#things will get clearer when i get there my head is a muddle honestly

[awellboiledicicle]

The order of events that lead to Hawke and Anders being aboard the Nautiloid are a bit scattershot, in keeping with just how much the universe likes to jerk the two of them around, specifically.

Event the first: Hawke volunteers to stay behind in the Fade to distract the Nightmare so that Thedas would have a prayer of restoring the Wardens and allowing the Inquisitor and company to escape. Hawke is presumed dead.

Event the second: Varric Tethras pens a letter to each of Hawke's former companions to alert them of his passing. This includes, naturally, a long letter to Hawke's husband, Anders. The letter includes both the sad news and the strongest possible sentiment that Anders should not do anything rash about this news.

Third: Anders receives the letter and has an emotional breakdown that ends several hours later with him curled up on the floor of the cave he'd been hiding in. Choosing to either find Hawke trapped in the Fade or die trying, Anders makes the decision to attempt entering the Fade via one of the many rifts opening across the landscape. Justice does not stop him expressly because he honestly did not think it would be possible.

Fourth: Anders enters the Fade and Justice gains control of their body. They search for, and locate, Hawke after expending a great deal of willpower to mold the landscape enough to actually reach him. The pair are knocked into the void by the Nightmare and assume themselves doomed.

Lastly: While fleeing the githyanki pursuit, the Nautiloid flashes into the plain containing Thedas and the Fade. Hawke and Anders are abducted largely by coincidence.

Which, as you can see from the above red string cork board, is where the Absolute fucked up.

Not yet pictured is Anders getting wormed after Lae'zel, being put back to sleep as the worm tries to fight the taint in his blood, Hawke getting worm'd, and then Justice taking over once the Mindflayer leaves-- expelling the worm as he essentially burns it out of them. Justice physically ripping himself out of the pod after Lae'zel fucks off [she didn't listen when he asked for help and he's very annoyed by this], and then just hammering on Hawke's pod until it opened and then hauling Hawke up by the front of his fucked up armor like "get your shit together, we have things to kill and safety to get to and Anders cannot help" and also "I cannot believe you did this if it wouldn't be counter productive i would kill you, is2g". But in Justice terms, so it's more "Prepare yourself, we are beset. Anders cannot aid you, so i shall suffice." And after Hawke gets his feet and scrounges up a few daggers on the way through the corridors, its "Your decision in the Fade was unwise. Anders was compromised. Do not do this again, it was unpleasant."

Lae'zel is just happy to have two people for back up instead of none, even though one is very much just wailing on imps with whatever weapon he can pick up. Because while Justice prefers a sword, he'll use what he has available that Anders' body can heft. And Anders is surprisingly strong for being a mage. He does, however, notice Hawke is slow and comments on it.

"Sorry, the bloody worm in my skull might be throwing me off, Justice!"

"We shall see it removed, then. You will not be able to keep Anders safe like this."

"Fucking watch me."

"I will have no choice."

Lae'zel does not appreciate the banter. "Tch, less talking and more fighting!"

"I can multitask." Justice insists, grabbing hold of an Imp's head and squeezing until it popped.

"You're being a lot clearer than usual--" A dodge of a gout of fire before a well placed stab takes out another imp. "Is this still the Fade?"

"No." With a grunt he buried a hand axe into yet another imp. "The worm's magic overpowered him. This is simply what occurs when he cannot muddle things."

"He doesn't muddle--"

"I will not argue the balance of my being with someone outside of it. Be content that he shall be safe when we are free of this place." He fixed his gaze on Hawke as the last imp fell. "I am no longer complete alone, this will not be sustainable."

"Is he hurt?"

"I believe the pain is emotional, as is the relief. He is weakened and would not survive in control." He pulled a long sword from under a dead thrall and tested its weight. "Come, we must reach this helm before my hold fails."

Lae'zel continues to be annoyed by the chatter. Justice is mostly doing it because he hasn't been able to actually speak when he surges to the fore. Fronting isn't easy for him, it's almost always in a dangerous scenario and his being is very intertwined with Anders' so he gets waylaid by anything Anders is feeling at the time. Which means he tends to overreact and thus why conversation doesn't exactly fucking happen.

Shadowheart's just going to see this little band come to her pod and Justice absolutely will just rip the fucker open. A Just Action. Just wrenches it off and informs Shadowheart they're going to the helm-- only to pause when Hawke's worm does the brain connection thing. All Shadowheart knows is they have a giant glowstick of a man with them and he's very focused. Hawke is looking at shit and pocketing stuff while they hurry, but he's still hurrying.

Anders will absolutely not believe Hawke that Justice was vaguely chill later. It would make him feel both better--that his personality is intact--and worse--that HIS emotions are what twists his responses.

Also not pictured is Justice yeeting himself out of the ship after Hawke gets knocked out and just. clinging on to slow his fall before they hit the ground. The added durability of his control is largely why they weren't unconscious by the time Hawke wakes up but it was Work to keep aware and in control so Anders wasn't just passed out on the beach.

Ponderin

[defiant-firefly]

Yo! Do you have any headcanons for team interactions and such in your p5r labby au? I'm really interested in the little things of how she meshes with the other characters

I do! Though everything is likely to change cause my mind is always a muddle till I actually ya know... Get there

Labrys strikes me as the type that will love literally anything that's not related to her past so I'm gonna take that and run a bit

Haru probably has the best relationship with her since she's around the longest in this AU aside from Yoshizawa. Labrys helps her out with her gardening and stuff and Haru has the patience of a saint with her and all her questions on how plants just grow. She likes showing her all these pretty flowers and stuff and they trade tips on axe wielding and stuff. Jdkdn they walk into Iwai's and Labrys is like 'so what kinda gun ya want?' and Haru points at the most explody thing she can see like 'that one.' and the second she first uses it she has the stupidest smile on her face and now Labrys wants one too.

Morgana is the one that wisely banned Labrys from using guns. She can't aim for shit and she nearly shot his tail off once so he makes the call that she's not allowed to shoot unless everyone is at a large, safe distance. He's encouraging towards her when it comes to making infiltration tools and he likes to bounce between staying with the different members of the team rather than just one. He absolutely abuses the fact Labrys doesn't have much of an understanding on what animals need to eat and will have sushi or curry or anything he can convince her is necessary to his health. Sojiro is like 'just give him cat food?' and then turns around and gives him curry and Morgana is loving it. Labrys is always fussing over him in his cat form though and while he pretends he hates it, he adores all the attention she loves giving him.

Makoto is a fun one. As student council president, Labrys looks up to her a great deal especially at first. Makoto's arc is a bit different in this AU but she becomes Labrys' go to when it comes to questions about how the world works. The team like dragging her into their shenanigans and whenever Makoto doesn't know the song they're singing in the Monabus there's a bunch of scandalised gasps and later Labrys spams her texts with all the songs she didn't know and all the new ones they're getting into. It takes ages before Labrys starts calling her by her name instead of 'Miss President' and it kinda irritates her but she kinda gets it.

Futaba introduces Labrys to Featherman and they maybe get a showtime where they imitate Team Rocket or something with Morgana. Once they get to know eachother, they bully eachother just a little bit in good fun and Sojiro just watches when these two get started with their little bickering matches like 'ah shit here we go again'. No one ever wins it usually ends with them both laughing about whatever dumb thing the other said last. Futaba likes to joke that she fears nothing since Labrys has the ability to talk to people and she doesn't and you can't tell me Futaba isn't a bad influence. At some point she's sat there trying to get Labrys to say 'fuck' and the next they've invented a coffee called 'Cyanide' so if anyone asks what they recommend they can say 'For you? Cyanide.' Basically: these two are chaos incarnate. Do not start a prank war. Futaba the master strategist will lead them to victory.

This is turning into a long post huh? But uhh Ryuji starts singing in the Monabus and suddenly these two are best friends. She helps him with training where she can and they hang out at the arcade sometimes building a hoard of tickets to get the biggest prizes possible. Labrys kinda gravitates towards him when she's feeling a little low and his persona's natural electric abilities are to blame. They leak out into the real world a bit and charge his phone a little and stuff so when Labrys is near she gets a little boost too. Ryuji uses it as an excuse to hug her. Futaba ships it but doesn't complain when they both hug her and her wireless headphones charge back up. He's kinda protective of the team, but especially with Ann and Labrys. He will not let her live down how she forgets she could yeet a train across the whole of Shibuya whenever she asks how he forgets his homework or something. He also probably loves the short jokes.

Ann uhh... Is Ann I guess? She's one of the ones my brain struggles to visualise doing stuff honestly. Maybe they go shopping together and just try on all the silly hats and stuff they can find. I have a few ideas for things they can do but they're spoiler heavy so I'll skip over those. She also forgets about Labrys' super strength and is amazed by it every single time she effortlessly lifts something. Maybe the one to explain sexualities to Labrys? I dunno I've not messed around much with her arc yet.

