d been honest and up front about my feelings--maybe I wouldn’t have been able to save her life, but I definitely could have helped ease her suffering in the meantime. 

But this total stranger has made me more thoughtful than any of these. This student’s death has been especially personal to me because she did exactly what I thought about doing every time I was in the Tanner Building. 

My thoughts of suicide are frequent, but passive and impulsive--based not on actual desire to stop living or to hurt myself, but on the idea of drama and tragic, aesthetic poetry. The Tanner Building is classy and open and tall, with grand windows and fancy fountains and glossy floors, and with lots of easy places to jump from. I wasn’t in there often, but every time I was I’d walk along the bridges and balconies and glance down at the floor far below and think “gosh, how would it feel to fall that far? It would be so easy to just climb over this little railing. How exciting would that be? How scary and cool? Just lift your leg up and then sit up on the edge, and then swoosh--”

And then splat.

I have no idea how Katira or Kaitlin or Jasmine died, but I am intimately familiar with what this student did. I know what might have been going through her head; I have an idea of why she might have chosen to do it that way. And now I know exactly what would have happened if I had followed through on that impulse.

Sometimes when I thought about suicide, I considered how people would react when they found out. I imagined some hapless rando seeing me and screaming and calling 911. I pictured my parents solemnly sitting my siblings down at the dinner table to tell them, and the littles cry and the older kids are silent or incredulous. I composed a little note in my head for my coworkers telling them thanks for all their help and happiness. And they’re all sad, but eventually move on. And maybe that one first person who found me is traumatized for a while, but they didn’t even know me, so they move on, and everyone’s fine in the end and I’m not responsible for anyone being permanently messed up or anything.

But I was wrong. I know now how people react when this happens--they’re all affected. This is something that’s going to last a long time, throughout the entire campus, and even beyond--all the friends and family, everyone who visits, everyone who comes in contact with graduates in the workforce. The Tanner Building was closed for the rest of the day after the girl fell, and students expressed that it would be hard for them to go back to classes there now. It’d be hard to sit back in the desk where they were when they heard her hit the ground, or to walk through the doors where they saw the paramedics. One thing I often consider when I think about killing myself is doing so super publicly--gotta get that attention somehow, right? And everyone who didn’t know me will just be like “wow, that’s crazy, the world is so messed up. On to the next news article about some horrific tragedy!”

The thing I’ve been neglecting is that humans as a whole aren’t like that. They take things to heart. They find connections and they empathize. No tragedy is isolated; every sadness felt by a human being is felt by humankind. No suicide is ever a failure of the victim--it’s a failure of humankind, of every individual, every institution, every societal convention that drove someone to want nothing but a way out. And so we all feel that death, and we all feel that guilt, and we all either sink into ourselves or reach out to each other in quiet promises, “We can’t let this happen again. We have to do more to stop this.” This is true for this stranger, and it was true for Katira and it was true for Kaitlin and it was true for Jasmine. The only difference is that now I’m old enough and wise enough to understand it.

My first reaction when I heard the news of this student was bitterness, almost envy. Any dramatic spectacle I could do now would be seen as an imitation of her. Sure, I didn’t have to do it exactly the same way--I could drown in that cool little pool thing by the Museum of Art with all the statues around it, or I could hang from that big beautiful tree by the Richards Building, or I could fall from any other of the plentiful bridges and balconies around campus--but the effect would be the same. The effect on the campus, on the community, on the world, would be the same.

I can’t do that now, because she’s done it first--and I know how it would turn out. And I cannot let it happen again.

So now I’m making promises. I will not let this happen again--at least, not to me. I refuse to be responsible for another tragedy. I will not be responsible for even one more individual feeling the way I do now. In those moments where thoughts of wonderful-things-to-live-for and goals-to-still-look-forward-to fall short, I will have my memory and my pledge: I will not let this happen again.

[shewantedtobeasecretgirl]

4. Like a virgin a.k.a. zodiac signs, phone calls and the ways of assholeness

„Jeff, what do you think about this chord change?” I strum a few chords on my acoustic guitar. I’m working on a new idea but I feel somehow stuck, the parts won’t fit each other although I can already hear in my head that they belong together. I really appreciate Jeff’s songwriting skills; we basically crafted the musical part of Ten together so I often rely on his advice.

“Sounds cool…”

He looks distracted; his thoughts must be somewhere else.

“What do you think about Judy?” he asks out of the blue. Bingo…

“She’s a very nice girl.” Mike glances around from the magazine he’s reading.

“Yeah, she’s cute.” Dave agrees dropping a chewing gum into his mouth.

We’re sitting around the table of the tour bus. The drivers needed a break so we have an hour before setting off again. I feel in my legs that I should take a walk but this new maybe-song doesn’t leave me alone tickling my hands to finish it.

“So I thought I could connect the bridge with the last chorus somehow this way…” I play the same chords again.

“I like this version better” Jeff remarks still staring with glazed eyes.

“Because it was exactly the same as the previous one!” I roll my eyes impatiently.

“We should do something together with her to help her get integrated into the team.” I could have thought; he didn’t even hear what I played…

“Since when has that chick been our only topic?” I start drumming with my fingers on the guitar.

“Stone, what’s wrong with you? She’s already in the crew, even if you’re not willing to communicate with her.” Mike frowns at me.

“Should I perform a dance of joy? You know my opinion; I won’t pretend to be happy about her. But I don’t want to be a real jerk with her either so I rather avoid communication…”

“Speaking of dance, I would be interested in that performance, I’ve never seen you dancing unless we consider your awkward choreography in Stockholm a dance!” Mike grins.

“And you never will, not in this lifetime, ‘Cready. As for Stockholm, it was an emergency situation, my guitar got fucked up, should I have stand there like a puppet?” I hiss between my teeth.

“Maybe it would have been better for mankind… Seriously Stone, what’s you problem with her? Okay, maybe she’s too shy but she seems lovely and if we got to know each other better…”

“On one hand, she hasn’t shown anything from her professional skills. If she screwed something up while we’re playing a gig, her loveliness would be a screen door on a submarine. One the other hand, she’s no big deal. Karrie talked about a smart, funny girl so I expected someone cooler, not someone who dresses like a nun, behaves like a nun and can’t form complete sentences. If she was a babe at least…”

“Hey, she can form sentences!” Jeff defends her not noticing how ridiculously his objection sounds.

“Seriously, I’d bet she’s still a virgin!” I announce the verdict. And in this moment a short figure appears from the hallway of the bus.

“Hi guys!” Speak of the devil…

“Hi Judy!” my bandmates greet her in unison.

“Good morning, Judith!” I add with the most plastic smile I can flash. She raises an eyebrow but her usual expression – a special mixture of indifference and boredom – doesn’t change.

“Karrie sent me…” she starts. Does she really think that she needs an explanation to enter our bus? Unbelievable… “She needs bandage on her knee but she can’t find her own one in her bag, Jeff, could you lend yours?”

“Sure! I have to look for it at first but I’ll take it to her, just a few minutes, okay?” Jeff immediately becomes more animated. That’s interesting…  

“What’s that smell? Is someone hiding a bar here?” she sniffles grimacing. I glance at Mike for a second who stares at her and then at me as if he had seen a ghost. I try to hold back a grin and look back at him with a deadpan.

“Songwriting in progress?” her eyes wander curiously at my guitar. I should rather finish the song instead of having this chit-chat…

“No, I’m just stroking my guitar, it gets jealous if I don’t touch it regularly. Actually, we were talking right about you!” I glance around and enjoy the frightened faces of the others. Let the show begin! “We were wondering if you were a vir…”

“A Virgo!” Mike cuts in unnecessarily loudly.

“Ehhe, ehhe, eeeeehhhhe!” Dave begins to cough intensively at the same time; maybe he swallowed his chewing gum…

“Ouch!” Jeff exclaims joining the cacophony.

“Or Pisces?” Mike asks innocently.

“I choked on my own drool.” Dave shrugs smiling.

“I banged my elbow against the table.” Jeff rubs his elbow with an exaggeratedly painful hiss.

“I don’t believe in astrology…“ she glares us suspiciously. At least she’s not a freaky new age chick… “But I’d better go back to Karrie before my bad karma leads to more disasters…” she adds ironically and turns on her heels. Jeff leans back and follows her with his eyes and in the second she’s left the bus he attacks me.

“Are you a fuckin’ idiot? How could you ask such…”

“Calm down Jeffrey, just for the record, I only wanted to ask her if she was a virtuous girl!” I beam at him flashing all my teeth.

“Oh fuck, Stone, I almost got a heart attack!” Mike presses his hands onto his chest. “We should make her somehow forget this scene before she thinks that we’re psychos who happen to be taking part in a music therapy… I mean, not that we aren’t… but just for show…”

“Mike, my child, I can’t follow you. You want me to communicate with her and when I do it, everybody treats me like a public enemy…”

“We talked about throwing a room party on Sunday since we have a day-off right on Mike’s birthday. What if we extended it to a Mike’s Birthday and Welcome Judy Party? Maybe we could finally have a normal conversation with her… Of course if you don’t mind, Mikey…” Jeff ignores my reaction.

“You mean, you could have a conversation with her… Jeff, are you kidding? Mike, do you want to celebrate your birthday with an afternoon tea? Because that’s all you can expect from Miss Innocence…”

“Afternoon tea in the evening? Stone, don’t confuse me, please! Oh, sorry, sarcasm is your cup of tea…” Very funny, Mike… “I like the idea, anyway, I’m not selfish; I share my party gladly with her. And you can’t complain, because it’s my birthday. Yass, watching your annoyed face will be my best birthday present ever!”

“Stone, that seems settled to me. But you can skip it and stay pouting in your room, no one will miss you! I’m out!” Jeff shrugs and walks back to his bunk.

So here we are. An evening rosary with Sister Judith on Mike’s birthday. Excellent.

***

I’m heading to the payphone in the café of the gas station and I’m still pondering about the last conversation in the bus. The guys acted very weird; somehow things always get very weird when Stone and I engage in any form of communication. Actually, we haven’t even talked yet; he hasn’t even shown the faintest signs of interest when I tried to get to know him. And this first, quite odd attempt of his got interrupted by the not less odd reactions of the guys…

I have two calls to make; at first I dial our number in Seattle. After a few rings I hear the beeping of the answering machine, Effie probably hasn’t got home yet.

“Hi Mom, hi Ef… it’s me, Judy, and I only wanted to let you know that… ooooh, ooooh, I’m still alive…”

I must have sung too loudly since as I glance around, I see a few customers staring at me suspiciously.

“…aaaand, thank you for accepting my application for “Sing the Billboard” contest, I really appreciate your kindness!” I tweet and I hang up the phone quickly. After changing meaningful looks the customers finally turn back to their beverages so I earn back my privacy by the time I start to dial the other number.

“Curtis Management.” I immediately recognize Krisha’s friendly voice although she sounds very official on the phone.

“Hi Krisha, it’s Judy. You know, you made me promise to call you as I can…”

“Hi girl, how are you doin’?”

“I’m okay, thanks. I’m not used to night shifts so I’m a little bit tired but otherwise I’m fine.”

“Aaand, how was the gig? Did you like it?” she asks excited as if she was asking me about the newest gossips.

“It was… dynamic. I mean, how can they play with the same intensity every night despite having been on the road for months? I see the signs of stress and exhaust on them but as they step on the stage, they turn into human tornados… But hey, you didn’t warn me about Eddie’s suicide actions...”

“Well, hehe… that’s a thing we don’t like to talk about… I mean… in the beginning he was very shy but not much later he started to channel his energies into his performances… and you saw the result. Every single member of the team is worrying about his crazy, random ideas and we’ve tried to talk him out of them but he doesn’t listen to us, not even to Beth…”

“That’s weird…” And selfish, but as the newest member of the staff I keep my opinion for myself.

“And can you get along with your roadie tasks?”

“I’ve already learned how to dismount the gear, you know, destruction is always easier than construction… and Karrie showed me a few things, but she doesn’t want to spill everything on me in one day…”

“Yeah, step by step is always a good strategy. I hope… No, nothing… ”

“What? What did you want to ask?”

“Uhm… no… nothing… or… I just wanted to say that I hoped the guys treated you well… You know, being in a company that consists almost only of men is not easy for a young woman… of course they aren’t sexist jerks but they always tease each other with pranks, dirty jokes and so on… Karrie has already got used to it, but you…”

“No, they are very kind and helpful…”with certain exceptions…“… and Eric is very protective of me, he’s like the goofy dad of the team. And I’m not a nun either…”

“Yeah, Eric is great at keeping everything under control without making you feel being controlled. You can turn with literally anything to him so if you need something just let him know… Or call me, I offer my services as a secret ally…” it’s like I can see her winking at me.

“Thanks, I like secret alliances… I’m going to find out a secret handshake for us.”

“And I’m going to send you nonsense fake encoded messages when talking with the guys only to make them believe that we’re members of a powerful secret society. As curious they are, they’d spend hours decoding them…”

“I’m in, I like that! But, uhm, I have one another call to make, so…”

“Okay, okay, just one more question! How… how is Stone?” she asks very cautiously. Pff…  okay, she was right with that supernatural skill thing… why is she asking right me? Of course they are friends, but why can’t she ask him? “Judy, can you hear me?”

“Something is wrong with the line… What did you ask?”

“I asked you about Stone. How is he doing?”

“Uhm… he’s… he’s okay… I guess… the thing is that we haven’t talked much yet but as far as I can see, he’s fine…”

“Great! If he’s fine, that’s fine... uhm… I leave you alone, make that another call and take care of yourself! Bye Judy!”

“Bye Krish!”

I dial again our number and this time I have more luck.

“Camden.”

“Hi Sis, it’s me!”

“Judy!!! It’s so good to hear you! What the hell was that weird message you left a few minutes ago?” she jabbers without taking a breath.

“Nevermind… how are you? Any good news from the hospital?”

“No, nothing special, only the usual visits three times a week. But let’s not talk about me; I want to know everything from the moment you set foot in Cleveland!”

“Well, being in a rock band’s staff is not as exciting as you think…” I know that she’s dying for the details, especially about the reception of her little present but I want to tease her a bit.