Yusuke is... Uhh well he's very spoiler heavy. They're both people watchers and just like vibing in eachothers company. They're very protective of eachother but don't necessarily talk much. He does become her curry taste tester though. She's determined to make sure he doesn't go hungry just like the rest of the team is. I dunno, they're vibers. Could both probably turn into theatre kids at the drop of a hat though

Yoshizawa is a fun one. Labrys isn't exactly human and Maruki didn't account for that and her already decent knowledge of illusionary abilities so Labrys is constantly getting her name wrong until they come up with a nice nickname to use instead. It kinda freaks Yoshizawa out but she sees Labrys calling Makoto 'Miss President' for ages and assumes she just sometimes has problems with names or something but being called her dead sister's name is weird as hell. They're relationship is a bit strained at first thanks to all that but it gets better. They're constantly supporting eachother and building eachother up. They do it with the rest of the team but when they do it with eachother they can be going back and forth for a while. Everyone outside their group assumes they're together. Whether they are or not is anyone's guess at this point though. Yoshizawa can and will eat as many Big Bang Burger kids meals as it takes to get Labrys all the spaceship toys and Labrys will practice for hours the gymnastics stuff she's been taught so she can get it right the next time they hang out. They will kill you with nice words and sunny smiles and feel no remorse and Akechi wonders how the fuck he's survived in their presence for more than five minutes. They're innocent oblivious beans and they get along so well singing showtunes with Ann and Ryuji in the Monabus.

I plan to give Akechi an overhaul I've not yet worked much on yet so I'll skip on him for now. And Akira has his own arc and stuff now that I don't really wanna spoil too much but he is sucked into what the school are now calling 'The Gardening Cult' with all the others.

I spent maybe too long on this but I don't care it was fun thanks for asking buuuud ^-^

[starscheme]

Change My World

Chapter Twenty-Seven: Wake Up Little Mermaid 

Spinel awoke with a painful groan. It felt as if rocks were tumbling around in her head. She placed her hand against her forehead, her vision a bit blurry as she opened her eyes. Once she was able to focus on the scene around her, Spinel's heart jumped to her throat as she gasped. She was in the water.

Spinel had woken up in an underwater home. One that she didn't recognize. She looked down at her hands and noticed the bright pink scales that laced her skin. She was no longer wearing the dress that Steven had bought for her, but the Gem at her chest was still there. However, the heart-shaped Gem was no longer upside down. Wasn't it supposed to be this way? For some reason, she thought it should've been upside down, but it always right side up, wasn't it?

"...my dress..." she mumbled to herself, wondering why she had worried about wearing one. For a moment, she had a fleeting feeling that she had lost something given to her, but that wasn't the case. Why would she be wearing a dress unless she needed to go on land?

"Spinel?" came an upbeat, husky voice from behind.

"Oh...Amethyst..." greeted Spinel absently.

A purple mermaid swam around Spinel with a smile, her long hair flowing behind her as she did so.

"What's the matter," she asked, "you seem out of it."

Spinel stared at the mermaid in silence, as if she hadn't seen her in quite some time. Her eyes drifted to the Gem at Amethysts chest and it was like a flash of light went off in her head. Spinel hunched over, covering her stomach as she closed her eyes tight, trying to suppress the pain that shot through her head. A fogged over image of Amethysts Gem covered in blood and Amethyst shouting out for her to run.

"Spinel!" Amethyst shouted, grabbing the pink mermaid's shoulders to get her attention. "What happened?! You okay?!"

The pain in Spinel's head subsided rather quickly as she opened her eyes and focused on Amethyst's face. What was that? It couldn't have been a memory. Nothing like that had ever happened before. She forced a smile and shook her head, "Ah...I'm fine. ...just a little...out of sorts I guess."

Amethyst seemed unconvinced, but she released Spinels shoulders and sighed.

"I guess I would be too if I were you. ...I came to cheer you up, but I guess that was doomed from the start."

"Cheer me up?" repeated Spinel curiously. Why would she need that?

"Yeah. I heard about what happened. I'm sure they wanted to keep it under wraps, but some of my clan was part of the guard when it happened. So of course I would hear about it."

Spinel felt lost. It was like she stuck in a strange fog. She could hardly remember anything important and for some reason, she felt as if she shouldn't be here.

"...what do you...?"

Amethyst frowned and leaned in, staring hard at Spinels Gem.

"It doesn't look like they cast anything on you. ...maybe you're just in shock?"

"Th-that must be it..." replied Spinel, relieved to have an excuse for her confusion. She didn't want to admit that her head was such a mess.

"It's going to be okay," insisted Amethyst, taking Spinel's hands into her own with a determined expression in her eyes. "We can find a way to sneak you in."

"How will we do that?" asked Spinel, deciding it was best to simply go along with the strange conversation rather than ask Amethyst what was going on.

Amethyst looked around to make sure no one was swimming by before she leaned in a bit more.

"The other Amethyst guards can help. When they rotate the shifts in a couple of days, they can allow you into the garden. It won't be a problem since I heard that Steven turned away the new playmate they gave to him."

The fog around Spinel seemed to lift slightly when she heard Steven's name. She knew who that was. Someone important. Someone that was taken from her. Was he in danger? Suddenly, she felt an overwhelming urge to find him.

"He's okay?! He's not hurt or anything?!" Spinel asked desperately.

Amethyst seemed taken aback by Spinels sudden change, but she gripped her friend's hands.

"Calm down. He's fine. Just because they can punish you, doesn't mean they would punish him."

Spinel shook her head. That wasn't right. Steven was taken. Wasn't he? She didn't know where he was and had to go and get him.

"No! They took him and I have to find him!"

As Spinel started to struggle to rip her hands from Amethyst, the purple Mermaid panicked and held tighter.

"Spinel! Calm down! No one took him! He's fine!"

"No! You're wrong! This is all wrong!" Spinel shouted. "Those humans-they took him for protecting me! I-I saw it! It was..." Spinel trailed off during the struggle, trying to remember these events she was raving about, but honestly, it seemed like a dream now. She ceased her fighting and took a few deep breaths. Is that what happened? Did she just have a bad dream? Now that she thought on it harder, there was no way that human guards would come and take Steven. They couldn't. "...no...you're right. ...I...I must've had a nightmare..."

Amethyst sighed in relief and slowly released Spinel's hands, "...I figured this would be hard on you...but it's worse than I thought. They must have punished you pretty harshly..." The purple mermaid growled through gritted teeth and a spiked whip appeared in her hand. She swung it at once, striking a stone pillar that immediately crumbled. "Those bastards! What did you do that was so terrible!? Just because they don't like it-"

Spinel watched her friend get angry for her and she felt a bit more grounded. Perhaps Amethyst was right. Perhaps she had been punished too severely and it messed with her head. Even if she couldn't fully recall why she had been punished.

"...I'll be fine. You don't have to worry too much."

"But you were locked up for weeks! Who knows what that crazy Agate did to you! You and I both know that she takes pleasure in causing pain..."

"Will you quiet down!" insisted a strong, commanding voice as Bismuth swam over with an unamused expression. "You'll alert the entire reef."

Amethyst huffed and her whip vanished before she crossed her arms over her chest.

"As if you can lecture me about being quiet."

Bismuth rolled her eyes but turned to Spinel with a compassionate smile. "Sorry it took so long, but we had to make sure that Sapphire wasn't watching our movements."

"What's going on?" Amethyst asked suspiciously.

"Mind your own Bismuth," joked the shark-tailed Mermaid with a wink before she took out a small pink orb and placed it into Spinels hands.

"What's thi-" Spinel began to ask, only to be silenced as Bismuth pressed a finger to her lips.

"Hold it to your Gem and think about who you want to see. It won't last too long, but we can cover for you in the meantime. I know it's not much, but it's all we can do for now. Just remember to tell Steven that everything is going as planned."

Spinel was a bit confused, but it wasn't any worse than she had been already. At least she understood that this was supposed to help her see Steven in some way. Without waiting another moment, she held the orb to her Gem and closed her eyes. Whether her memories were in place or not, the only sure thing was her concern for Steven. even if she didn't quite know why. A warm light washed over her and when Spinel opened her eyes again, she was floating above a beautiful garden.

"...Wasn't this place..." Spinel mumbled to herself, swimming slowly down towards the lovely flowers, stopping at the top of a small stone platform that at in the middle of the garden.

"Spinel!"

The voice that called out her name was one that no matter how muddled her memory was, she wouldn't forget. Spinning around, her heart jumped against her chest when she saw Steven dashing up the stone steps. Though she was happy to see him, her smile faded slightly as she stared at him. The Steven in her memory had dark eyes and ebony hair, but the Steven that was rushing towards her had light pink curls and his eyes were a bright pink hue with pupils the shape of diamonds. What was even more strange was that he was somehow breathing under water. How was that possible? Could he do that before and why was he wearing some sort of hospital gown?

"...Steven?" Spinel questioned aloud, trying to piece her thoughts together.

Before Spinel could figure out what was going on, Steven finally made his way to her and without hesitation, wrapped his arms around her to pull her into a tight embrace.

"I missed you so much," he exclaimed happily.

"W-wait a sec," stammered Spinel as her cheeks began to burn.

"Sorry, Sorry," chuckled Steven as he pulled back, but leaning back in to plant kisses along her cheek. "I didn't mean to surprise you."

His gentle kisses caused Spinel to freeze up, her heart pounding rapidly as his breath hit her skin. She knew he was affectionate, but she still wasn't entirely used to all this. Mostly she was just happy to see that he was safe. "Well I-"

"What's the matter?" Steven asked, pressing his forehead against hers with a playful smile. "Didn't you miss me too?"

This man didn't look like the Steven that she remembered, but they certainly acted the same, even if this one was a little braver about it. “St-Steven...something is wrong...” she admitted. From the moment she opened her eyes, Spinel felt that things were warped. Now that she was face to face with Steven, her head was a bit clearer. None of this was right. She placed her hands on Stevens shoulders and pushed him back, trying to piece things together. “I...I was on the surface. We fell and you protected me. Those humans...you sent me away and I need to find you...”

“What’re you talking about?” Steven asked, genuinely confused.

“It wasn’t a dream. It happened!” Spinel exclaimed adamantly. “I don’t know what this is, but it’s not right!”

Steven smiled sadly at Spinel and the Mermaid felt a twinge of guilt. This was just a strange dream, wasn’t it? Steven couldn’t breath under water and he didn’t look like this. So why did she feel bad for rejecting this place?

Steven reached over and placed his hand over the Gem that sat over Spinels chest. “You’re not my Spinel?”

Shifting back, Spinel covered her Gem with her hands and shook her head, “this is a dream. Just some weird dream caused by that-that weird pink illusion. I need to wake up and find Steven. My Steven.”

“You’re Steven?” He repeated with a renewed smile, seemingly relieved. “...I guess that means i kept my promise.”

Spinels confusion quickly turned to frustration. She was tired of all the vague conversations. Even in her dreams everyone seemed to talk in circles so that she wouldn’t fully grasp what was going on. However, it wasn’t as if she wanted many answers either. The closer she got to the truth, the more terrified she was. She opened her mouth as if she was about to shout at Steven, but he shook his head and stopped her cold.

“It’s okay,” he began gently. “You don’t have to remember anything.”

“...what does that mean?” Spinel asked despite her defiance in diving any further into this.

“It means...that you can forget everything. Just let it all go. I know why you’re here...but I never wanted you to look back.”

Stevens words led Spinel to believe that this was some sort of memory, but it couldn’t have been. She’d never met Steven before being captured and he didn’t look like this. So why did she feel so miserable? As if she were saying goodbye. “...I don’t...know you...” she mumbled, mostly trying to convince herself not to feel bad. Still, her eyes burned and warm tears slipped from her eyes, mixing into the water around her.

“Don’t worry,” Steven said as he stepped forward, reaching over to place his hand against her cheek. “I know this isn’t goodbye. Not really. Find your Steven and be happy. That’s all I wanted. That’s what we promised...”

“I don’t understand,” choked out Spinel as she held back the remainder of her tears.

“You don’t need to,” insisted Steven, with a sympathetic smile. “The only thing you ever needed to remember, is that no matter how this world changes...I will always find you.”

His words stung. Why did this hurt so much? This never happened. It was a stupid dream that she couldn’t get out of. So than why couldn’t she stop the tears? “You’re the one that lost, you idiot...” sobbed Spinel, rubbing her eyes defiantly in an attempt to stifle the tears.

“Heh, well than I guess you’d better go and find me,” chuckled Steven, grabbing her wrists and gently pulling her hands away from her face so that he could meet her eyes. “Don’t ever look back,” he whispered, leaning forward to kiss her forehead. “Be happy...my beautiful Spinel.”

The pink mermaids tears finally stopped. She may not have completely understood all this, but his words warmed her heart somehow. “Once I wake up...I can go and find my Steven.”

“That’s right,” he replied, closing his eyes and resting his forehead against hers. “This is just a dream. It’s time to wake up now...”

Spinel closed her eyes as well, feeling a sense of peace like this. She wanted to say goodbye, but a warm, pink light washed over her before she could say a word and the Steven in front of her faded into that light, vanishing from her sight. When the light faded out, Spinel was staring up at star filled sky. She was back in the forest, laying on her back against the ground amongst the fallen leaves. Tear stains marked her her cheeks as she stared silently at the night sky. “...I woke up...” she whispered to no one, placing her hand over the Gem beneath her dress. It was time to wake up and head forward. It was time to find her Steven.

[httpbread]

(maybe fluffy or angsty??) Yashiro thinks this one supernatural really hates her only to find out that they can only speak in lies! They actually really like her!

Pairing: Yashiro x reader

Words: 3424

jokes on you this is both angsty AND fluffy!! :) hope you enjoy it as much as i did writing it!! (because god DAMN do i love yashiro ty so much for requesting her!)

---

"-A-And I don’t know you very well- but I want to!"

She swallows harshly.

She’d finally taken Hanako-kun’s words into account. She’s gotten the nerve to finally speak to this crush of hers. She’d finally asked someone out!

Well- okay. Not quite there yet.

"I- uh- I really like you," she stares furiously at the ground, bowed in hopes to hide her embarrassment, clutching her dress as though it might fly up at any moment.

She screws her eyes shut.

"Please go out with me!"

She scarcely is able to breathe out after she says the words.

She thought they would be liberating like how it always was in books- but she felt more choked up and weighed down than ever, anticipation coiling in her stomach with wild abandon.

Their voice is soft though, warm, dragging her attention instantly back up.

There’s a big smile marking their soft-looking lips and an even bigger sparkle in their (e/c) eyes.

They look so happy, and beautiful at that moment-

That for a moment.

The words they say don’t even connect.

"N-No?" She echoes, words hitting her like a train.

They blink back at her, looking just as surprised, if not more somehow.

"No," they say again, almost curiously.

But Yashiro’s brows furrow, watching as they hastily shake their head, "I mean- No! I hate you! I hate your stupid face!"

Yashiro’s heart quickly melted from her surprise, breaking into pieces with every word frantically tumbling from those lips.

"I hate you- I think you’re ugly and terrible!" They’ve buried their face in their hands, looking torn between frustration and restlessness, "I hate you. Please don’t be my girlfriend!"

Every frantic statement makes her eyes swim until the tears are rushing down her cheeks.

She’s speechless.

All her worst nightmares unraveling before her.

This was exactly why she never took this step. She never confessed.

This was where it got her.

But...

Despite her tears, confusion muddled her endlessly.

More so when they quickly pulled her face into their frenzied hands, gentle fingers squishing her cheeks with fervor.

"I don’t like you," they say, almost desperately, but their eyes glitter with so much emotion that it makes her head hurt, their hands too kind to belong to their words as they willfully brush away her woes, "Stay away from me, please."

But their words-

Her hands slam out against their chest, unable to take it anymore.

"Stop it!" She wails, tripping over her own feet as she scrambles back, tears falling faster now as she hits her bottom on the floor, fists clenched, "Y-You don’t have to be s-so mean!"

"But- I hate you!" They declare, as if it’s something new, quickly crouching down, reaching out to collect her.

But she bats their helping hands away with a cry, "Stop that!"

"Nene-san-"

"You're the worst, (Y/n)!"

She hastily pushes to her feet, bringing her fists up to force the tears away from her face.

The split second she can glimpse through her tears she regrets it.

Wide (e/c) twinkling eyes. Plump lips parted. Dismay was written clearer than the day above on their ever attractive face.

She doesn’t wait for more of their words though.

She turns and then runs like hell.

-

"Weird?"

She wants to shake him.

"I’m pouring my broken heart out to you- and you say it’s weird?!"

Panic flares in his golden depths, "Wh- No! No! Not like that!"

She feels tears pricking her eyes, "I bet (L/n) thinks I’m weird too!"

"Oh, Yashiro..." Hanako lets out a long sigh, dragging a calloused hand over his face, reminding Yashiro he was an old man despite his chubby cheeks and bright eyes.

The bathroom is quiet, the corners of her lips as heavy as her heart, weighed down by the problems of her own world.

Everything was wrong!

The only thing right was the rain pouring down outside, thumping peacefully at the window, singing a lullaby to soothe her beaten ears.

Had it been thundering, it might have matched her mood entirely.

"I’m sorry. I really thought it was a good idea."

She looks up at Hanako under her lashes, scarcely fiddling with the soft material of her dress.

But he’s looking out the window, far away from her. Face almost unreadable.

"I mean, every time they open their mouth lately it’s been something about you."

But he doesn’t sound very sympathetic about her case, no...

His brows are furrowed, a deep look of puzzlement on his features, "Honestly... this just doesn’t make sense... at all."

It makes plenty of sense to Yashiro!

"What’s not to get?! They made it clear enough!" She looks away with a glower she can’t hide, a little bit of childish anger beginning to bubble at her, "They hate me, Hanako!"