“JUDITH EMILIA CAMDEN, SERIOUSLY, DON’T PISS ME OFF!!!” she screams with such volume that I almost drop the receiver.

“Okay… let’s start with the gig. It was a-ma-zing. I can’t wait being really a part of it, you know, at least as a support member of the team. They play with so much energy! I’ve never seen anything like this before. You have to see them once too, you would lose your mind!”

“Finally! I haven’t heard you being so excited about anything for months, I’m glad you started leaving the spinster lifestyle behind…”

“Spinster??? Excuse me? Well thanks, if you go on like this, I’m afraid I can’t tell you anything more…” I threaten her. “Anyway, I don’t have time for telling you all the details, we set off soon… all in all, everybody is kind, the team is full of nice people, with certain exceptions, though…”

“Certain exceptions? Is there someone there who’s not a nice person?”

“No, no… I mean… everybody is very tired, some of them might be in a bad mood but that’s totally understandable… But I haven’t even asked yet how Mom and Granny are?”

“Mom is tired, as always… the old terrorists who she calls her clients keep finding out more and more ways to drive her crazy. And Granny calls every day pestering us with uncomfortable questions, very surprisingly about your nutrition habits.”

“Haha, please reassure her that I’m going to eat a half pork for lunch. Only a half because the other half of it could escape. And tell her that between gigs I collect berries and roots with Karrie and Beth, Eddie’s girlfriend, while the boys are hunting. Okay, Mike and Stone are only decoys, their body structure makes them suitable only for that role… or rather unsuitable for any other role. But I rather shut my mouth, I should go…”

"No, you can't hang up! We haven't even talked about the most interesting things yet!" she cuts me off quickly.

"Like...?"

"Like for example whether you've used your tape recorder yet!"

"Nope... working on my ideas is sooo problematic regarding the circumstances... I miss my piano, it would be quite difficult to use only my tuning fork and ears since I don't own a guitar either so..." I whine.

"Judy!!! You're touring with a goddamn rock band, and you're only excuse is not having a guitar? Then borrow one from the guys!" I have to hold the receiver away from my ears due to her vehement reaction.

"Hm... Maybe... After all, they carry their acoustic guitars everywhere with themselves, maybe I could ask Jeff or Mike..." I hesitate.

"Or Stone..." she adds.

"Pff... Stone...'course..." I snort ironically.

"Why not? What's wrong with him? Krisha told he was a nice guy!"

"Well, nice is a relative attribute. He's a nice guy in comparison to Ivan the Terrible or Jack the Ripper."

"But you said a few seconds ago that they were kind people!"

"Kind people with certain exceptions. He's the exception. He's an asshole with me. In the beginning I wasn't sure if he even noticed my existence but now I'm convinced that he ignores me intentionally. Or when not, he acts so strangely, it's difficult to describe it... He's not openly hostile but he isn't friendly either. I can't solve him, all I know is that I don't like him. I hate him. Actually... he's an asshole with everyone, so..." While I’m spitting out my impressions about him the fingers of my right hand start playing with the phone cord.

"Then being ignored by him might be better than not..."

"I don't know. He targets everyone with his caustic remarks but he's not offensive at the same time, he doesn't really hurt them. It's like a very annoying way of care. And, what’s more, he’s insane. He talks to himself while playing the riffs during the gigs and rehearsals."

“Maybe you’re wrong, maybe he’s just…”

“I saw it with my own two eyes! Trust me, he has a screw loose.” I declare irrevocably.

"First an asshole, then insane… I'm not sure I can follow you... Let's sum it up: there's this guy..."

"Don't call him "this guy"!"

"Why? He's a guy, isn't he?" she asks back impatiently.

"Yes but you emphasized his gender as if it had been relevant but I'm not interested in him..."

"Okay, then there's this young, male specimen of..."

"Don't use the..." I cluck in.

"Shut up, Judy! So there's this young, male specimen of homo sapiens who's an asshole with you, therefore you don't like him." she explains me in the style of a kindergarten teacher.

"Exactly." I nod totally unnecessarily seeing as she can’t see me.

"But he's an asshole with everyone, only in a different way."

"Yep."

"And you want him to be an asshole with you in that different way."

"Kinda."

"And if he was an asshole with you in the desired way, then you would like him."

"Desired? What... No!!!" I protest.

"Then what?"

"I would still hate him but I wouldn't feel being discriminated at least."

"Judy?"

"Yes?"

"You should have your brain checked."

"Thank you so much! I've always known that I can count on you at solving my problems."

"I don't think that this Stone guy would cause a big problem for you. You're smart, fire back with a few witty remarks and he will realize you're not the person he wants to fuck with. Or do you want him to be the person who he wants to fuck with?" I can hear her grinning. I'm going to kill you, Ef, I swear. I feel my index finger numbing and as I glance at it, I notice that I rolled the phone cord so tightly around it that its color has turned into something between purple and dark blue.

"Could we drop this fuck topic?" I try to untangle my finger nervously.

"Sure. Did you found the condoms?" she chuckles.

"Hahaha, I knew you couldn't help asking it!" I laugh. "Yes, thanks, I found the condoms” I scream the last word in Granny’s voice “but I doubt I would need them..."

"Do you think Granny's concerns aren't realistic?"

"Hehe, not at all... and you know my famous luck, if I met a guy, I probably should rather use the Golden Rule." I confess resigned.

"I almost forgot Granny's Golden Rule! And it's so much funnier to hear it from you! Your Granny impersonation is the best of all times... Please, Granny, tell me the Golden Rule!"

"I can't, I'm in the diner of a gas station!" I hiss glancing around and counting the customers who could possibly hear me.

"Please!" she begs.

"No way!"

"Please!!!"

"Okay... but only because you asked me so nicely." I clear my throat. "Effie, my darling, if you see a man showing his organ, scream as loud as you can, run away and call the police!" I imitate Granny's voice.

"Ahahahah... that was hilarious! I miss you, you idiot!"

"I miss you too, other idiot! But now I really have to go, I send hugs and kisses for the whole family!"

"Take care of yourself, be good… or not, be bad! Verry bad. And hugs for Karrie!"

"I’ll see what I can do. Bye, Ef!”

“By, Sis.”

As I hang back the receiver I stay standing at the phone for a moment and let out a deep sigh. As I turn back I almost bump against the chest of someone tall who has probably been standing behind my back for a while, waiting for the phone.

“Sorry!” I jump back with a startled short scream. Wait… I know that sweater… As I crane my neck to see the head belonging to the person, I recognize Stone in front of me. He stares me with his usual, nonchalant facial expression dipping both hands deeply in his pockets. So the guy’s got green eyes… greener than I could ever get used to… Jesus, how long might he have stood behind me? My brain desperately analyzes the possible scenarios in a fragment of a second. Could he hear the asshole part? Or only the insane part? The fuck… the condoms… Granny… FUCK!!!

“So… I guess, Virgo, huh?” he utters slowly raising his eyebrows questioningly. Or rather quizzically? Shit, he must have definitely heard the Granny part.

“I have to go.” I mutter sidestepping and storm out of the building.

***

“Curtis Management.”

“Hi Krisha!”

“Stoney, hi, how are you?”

“Thanks, everything’s fine, I’m just calling to ask you to send me that fax with the details of our SNL appearance. I lost my copy but I don’t feel like confessing to Eric that something’s missing again.” I explain unwillingly.

“Okay, I’ll send you but you’re unbelievable, you know? If you keep being so absent-minded, one day you’ll lose your own head… Of course only if you don’t lose it at one of the gigs as an unwanted side-effect of head bobbing!” she chuckles.

“…said my so-called friend.”

“Ah, so in your interpretation friendship means to swallow my critical remarks about you and bearing your teasing the shit out of me without a word?”

“No, you see that completely wrong, ‘course you can use words! You just have to laugh at my jokes and reassure me regularly how funny I am!” I grin.

“Not that you need self-esteem boost… Anyway, you said everything’s fine so does that mean that Judy was a good choice?” I can’t believe that, this Judy mania follows me everywhere.

“I don’t know, you should ask the others.”

“Because…?”

“Because… all I know about her is that eighty percent of her vocabulary consists of saying “sorry”. Or maybe more but I would need a hearing aid to understand the remaining twenty percent.”

“Or maybe you should spare your poor Marshall. Interesting, I had meaningful conversations with her, I mean, when she came to the interview…”

“She’s… small and… annoying. She follows Karrie everywhere like a duckling and moves so quietly as if she were spying, I can’t stand that…”

“And what about her famous, excellent ears?” she keeps torturing me.

“Dunno… her hair cover them all the time.” Maybe nonsense answers make her change the topic of the conversation.

“You’re impossible. And how’s Ed voice doing? Eric mentioned he struggled more and more with it.”

Yass. I succeeded.

“I don’t know… we should figure out something… Obviously he shouldn’t sing for weeks at least but that’s not an option right now. You know, he doesn’t listen to anyone…”

“I know.” she sighs but I know her, she keeps being concerned without talking about it. “Oh, and Mike’s birthday? You won’t forget it, will you?”

“Of course we won’t, Mom.” I answer slackly. “Eric is to order a cake and we’re organizing also a birthday party for him. Although it’s probably just a question of semantics, we’re probably going to have only a few beers, maybe smoke some pot, and that’s all…”

“You don’t sound enthusiastic. Hey, it’s about Mike, your friend or what…”

“I know… it’s just…” No, I’m not gonna whining like a five-year-old again. “Nothing, I’m just tired but you’re right. Mike deserves to have a cool birthday. But, uhm, if you don’t mind, I should call Amber too…”

“Amber, of course… But I almost forgot that I have a message for Judy, could you deliver it?”

“For Judith? Okay… Let me hear it.” Since when have they been confidantes?

“Okay, but repeat it her word for word, okay? It’s very important.”

“Mkay…” I mumble although I’m not convinced about the importance of anything that relates to that chick.

“Okay, so… the Russians are already in the pantry.” she utters pausing for a second between the words.

“What?” I must have misheard it.

“The Russians are already in the pantry.”

No, I don’t have problems with my ears, but she has definitely serious problems with her brain.

“Krisha… carefully with acid, okay? If bad trips keep repeating, you should look for a new dealer…” I joke to cover how uncomfortable I feel. It is usually me who tells insider jokes all the time; I’m not used to the role of the dumb listener.

“Haha, thanks, I’m absolutely straight!” That’s I’m afraid of too. “Now go and call your sweetheart. Bye, Stoney!”

“Bye!”

I’m still trying to make out the message while I’m dialing Amber’s number.

“Amber Foster.” she answers right after the first ring.

“Hi babe, it’s me.”

“Baby! I didn’t think you’d call me today!” her voice sounds huskier than usual.

“You sound like you have a sore throat, are you okay?”

“That depends… the nastiest kind of hangover.” she giggles. “Last night we went partying with the girls and some guys invited us for a cocktail. And other guys to other cocktails… Hanging out with single girls always pays off.” she laughs.

I’m not really surprised, she’s a gutsy girl, that’s why she impressed me when we met for the first time. I mean, when a tall, long blond-haired girl with a spectacular chest structure comes over to you and declares that you want to buy a drink for her, you won’t start searching for counter-arguments… I like it better when I have to work for the targeted person, though, I have a thing for stubborn girls but I wasn’t a complete idiot either to miss such an opportunity. And partying without me is her constitutional right; I’m okay with that, I’ve done basically the same for months since we started touring.

“I had a rough day at the firm, Elaine is still trying to get a rise out of me, I needed a night out.” Elaine, again. Her Cruella de Vil-like - or at least that’s how I always imagine her -, despotic boss at the fashion company she works at. “We’re working on the spring campaign and she’s like a slave driver, every time I finish a task she finds something she doesn’t like and makes me start it again from the very beginning, it’s awful…”

I can’t help but I give up following her monologue after a few words, her voice sounds as if I was listening to a tape played at double speed, being unable to grasp any information of it. I’m not proud of that but that happens to me quite often as for our conversations… not that I’m not interested in her. I stare out through the window, when I glimpse a small figure wearing that ugly, brown potato bag dress. She sits down on the curb at the parking lot and lays something, maybe a thick notebook on her knees. She pulls something out of the leg of her right doc… I crane my neck to get a better sight but I still can’t find out what she’s holding in her hand. I can see the sunlight glinting on it; it must be something made of metal. What the hell, did she steal the cutlery?

“What do you think about that?”

Oh shit, I have no idea what she’s talking about… and how long she has been talking about that who knows what… the last thing I can remember was Elaine so it must be something about her work, maybe her new ideas… maybe the colors of this season…

“Purple?” I falter finally.

“Purple? Baby, I was telling that Mark and Jessica made up again and I asked if you thought they could finally make things clear.”

Jesus, even if I had listened to the question, I wouldn’t be able answer it. I met her friends only two or three times and I don’t really feel like an insider as for the drama events of her clique.

“Who knows, maybe.” I try to play a cliché from my collection of verbal robot pilot elements.

“I don’t know, Jessica should finally realize that she won’t find a perfect match and Mark is relatively the best for her.”

Dear Jesus, I thought it was over. In the meantime Jeff takes place next to her and they get into conversation.

“Uhm, yeah, definitely. Sorry for not being a good listener, I got distracted by two homeless people who are fighting over the content of a dustbin. And somehow I have Smoke on the Water stuck in my head so I said the first word that came to mind.”

Gosh, this is so pathetic; Jeff throws himself on the first, possibly single female person he’s met in the last months apart from the backstage oriented bar pixies.

“It’s okay, baby. I’d like to talk to you longer but all I can think of right now is sleeping, I need a nap to make this splitting headache more bearable.”

“Okay, I’ll call you later Sleeping Beauty, good night!”

“Bye, my prince!”

She could have asked me at least how I was doing.

[coppermarigolds]

"dust motes", for Velanna and Nathaniel, or "illusion" for Sam and Josh, please and thank you!

Thank you for the prompts! I plan to do both of them, but the Sam/Josh one called to me first. Also, it got kind of long. 

-

Steady Sam. That’s what they used to call her, all through grade school, even stretching into high school. Steady Samantha Giddings, always unflappable, always calm and level-headed, whether she’s harnessed up and scaling the edge of a cliff or whipping out answers on an essay test. 

Then Beth and Hannah disappear and her friend group shatters like pumice under a hammer, and through it all she just stays so freaking steady, because everyone else is falling to pieces and who’s going to keep it together if not her? 

She’s Steady Sam. She’s the Mom Friend. Even-keeled isn’t just what she does, it’s who she is.

-

A year and a few weeks later, she’s said I’m fine so many times they don’t even sound like words anymore. I’m fine. I’m fine. Yep, still fine. I don’t need to see a therapist; I’m fine. 

With every repetition her smile stretches a little wider, a little thinner. But she’s got to be steady. No one else is. Jess is still in the hospital. Mike’s missing three fingers, and when the doctor asks him if he kept the severed parts for potential reattachment, Mike laughs so long and so hard that tears carve furrows in the dirt and soot coating his face. Sam’s known him since fifth grade and she’s never seen him cry before. 

Emily’s not answering her phone. Chris and Ash are attached at the hip and muffle twin yelps at any noise louder than a whisper. Matt’s parents are already packing him off to some football camp halfway across the country, and Josh–

Josh is gone. Really gone. 

Sam tells herself she doesn’t care. 

I thought we were close, she tells the police. I thought we had a connection.

Thought. Were. Had. Past tense, all of them. 

-

“No one got hurt!” he’d said when his stupid revenge plan all came out, his voice an indignant crescendo, and for just a moment, for the first time in her life, steady vegan environmentalist pacifist Sam had wanted to hit him as hard as she possibly could.

No one got hurt? No one got hurt?

She could feel herself building up to an epic explosion about male privilege and how only someone clueless and uncaring and saturated in rape culture could put on a terrifying clown mask and voice scrambler and steal a girl’s clothes and leave her in nothing but a bath towel and chase her around a dark empty house and then whip the mask off and laugh and say it was just a joke, nobody got hurt–

Maybe that’s why she doesn’t protest when Mike beats her to it and knocks Josh clean off his feet. Maybe it’s why she barely blinks when they tie his hands behind his back. Maybe it’s why, when they march him out to the shed, at gunpoint, in the dead of winter, with some kind of supernatural man-eating monster roaming the woods, she swallows back the automatic protest with barely any effort at all.

Steady Sam would have put her foot down and insisted that cooler heads prevail. Or she would have at least accompanied Mike and Chris and Josh on their march to the shed, made sure nothing drastic happened. But Steady Sam’s gone. Josh destroyed her back in that bathtub, sure as if he’d crept up behind her and pushed her head under the water, held her down until her limbs stopped jerking and her hair floated to the surface like uprooted seaweed.

-

Three months pass, and Josh is still gone. Sam still tells herself she doesn’t care. She would have thought by now she’d be better at believing it.

For the third time in less than a year, the Washingtons bury an empty coffin. Sam trudges out to the cemetery with the rest of the procession, shivering even though it’s the beginning of summer in Los Angeles, and stares blearily at the trio of gravestones sitting side by side by side. Cold and still and silent.

Bethany Washington, July 17, 1996 - February 2, 2014

Hannah Washington, July 17, 1996 - February 2, 2014

Joshua Washington, May 25, 1994 - February 2, 2015

It’s impossible not to be swallowed up in deja vu. Josh’s coffin might be empty, but he’s still there, everywhere Sam looks. The scene is almost the same now as it was then, their group straggling along through the grave markers, alone and together all at once, bound by some unholy mixture of grief and guilt and defiance. 

She remembers Josh standing slightly apart from the rest of them at the twins’ funeral, staggering a little, like he was in a daze. Like he was sleepwalking, hands trembling, eyes bloodshot. How even when the service was over and the rest of the mourners trickled to their cars, Josh lingered by the graves, unable to let his sisters go. 

In hindsight, Sam can’t believe she didn’t see this coming. Was there ever any other way it was going to end? It’s clear now, in perfect 20/20 hindsight: Josh was gone the moment he realized his sisters weren’t coming back.

Sometimes she wishes she had never found his psychiatric records shoved in that drawer in his workshop, buried in the depths of the lodge. She couldn’t have spent more than a few minutes reading them, yet somehow the cold, clinical phrases have embedded in her subconscious memory, resurfacing at random, without warning.

Patient’s response to drugs tapered badly

Patient claimed that the drug was no longer having any effect. Reported that his mood had badly worsened.

And the whole time, she was busy being Steady Sam, listening ear prepped and ready, smile drawn on with permanent marker, pretending everything was going to be okay. 

Patient began self-medicating, taking stronger doses.

Pretending not to notice the shadows on Josh’s skin, the vacancy in his eyes, the alcohol on his breath. Pretending everything was still normal when he went to the ER one night and didn’t come back to school for over a month. 

South-Western Psychiatry: Referred on 03/14/2014 due to potential suicide risk

Patient arrived delirious/confused. Strong symptoms of major depressive disorder, related to death/disappearance of sisters.

Pretending not to see he was already just as lost as Beth and Hannah. Steady Sam, always pretending.

-

Later, it occurs to her: maybe that’s why Josh put her in his crosshairs. 

-

Sometimes, she thinks about going back to the mountain. Thinks about planting herself in the middle of the burned up, hollowed out wreckage of the Washington estate and just waiting to see what shows up. Maybe they’ll make it a new tradition: another night on the mountain, another disappearance, another empty coffin, year after year. 

But time passes, and Steady Sam comes crawling back. She won’t let herself go that far, not now. Not yet. But every now and then she goes to the cemetery instead, sits down in front of the trio of graves, eyes drifting from name to name. 

“Can I tell you guys something?” she whispers, gaze flicking to Beth’s grave. Beth, who was always reliable, always fiercely protective of secrets.  “Sometimes I’m tired of being steady.” 

Her eyes move to Hannah’s grave. “And I miss you guys. So much.”

She looks to Josh’s grave last of all. “Even you.”

Especially you. 

[wellimaginethat]

Safe Haven Chapter Two

Title: Safe Haven Chapter Two (Chapter One)

Pairing: John Wick x (female) Reader

Word Count: 2196

Author’s Note: I’m so sorry this took so long! I was having some family issues, so I had no time to write and only came on tumblr to look at cute things and do some reading. But, finally, here is chapter 2 and I have good news, which is chapter three is already in the works and should be posted within the next couple of days (maybe even tonight if nothing comes up) I’m not sure how I feel about the ending of this chapter, it kinda ends abruptly, I just knew that if I continued writing it would be 6k+ and I don’t really want any chapters over 3 or 4k, if it was a one shot that would obviously be different.

Trigger Warning(s): Heavy mentions of death, depression, leukemia, car accident, reader’s family is dead (sister’s death is why she is in the support group), suicidal feelings, drunk driving, and self harm. And this chapter includes the mention of the jerk of an ex that left reader after her sister died. So you've been warned.

Disclaimer: I do not own John Wick nor am I in any way involved with the franchise. I do not run a support group called Safe Haven, and I am not sure if there is one named Safe Haven, if so; I am not involved with them and never have been. I obviously don’t own you cause you’re your own person.

Summary: He’s joined the group, but he never imagined that he would make friends there. Now the only reason he continues to go is because of someone special.

Y/N = Your Name Y/S/N = Your Sister’s Name (the deceased sister in the fic) Y/EX/N = Your Ex Boyfriend’s Name (because I’m obviously not creative enough to come up with one) Italics = Flashbacks

Third Person POV (whole chapter)

He’d been attending the meetings for a few months now. He was still trying to figure this out, it wasn’t like how support groups seemed on TV, all sad and depressing. It was actually very light and open, everyone was kind to each other and genuinely seemed to care for one another, and they’d welcomed him immediately, despite his dark and mysterious aura and his less than willingness to share.

But eventually, he did share. And it actually made him feel a little better, being able to talk to people who knew what he was going through, who had gone through the same thing or something similar.

He even made friends with some of the other attendees, Fred (who was friends with practically everyone), Janice (which honestly shocked most, because she wasn’t one to warm up to people, probably due to people treating her like shit for most of her life) and you. He was still trying to figure you out. He’d figured out everyone else. Becky, Fred, Matthew, even Janice, and she was a helluva character.

Becky was a widow and mother of two, having lost her husband and oldest child, a son, in a car accident years ago and had started the support group to cope. Her daughter was part of the support group in the beginning, but eventually gotten married and moved away, leaving Becky all alone. She seemed happy though, like she had come to peace with her misfortune. She said that she still kept in touch with her daughter, who visited multiple times throughout the year with her husband and children, and that she had Dave.

Dave was the man who’d answered the phone when John had first called the support group, they had met his second meeting. He’d lost his mother when he was young child still, and his father passed when he was a teen. Leaving him all on his own until he met Becky through some miracle, as he called it.

Fred, on first glance, seemed like a typical sports dad. He had three kids, a boy and two girls, all in some kind of sport. His son played football and basketball, and his daughters played soccer and softball. But, if you looked deeper, talked to the guy, you’d find out that he had four kids, until his oldest took her own life. After that, everything started to spiral out of control, his wife left him and the remaining three kids. His son quit playing sports and almost dropped out of school. His daughters were too young to really know what was going on, so he thanked God for that. Eventually he started to put things back together and what was remaining of his family was working through it.

Matthew was mourning the loss of his fiancee, who died suddenly a week before they were supposed to get married. Luckily, his wife’s family still treated him like he was family and that helped him some, but he still grieved, so his mother in law suggested the support group.

And Janice, probably the toughest nut in the whole group, besides John himself. Was grieving the loss of her girlfriend. They were all each other had, and she had been stolen from her by some drunk who wouldn’t give up his keys after having too much to drink. Now, all she had was the group.

Finally, you. You’d been going to the meetings for about six months when he started attending them. Your uncle had practically forced you too, being the only family you had left he kinda kept an eye on you, which you appreciated. You’d lost your parents when you were young, leaving you and your little sister to live with your grandparents until you had graduated college and gotten a job so you could get your own apartment. It was three years after you and your sister moved into your own apartment that she got the heartbreaking news that the leukemia had come back, and she survived two years before it stole her from you. Leaving you on your own, now the city that you loved so much, the one that held so many great memories, also held so much pain and you just wanted to leave it all behind and get a fresh start.

John could understand why you’d want a fresh start, and he could understand that you were torn because even though this city held so many happy memories, it held so much pain. He was felt the same way at times, wondering if he should just pick up everything and disappear from the city, start over somewhere else.

-----

You weren’t dense, or stupid, quite the opposite actually. You could tell that John wasn’t exactly who he claimed to be. You could sense that he was hiding something. You’d seen, over the course of a few weeks, a couple of meetings, that he’d changed slightly; in both appearance and attitude. The first meeting, he was distant and somewhat cold, he’d told you all about the loss of his wife, but he didn’t mention her name or how long they’d been married, not that either of those things really mattered, but most of you would talk about your loved one and the time you’d spent together. He seemed to want to give as little detail as possible.

“So, John, would you like to share with us your loss?” Becky asked in that gentle way that reminded you of a grandmother comforting her injured grandchild.

John seemed to be frozen for a moment, not out of being put on the spot or nervousness about speaking in front of the group (like you had been the first time you spoke). It seemed like he was contemplating whether this had been a good idea, coming to the group. Like he was almost regretting his decision in that moment. But, then he glanced around and took a deep breath, running a hand over his face before staring down at the floor.

“My wife…” He started out lowly. “She was sick, for a long time, before we got together. She knew she would end up...passing...but I...I actually had hope that she’d overcome it. That we’d grow old together...that I’d go first.” The last part was so quiet you were certain that most of the group hadn’t heard him.

Now, it was different. He had slowly began to open up more to the group, slowly became more comfortable. You’d also noticed he didn’t wear as much black. It was like he was just now coming out of his mourning period, slowly but surely. In the last few weeks, you’d learned more about him. His wife’s name was Helen, they’d been married for six years before she passed away, and it had been two years since then. You found out that before she died, she had arranged for a puppy to be delivered to him, and that it was delivered to him a few days after her funeral. Only for the puppy to suddenly die, he didn’t tell you how. And that he’d gotten himself a new dog, adopted it from a shelter.

Slowly, you’d started to befriend John. It started with you running into him and spilling a cup of water all over him.

You had to walked to the meeting again because your car was an unreliable piece of junk, and you were thirsty as hell. You just managed to get there five minutes before the meeting was going to start, ‘better the being late’ you thought to yourself as you walked over to get a cup of water.

As you walked you took notice of who was there and who wasn’t, everyone there had been there before, the group hardly ever got new members. John was the newest member, and before him you held the title of ‘newest member’ and by that time you’d been coming to the meetings for a good six months.

You took your attention off the group as you walked to the water cooler and took one of the small paper cups there. You didn’t know if it was because you were so consumed in your own thoughts, or if he was just a super sneaky guy, but you didn’t here him come up behind you to wait to get a cup of water and you end up running right into him, managing to spill the water on him and yourself.

“I’m so sorry!” You exclaimed immediately, not noticing all the eyes on you. “I didn’t hear you come up behind me and I am so sorry!” You spoke quickly, starting to ramble out an even longer apology.

“It’s fine, really.” John assured you as he began to dab some of the water off his shirt. “You don’t need to be sorry.”

The rest of the night you couldn’t even look at him because it made you want to apologize for spilling water on him, and you tried to avoid the eyes of the other members because you were embarrassed by your clumsiness.

It was after the meeting that he caught up with you and you’d tried to apologize again, only for him to again tell you it was fine and say something about him being ‘too quiet’. When he saw that you didn’t have a ride home, he offered to give you one, but you turned him down saying you didn’t mind walking, when in reality you were still too embarrassed from earlier.

You didn’t know when it happened, but soon the two of you were pretty good friends. You two had an odd friendship, it started suddenly and it almost felt like you’d known each other for longer than four months.

You’d take turns going over to each other’s place to have dinner, you’d watch movies and talk about random stuff. And slowly, you found a reason to stay in New York.

Going to the meetings had been helping you, you knew that, you could feel it. But befriending John had helped you as well, it brought you back to life in a way, you’d even started hanging out with some friends you’d been neglecting since your sister’s death.