"That’s the thing!" He whirls, declaring with exasperation, "At the very least, I know they like you as a friend!"

This only serves to simmer her blood further.

"Hanako- they said to my face they hate me!" She argues, waving her hands about with a shared, growing exasperation, "They made it very obvious how they feel!”

"Well, yeah... but still," he huffs, making a pretzel of his arms against his chest, "Something feels off!"

Yashiro doesn’t even blink once after his words.

Her wail echoes off the bathroom tiles, a monument to the loss in her will to keep a polite level tone any longer as she tells him her woes, "Hanako, they said I was ugly! What part of this are you not understanding?"

She throws her hands out at him, hoping to get it through his suddenly thick skull as she continues.

"They turned me down- it’s not some big mystery to solve! They. just. don’t. like. me!"

But maybe she needed to accept that herself... if she really knew that to be true, then maybe this wouldn’t be hurting so badly...

Yet, Hanako gazes back at her, just as hard-headed as he was.

Until...

He eventually shakes his head with a sigh, "I’m sorry, Yashiro, I just don’t believe it..."

She rakes her hands over her face before throwing them back out, despite the fact it hadn’t helped her much the first time.

"Hanako!" she groans harshly, wanting to pull out her hair lock by lock and then rip his out next, "Do I really have to spell it out to you?!"

She drops her delicate hands, looking at him firmly, ruby eyes narrowed with the vehemence sizzling her.

"They said to me, and I quote!" She makes a puppet out of her right hand, a new contestant for the worst (Y/n) (L/n) impression known to mankind, "‘I hate you’ and ‘I hate your stupid face’. They even told me to stay away from them, Hanako!"

Despite her antics- the words only seem to reach herself.

They told her to stay away from them...

She lowers her head, heart dragging her temper back down, all attempts to cheer up escaping her like sand through a strainer.

She tells him, voice low with remorse.

"Hanako, they specifically asked me not to be their girlfriend..."

Quiet filled the room.

The rain continued to beat softly against the bathroom windows, pleading for a warm space indoors.

A faucet dripped just as well, somewhere to her left, seeming to argue with the pitter-patter of the outside.

Even the toilets seemed to-

"Wait- isn’t that a good thing...?"

Her head whips up, "A GOOD THING?!"

Yashiro doesn’t resist this time, all instinct, no thoughts in her head as she barrels forward, animalistic in the way she lunges for him- without an ounce of mercy as he yells in protest.

"I asked them out because I like them and wanted to date them!" She shakes him with wild abandon, yelling so fiercely she’s sure at least some of her cries will be slammed into his thick skull, "Not to get my heart broken, you jerk!"

"What the hell?!" He yelps, somehow managing to sound even more confused as she continues to shake him, "Then why are you so upset? They-"

"They basically told me to go to hell!" She blubbers, gripping his collar with the surely deathly amount of emotion brewing in her oversized heart.

"No, they didn’t!" He wails, as though he can somehow convince her against what she was with her own eyes- heard with her own ears, "Stop! Stop shaking me!"

She does, only in pure offense.

"In what world, Hanako?!" She demands, “You’re the only one not making any sense here!”

Hanako shoots her a very unhappy look as he floats back onto his shoes, hands fluttering up to adjust his collar, stubbornly silent.

"Hanako-kun," she says warningly, making grabby hands at him, a threat veiled as thinly as a freshly scrubbed glass window.

"Yashiro, tell me,” his voice is low, solemn, “What’s (L/n)’s rumor?"

However, his words dumbfound her again.

She can only gape at him.

Was he seriously bringing rumors up now...? Of all times? In her time of heartbreak?

"I don’t know! What does it matter?" She crosses her arms, pouting, "This isn’t about that!"

But Hanako only groans at this, running a hand over his face, "Yashiro!"

"What?!" She glares at him.

"(L/n) (Y/n)," he mutters, looking up at her tiredly under long dark lashes, "Mystery number eight. The rumored polygraph apparition."

Polygraph?

She’d never heard that before...?

"While it’s true that they can tell if anything is true or false," a small smile curls at his lips, hinting at his not so hidden growing mischief as his hands slide into his pockets, "Not many people seem to understand that it’s not some kind of blessing- or some mystery related power bestowed upon them.”

"Hanako..." her fingers curl back into fists, voice low with a threat, "What does this have to do with my rejection?"

But he only leans forward with a smirk, golden eyes glinting.

"Because (L/n) is cursed just like you."

Despite the cracks, her beaten heart flutters, no matter how much she wishes it wouldn’t.

"Really?" She tries not to sound too interested, looking away.

She had to remind herself she had already been turned down. She couldn’t like them anymore!

...

but also...

Maybe this was her way in with them... Maybe if she brought up that they were both cursed- then they would fall in love with her!

Hell yeah! And then maybe- just maybe- Yashiro could break their curse! It’d be like something straight out of a fairy tale!

"(L/n)’s curse is that they can only tell lies."

What were the chances that their curse could be broken with true love’s kiss? Because that would be even more amazing!

But also... they hated her... and what were the chances she was their true love...?

Geez. She needed to write this down. This plan had a lot of holes...

"Uh... Yashiro?"

"I’m thinking," she waves her hand dismissively, turning around- away from him and his distractions.

But maybe this was some weird enemies to lovers thing?

She read about plenty of prince types falling in love with their arranged marriage princess after not liking them! Maybe this was like that!

"Did you hear me?"

"Yeah, yeah, we’re both cursed, I got it already," she huffs, annoyance brewing again.

"No..."

She then looks up at her friend, brows drawing.

Who is grinning back at her...

She blinks.

"Wait..."

Lies?

"Woah, woah, woah-"

But Hanako turns away this time, ignoring her now, "Doesn’t matter what it is. (L/n) does not have the ability to tell the truth to save their life."

He hums, tapping his chin, "Something about telling the wrong lie to the wrong person back when they were living- I think."

He looks over his shoulder at her flabbergasted self with a smirk, "It’s pretty useful though. You can feed them facts and have them say it back to see if it’s true or false."

"Wait, Hanako-"

"I guess the curse part of their rumor isn’t very well known though, so I can’t blame you for not knowing," he gestured away from the idea, smug as he continues to lecture teasingly, "But you should really look into your crushes more. So that things like this-"

"I have to go!" She shrieks, filling the bathroom with her own instant easy bake panic and Hanako’s laughter.

-

(L/n) stepped back from the shelf.

It looked bad.

Everything was wrong.

And not just how they once again rearranged the shelf.

"Perfect," they grouch under their breath, hands reaching out to fix it once again.

They were restless.

They’d been mixing and matching every little content of the school basement they could get their cursed hands on.

Their stupid, idiotic cursed hands!

But no matter how much they fidgeted and grumbled, nothing would fix their problems.

They should have just kissed her!

Hugged her!

Held her hands!

Something!

Anything but open their stupid mouth!

They step back from the shelf.

"This looks even better!" They snap, crossing their arms sourly.

They couldn’t seem to do anything right!

They couldn’t even run after the poor girl either- knowing they’d only make matters much worse.

Nene-san was right about them. They really were terrible...

They were just a no good, dirty, lying spirit glued to a dirty school basement. It was probably for the best that she ran away as far and fast as she could.

(Y/n) wishes they could run for the hills too.

How wonderful would it be to take her hand and just run away from everything?

A soft hum leaves their lips at the thought as they reach forward, swiping two fingers through the dust coating the rickety old shelves.

The door above creaks open, making them cautiously pull their hand away.

"(L/n)...?"

They bat their lashes, not believing their ears.

Turning, their (e/c) eyes find the stairs, and sure enough, they also find Nene’s figure tiptoeing down them slowly, clearly still wary of their decrepit appearance.

Rightfully, too. They were old as dirt, after all.

But...

Nene had come back...? 

"Oh. There you are."

There’s that nervous fiddle of her fingers again, tugging at her uniform.

(Y/n) says nothing as they turn to look at her.

This time they were going to do things right.

For starters- they would keep their mouth shut! No lying to poor Nene-san. Only nodding or shaking their head.

They were going to fix this somehow! She had come back, all the way down to the basement to see them, even after all the stupid things they had said.

(Y/n) couldn’t help the fearful fluttering of their heart, especially as the long-haired girl drew closer to them.

Nene looked as beautiful as ever, even in the dim dusty atmosphere of the rickety old basement. It makes them step back a little.

Yet, she was as stubborn as ever too, judging by the way she gave (Y/n) a heart attack, snatching up their hands without warning and dragging them back to her.

"Please hear me out."

If only she knew that (Y/n) would listen to anything she had to say. She could rant and rave. She could call them mean names and (Y/n) would nod right along.

So, they do.

Nene-san seems to relax a little at this, but not much.

"I like you."

Logically, (Y/n) knows this. Nene had told her just yesterday.

Accordingly, just like yesterday, their heart jumps, making them wonder if they were suddenly alive again, blush lighting a fair across the bridge of their nose.

"Which is why I..." Nene looks down at their hands.