“Earth to Y/N.” John waved his hand in front of your face. “Where’d you go? I lost you for a second.”

“Sorry, I was just thinking about something.” You mumbled, you’d actually been thinking about your ex, who’d recently tried coming back into your life. Saying that ‘now you’ve had time to grieve, we can start over’. You honestly hadn’t noticed how lonely your life had become until after you’d actually started doing things again, things instead of go to work. It’s like you had been on autopilot since Y/S/N’s death. You would wake up, go to work, go home. You were sure you’d eat sometime throughout the day, but you honestly couldn’t remember exact events during that time. It was after you started hanging out with John, and your old friends, especially Y/EX/N, that you had realized that you had actually been in a depression. How you didn’t noticed it sooner was beyond you.

“You wanna talk about it?” John asked you, pulling you further from your thoughts.

You let out a slow sigh as you thought if you wanted to tell him, it seemed silly to you that you were even thinking about going back to your ex, he had left you in your time of need, after all. “My ex boyfriend called me yesterday.” He waited for you to continue and after a moment you did. “He wants to get back together.”

“Okay...I’m not sure I’m following.” John wasn’t about to flat out say that if he was an ex there was probably a good reason for it.

“I’m not sure how I should feel about it, because we had been together for a long time, almost three years...but he also left me when I needed him most.” John raised a brow, but he was certain he already knew when this jerk had left you. “Right after I buried my sister, he waited until after the funeral, and told me he did so because he didn’t want to seem insensitive.”

John snorted and went back to stirring whatever food he was making tonight, you’d been surprised when you found out that not only could he cook, but he could actually cook really well. “Doesn’t seem like the kind of person going back to in my opinion.”

You sighed. “I know...but when I heard him...it was like he actually regretted leaving me.” You were honestly torn, and you hadn’t felt this down or confused in a while. It should have been a sign right then that your ex wasn’t worth it, already dampening your finally improved mood.

John gave you a serious look, which wasn’t much different from how he usually looked because he just had a seriousness about him. “If you honestly feel like he regrets what he did, and you want to give him a second chance, then you should.”

[iris-sistibly]

4R’s: Encantadia Season 2 (March 31, 2017 week-ender episode review)

Episode 185

Recap:

A suicidal battle

It was a battle between queens, and in this battle, Pirena swore she’ll be the last woman standing. It was a close fight, but Avria’s ability to control the mind gave her the edge against Pirena and the latter would have ended her own life if Alena and Hitano didn’t come just in time to rescue Pirena. Avria escaped, Pirena tried to follow her but her ivictus failed because of her deep cuts, Alena and Hitano immediately brought her back to Lireo where the babaylans tended to her wounds. Pirena was safe but was still unconscious. Now it was time to deal with another predicament, Alena was surprised to see the corpses of Lira, Mira, Gilas and Wahid back in the palace. Danaya told her what the retres told Muyak, up until now, they still have no answer to this mystery.

Luna ran as fast as she could but got surrounded by Etherians, luckily for her, Rama Ybrahim and an army of Sapirians came and saved her, Ybrahim told her to escape which Luna did. Ybrahim and his troop also made it to Etheria where they encountered a large army of Etherian soldiers. Ybrahim fought like there was no tomorrow, but the enemies just kept coming, Ybrahim ordered Wantuk to lead the wounded to safety, Mashna (general) Mayca ordered her younger sister Kaizan to help Wantuk. The rest of them went on with the battle, it seemed like an endless fight but it did not matter to Ybrahim, he did not even fear for his own life when he was taken down and was almost killed if it weren’t for Amarro who saved him. The Rama of Sapiro recognized who he was and asked if Amarro was one of the four generals who attacked Cassiopeia’s island and killed Lira and her friends, Amarro admitted he was one of the four but he never hurt any of the children, Ybrahim asked who killed his daughter but Amarro chose to keep silent and left.

Mashna Mayca found the exhausted Ybrahim and went back to their camp. Ybrahim has been keeping a close eye in Etheria, Mashna Mayca was getting worried that her Rama seemed to be killing himself in this war. Ybrahim had no one else to live for, and expressed that no matter what happens to him, it will be fine, after all, he’s already lost the woman he truly loves and their only daughter, there is nothing left for him. No more reason to live.

Captured

Thanks to Rama (king) Ybrahim, Luna was able to escape, but fate seems to be very cruel towards her as well, she came across Asval and Andora who were stunned to find out that Luna was still alive. Outnumbered and defenseless, Luna has accepted her fate in the hands of Asval, the young guardian prayed to Emre that Asval may suffer a painful death, just like how her friends died, fortunately, a group of Etherians under Lila Sari’s command came and stopped Asval, for they were going to bring Luna to Lila Sari, Andora suspected something and knew that the other Mashna (general) has a lot of explaining to do.

Greetings to an old foe!

A wounded Avria escaped from a lethal match with the Hathorian Hara Pirena, Ether appeared whom Avria initially suspected to be Pirena, Ether proved she was the real goddess when she morphed into her godly form—a giant serpent. Avria was relieved that it was the real bathaluman (goddess) and asked for her help. Ether told her to use the three gems in her hands to heal her wounds, Avria was amazed at how powerful these gems were, now that she has finally healed herself, it was also time to free an enemy the diwatas feared for the longest time—Hagorn. Apparently, Avria knew Hagorn never died during the war between the diwatas and Sapirians against the Hathors, and Hagorn is being held in a secret dungeon in Lireo and is being carefully guarded. Pirena did this in hopes that Hagorn will realize his mistakes and repent, Avria used the three gems to find Hagorn to free him from his prison. Hagorn meanwhile was puzzled when a thick black smoke appeared and hovered above him but was delighted when this smoke broke his chains and finally freeing himself after a very long time.

Rave/s:

❤ YAAAAS QUEENS! That Hara vs Hara fight scene is definitely to DIE for! Ugh! Actually it would be more sensible if it’s going to be Pirena who’s gonna kill Avria, and Ybrahim is going to give Asval a very slow and painful death in the final battle, and seems like Pirena and Ybrahim are going through the same route of committing suicide, and I’m glad that the network confirmed that Raquim and Mine-a are coming back to the show. Ybrahim really needs a father-figure, someone whom he can lean on right now and if Armeo won’t be around then let Raquim guide him through, the same way how the original Raquim guided and became Ybrahim’s mentor when he was about to give up. I think this will be like recreating that scene, as for Mine-a, well our sang’gres need her more than ever now and come to think of it, I also would like to see a Mine-a vs Avria duel. Will definitely look forward to it.

💪 Oh dear Ybrahim, he lost all of his desire to live when he lost his unica hija (with his one true love Amihan). I feel so bad for him, he looks so wasted. At least Pirena still has her sisters, but Ybrahim has no one. I just really pray to all five ancient deities of Encantadia that Raquim will show up really soon, or Armeo will be much better.

💎 All in all, I am just so freakin’ relieved that there are no scenes for crappy characters tonight (side glares at Ariana)–🙊 oops! Okay, okay, last na ‘to mga bes, I’m just really, really angry that Lira and Mira died unjustly and it is only Luna who is so eager to make it up to their friends who died, I’ll be more patient next week…or maybe not! Hahahahaha! *winks! *

💀 WELCOME BACK DADDEH! I missed using this emoji for Haggy. Hahaha! I have never been so excited for a villain’s grand come back before, this is clearly a huge twist to the show, I just hope Hagorn finds out that Asval was the one who killed Rama-Durye Arvak and Mira (I know deep inside he still cares for Mira, after all he was very fond of her before) and join forces with the diwatas and maybe make the ultimate sacrifice to save either Pirena or Luna or maybe both. Rant/s:

😤 AMARRO IS THE BIGGEST FUCKIN’ BITCH IN THIS ARC EVER! I can’t stand his hypocrisy! He is so done with Avria and left the troop, he helped Ybrahim and I was hoping that at least he’ll tell Ybrahim that it was Asval who shot his daughter to death. How can he have the guts to act like an all around good guy who has finally “seen the light” but is so afraid and is quite protective towards his former colleagues, come on bruh, you can make it up by spreading information and everything he knows about Etheria, Avria and all other things about those bitches. He could convince Ybrahim to become allies with Lireo again and they could form a plan on how to outsmart the Etherians.

🤔 AKALA KO BA JOINED FORCES ANG SAPIRO AND HATHORIA AGAINST ETHERIA?! Why is Ybrahim and Pirena acting on their own? BROTP where you at? Would have been cooler if these two team up and and fight the vidaljes.

Best performer/s for this episode: Glaiza de Castro 🔥 Eula Valdes 🥀

Rating: 9 out of 10💎s (always for the cast)

Week-ender thoughts:

This has been a truly, truly painful week. Lots of heartaches, angsts and disappointments. I’m still hoping for Lira and Mira to return to Encantadia 😭 I hope when Emre gets back he will be more fair this time and grant permission for Lira and Mira to return, after all they are the chosen keepers and future queens of Encantadia, what’s the sense of choosing a new set of gem keepers and saviors of Encantadia if the sang’gres and Ybrahim are going to do all the hard work in the end? Wouldn’t it be more exciting if these guardians team up and will be the one who will destroy Etheria’s most powerful tool (the golden hour glass), or maybe they could at least figure out a way to help Cassiopeia defeat Ether and Cassy will become a goddess in the end? Or help Emre with the upcoming war of the gods? (Crossing my fingers for that shit, it will be awesome!)

So…there’s going to be another character death among the new keepers, if I will be given a chance to choose I would like to have Ariana killed. She’s the most useless among the seven and Arra has the weakest performance of the bunch, heck Gilas is more deserving to be a guardian than Ariana and I am still wondering why Cassiopeia and the gems did not choose him. I may sound really mean and some of you might question me why am I so harsh towards Ariana these days—y’all know my first reason why. That aside, the poor characterization, the badly-written storyline for her character, plus Arra’s unconvincing performance makes me wish that they should have just scrapped this whole sarkosi thing. I said I will give her a chance, yes I am giving her a chance, always will, even if it seems hopeless, and I am completely aware that I do sound like a fuckin’ hypocrite like Amarro rn, but lemme clear this up first and foremost, EVERYTHING I BLABBED ABOUT ARRA AND ARIANA ARE ONLY BASED ON THE SET OF EPISODES THIS WEEK, it will change from time to time depending on Arra’s performance and how her story will turn out. BUT IF I AM GIVEN THE CHANCE, I’m telling you guys, I want Ariana killed in this story, Amihan’s ivtre does not deserve a pathetic character and it’s a BIG insult for Kylie to be replaced by such a crappy actress, DMR should really slow down at casting newbies in the show, especially when they have really big shoes to fill in and they have very limited time, come on, there are so many other actresses who can play the role better than Arra, yet they are given such crappy projects. It may have worked on Gabbi, Ruru, Sanya, Kate and Mikee but it really took a long time for me to be convinced that these actors deserved the role (for GabRu and Mikee) and considering the span of time left for the show, there is very little room for improvements and Arra is not utilizing her time well. Lira’s death and Ariana not doing anything—holy Emre that scene just hit my saturation point really hard that I couldn’t find any reason to defend Ariana’s character this time, can you blame me though? Her story sucks! She would have redeemed her character if she just gave the audience an acceptable performance to say the least, idk how can Direk Mark stand Arra’s performance and the huge plot hole in her story. I am hoping that someday I’ll eat every word I said here in this lengthy post.

Lastly, I am soooo excited of what’s gonna happen next week, say hello to Ian de Leon! It’s been so long since I last saw him, and I am very confident that he’s gonna do awesome. Hello? He’s Nora Aunor’s son, a veteran actor and an award-winning one, come to think of it, team villain has a good set of splendid actors while the good side only has a handful. Unfair! Oh and yes, yes, Zoren Legaspi will be re-joining the show! Yes, he is COMING BACK since he was a part of the original trilogy, he played Bagwis, he was the one who helped Danaya free Mercurio and find that potion thingy that revived Lira, aaaaand the same Mulawin who helped Lira and Danaya go back to Encantadia, I wonder what will be his role this time? Definitely going to watch out for DongYan as well! All in all I’m just so glad that they finally decided to let some real actors join the cast, I’ve had enough seeing shitty performances these past few weeks.

Overall best performers for this week: Glaiza de Castro 🔥 Ruru Madrid 🗡

Overall rating: 10 out of 10 💎s

Photo credits: From Twitter: @GMAEncantadia (Encantadia 2016-2017 official twitter acct) @gmanetwork (GMA Network); official website: gmanetwork.com @GMADrama (GMA Drama)

From Facebook: Encantadia 2016; official website: encantadia.com.ph

Video credits: GMA Network via YouTube & dailymotion

[whatdoyouthinkmyjobis]

Hunters on the Hellmouth

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AN: Inspired by events in BTVS 7.08 “Sleeper.” 

Chapter 24: Desperate Prayers

Shouting roused Willow with a start. In the distance, people ran toward her where she’d fallen asleep under Tara’s tree. But the tree was on fire, the ground beneath her charred. It wasn’t a dream.

I was falling. I was falling.

Willow ran from the fiery spot, clutching her heart as if begging it not to betray her. She needed fresh air and distance. Between her running and wracking sobs, a cough caught in her throat. Overwhelmed with emotion, she knew she couldn’t make it home safely in her current condition. Hell, she could barely see through the tears. She needed a place to hide while she calmed down.

Nearby, sat a simple, quiet, non-denominational chapel. Willow dashed inside and found a couple pawing at each other in the back pew.

“I need to speak with God!” she cried, working her agony to her advantage.

They dashed out, tripping over one another as they competed for the door.

Exhausted, she crawled onto one of the pews, prayers pouring out of her. Hecate, protect me. Hecate, protect me. Hecate, protect me.

By the time the Impala squealed into Buffy’s driveway, the vampires were long gone. The house was dark, the windows shattered. Sam and Dean bolted through the door and found the inside of the house in equal shambles. Dawn, bloodied and sniffling, sat surrounded by herbs, spellbooks, and salt.

The girl was nearly catatonic. While they were in the middle of cleaning her cuts, she muttered, “Buffy’s dead.”