(Y/n) does too, face growing even hotter when they realize she’s still holding them.

Nene firmly intertwines their fingers with her soft lithe ones.

"I want to apologize!"

(Y/n)’s head snaps up in surprise.

Before they hastily shake their head.

No! No! No!

Why would SHE apologize? (Y/n) was the one who needed to apologize! There was no reason-

"Yes!" Nene is squeezing their hands passionately, "I was such an idiot yesterday, (L/n)!"

They shake their head harder, despite the nausea that threatens them to stop-

No- no- no-

She was going to take back her confession! And there wasn’t anything (Y/n) could do to stop her! They couldn’t tell her how they felt- they couldn’t tell her they were sorry- they couldn’t say a damned thing!

Sure, it was probably for the best-

But it was not for the best when it came to (Y/n)’s heart!

Though, the sudden hands cupping their face, forcing them to stop wagging their head in protest were more than welcome nonetheless.

They could only gaze at Nene with worry clouding their heart, their attempts at refusal frozen.

Until she began squishing their cheeks.

"I’m really sorry, (L/n)," she says softly, still squeezing their face in her soft hands, "I really should’ve done my research."

Oh no...

Did that mean she knew about their curse...? She must know now that they were too much effort!

Yet...

...

Their heart was breaking. Shattering in her hands.

So- Why the hell was Nene-san smiling?!

"Please forgive me, (L/n),” She’s leaning forward, giving them those big puppy dog eyes.

Her eyes, a million shades of scarlet, like roses and carnations and every pretty thing (L/n) had ever seen!

It was critically effective, a one-shot to their heart as always.

"Hm?"

(Y/n) nods again.

Nene leans closer, however, bringing back a grin on her strawberry lips now.

"Sorry, I can’t hear you."

Hear them-?

(L/n) immediately tries to shake their head- only to find Nene holds them captive.

"Huh? What’s that, (L/n)?" She giggles, bumping their noses lightly, making their face turn rosy in her soft hands, "You’re gonna have to speak up."

Nene won’t let them shake their head at this either!

She repeats warmly.

"You’ll forgive me, (L/n), won’t you?"

For a moment, they remain stubborn.

But they’re not getting out of this one either...

"No," they huff in response, almost actually meaning what leaves their lips for once.

However, they still wait with bated breath, terrified of what trouble their stupid curse might bring them now.

After all- Nene hadn’t really clarified if she knew about their issue now, or not. Meaning, they very well could’ve already royally fucked up- again- with just one little word.

“Ah. That’s good to know.”

They peer up at the girl under their lashes, praying on all their lucky stars that she understood what they do desperately meant- what they so desperately felt for her.

One of Nene’s hands slides past their cheek, her fingers tracing through their (h/l) (h/c) locks.

Surely though- if Nene-san despised them now, she wouldn’t be so... affectionate?

“I’m waiting~” the girl with the dyed cream-colored hair tells them, stirring a commotion in their chest.

Shit! What was she waiting on?

Nene offers no clues however, only smiling at them softly, pretty as ever.

Maybe...

(Y/n) takes a deep breath before quickly leaning forward, not allowing their head to get in the way of their needy heart for once.

With a gentle hand cupping the back of her neck, they pull the girl closer, ever so carefully pressing their lips against Nene’s hers.

Not only is it their hopefully first kiss of many with this girl- but it’s their first real kiss too! Neither helped their nervousness-

But,

When Nene’s soft lips brush back against their own- they melt like ice cream in the face of the sun. 

When they pull back, (Y/n) can’t help but lick their lips, delightfully blinking at the new taste of cherry chapstick smudged in them.

They’re almost too caught up in the sweetness to process her next words.

“You’re cute, but that’s not what I meant.”

They look up at her.

Then realized what she was talking about, turning their face a fiery hue.

“I get it,” they tell her, reaching up to scratch the back of their neck a little awkwardly, despite how happy they felt.

Nene beams, “Then say it back, silly!”

Which makes them blink at her.

To which she blinks back.

“Oh, right. The lying thing,” Nene is the one blushing now, stirring a small laugh from their chest.

But they’ve got a pretty good idea what Nene-san is talking about now.

They lean forward, smiling cheerfully as they tell her, voice overflowing with warmth.

“I hate you, Nene-san.”

[lala-pipo]

(1/13) Ahh, yeah I just went over to the shower scene again, the scenes before and after it, and maybe because I was really immersed in Taem’s perspective at looking at things – I quite literally took it as is, like Jong had mood swings, not sure why and that’s it? But there IS something fragile in Jong, he acted oddly, and you are right that Taem does feel helpless and stuck in his own thoughts… it’s kinda hard to see the scenes unfold without Taem’s opinion on it right hahaha

(2) but that makes it really interesting for me, since I just literally follow Taem’s train of thoughts every time, until you pointed it out to me! Kinda feel bad about for not noticing it though ^^;; but yeah, for sure as an audience, we are just “pls come on you guys!! :(“ But, from chapter 10 we get to know Jong’s thoughts and feelings ououou sooo excited since so far we see Taem’s world and yeah!! I think maybe we would be able to see why Jong acted the way he did in the prev. chapters :3

Cricket nony!!! ❤️

How are you doing???

I mean it will still be Taemin’s POV from chapter 10 on (I don’t like it when people switch POV in the middle of a story Stephanie Meyer style :’D) but Jonghyun will be more expressive and talk more – so I guess this will be helpful to the reader to grasp his view on things. 

(3) Right! He did get blinded by his own feelings, because maybe he doesn’t realize, well he does realize that it mirrors Jong-Key relationship to an extent, but not the whole of it? Like how he said to Jong, Key made Jong feel bad and upset so therefore he should just leave Key, and told him to stop pining for Key, but then eyy he can’t stop pining for Jong lol but then maybe he sees it as a slightly ~different~ situation hahaha

Let’s say Taemin is blindsided by love and acts and behaves in odd ways lmao, he will continue to do so in chapter 9. ^^”

(4) OMG CHAPTER 8!! YOU DID! YOU WENT IN like a warrior indeed omg… I cried cried cried… I re-read that outside club scene like so many times… because it just makes me so sad and *sniff* you did cut all the strings without any mercy uhuhuhuhuh I am looking forward on how the story will continue omg Taem going back to the hometown?? Where will the story go?? Drought onto chapter 9? Will Taem skip a semester on University and be back for Autumn instead?? T__T

(5) Right in front of your own salad lol YEAHH I saw the JongTae oneshots, I haven’t read them yet, I think I will read them when chapter 9 gets too much (honestly, mentally preparing myself for what is to come) T__T Hahaha but I think slice of life genre has some angst and fights sometimes too right, since it supposed to reflect real life right right, so it’s still generally a chill read, as in we even get to know Taem’s thoughts as he reads the bible, and also on dystopian-what-ifs scenarios l

Awww ... don’t cry :(

No, Taemin won’t skip a semester – that would be – too dramatic? Someone wasting their life away for half a year because of someone who doesn’t reciprocate their feelings? Don’t know about that. That seems a tad unlikely to me. ^^” But maybe that’s just me because I’m such a cold-hearted human being. :’)

(6) LOL yeah that is true you do know ~ the truth~ lol but perhaps you telling us that Taem is an unreliable narrator might help us? Lol might help us to doubt everything but literally will not help us to actually see the things, the scenes, the people, the relationships as is? honestly that is one of the big mysteries – everyone gets along so well with Key! And, for sure I’m taking everything with a grain of salt but still can’t help but feel sad for Taem :( obviously, since we are in his head

I mean if you come to think of it, Taemin got along well with Kibum as well in the beginning until he started developing feelings for Jonghyun and realized – or thought that Kibum is the one intervening with the happiness he could experience with Jonghyun.^^ I mean Kibum doesn’t do much, he just lives the typical life of a university student and enjoys himself - we can’t blame him for doing that. 

(7) Right right as Taem is an unreliable narrator, I can’t tell lol but either way you are right, with or without intentions, humans are humans and we don’t know anything. Knowing that if Minho DID have intentions only add spice in the story but not really change the fact that he might be giving out bad advice unintentionally, like maybe he could have ulterior motives in general, but not particularly on that advice, does it make sense hahaha ^^;;

(8) Ahhh yeah I think maybe the scene in chapter 8 made it clearer of the emotional frustrations that Taem had with Jong? I think even the fact that you added 25k words alone on this chapter I think signifies that Taem was going through his head a lot, muddling his thoughts and frustrations with Jong? To kinda show that maybe not THAT much time has passed by, but surely in Taem’s head it feels like forever – with some many thoughts and feelings going around :(

I think why it does feel like a long time, although it’s just one semester – is the fact that they share a living space – and see each other constantly. That’s a completely different premise in contrast to people meeting out in the wild and meeting up for a cup of coffee now and then, or something the like. So the time Taemin spent with Jonghyun most likely felt far more intense to him.