Heart pounding, Dean left Sam to sort out the mom’s ghost details. It couldn’t be true. It couldn’t. Spirits lied all the time. But Dean had to find Buffy before his heart would calm down.

It had taken Dean the better part of two hours to search two of Sunnydale’s graveyards, and still no sign of Buffy. They knew their lives were short, the end brutal, but he didn’t want tonight to be that inevitable night. His heart thumped wildly as he crept into crypts and bent down under bushes, hoping to find nothing, but fearing her drained body. Or worse.

No, Buffy was strong, a warrior by birthright. His Supergirly. A simple vampire couldn’t bring her down, but the thought nagged at him that whatever had come for Dawn hadn’t been a simple vampire either. Whatever it was, Dean had seen over and over that it only took one bad night, one distraction, one second delay for a monster to get the upper hand.

He’d lost Jo because of inches.

Not tonight. Please, not tonight.

Though the purple rings under Dawn’s eyes betrayed her tiredness, she refused to go to bed, preferring to sit on the stairs choking a container of salt. After Dean bolted from the house in search of Buffy, Dawn shared little else about her mother’s ghost.

Sam swept up what he hoped was all of the shards of glass, metal and plastic on the floor. The bloody footprints would require scrubbing.   

Suddenly, Willow, looking disheveled and scared, burst through the front door. She and Dawn stared at each other a split second before falling into a sobbing embrace.

“I saw Mom!”

“No, honey. It wasn’t your mom.”

“That’s what Dean said, but it was! It was her!”

Willow cradled the teen's face in her hands. “Dawnie, Tara visited me at the school, only it wasn’t Tara. It was something dressing up like her and saying terrible things. It must be able to look like peo--”

“She said Buffy was dead!” Dawn cried, her shoulders beginning to shake.

“No, no, no,” Willow repeated, squeezing Dawn tight. “It lied.”

“Sh-she wouldn’t answer,” Dawn sobbed into Willow’s shoulder. “I called and--”

“Look at me, Dawnie!” Willow’s bottom lip trembled as tears fell from her eyes. “This thing wasn’t your mom, okay? It’s bad news wrapped in a friendly package, like a, uh, Trojan horse or creepy ice cream man.”

“Do-do you think Buffy’s alive?”

“I know it,” Willow said firmly. “You’re all cut up.”

Dawn hung her head, the tiredness taking over. “Long story.”

“How about you get cleaned up and try to sleep just a little? I can come up in a bit with some nice sleepy tea if you want.”

“The microwave exploded,” Dawn muttered.

“Oh, well, I’ll see if we have a kettle. I mean, Giles spent a lot of time here, so we’re bound to.” Willow helped Dawn to her feet and gently led her up the stairs.

When Willow returned alone a few minutes later, Sam asked, “What did it say?”

Her tired eyes widened a bit when he spoke, as if he were a shade spookier than visits from the dead and a supernaturally wrecked house. “You know, the usual big bad stuff. Blood and pain and ‘oh puny humans’ only this threat came with a bonus urge toward suicide.”

“At least Dawn didn’t have that. Not that telling her her sister’s dead is much better,” Sam said darkly.

“I thought you guys were out of town.”

“We decided to come back early. We were only about an hour out when Dawn called. Dean’s out looking for Buffy now. Been gone a few hours.”

“So Dean’s gone too? It’s just you and me?”

“And Dawn.”

Willow slowly walked around the house surveying the shattered lamps and blown out windows. She toed a bloody footprint and said, “I feel like Tara’s been violated somehow, Joyce too, by this thing using their images, their memories. I want to be right by Buffy’s side when we bring it down. Get in my blows for Tara.”

“I know the feeling,” Sam said, picking up some stray books.

“We need to talk,” she declared. “It seems to be explodey time, so I’d rather deal with this than keep dancing around it.”

“We’re dancing? I didn’t know there was dancing.”

“You know how in those old Westerns, the good guys wear white hats and the bad guys wear the cooler black hats? It makes everything so simple, but I know things aren’t that simple. Buffy’s a white hat for sure, but me? I’d always thought I was a white hat, but I know what this boiling hate in my stomach can do. Call me smudged. Question is, which hat are you wearing, Sam?”

From the stiffness in her shoulders and steel in her eye, Sam knew his next words would determine if Willow, the witch who'd skinned a man in seconds, would be blasting him through a window or not. “I’m not entirely sure what you’re asking me, Willow. I thought it was pretty obvious Dean and I fight evil. It’s what we do.”

“It’s what Dean does, but there’s something about you, Sam, something buried deep inside,” she said in a strong, even voice. “I saw it, you know, when that pathways spell went pear-shaped. A swirling darkness weaving through your insides. The only other place I saw that was in Spike, a vampire with both a demon and a soul. After the night I’ve had, the threats from unexpected places, I’m way too angry to pretend you’re not a potential threat. Tell me what’s inside you.”

For years, Sam and Dean had eschewed nearly all friendships for fear of sucking people into their crazy world. Though more initiated than most, Willow was no different. She didn’t need to know about the war between Heaven and Hell they’d been sucked into, the Boy King and the Sword of Michael.

Sam sat on the coffee table and ran his fingers through his hair. "You remember me telling you about how my mom died, right?"

"She was trying to save you, and a demon killed her."

"Long version is, she didn't save me. The demon was feeding me blood, demon blood."

The disgust softened Willow’s face enough that Sam felt he may get to keep wearing his skin.

"That sounds like some sort of ritual."

"I don't know," he lied. "Who knows why demons do what they do?"

"But that was decades ago. Why can I still see it in you?"

"I don't exactly have soul laundering instructions for demon stains. It’s not a voice in my head or some crazy urge to do bad things. It’s just a part of me like a scar or a badly set bone. It sits on my heart, and some days I feel like a complete waste, like I’m irredeemable. So I try to be as kind as I can, save as many people as I can, be good to myself. You want to know if I have evil in me? Yeah, I do, but I don't think my stain is bigger than what many people inflict on themselves."

Willow sat beside him, squeezing her fingers and staring at her feet. “Maybe we could get better hats? Big white ten-gallon things, then people will say, ‘By golly, there’s a couple a swell fellas!’ only I’m not a fella, but we’d be easier to spot as Team Good Guy.”

“Or people will think we’re from Texas.”

“God, no.”

Xander poured himself a third cup of coffee. He’d been up late finishing a proposal he would be pitching in three hours. He could have gotten a semi-decent amount of sleep if Buffy hadn’t come by at four thirty looking for Spike. “Sure you don’t want another cup, Buff? I’m putting on another pot anyway.”

“Nah, I’m still kinda wound up after the fight. When did you become Mr. Caffeine IV?”

“Early this morning. Now back to the vampire. I mean, he’s a vampire. Why would you trust anything that comes out of his fangy mouth?

“He described Spike to me. Why would he make up being sired by him?”

“To mess with you?”

She chewed on her bottom lip, mulling over the possibility. “No, he wasn’t messing with me. Something is wrong. Spike wouldn’t just start feeding again.”

“Maybe the chip is broken, and if so, can we uninvite him from my place?”

“It’s more than the chip. You didn’t see him the night -- the night he told me about his soul.” She rubbed her cross between her fingers and her voice fell to a hush. “He was weeping, trying to scratch his soul out. He remembers every person he’s killed. The weight of the guilt nearly drove him insane. He’s trying so hard to be good. If he bit someone, we have to find out why.”

“Buff, don’t you think you’re being too optimistic here? Wouldn’t Sherlock Holmes say that the simplest solution is right? The simplest answer is that the chip is broken, and Spike’s feeding. You wouldn’t want to argue with history’s greatest detective would you?”

Buffy frowned at him. “I don’t think any of that is right.”

Before he could continue, the phone rang.

“Xander? Dean. You seen Buffy?” Dean sounded winded and strained, not like Dean at all.

“Yeah, buddy. She’s here with me.”

“Oh thank God! Is she okay?”

“Perfect Buffster cocktail of shaken but not stirred.”

“I’ll be right there. Don’t let her leave.” Before he could respond, Dean had hung up.

“What was that?” Buffy asked.

“Your boyfriend is spooked,” he replied.

“What happened?”

“True to character, Dean wasn’t much with the sharing. He’s coming over to pick you up though.”

“He’s supposed to be in Arizona,” she said.

“Ah, that’s why you’re at my place in the middle of the night.”

She ignored his sting. “I need you to call me when Spike gets back, and call me if he leaves again.”

“Can’t, Buffy. I’ve got a big non-monster monster of a project due today. Going to be at the office well past sunset.”

“How about Anya?”

Heat rushed to Xander’s face. “An-Anya? WhywouldAnyaknow? I mean, I’d have to invite her over.”

Casting her eyes toward his closed bedroom door, Buffy gave him a pitying smile. “I know about your secret rebound, Xander. I’m not asking her to commit, just surveil.”

A few minutes after they’d settled on their plan, there was an urgent pounding on the door. Once Xander opened it, Dean, dirty and exhausted, beelined to Buffy. He wrapped her in a bear hug, her feet dangling a few inches off the floor, and buried his face in her neck, muttering urgently to her.

“Babe, I’m fine. It was just one vampire. What happened to you? Why are you even here?”

“Dawn called. Somethin’ attacked her in your house.”

“Is she okay?”

“Cuts and bruises. Mostly, she’s scared out of her fucking mind. She said -- she said she saw your mom.”

Buffy grabbed her jacket. “Let’s go.”

In the hallway, Buffy patted her pockets. “Damn! I must have lost my phone when I was fighting that vamp.”

“I’ll pick up another one.”

“I feel horrible! Dawn needed me, and I wasn’t ...” Her voice trailed off.

Coming up the sidewalk just ahead of the sunrise, was Spike. With this shoulders hunched, hands jammed in his pockets, eyes on the ground, he looked alone. Vulnerable. Nothing like a vampire on a rampage.

“This can’t be good, two of you here at this time,” Spike said.

“Everything’s fine.” Her words were too rushed, too loud. He didn’t appear to have any blood on him, though his black clothes made it difficult to tell. His boots were dirty, but walking in the mud wasn’t the same as eating people.

“Alright then.” Spike’s eyes darted between her, Dean, and spots on the wall. Had he always avoided eye contact like this? “You bag any baddies tonight?”

“One. Old classmate. Jason Chen.”

“You knew him? Must’ve been ‘ard.”

“Yeah.”

Dean squeezed her hand gently, whispering in her ear, “We need to get back.”

“Nice seeing you!” Spike called after them as the entrance door thudded behind them.

Dean hadn’t even parked before Buffy bolted into the house, crying out for her sister. Dean shuffled over to Sam sitting on the couch with his head in his hands. “Looks like shit in here. That’s an improvement, I guess.”

“Watch where you sit. I’m not sure I got all the glass.”

“We thinking poltergeist?”

“No.”

“I mean, I know Buffy’s mom died of natural caus--”

“It’s the boss fight. ‘It is watching.’”

“That crap D’Hoffryn was pushin’?”

“It came to Willow at the college in the shape of Tara. Tried to get her to kill herself. Looks like it can take the shape of the dead. Dawn’s having a hard time accepting it wasn’t her mom.”

“Poor kid.”

“How’s Buffy?”

“Something spooked her, but she ain’t sayin’ what. Found her having coffee at Xander’s.”

Sam poked at the bits of plaster, paper and leaves on the coffee table. “Dean, we’ve got a problem.”

“Which one?”

“Me. Remember when Willow did that spell last month that made her eyes all blue and she could see in people? She could see in me. She could see the darkness. The demon blood. She asked me if I was really a good person.”

“Don’t pay any attention to her, Sammy. Your actions speak for themselves,” he said firmly.

Buffy came down the stairs, wringing her fingers like she was interrogating them for answers. Dark circles had taken up residence under her dull eyes.

“Feel any better?” Dean asked doubtfully.

“Not at all. I’m going to call the school, tell them Dawn had an accident. I have to go to work in a few hours, and Will has class. Could one --”

“Sure,” said Sam. “We have today off anyway.”

“And someone has to fix your windows,” added Dean, pointing at the empty space in the front of the house.

Buffy stopped twisting her hands, but she still looked like she was waiting for something to jump out at her. “Dean, babe, I need to tell you something.”

“That’s my cue to make coffee,” said Sam.

When they were alone, Buffy sat on the couch, her body stiff, knuckles white, and stared at a bloody spot on the floor.

“Dawn was barefoot,” Dean explained.

Buffy nodded.

“Thought you had something to say.”

“Promise me you won’t get mad,” she said quietly. “Promise me you’ll work with me on this instead of handling it yourself. With everything going on right now, I need to know you’re in my corner.”

Dean hated being in the dark. Hated fighting blind. But how out of sync could they be? “I promise.”

“I killed a vampire last night who said he’d been sired by Spike.”

Dean’s mind flooded with images of Dawn drained and pale at Spike’s feet, Buffy transformed by his side. He counted his breath to stay calm, hide the rage and fear she’d asked him to suppress. His heart steadied into a strong rhythm: Kill Spike. Kill Spike. Kill Spike.

“I know what you’re thinking right now, but I need to know for sure first. Anya is going to call me when Spike leaves Xander’s. I want to follow him tonight. He’s put himself through too much trying to be good to go off the rails now.”

Taking a breath to push his rage down, Dean asked, “So you don’t think he’s feeding?”

“If he is, I -- I think something else is a play here. There’s something we’re not seeing.”

“And if he’s back to thrill kills?”

“Then I’ll do my job.”

By the time Buffy arrived at work, there was already a student waiting for her. She chatted with the girl, agreeing boys are both the worst and the best at the same time before sending her back to study hall. She offered to make copies for the secretary in order to keep from dozing off. When a tall, pimply junior wanted to discuss his anxiety over spending the upcoming Christmas holiday with all of his extended family, Buffy had to resort to poking her finger with a pin to stay alert.

Her fingertips couldn’t take anymore, so she decided to move. Under the guise of milling about with students, she grabbed her weapons-heavy purse and headed for the basement. The basement had nearly driven Spike insane. Something other than ghosts had to be down there.