(9) Dramatic Taem even reading the bible hahaha I really enjoy the biblical references though, most of the time they are funny references on how he compares something trivial to a bible thing xD Oh! And also!! Happy belated birthday! Is it December 3rd? Is that your birthday? Since it was a very specific date in the story that it got me wondering… hmmm could it possibly? I hope you were able to spend it with the people you love, and I wish you health and happiness for the years to come! <3

This is correct. ^^ December 3rd is my birthday and December 3rd was also the date I got to see Jonghyun live for the first time – so it has a double meaning. ^^ Thank you, you’re too kind. I had pizza on that day, so I had a lovely time…haha

(10) Big brain energy for the mythological aspect of Song of Sirens lol but but you know did I mention, ah probably I didn’t since I only do snort comments on Dorm Life lol but interestingly, I thought that Song of Siren would actually refer to a story of Jong having such a beautiful voice – as in he is the Siren and he be singing in the myth, but as it turned ouuut it is not the case lol

(11) That is why!! In the beginning especially I was really excited to know how the story might unfold to reveal that Jong is the siren, but then! (at least for me) it took an unexpected turn hahahah I already created a possible plot for the story before even reading the story lol so it was really fresh mint plot for mee :3

Ah – that’s interesting that you thought Jonghyun would be another siren. :o Jonghyun was supposed to be Selene first – but I thought that was 1) too obvious and 2) the story of the sirens and Persephone actually exists like that and wasn’t completely made up, so it was easier to tie the ends together. And I mean Jonghyun as the goddess of spring? That works well in my head as well. ^^

(12) Oh!! And don’t worry! I actually love doing this – making comments, observations, analyzations and actually asking you if they are your intentions or not! It’s like washing dishes and cleaning up my room, therapeutically calming! :3 I’m happy that it makes you happy <3 I am indeed sorry for blasting your inbox though… it must have been a LOT of messages ^^;; thank you for spending your time with my weird questions and observations honestly lol I read all of your AO3 replies, thank you!

I still haven’t managed to get through all of your comments on ao3 – but I hopefully will by the end of the year. Thanks again so much for leaving me so many comments to read <3 I wholeheartedly enjoy reading them. ^^

(13) I am doing much much better now! Thank you for your kind words <3 I really really appreciate the work that you put in Dorm Life! I have so much fun reading it! Like I only re-read it twice but I noticed things that I didn’t before, I’m just!! I am just super happy and I am super thankful for all your hardwork! I hope you have a lovely December too! I hope you can stay healthy as well! Thank you so much hwarang_number san for reading and betaing also! You guys are amazinggg! <3 Thank you!!

@hwarang-number thank you from me too! ^^

I’m glad you enjoyed the story so far. Chapter 9 will be a let-down in terms of entertainment value – it’s more of a filler chapter, but I still enjoyed writing it so  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ for me as a writer it doesn’t feel like a filler, but I know it will feel like that to the reader. But I wanted chapter 9 to end on a cliffhanger, that’s why I didn’t add anything to it anymore. I hope chapter 10 will be more enjoyable in that regard again. ^^

Please take good care of yourself, cricket nony. I hope you will have a pleasant rest of December! *sends you all the best wishes*

[moonlightreal]

Strange Fate first two chapters

I figured out where I read the first chapter of Strange Fate!  It’s in the Night World guide, it has the first two chapters…. At least the first two chapters as of 2009 before Brionwy’s story split off into its own book.

And reading just these chapters I can see why.  Sarah's chapter feels kind of clunky and forced, maybe because the author has to cram in all the introductory info, while Brionwy’s chapter is just… really good.  *sigh*

Anyway, I decided the internet needs these chapters so I typed ‘em in.  (so all typos are mine) Enjoy! Inspire your fanfics!  Just don’t use them as the first chapters of your fanfic, that ain’t cool.  And buy the Night World guide too. It has plenty of other clues about the plot of Strange Fate if you read carefully.

Chapter 1 Sarah

Sarah wasn’t trying to hear the whispering that was going on in front of her.  She couldn’t help it.  Soft as it was, it seemed to override the teacher’s voice.

“You’re really getting me worried about homecoming.  Are you going or not?”  Rachel Carr was saying softly to Pamela Adams.

Sarah absentmindedly decorated math sums in her notebook with a design of flowers, which somehow seemed to make the voices even clearer.

“It all depends.”  Pamela answered, sighing.  ‘the idea was to get Mal Harman to ask me, but so far...”  she shrugged gracefully.  “You know.”

“Same with me.”  Rachel whispered back heavily, without turning to look at Sarah.

Sarah stopped drawing and stared at her notebook.  Maybe they didn’t know she was there.  Since her mother’s funeral a year ago, people often didn’t know she was around until she spoke.  And the two most popular girls at E.B. Turner High School didn’t usually sit near Sarah or pay her much attention.

Rachel continued, “Don’t worry, I’m not competing with you.  I mean, I have my eye on Kierlan Drache.  But the question is, can either of them be pried apart from that mousy little Sarah, even for one dance?”

The girls must not have noticed she was there.  Pam and Rachel were always full of sweetness and light to Sarah in front of other people.  But the, that was because Kierlan and mal were usually the other people around Sarah.  Sarah bit her lip.  She would never last more than a few seconds in a debate with these girls, but…

No.  She bit her lip harder, holding back words, imagining herself in a cool green forest instead of this slightly stuffy first-period math class.  Her teacher’s droning voice became the creaking of the redwoods.

It was October 12 and no one had really asked her to homecoming, and she certainly hadn’t asked anyone.  But then, no one ever asked her to dances.  What happened just happened by itself.

“So have you spoken to Mal about it yet?”  Rachel asked Pamela.  Somehow, despite how Sarah tried, the whispering, although soft, would not become the sound of leaves rustling in the trees.

“I’ll make my move when I’m ready,”  Pamela said coolly, uncrossing and recrossing long, elegant legs in her very short white knit skirt.

“But it is Mal you’re after—and not Kierlan, right?”  Rachel demanded.  Neither of the boys in question were in the honors math class.  Mal was in regular math and Kierlan—well, he was supposed to be at the junior college for this class.

Pamela spoke indignantly, “Are you joking?  As if I would even think about Kierlan after what he did to me last year at the Spring Fling!”  Pamela forgot to whisper as she tossed her glossy blond hair.

This got the two girls a long, stern look from Mr. Osford.  Another student was called up to the blackboard, and Sarah hastily bent over and scribbled the exponential equation from the board into her notebook.  Then she frowned, solved the problem, and decorated the number with twining vines.  Much more elegant.

Math and art were the only two subjects that made sense to Sarah.  She could never be a mathematician like Kierlan, but she hoped she could be an artist.  In the big art room she had a painting hanging that had recently won a county prize, and she would be packing it up with Ms. Jessup to go to the state competition later that day.

But that doesn’t give me long, gorgeous legs like a model’s, she thought.

“No, no, no,”  Mr. Osford was saying to the student at the blackboard.  “Like this, not like that.”

Rachel and Pamela barely paused.

“Well, wear a long dress this time, then.  He can’t flip that.”  Rachel leaned over to pat Pamela’s arm with a sympathetic air that held just a hint of smirk.

Pamela simply moved her arm and looked back haughtily.  Pamela had everything a girl needed to look haughty, sarah thought with sad admiration.  She was tall, blue-eyed, a natural blonde, with a perfect, curvaceous figure and those long, long legs.

And Rachel was as perfect in her own way, with thick dark hair, wide dark eyes, and legs that were almost as elegant.

Sarah, on the other hand, was rather slight and fragile looking, with very little on top and nothing at all anywhere else.  Coltish legs, no hips, flyaway brown hair… and a face that somehow couldn’t do “haughty” at all, not that she tried.

“Anyway, good luck if you have to ask Mal yourself.”  Rachel whispered the words as if Pamela had proposed taking a swim in a river full of alligators.  Sarah found herself nodding agreement, then remembered she ought to want to skewer the girls and barbecue them for being so insensitive.  Mal wouldn’t barbecue Pam and Rachel though, if Sarah told him about this conversation.  Mal was the master of the cold stare.

“And that’s supposed to mean?”

“Nothing.”  Rachel said hastily, in a placating voice.  ‘It’s just—there have been other girls who’ve tried, you know.  They usually come back frozen solid. But at least if—when he says yes to you, you know you’ll look great together.”

and so they would, Sarah thought.  No arguing with that.  The gentle rustling of sarah’s green woods had retreated and Mr. Osford’s voice grew louder, trying to make the power of exponents sound interesting with his inflection.  Sarah very carefully drew a design of branching leaves around another sum.

“I just honestly can’t see what they see in that Sarah girl.”  Pamela said in exasperation.

Neither can I, Sarah thought, suddenly breathless.  She had to really blink to suppress a sniff. She started worrying about what would happen when the class was over—would Pam or Rachel glance behind them when they walked out? If they did, it was going to be agonizingly embarrassing for all of them.  And what about later?  She had art class with Pamela, for pity’s sake.  How was Sarah supposed to act then?

Sarah moved ahead of Mr. Osford’s lesson, copying questions from the board and solving them.  She scribbled a gigantic venus flytrap looming over the last equation.

Despite the hurt Sarah felt from Pam and Rachel’s remarks, Sarah knew what was really going to happen.  Kierlan, with his dark red hair, tawny eyes and cheerful face, would definitely be the one to bring up the dance.  He’d be sure to act as if they were all going to the dance together, if only as ajoke.  Everything was a joke to Kierlan.  He’d ask when Sarah wanted to head off to “do-si-do” or “get down and boogie.”

And then Mal would ask, coolly, if Kierlan had actually asked Sarah to the dance or if he was just making assumptions again.  Sarah could almost hear Mal saying it.  Mal was the opposite of Kierlan.  Sleek, dark-haired, always perfectly dressed, with eyes that were like windows into the early morning sky, he’d definitely ask if Kierlan was making assumptions.

And then Kierlan would say that he and Sarah were too close for him to have to ask about every little dance.  “So if you’re planning to ask her,”  Kierlan would say to mal, one arm casually thrown around Sarah’s shoulders, “go right ahead.”

And then both of them would look at Sarah for justification.

“You’re not really going with this jerk?”  Mal would say.  “You know I’ve warned you about him.  He’s an animal.”

And Kierlan would say, “But Sarah loves animals, don’t you, Sarah?”  Except, of course, that Kierlan almost never called her Sarah.  He used the nickname he’d given her when she was five.

This nickname would both muddle Sarah's feelings and melt her heart.  Then sarah would look up helplessly at Mal, who would say that Kierlan was using undue influence, and that sarah’s decision should be entirely free of prejudice.

And somewhere in all of this, the fact that Mal never—ever—actually asked Sarah to go with him, either, would get lost.  And it would end the way it always did: with the three of them going together, the guys alternating turns buying Sarah flowers.  And the three of them would spend most of the dance talking—and trying to keep Kierlan from slipping “a little something’ into the punch bowl.

“So what color are you going to wear?  Mal’s not going to have much time if you wait until the last minute,”  Rachel whispered, making it sound as if the deal was done, the arrangements already made.

Sarah thought of the lovely little homecoming dress that she had bought two weeks ago.  It was aquamarine, to match her eyes, and she’d bought it knowing—assuming that she knew—exactly how the scene with Mal and Kierlan would play out.

Except… maybe things wouldn’t happen the same way this year.  Mal and Kierlan were seniors now; Sarah was only a junior.  Maybe being a senior was more serious and things were going to be different this year.

The thought made her heart pound, and Sarah knew she couldn’t stand much more of this.  Class was almost over but—what if Pamela turned around?  What if Pam realized she had overheard their entire conversation?  What would Sarah say?

“I’ve got something in basic black; that ought to be easy to match,”  Pamela said, “What about you?”

“I bought something creamy—sort of ivory,” Rachel said with a pat to her long dark hair.  “also easy to match.”

Somehow that did it.  That short exchange about dresses, already bought and waiting—just like hers. Sarah suddenly heard someone speaking aloud, in a conversational voice, then with a slight shock realized it was her own.

“Mal always wears black—but he doesn’t like it on girls,” Sarah said, watching Pam and Rachel start to turn and look at Sarah.  “At least not since—,”  Sarah began, but discovered she couldn’t finish her sentence.  At least not since my mother’s funeral, Sarah thought.

Now that Sarah was this far in, she turned to Rachel and said, just as loudly, “and if you’re going to wear ivory around Kierlan, you’re going to come home covered in punch.”

There was a moment of perfect silence, and then Mr. osford rapped sharply on his desk.  “Pamela Adams, Rachel Carr!” he called.  ‘Sarah...um, Strange!  Are you three looking for a detention?”

Sarah, embarassed as she was to find everyone in class looking in her direction, felt slightly vindicated.

Then, to her horror, she smelled roses.  A shaft of pain shot through her head and she shut her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose.  Oh no!  Not now!  She couldn’t have a migraine here.

Automatically, Sarah's other hand flew up.  She lifted her head to see Mr. Osford shaking his head as if to say “Give me a break.”  he looked to Rachel and Pamela, as if expecting their hands to go up too, but they sat stiffly, flushed, staring straight ahead like extras in a movie scene.

Sarah knew from experience that she was fighting the clock now.  If she couldn’t stop the migraine in the next minute or so, she wouldn’t be able to hold it off at all. Without waiting for permission and with her vision already edged with sparkling silver, she stood up—and knocked her math book off her desk.

Sarah could hear scattered laughter, not really unkind laughter, but she didn’t have the mental balance at the moment to judge fairly.  All she knew was that she had to get out of this class.

Abandoning her books, trailing her backpack, Sarah hurried to the end of the row of desks.  The pain in her head was coming more and more frequently, and she heard Mr. Osford say, “Sarah, I’m sure you can wait for the restroom for another six minutes.”

Sarah was no longer paying attention. She lunged toward her goal: the door.  Someone she couldn’t see caught at her backpack as if to stop her.  Sarah stumbled and there was more laughter.  Mr. Osford, who had never had Sarah in a class before this year, asked, suddenly concerned, “Is something wrong?”

Someone else, far away, said, “She gets migraines.”

Sarah found the doorknob by touch; the glittering silver aura now covered half her visual field.  She opened the door and slipped through, just in time to hear Mr. Osford saying faintly, “Quiet down, everyone.  A migraine is just a headache.”

Not my migraines, Sarah thought grimly as she headed more by instinct than by sight through the empty halls toward the girls’ restroom.

Not even Sarah's doctors could explain what happened when Sarah's migraines hit full force.  They weren’t classic migraines, but they weren’t classic seizures, either.  They didn’t respond to medication.

All Sarah knew was that at the peak of the pain, she lost consciousness and had—nightmares.  She had these same nightmares when she was asleep.  But Sarah never told anyone about what happened in the nightmares, not even her kindly, sympathetic doctors.

Sarah was afraid that her kindly, sympathetic doctors would have her locked up.

Here was the girls’ restroom. Thank God, she’d made it.  She needed hot water.  She stood at a sink and began running the water as hot as she could get it, ignoring the two senior girls who were putting on their makeup and talking.

Sarah leaned forward, breathing slowly and feeling the steam on her face.  When the water was hot enough, she soaked a handful of paper towels and held them on the back of her neck.  Sarah lost track of time.  But she realized, gradually, gratefully, that the smell of roses had gone away, and that the shimmering silver covering her vision had retreated.  She had caught the migraine early enough to stop it.

But she’d also left the hot water running in the sink.  The entire mirror was misted over with steam.

Sarah realizes that the older girls were looking at her pointedly.  Hastily, she turned the hot water off and used her wad of paper towels to make a vignette in the misted mirror.  She tried to shut out the glares of the senior girls as they scrubbed at their glass too.

Doing her best to appear casual, Sarah looked in the mirror.  Her aquamarine eyes reflected back, their depths somehow giving the impression of being full of unshed tears.

The rest of her features were also all present and correct.  Flushed skin that was usually pink, as she blushed easily.  A small nose and a small, determined chin with a dimple.  A nice mouth, if she thought so herself, and eyelashes that didn’t require mascara.  Hair; light brown and always falling in different configurations over her shoulders.

It was… a gentle face, Sarah thought as she turned away from the mirror.  Sarah’s mother had had a small, heart-shaped, gentle face, and Sarah took after her in that.

Sarah sighed, and turned to throw the paper towels into the garbage.

And was engulfed by the smell of roses.

Chapter 2 Wings

It happened all in an instant: the shaft of pain coursing through her head, holding her frozen again.

The smell of roses filled her nostrils, almost sickly sweet, much stronger than it had been in the classroom.

Sarah clutched feebly at a sink.  Oh God, she thought wildly, this isn’t fair!  But her vision had already narrowed to a small circle, and she couldn’t ignore the scent of warm, full-blown rose blossoms.  They were so real she could almost see them.  Sarah was going to have a migraine—right now—and somewhere down there was a very hard tiled floor.

She turned as another lance of agone shot through her head.  Sarah was trying to get into a stall where there was privacy, when suddenly both of the senior girls screamed. The door had just burst open and a boy walked inside.

“This is the girls’ restroom!” one of the seniors cried in outrage.

The boy answered indifferently, “Well, that’s what I’m here to find: a girl.”

The two seniors were still shrieking at him in fury and shock as Sarah tried to take a step forward.  All she could see, in the center of her glimmering tunnel, was a tall boy with dark hair and chiseled features in a rather pale face.  She saw eyes so light gray that they almost weren’t a color, and two arms held out to catch her.

“Mal,”  Sarah heard herself whisper, and then, without question or hestiation, she let herself fall forward into the darkness.

And as she went, sarah realized that today’s migraine-nightmare was going to be a bad one.  It started with wings.

***

Wings.

Crispy was squatting on her haunches at the far edge of the boneyard.  The white shape she had been staring at for the past few minutes was not some sheet of amazingly clean paper dumped from the Grand House.  It was an animal.  An animal with wings—a bird.  She was proud of knowing that fact, and even more proud of knowing what kind of bird it was.