She moved cautiously in the dim light, wondering whose visage the new threat would use if it spoke to her. Hearing a scrape and footsteps around the corner, Buffy pulled out a silver dagger and flattened herself against the wall. Rounding the corner wasn’t a ghost or a vampire or any other beast the Hellmouth usually threw at her.

It’s was Principal Wood, handsome in his suit, yet looking tired and carrying a shovel. He almost walked past her dark hiding spot, but noticed her at the last minute and jumped.

“Miss Summers! Do you make a habit of hiding in the dark?”

“When my head is pounding. I thought maybe a break in the dark, quiet basement would help,” she smile, hoping to assuage his fears. “Do you make a habit of...shovels?”

“Oh, maintenance left this outside. Thought I’d put it away,” he said, leaning it against the wall and shoving his hands in his pockets. “If you need a break from migraine-inducing teenagers, it’s almost lunch. How about we take our chicken nuggets and pudding cups to my office? I’ve been meaning to speak with you about a few things.”

Upstairs, Principal Wood closed his blinds. “Does this help?”

“Huh? Oh! Yes, big heaping piles of help. Thank you.”

“Guess you were up all night.”

“How did you--”

“I saw on the absence list that Dawn was in some sort of accident? Is she okay?”

“Oh, yeah. A few cuts and bruises, but mostly pride. See, she was dancing on the couch doing her best ‘Bye, Bye, Bye’ and fell through the glass coffee table. Her middle name isn’t Grace...or Balance.”

“Wow, that does sound...embarrassing,” he said, trying to hold back a grin.

Buffy poured herself a cup of coffee. She held it beneath her face while it cooled, letting the steam tickle her nose, hoping the mere smell would wake her up. After telling Dean about their newest problem, he’d taken her upstairs, held her, and stroked her hair until she’d fallen asleep. It had only been a brief nap, but one she desperately needed. Likewise, being held. Something about Dean always calmed her, as if his proximity meant everything would be okay.

“I’ve been meaning to ask you, Buffy, are you dating Mr. Winchester?”

“What?”

Principal Wood looked calm but interested. “Sam Winchester, the librarian. I’ve notice you two have lunch together most days. I see you arrive together sometimes and leave together. It’s school policy that if two staff members are dating--”

“What? Oh, no, God no. Sam and I aren’t together.” The idea sent a smile to her face, a smile that quickly faded upon noticing a brownish-red stain on Wood’s cuff. The principal who spent his day being blasted by Hellmouth vibes, who she’d just caught in the basement with a shovel, had blood on his sleeve.

Wood burst into a wide grin. “Glad I don’t have to do any paperwork then. You know the winter formal is on Saturday, and I’m short on volunteers. Do you think that maybe--?”

She quickly put down her coffee and smiled nervously. “Considering the recent rise in dance-related injuries, I think I’ll stay safe at home. In fact, I should be headed there now. Migraines, you know?”

Like he did every night, Spike stood in the foyer of Xander’s building spinning his lighter between his fingers and waiting for the sun to finish setting. A middle aged woman with a bug-eyed chihuahua walked in. Stopping to check her mailbox, she smiled at Spike nervously. “Are you waiting for someone, dear?”

“Yeah, they’ll be ‘round soon. Thanks.”

He ignored her as she scurried to her apartment. Living in a converted closet at Xander’s wasn’t an ideal arrangement for anyone, but it was better than the school basement.

It was Buffy’s arrangement. She believed he could get better, but didn’t want to play nurse. She believed he was more than a killing machine, but treated him like gum on her shoe.

Deep navy overtook the sun’s final hurrah of orange. The stars blinked into place. A thin woman with ghostly pale skin and flowing blood-red dress stood at the end of the sidewalk. “Are you ready to take on the night, my love?” She wasn’t there; Spike knew that, but a friendly hallucination was more pleasant than the cold, distant reality of Buffy.

They headed toward the shops downtown so Drusilla could see the Christmas lights. “Like souls ripped out an’ put on a pretty display.” The promenade was crowded with shoppers, families, and a few Santas.

“Look at all the people, Spike. So small and dull. Why do they ‘ustle about like this mat’ers?”

“It’s one foot in front of the other pretending to live until you do,” Spike replied. “If nothing matters, people just sort of stop.”

She grinned at him, knowing as she always knew what turmoil spun in him. “You couldn’t pretend with your lit’le friends anymore. Why won't you let me in, Spike? Part of you wants me, cries out to me. Together, we’re all that mat’ers.”

Spike shook his head as he’d done every time she’d brought it up. “Just need a friend is all.”

The illusion of Drusilla plunged her hand inside Spike’s chest, her unreal fingers zapping and tingling his body, his heart a burning core.

In line for a trendy bar stood a curvy girl shivering in her crop top and bell bottoms. When Spike smiled at her, she smiled back. It was nice to make a woman smile. “What are you lookin’ for tonight, love?”

“Anyone interesting. Hot accents are a bonus.” She ran her tongue over her lip and her hand up his chest.

They ducked into a nearby alley. She smelled like cheap perfume and trouble. “You’re kind of a bad boy, aren’t you? I like ‘em bad.” His jacket in her fists, she pulled him in, kissing him forcefully, exploring him with her tongue. She tasted of menthols. She wasn’t Buffy, but she’d do.

“Do you want to show ‘er ‘ow bad you are?” Drusilla whispered in his ear. “Give ‘er a right good show.”

Spike squeezed the soft, bare flesh of her hip. She was warm. Pliable. In response, she pressed her palm to the growing erection beneath his jeans. “Want to go back to your place?”

“I can ‘ear ‘er ‘eart pump pump pumpin’ in ‘er chest. She wants you. Give ‘er what she wants, Spike. Show ‘er your such a naughty boy.”

With her encouragement, Spike bared his fangs and clamped his mouth on the girl’s neck until she stopped screaming.

Dean leaned against the Impala’s hood watching children gather around a charity bell ringer dressed as Santa Claus. Most of the children were beaming smiles and happy feet. One impossibly small girl ran to give the volunteer a hug, her head only up to his knee. The embarrassed parents dropped some change in the bucket before picking her up and moving on. The volunteer, for his part, was more than happy to ho-ho-ho and talk toys with the kids while keeping up the steady pace of his bell. For a moment, Dean forgot they lived on a Hellmouth.

“I said wait in the car!” Buffy’s cheeks were flushed and her jaw clenched. Following Spike must not have gone well.

“You said to come to Cherry Street and wait with the car. Here I am. You’re welcome.”

“In the car. I said in.”

“Are we arguing grammar? Point is, I’m not gankin’ your ex. Looks like you aren’t either.”

Buffy rubbed her eyes and groaned. “He picked up a girl, but I lost them in the crowd. Too many freaking people!”

“Do you have the holiday blues? You could ask Santa over there to make you taller for Christmas.”

Buffy threw up her hands in frustration and climbed into the Impala’s passenger seat.

Dean kicked himself internally and slid into the driver’s seat. “I’m sorry I’m an ass. It’s how I deal.”

She was crammed against the door, arms crossed. “You understand that girl is probably going to die tonight, right?” She sounded more tired than angry, like she was teetering on the edge of apathy.

“Guys pick up chicks for all kinds a not-murderous reasons. God, I can’t believe I’m defending that poofy,” he muttered. “Point is, you want proof he’s killing again, and that may take more than a day. Let’s get you home. You’ve barely slept the last twenty-four hours.”

"You know I barely sleep anymore even when Dawn's not being attacked." While Dean's nightmares had subsided the longer they were in Sunnydale, her nightmare visions of murdered girls were becoming a nightly occasion.

The festive lights disappeared as they pulled away. “I can’t believe Christmas is coming,” Buffy grumbled.

“Not big on the peace on earth and goodwill toward men crap?”

“This will be our second Christmas without Mom.”

Dean leaned across the seat to grab her hand.

“Don’t get me anything, okay? I can’t spare the money or the time for shopping,” she said.

“No shopping. Done. Now what can I do to help you unwind tonight?"

“You can’t.” She leaned against the door, exhaustion seeping into her body. “You can't fix this.”

She had just put the kettle on for tea when three figures broke down her apartment door. They wore robes and hoods, all the better to hide their rune-branded eyes and long, curved knives. They were the Harbingers of Death, and they sought hers. Grabbing a wakizashi from a nearby display, she deflected the first blow. She couldn’t take them, but maybe she could delay them until help arrived, until her Watcher returned. Slash. Block. Duck. Stab. The pair started to back off. Before she could delight in pushing them back, a blade slipped between her ribs puncturing a lung. The two in front of her advanced to join the stabbing. She fell to her knees, hardly feeling the pain anymore as she slipped in a pool of her own blood.

Coo-coo! Coo-coo! The bird in the clock told him it was eleven. With a mild sense of dread, Spike opened his eyes; he didn’t know anyone with a coo-coo clock. Floral wallpaper, deep blue in the moonlight; a doily on every surface; a wood-framed, floor-model TV. An old person’s house. An old person who let him in. But why did he want in?

This wasn’t the first time he’d woken up somewhere strange, but it was becoming more frequent. Weekly. Then daily. Assuming it was still Friday, this was the second time he’d black out.

Spike stood up and listened, but for the ticking of endless clocks, the house was silent. Not even a heartbeat.

Not even a heartbeat.

Silently, Spike crept through the house looking for other vampires, but he only found two empty bedrooms. A familiar door hung ajar in the kitchen. As soon as Spike opened it, a waft of dry earth hit him, the smell taking him back, the blood on his chin, the shovel in his hands, the bodies at his feet.

Drusilla stood beside him, running her finger hot like a sparkler over his skin. “You should call Buffy.”

Half an hour later, Buffy and Dean rolled up in his great black car. Spike was waiting on the house’s front steps. “You ‘ere to kill me?”

Dean shrugged. “Lady called dibs.”

Spike nodded. At least he would end on the right note.

“You wanted to show me something?” Buffy asked unhurried, but with steel in her eyes.

Spike led them inside. “I’m remembering things.” He opened the basement door. “Terrible things.”

Drusilla stood at the bottom of the stairs. “‘Ello, what ‘ave we ‘ere?” She moved by Dean looking him up and down with giddy disbelief in her doll-like eyes. She bounced and clapped, squealing like a child on Christmas morning. “Change of plan, Spike. We kill this one first, then the Slayer.”

“Things are comin’ back to me,” Spike said, ignoring her, “but it’s like watching myself on the telly. I don’t remember actually doing any of it, but I think I killed the old lady who lived here and a girl I met yesterday. I -- I think I buried them here.”

“God, Spike, why?” Buffy asked as Dean grabbed a nearby shovel and started to dig for bodies.

Before he could come up with an answer for the unanswerable, Drusilla jammed her hand into his chest; it felt like his heart turned into a lightning storm. With that, Spike grabbed Buffy by the shoulders and threw her into the wall.

“Hey!” yelled Dean, whipping around to knock Spike in the head with the shovel. The vampire fell to the ground groaning, and Buffy kicked him in the face. Hands started to explode from the ground. “Shit!” Dean tried stabbing the first vampire with the shovel, but it yanked it from his hands. “Fine,” he said, pulling his gun and shooting it in the knee to slow it down, but he’d only squeezed off one shot by the time two vampires pinned him to the ground. Buffy, who’d managed to give Spike a black eye and waste one of the monsters, was also subdued.

Drusilla clapped again. “Now, Spike! Kill Dean, and you can have your girl.”

Spike sauntered up to Dean still struggling to free his arms and stomped on his balls. The hunter bit his tongue to keep from crying out. Spike turned to Buffy, beautiful with the fire of hatred in her eyes and bleeding from a cut on her shoulder.

“What are you doing? Kill Dean first!” the apparition cried.

“Shut up!” Spike screamed with white knuckled fists. He tugged on the band in Buffy’s hair setting it free on her shoulders. Fingers entwined in her hair, he pulled her head back exposing her neck, her struggles only making her heart pound harder. He inhaled her scent -- vanilla, lilacs, and sex. Following her throbbing vein, he licked a trail from beneath her ear to the bottom of her neck. Leaning over to her bleeding shoulder, he lapped up a large drop of blood. Suddenly, Spike fell to his knees, wide-eyed with horror and screaming at the room, “No! No! NOOO! I don’t want to kill them. I won’t ! I won’t! Please, save me!”

Buffy twisted enough to throw one vampire off, freeing her to kick the dropped shovel into her hand and dust the other vampires holding her. She killed the two vamps on Dean. He was bleeding; they’d started to feed. “Are you okay?”

“I’ll live.”

Another hand burst from the ground by Dean’s head. He rolled away, and Buffy yanked up the elderly vampire, most likely the former owner of the house. “Sorry, ma'am,” she said, staking the woman in the heart. “It’s my job.”

“Speakin’ of,” Dean said, pointing at Spike curled in a ball in the corner.

They crept toward him, wary of any more surprises the basement may hold. He was rocking back and forth, sobbing, “Please, no. Please, stop! Please!” When he saw them approaching, he wiped away his tears with dirty hands and pulled open his jacket. “Make it quick,” he muttered.

Buffy looked around the basement. “Dean, why would a vampire bury all of their victims together?”

“Building a nest?”

“You’ve read the histories. Does that sound like Spike? Seems more like an army. I’ve never seen vamps rise like that, like something was commanding them.”

“C’mon!” Spike snapped. “I deserve it for what I done. She said you’d do it. Do it!”

“‘She?’ Who’s she?” asked Dean.

“Drusilla.”

“Spike, was Drusilla down here talking to you?” Buffy asked. “Is that who you were yelling at?”

“She visits me.”

“Did she visit you in the basement at the school?”

“Everyday.”

Keeping her eyes on Spike, she whispered, “Dean, we can’t kill him.”

“I agree.” This startled her into looking at him. “This thing just started talking to some of us, but it sounds like it’s been talking to Spike for a while, playing games with him like it was with Dawn and Willow, only, with his soul making him all crazy anyway, he fell for them.”

“Please, kill me. Please, end this,” Spike begged.

“No,” said Buffy, throwing the shovel down. “We’re taking you with us.”

next chapter

[katedoesfics]

Shadows of the Future | Chapter 64

“Did you enjoy yourself?” Impa did not look up from her tablet. Her fingers moved over it carefully, swiping and typing. When Dorian did not answer her, she glanced up at him and grinned. “Oh, stop being such a stick in the mud,” she said. “I’m happy you found someone else to annoy.” She turned back to the screen in her hands. “Is that how you’ve been spending the last six months? Or, did you perhaps send your daughters out to take care of your work for you?”

“Why don’t you just get to the point,” Dorian growled.

Impa placed the tablet down on her desk. Her hands folded in front of her and she met his gaze. “I want to know what they’ve been doing.”

Dorian hesitated. “I asked them to look into the Shrine of Resurrection,” he said.

“Are you in possession of the slate?”

“Yes.”

“So, instead of informing me, or even Purah for that matter, who had the slate in the first place, you decided to take matters into your own hands and run this circus yourself?”

“Kohga was waiting for Purah to find the shrine,” Dorian said, remaining calm with her. “He was expecting her to go, and she would have led him right to it. And I couldn’t go without raising suspicion.”

“Why not hand it to me like I asked?” Her gaze narrowed slightly, her eyes pulling at the corners.

“You would have asked Purah to look into it.”

“Or, you could have advised me against it. Or, we could have sent a team out to destroy it. We could have discussed this.” Her voice hardened. “That’s your job, Dorian. To do as I say.”

Dorian hesitated. He held her gaze on her. “I don’t think it should be destroyed.”

Her eyes widened slightly. She studied him carefully. “What is this about?”

“I’m afraid Rusl will act recklessly,” he said.

“I’m assuming your concern for his life is strictly professional.” Her lips pulled slightly. “I can’t imagine you would propose such a risk just to save the life of your damn boyfriend.”

Dorian’s gaze narrowed. He opened his mouth to argue with her, but she cut him off.

“It is your duty to keep him alive,” she said, a slight edge in her voice. “A task I know you are more than capable of. I will not risk keeping that shrine around just in case you fuck up.”

“You are aware that Link will be unable -”

“Of course I’m aware,” she hissed.

“If Rusl goes through with this, we could use the shrine -”

“You will not let him die, do you understand me?” She hesitated. “With the help of the Divine Beasts, we will be able to stop the Yiga Clan. But they must not have the power of the shrine on their side.”

“They could take the Divine Beasts from us!”

Impa moved her gaze to the tablet. She tapped on the screen and it came to life. Her mouth opened and she hesitated, as if she wanted to say something more to him, but instead, she changed her mind. She looked up, meeting his gaze once more. “Bring the slate back,” she said, her voice hardening again. “That is an order.”

*****

Dorian wanted to keep the shrine active and in working order. It would have been possible to do if he never told Kohga about it. But Kohga was expecting him to return it to Impa. He knew Impa would have it looked into, and he was waiting for activity from the Sheikah to lead him to it. There was no way he could keep Kohga from finding it, which meant it would be very difficult to keep around, and not worth the resources to defend it from him.

Impa was right, he knew that. He knew it needed to be destroyed. But he just couldn’t help the nagging feeling in his gut that urged him to keep it safe. It would be necessary, and probably sooner than he realized.

Still, he would follow through with Impa’s orders, unwilling to risk further mistrust between them. The situation was delicate enough. And there was the possibility that he could convince Impa otherwise. He didn’t think she would send Purah to look into the shrine, which meant that, at least for now, Kohga would remain unaware of its location. But he would expect Dorian to reveal it to him soon.

Koko and Cottla made their way to him. Cottla slipped the slate out of her jacket pocket, her lips twisted to the side.

“What’s going to happen to the shrine?” Koko asked.

Dorian took it from them and shook his head. “Impa wants it destroyed.”

“We could use it to our advantage,” Koko said.

“So could Kohga,” Dorian argued. “We can’t risk letting it fall into his hands.”

“But we have the slate,” Cottla reminded him. “He can’t do anything without the slate.”

“But we can,” Dorian said pointedly. “And that’s exactly what he wants. He’s waiting for us to do all the work for him. To activate the Divine Beasts, to get the shrine working. And then he’ll take them from us.”

Cottla bit the corner of her lip. “It just seems like a waste,” she said. “The shrine, the Divine Beasts - we could utilize them to give ourselves an advantage.”

This war can only go one of two ways,” he started. “Link is the only one who can stop Kohga, but he cannot do it without the full strength of the Triforce. And as long as Rusl remains alive, he will not be able to gain access to that power.”

“So, what?” Cottla sneered. “Rusl dies and Link defeats Kohga?”

“Or Rusl survives,” Koko finished for her, “and we use the Divine Beasts against Kohga.”

“That’s what Impa is trying to do,” Dorian said in confirmation. “But it won’t work. Kohga will take the Divine Beasts from us and use them against us. There is no solution where everyone survives.”

They were silent for a moment until Cottla spoke. “He knows this, doesn’t he?” Her father didn’t answer, but it was confirmation enough.

“Impa knows that plan won’t work,” Koko said, her expression hardening. “It’s desperate and reckless and unlike her. Why is she working so hard to keep Rusl alive?”

Cottla glared at her sister. “What are you saying? That he doesn’t deserve life?”

“I’m saying,” she started, her voice hard, “that she is rational and logical. She always has been. She would never come up with such an impossible plan. She is giving them exactly what they want and she knows it.” She turned her gaze to her father. “Why?”

Dorian hesitated. He didn’t have an answer for his daughter. He hadn’t thought anything of it before, but Koko’s suspicion made him wary. “I don’t know,” he said slowly.

“She’s hiding something,” Koko said. “There’s more to this, and we need to figure out what that is before she gets us all killed.”

Dorian held her gaze for a moment, then pulled his shoulders back. She was probably right, though he hated to admit it. He slipped the slate under his jacket. “I won’t give it to her just yet,” he said. “I’ll buy as much time as you need.”

Cottla grinned. “That’s what I’m talkin’ ‘bout!” She clapped her hands and rubbed them together. “We’ll get to the bottom of this!”

Dorian narrowed his gaze on them. “Do you have a plan?”

“Nope,” Cottla said. “But we’ll think of something. Bug her office, listen in on her phone calls, you know. We got this. We learned from the best.”

“And she’ll be expecting it if you’re not careful,” Dorain pointed out.

“Ah,” Cottla said dismissively, waving him off with a hand. “Leave it to us,” she said. “The last thing she expects is you to tell us the truth. We’ve got that on our side.”

“Alright,” he said slowly. “It’s in your hands.”

*****

Rusl frowned down at his phone. “Game Over” flashed in red on his screen. He tapped on retry, only to be informed that he was out of lives.

“How dare you,” he said to his phone. “You’re my only source of mind numbing entertainment.”

He sighed, then opted to check social media for the umpteenth time. It was the only connection he had to his children, though Link never posted anything. And while most of Aryll’s profile was private, from time to time, a public post would slip through, usually through the tags of one of her friends. To his surprise, there was a few new images that she was tagged in.

His brow furrowed as he read the post. “Night on the town with the #squad!” There were a few images of Aryll, Cremia, and Anju together. He frowned. Aryll had grown so much in the last few years, but it was the makeup and outfit that he noticed the most. Her eyes were traced in bold, dark lines, and her lips were a deep red. Her shirt was cut low, her skirt too short; he wasn’t prepared for any of this, and yet, there was nothing he could do about it.

His eyes squinted at the background, catching a glimpse of what was clearly a six-pack of wine coolers. The door opened, but his attention was focused on the images of his daughter.

“Please, come in,” Rusl muttered.

Dorian ignored him. He moved to the fridge and helped himself to a beer.

“Can I get you a drink?” He looked up at met his gaze, offering a smile, but Dorian leaned against the counter and drank tiredly.

Rusl turned off the screen to his phone and set it on the counter. “Trouble in paradise?”

“I gave Koko and Cottla the Sheikah Slate,” Dorian said. “I sent them to check out the Shrine of Resurrection.”

“And?”

“They think it’s operational,” he said. “The slate reacted to it, but there’s nothing more they can do with it. Purah will need to look into it.”

“What does that mean?”

Dorian let out a breath. “It means we can’t let Kohga get to it,” he said. “If he does, they will be unstoppable.”

“Of course,” Rusl said in a rather dry tone. This wasn’t exactly shocking information. He waited for Dorian to continue.

“Impa wants it destroyed.”

“Naturally,” Rusl confirmed. “Seems like a completely logical solution.”

Dorian met his gaze, hesitant, then looked away. “Perhaps.”

“Do you think otherwise?”

Dorian’s brow furrowed. “I think she’s hiding something.”

“Why do you think that?”

“She thinks… that Link will be able to defeat Kohga.”

Rusl hesitated. “Do you think he can?”

Dorian met his gaze. “No,” he said softly. “I think that you’re right.” He turned his gaze to his beer, then drank before speaking again. “Impa should know this, too. But she’d rather rely on Link and the Divine Beasts.”

“That’s suicide,” Rusl said, his gaze narrowing on Dorian. “It won’t work.”

“Maybe,” Dorian said.

“I won’t let it come to that,” Rusl said fiercely. “She’s being completely irrational.”

“I know.” Dorian let out a breath. “If it were anyone else, she would have come up with a logical plan and let the cards fall where they may.”

Rusl blinked at him. “What are you saying?”

“I don’t know,” Dorian said. “What she’s planning is risky. It’s unlike her. And I think it’s because there’s something we don’t know.”

“About me?”

Dorian met his gaze. “I don’t know,” he started slowly. “Is there something?”

His gaze narrowed. “What the hell could there be?” he hissed. “I’m fucking no one.”

Dorian looked away and drank. “I guess we’ll just have to wait and see.”

Rusl stared at him and his expression softened. “You don’t believe me?”

“I do,” Dorian said frankly. He sighed. “But, I’m afraid that whatever it is, she’s hiding it from you, too.”

“What would she have to gain from that?” Rusl asked.

“I don’t know,” he said softly. He didn’t have a clue, and he hated it.

[twdmusicboxmystery]

TWD 10x10: Stalker - Details

Let’s talk some details! I’ll start by mentioning all the little things we’ve noticed, and then I’ll get into connecting it all. You might want to grab a beverage. This will be kinda long.

***As always, spoilers abound below for 10x10. Don’t read until you’ve watched! You’ve been warned!***

So, we start by seeing Beta jump into the pit via the RV. Both of those are huge symbols. The RV is a symbol of time that we’ve often associated with Beth. And Beta pretty much went into a dark tunnel…and emerged through a grave. Hmm. No better resurrection symbol than someone digging their way out of their own grave, Dean Winchester style

Then there’s Rosita’s dream. Seriously creepy, no? I knew from spoilers that it was a dream, but if I hadn’t, I definitely would have been freaking out. The thing is, it foreshadowed Beta walking around Michonne’s house, looking for Gamma. That part LOOKED just like Rosita’s dream. So that was a foreshadow of what happened later.

I couldn’t help but notice that when Daryl is following Alpha, he starts out in the dry riverbed. He gets up out of it, but then Alpha comes and he hides in it again. Then later, he attacks Alpha and the other Whisperers right next to the river. I’m wasn’t sure exactly what to read into that at first, but I’ll come back to it.

And Alpha actually led part of the horde out of the caves. It’s not very many—maybe a dozen or two dozen walkers—but they’re with her and the other Whisperers when Daryl attacks them by the river. Again, that’s important.

Also important to note that this season is moving relatively slowly. They made a point of saying in this episode that it’s only been 2 days since Siddiq died.

When Gamma tells FG to get her a map and she’ll point to where the caves are, I slowed it down to look at the map. It pans by very fast. I notice some Xs, but there are lines through them, which makes me think they might be train tracks. I can’t read all of the writing, but near the cave location, it says “unsafe zone.”

I also noticed the caves are 14 miles away. On the one hand, I thought of episode 14s through the seasons. Often Sirius/Beth related characters die in those episodes (i.e. Lizzie/Mica, Noah, Denise, etc.). Or this could be pointing toward ep 14 of this season. We’ll have to see what that brings us. But I looked it up in terms of biblical symbolism, and I found this:

All sound like Beth related stuff to me. And if the caves are 14 miles away, and that represents salvation and deliverance, that’s just another indication to me that Connie and Magna are just fine. They’ll survive the caves. Perhaps be “saved” by someone. ;D

My fellow theorists and I have been discussing the whole Rosita/FG/Eugene dynamic. At various times, we’ve felt that one or all of them might die. I felt that way this episode, too.  The symbolism around them is so muddled, and they’re all so interconnected, that’s it hard to say. For one thing, when FG leaves Alexandria at one point, he gives Rosita his hat. 

He does return to her after that, but it kind of felt to me like when Carl passed his hat to Judith, you know?

A group leaves Alexandria at the end for Hilltop. Rosita goes with them so she can see the doctor (apparently there’s still a doctor there) so I’m assuming when she arrives, that’s when we’ll get the scene with her and Eugene. But she also keeps talking about her fear that both she and Gabriel will die, leaving Coco an orphan. I don’t know if that’s a foreshadow or not, since it’s very on-the-nose, but it may be.

There’s also a part where Rosita looks up at the windmill and the camera focuses on it for a moment. People are speculating it’s a death omen because Siddiq woke up on its platform not long before he died. I think they might be onto something there, because in the opening credits, we see three turns of the windmill along with Rick’s bridge scene. And while we know Rick isn’t dead, the characters in the show believe he is.

I was also thinking that it might indicate a Whisperer trick. When it happened with Siddiq, Dante was in Alexandria, messing with his head. And in this episode, the Whisperers lured Gabriel and many others out of Alexandria so Beta could enter and get Gamma. But this is still conjecture. We’ll have to see how it plays out.

The gas station:

Everything is red, yellow and blue. There are “wings” on the main sign that look a lot like the Phoenix wings in the moonshine shack. And Alpha passes and old, analog gas pump with some interesting number on it. I’m seeing 32, 8 and 26. Not positive what to make of those, but 3+2 = 5 (for S5, perhaps?). 2 + 6 = 8, So that’s two 8s, which might indicate 16, or just the 8 years it’s been since Coda.

@frangipanilove​ noticed a rack full of car air fresheners. Just the kind of thing you’d find in a gas station. But what shape do fresheners often take? That of CHRISTMAS TREEs. So yes, there are Christmas trees in this scene. We also noticed some old soda coolers (think of @frangipanilove​’s blue cooler theories. It indicates the Sirius/return symbolism.)

Also, there was a yellow mop bucket behind Daryl at one point. 

And one of the walkers had fungus growing on its legs. We saw the same thing in Still and with Morgan in 6x06. I don’t know if I’d ever researched this before, but I looked it up and found THIS article that makes for interesting reading. This kind of fungus on trees suggests that the heart of the tree is rotten. That makes sense because each time we see them, the characters are in an emotionally bad place. Daryl, after the prison fell. Morgan, before Eastman helped him. And Daryl here, as also evidenced by when Alpha asked him if he could see past the darkness, and he answers, “No.”

He also uses a fire extinguisher to kill one of the walkers, which is also a Beth symbol.

Overall, it also reminded me of the burnt out greenhouse we saw in 6x06.

And I do have to say that I found the amazing things Daryl did with his leg injury to be…less than realistic, lol. Really not bashing anything, but he was putting all kinds of bodyweight on that leg with the knife still in it. And when he pulls it out, the thing spurts as though he’s obviously hit an artery. We don’t see that he has any way of bandaging it or treating it, yet somehow he lasts the night like that without bleeding out. Yeah, injuries like that REALLY don’t clot all by themselves.

But hey, it’s Daryl and obviously I don’t want him to die, so I’m cool.

And of course the other option is that it’s purposely unrealistic for symbolic reasons. That’s the kind of thing I’m trying to figure out. Like maybe this is meant to be a symbolic parallel with Alpha being Dawn and Daryl being Beth, and the spurt of blood represents her getting shot in the head and—against all odds—surviving. I’m not sure that entirely works out. Just throwing the possibility out there. But if it did, then Lydia could dually represent Beth saving Daryl and also someone else—like maybe Morgan?—who saved Beth after she was shot.

There’s another really interesting shot that instantly jumped out at me. At one point, we see FG preparing to leave Alexandria. He gets into a box and unwraps two, red shotgun shells. It was really the color that caught my eye at first. Next to it is a silver pendant with a cross on it. It’s not in the shape of a cross. The pendant is round but has a raised cross etched into it. (It’s actually the crest from his original church in S5, which is probably purposeful.) So it reminded me of the cross Beth wore around her wrist in Coda and of course there are those bullets. Annnddd… FG is a Sirius character. So once again, does this portend his death? I’m not sure.

What really caught my ear in the scene where Gamma talked to Judith was that she used the words ‘remember’ and ‘forget’ very close together, and I wondered if we would hear all the titles from 5b/Dale’s time speech. We didn’t, at least not in this scene, and I didn’t notice them anywhere else. But it still struck me as interesting.

There’s an “echo” theme in the episode. The other outpost that tells them there’s horde coming, but it’s a ploy and all the people from that station are actually dead, is called “Echo Station.” And when Gamma talks to Judith she says she has only echoes of memories of her previous life. I’m not entirely sure what that’s all about but I just thought that we’ve had nothing if not echoes of Beth over all the seasons since S5.

She also says that she and her sister made very bad decisions after the virus broke out, and then met Alpha (evil) and Judith says that if they’d met her mom or dad, Gamma wouldn’t be in this situation. So that’s just another way that Gamma and her sister are opposites of Beth and Maggie. They ended up in a good place because they met Rick, rather than following an evil, brutal leader.

Judith also says, “you don’t look like a monster to me.” Seems like we’ve had the monster theme in past several episodes.

When Beta goes into get Gamma, he says something kind of interesting. She’s arguing with him that Alpha lied about what this place was. He says it doesn’t matter. She’s Gamma’s Alpha and needs to be obeyed. Then he says, “You think you’re still alive. You were dead the moment you came to us.” 

So the Whisperers actually believe they are dead. They don’t want to live as the living do. But we could relate that back to Beth’s theme of “you call this living” and a few others.

Later, when he gets her outside of Alexandria, taking her back to Alpha, he says, “You will fall. You will rise. You will walk with your sister again.” Yikes. Talk about a resurrection/sister theme. And you know, Maggie is returning, so… ;D

I gotta say that Judith shooting Beta was pretty damn awesome. You know, in the way Judith is pretty damn awesome.

There’s also the fact that Alpha wanted Lydia to kill her. So, we could call this a suicide arc of sorts. And when Alpha wakes up in the morning, she says she’s no longer weak, which is a parallel to Beth. I thought of that while watching it. Just the fact that she talks about not being weak anymore and Beth’s “I am strong,” you know?

People in my group noticed that they used some Dutch angles (with the camera askew) when Lydia walked in. Another reason to believe she’s a proxy for Beth returning.

And then there’s also Alpha singing. I don’t have tons more to say about that, but we all know why her singing is significant. And again, all the dialogue just jumps off the screen at me. “Kill me.” Lydia says no. Then Alpha sings. And says “They’re waiting for you to lead.” Beth anyone?

Lydia carved into a table, “your way is not the only way,” right? Well, the shape of the letters looked a LOT like the graffiti from S5 that says, “Wolves Not Far.” We’ve already talked about how the Whisperers were forerunners to and foreshadowed the wolves, but I started thinking about that idea more deeply. Like maybe that writing, while it did foreshadow the wolves (cuz obviously) also foreshadowed the Whisperers.

And think about that. We first saw that that graffiti in 5x09, which Beth was in, and there was an 8 next to her. Now, 8 years later, the Whisperers are here. So, by extension, Beth should be too. Back to that in a minute.

I thought it was interesting that Alpha says to Lydia “I want you to…” And then she passes out. She doesn’t get out the word, “stay” until morning. So, Lydia never heard her mom ask her to stay. Lydia would have just heard the first part of the sentence and assumed it would be a negative request, like “kill me and lead the whisperers.” But she wakes up and says “stay” and Lydia and Daryl are already gone. It just struck me as very tragic. And at first, I didn’t see it as a TD thing, but I’ve reconsidered.

Even when Daryl wakes up and talks to Lydia at the end, it struck me as a possible Beth parallel. Daryl says, “You just been out here this whole time?” Sounds like something he might say to Beth.

Finally, at the end, when Alpha starts reciting her end-of-the-world chant, it pans out. This is the top of the gas station from a birdseye view, with the road next to it. I immediately felt like maybe we should be reading into this shot somehow. I just didn’t know exactly how. The blue colors and greenery might indicate Beth. But I had to put together more thoughts about episode before it really made sense to me. It’s part of the hell theme, which I mention below but won’t go into in a lot of detail here. (The gas station = hell or dark tunnel, and the curving path shows that the character’s arc changes course because of the hell they endure.)

Okay, so this is most of the details I noticed. But the thing is, the details are actually incidental. Or at least, they’re just there to prove the bigger parallels.

I feel like this entire episode is one big foreshadow/parallel. 

And it’s probably not possible for any of us to put our fingers on everything it points to, but the more I think about it, the more interesting it becomes. I’ll try to lay a few of them out for you.

1. So the most obvious thing this represents for me is what I talked about yesterday. It’s a replay of Coda and sort of a re-telling of Beth and Daryl’s arc. Daryl stabbed Alpha in the shoulder and then sustained an injury to the head, just as Beth stabbed Dawn in the shoulder and then was shot in the head. Also notice how this happens by the river (water = Beth). So Daryl represents Beth in this analogy and we then see him staggering around, injured, and in a very dark state of mind. I’m willing to bet Beth went through something similar after being shot and left behind. Or it could be literal, as we know there was a walker horde involved. So Daryl fighting off Alpha’s walkers and trying to survive could literally represent something Beth went through once she woke up, surrounded by walkers.

In that case, Lydia represents someone coming to help/save Beth. We don’t know who that is, but I’m sure we’ll find out eventually.

2. This also represents Daryl’s arc after losing Beth, though in that case, it’s emotional. After she got shot, he was sort of stumbling around in the dark emotionally, and unable to come out of his depression for a long time. With this interpretation, Lydia sort of represents…herself. Because Daryl didn’t truly start to come out of his depression until he started parenting her. So Lydia did help save Daryl emotionally.

3. I still think this represents something for the future as well. I think Lydia represents Beth returning and saving Daryl in some way. Will it be physically? Emotionally? My money’s on both. I think one thing this foreshadows is Daryl going into a dark state of mind again for some reasons, so even if she saves him physically, she’ll also save him emotionally by default.

And that brings up some interesting questions about Daryl’s crossbow, I gotta say. My group has been discussing this the past few days. We thought it was odd that Daryl dropped his crossbow before going into the cave in 10x08. Because he still had arrows and he had no obvious reason not to bring it with him. Now, of course it would have been VERY cumbersome when crawling through the tiny passages of the cave, and the writers knew that, which is why they had him drop it. But DARYL couldn’t possibly have know that, so it didn’t make much sense. It was obviously something the writers had him do with something in mind. And now Lydia has found it and brought it back to him.

A lot of us have had head canons about Beth doing something like this over the years, so again, this makes me…kinda happy. ;D

4.This obviously represents the hell/dark tunnel arc. I may end up doing an entire, detailed post about this, but here’s the basic gist. We already know the gas station represents hell, because in S4, the gas station Daryl and Michonne’s group went to had the word “hell” written on the marquee.

So I often talk about the dark tunnel symbolism representing the characters having a great trial, and that’s true, but you could also describe it as them going through their own personal hell.

So no matter how you slice it, we once again have a representation of what happened at Grady (stabbed in shoulder, injured in forehead) followed by the trial/hell/dark tunnel. For Daryl, for Beth, for Alpha… it works across the board.

It always starts with either a terrible injury, a death or a death fake out. Or sometimes literal imprisonment to a villain (i.e. Negan, Alpha, etc.). That’s followed by a period of time in which the character struggles through deep emotional darkness. (The dark part, as Maggie said.) Then, when the sun rises again, everything is okay. And what that “okay” looks like depends on what the first event is. If it’s an injury (think Carl’s eye in S6) then the person finally recovers or starts to recover, but it’s obvious they won’t die. If it’s a death fake out (think Glenn in S6) they show up alive. Other times, it might mean the death of the character themselves. (I’m thinking of Sasha. Yes, she died in S7, but she died so the group would have a fighting chance to win the war. And she was okay with that sacrifice. So we saw a sunrise.)

And let’s just appreciate that, if Lydia in this episode does represent Beth’s return to Daryl, she arrived in the night, kind of during his darkest hour. By the time the sun rose, they were away from the darkness, away from Alpha, and…together in the sunlight.

And the more I thought about and put together all the components of this sequence, the more I realized just how MANY times we’ve seen it. Like I said, I’ll do a more detailed post later, but it’s amazing to realize we’ve been seeing this all along, but for the most part only picking up pieces of it at a time.

(The reason I said the thing above about Alpha not finishing her sentence until the morning being a TD thing is that it’s a representation of someone “falling asleep” as it were and waking up along. You could say that this was Alpha entering the dark tunnel, much as Beth did--through injury--and when she wakes up, her family (Lydia, in this case) has left her behind. Right after that, we see the graffiti-like writing. We saw it with Beth in 5x09, right after Coda. And we’ve already seen plenty of parallels/anti-parallels between Alpha and Beth. Just saying.)

Let’s talk about Beta invading Alexandria for a moment and then I really need to shut up for today.

This is obviously a different sequence than the gas station, but I feel like it foreshadows something yet to come. First of all, it reminded me a lot of the Wolves invading Alexandria in S6. And I’m not saying that foreshadowed this (overall, this thing with Beta was less epic than the wolves) but I feel like both of them perhaps point toward something yet to come.

Let’s look at it with some distance. We have a major resurrection symbol (Beta crawling out of the grave) followed by an invasion in which Judith and RJ were in danger and many people died. So, I wonder if there will be a larger invasion where this is the case.

And honestly, it looks like this might happen with Alpha’s horde next episode, so maybe it just points to that. We’ll have to see.

But there’s also the resurrection symbol. So, I’m wondering if it points to a resurrection happening during this invasion. (And understand I’m just making observations here. I have no idea what it’s pointing to.) And maybe, given that Beta is evil, I’m making this symbolism too positive. I don’t know.

Also remember though that Beta is an anti-parallel for Daryl. (We saw him fighting with two knives in this episode, like Daryl does, so I was reminded of that.) And when Beth is resurrected physically, Daryl will be emotionally too. So there’s that.

So this is super conjecturey (totally a word) but remember what I said above: the first episode in which we saw “Wolves Not Far” was 5x09. Beth was in that episode, along with tons of symbolism about what might have happened during that missing 17 days, and what we think was trying to say that she would return in 8 years (in other words, now, in TWD timeline). And now, the Whisperers are here, which is probably what the wolves foreshadowed. (There were also interesting clocks in that episode, and the deeply foreshadowing radio voice broad casts. Yes, I need to do another post to show you guys this stuff. It’s just too much to put here today.)

So I guess what I’m thinking/hoping for is that at some point, the Whisperers will invade Alexandria en mass (or one of the communities; if this does point to next episode, pretty sure that’s happening at Hilltop) and during that invasion, Beth will show up to “save” everyone.

Now, here’s hoping this totally goes down next episode. My good friend @frangipanilove​ would be ecstatic, as ep 11 is the one she always focuses on, and here’s hoping she totally right. (Cuz, you know, that would mean Beth’s return next week. ;D)

But it’s also possible this is bigger than what’s happening in ep 11 and it will be more of a season finale sort of thing. Or… I could be interpreting this totally wrong and it won’t go down this way at all. This is just the stuff rolling through my head since watching 10x10.

One other thing: my fellow theorists and I talked about how we think this is setting up for three returns. Father Gabriel made the three reference to Gamma, and you could argue that Lydia got a return in this episode. She wasn’t really presumed dead or anything, but we hadn’t seen her in a while.

We also know Maggie will be back sometime soon. So that would be two returns. The third would of course, be Beth. But then there’s also Connie to consider. So who knows?

Yeah, this episode was totally packed with stuff. I doubt I’ve even truly hit on everything here. Lots of hidden gems. And next episode just looks, you know, totally badass. So I’m excited to see what comes next. 

Thoughts?