A pidge-un, Old Useless had told them when she described it.  Not all things with wings were Masters, the old woman had explained to them.  Not all things with wings meant death.

In the old days, Useless said, there had been lots of birds in the sky, the blue sky.  That was before the Masters had purged the animals, of course, and darkened the sky, making it forever gray.

Despite her bragging rights, Crispy was deeply grateful that in the plump, gently curving shape of the pigeon, she could discern no sign of wings at all.  Even knowing it was not a Master, she didn’t think she could watch wings unfold without shrieking.  And, considering the predators that lived in the boneyard, one shriek would mean her death.

Okay, so you’ve seen a bird.  Now get back to work, said Crispy’s mind, or, more accurately, said one half of Crispy’s mind.  It was the half she called Smart Crispy, who knew what was really important and what wasn’t.  Important was surviving, gathering food, and most especially not getting caught and put back into the fawn pens where the little kids were kept to be fattened.

Important was not a bird.

Still, she sat.  it’s alive.  It moves by itself, the other half of Crispy’s mind marveled.  This part was the part she labeled Dumb Crispy.  Dumb Crispy was slow, but stubborn.  What does it hurt if I sit here and watch the bird for a minute? It asked.

Crispy tried to remember other things Old Useless had told her about birds.  Useless could tell you lots of things if he was in the mood; you just didn’t want to get too close to her mumbling, toothless mouth.  Useless’d lived her life in one of the crazies’ pens, but somehow she had avoided the selections, and somehow she had escaped from the pen during the chaos of the Grand Hunt, the Hunt when Crispy had been burned.  Old Useless’d cared for Crispy then.  Now Crispy cared for her.  A debt was a debt: that was the iron rule.

Besides, half the time Old Useless said they were family.  Sometimes she said she was Crispy’s grandmother, sometimes her great-gran, and sometimes even her mother, a clear impossibility.  It was probably all nonsense, but the thought that crispy might really have a relative, even a crazy, white-haired useless old woman, made her feel warm.

And that’s the kind of thought that gets you killed, Smart Crispy snapped.  Can you imagine what Roach would say to that?

Dumb Crispy wasn’t completely dumb. She was sampling the twilight constantly, instinctively.  She was sniffing the air, opening her mouth so she could smell better, listening, glancing all around her, checking with all her senses for danger.

She hadn’t reached the ripe old age of eight and a half by not paying attention.

Of course, she’d very nearly not reached that age.  Crispy grinned, stretching some of the red scars on her cheek, and glanced down at her hands.  One was full of graybread, the coarse, springy fungus that grew here and provided most of the food Crispy scavenged every day..

her other hand was her baby hand.  It was curled and stunted by the fire that had given her these scars, and it looked completely helpless.  Old useless was the one who had exercised Crispy’s hand using herbs and poultices to take away the pain.  Old Useless also claimed to be a witch and said she’d used the last of her witchlight to help Crispy, but Useless said so many different things that it was impossible to know what to believe.

However it was, by luck or chance or Old Useless’s magic, Crispy had one good arm and one that looked withered but could do everything the other could.  Like the two halves of her mind, the two halves of Crispy’s body were divided, one normal, and one puckered with angry burn scars from her dusty towhead to her small, rag-bound feet.

Right now Smart Crispy was coming up with an idea that appaled Dumb Crispy.  So you want to watch the pigeon? It said.  Okay, I’ll watch too.  And I’ll tell you something: there’s meat on that bird’s breast!  Meat! Remember how long it’s been since you tasted meat?  Can you remember?

Dumb Crispy could feel her heart pound.  The bird was harmless; it was free.  It could get out of the valley, flying over the boneyard, over the hills that surrounded the Grand House and the farm that belonged to it.

She didn’t want to kill it.

Then you’d better scavenge something better than fungus, Smart Crispy said.  Because I know what Roach is going to say when she hears that you saw meat and didn’t even take a shot.

All right, all right.  Crispy blinked rapidly; she wasn’t crying, of course—she never cried—but she had to blink before moving again.  Slowly she stuffed the last cones of graybread into the rags that served her as a tunic.  Then, slowly, reluctantly, she reached down to her rawhide belt, groping for her slingshot.    It was makeshift, with almost all the materials gathered from the boneyard.  A piece of tire from an old tractor for the cup.  Bits of rubber for elastic and a Y-shaped pipe for a handle.

Then she positioned herself, inching upward, praying that the mound of garbage at her back wouldn’t collapse.  And all the while she thought.  She thought herself part of the night, part of the boneyard, just another bit of garbage that the bird wouldn’t notice.

At last Crispy was in line for the shot.  Slowly she fitted a pebble into the slingshot.  Now was the time to disappear into the boneyard background.  The bird mustn’t sense any danger.  No danger… no danger…

That was the moment Crispy sensed the danger to herself.  It was unmistakable, and it was close. It was just a hint over the reek of garbage, a rank odor that froze Crispy’s heart.

Werewolf.

[fancykraken]

Here are more in-depth thoughts about Thor in Endgame because I need to barf some feels about it now.

To start off with I’m just going to say that I think they went the right way with Thor in this movie. Now, when I say that—because I know a lot of my fellow Thor lovers are not happy at the moment and to an extent I am too—I am not meaning the surface of what was seen by others and a lot of the audience. 

I went into the movie knowing what was happening with him, so it wasn’t a big shock for me to see it (just the visuals were a bit surprising at first because I didn’t know what it would be like). I’m glad I knew going ahead of time because my knee jerk reaction would have been ‘oh, hell no.’ 

So what I mean by how I think for the most part they went the right way with Thor is this:

SPOILERS FOR THOR IN ENDGAME BELOW

[eta] um, didn’t realize how long this would get so if you do read it all I appreciate it and also have a cookie. <3

I think it was the right thing for him to completely fall apart and let the depression, PTSD, and trauma take over. I think that was a very clever part of letting people see underneath the surface of the King of Asgard. How could he not be fucked up by the end of Ragnarok and events of IW? It’s not possible, only a person completely devoid of empathy and emotion could just go on with their day. Not Thor. His heart is so big and so caring that he fell apart because of it. 

The delivery of the line “I went for the head” gutted me. You can hear how utterly broken he is. Kudos to Chris Hemsworth for that because damn, that was heavy. You can see him lose touch with reality in a sense after that, the final nail in the coffin of his guilt. So to see him in New Asgard, much heavier, drunk, dissociating, and suffering was pretty much the only path you can take (not meaning physical details here just the overall concept).

It’s a very real and hard look at what someone like him has been through and the results of it. It’s like Tony in Iron Man 3 with his anxiety and PTSD. How can you not go through something like that and come out on the other side all sunshine and roses?

This is what I really think they did right with him in this movie. This is more the reality of the aftermath of trauma and while yes it is presented in a very flippant and comedic way it is still very good underneath all of that. Strip it down and you see how broken he is. I think Chris Hemsworth played it very well. While his performance was still more geared for comic relief, the pain, the denial, the fear, the guilt, the sadness was still there just underneath the surface and could clearly be seen. He was muddled, rambly, defensive, moody, which for me as someone who deals with depression and anxiety illnesses on a daily basis I can 100% confirm that these are some of the symptoms of these things.

The scene with Frigga was the right move because I think that no one except Frigga could help him tip the scales of him starting to heal. I know that Thor would have been able to do it himself, but having Frigga there for him to confess to was perfect. He couldn’t tell anyone about what was really inside him because no one except Frigga would understand. Odin could have to an extent, but he’s about as comforting as a thorn bush. And Loki probably could have understood a hell of a great deal as well, but he’s gone and he has his whole host of problems and self-loathing. Frigga was the right choice for this. And I know the fat jokes were there, the only one I personally will let slide is her saying ‘eat a salad’ because that is what mum’s do. I don’t think it came from a standpoint of Thor just being heavy, I think it was more just to have him healthier and clearer headed. He’s pretty much been drunk for 5 years straight, boo needs some vitamins and good nutrition.

Also, him summoning Mjolnir at the end of their encounter was so beautiful, I thought. He really did not believe he was still ‘worthy’ and despite Odin telling him in Ragnarok that Mjolnir was basically just a hammer and Thor had it in him the whole time it’s very real that depression strips that all away. You feel like a failure, a fraud, and not worthy to anyone. To have Mjolnir come back to him like that and his face light up was just so lovely. I wish he didn’t have to have that validation, but I think it was something he needed at that moment. Need to see physically that he was still Thor and worthy of all that he is and has to offer to people.

Now, having said all that and taking away the layers that were on the surface, the surface was... not great. I don’t mean as Thor himself and the performance, but the way the movie, story, other characters treated him. And I think a good part of it was there wasn’t time to go into it. The movie did need comic relief and release of all that tension in the room. Thor was just the unlucky guy to be tasked with almost all of that.

There’s an article here that kind of goes into the thought process of the filmmakers and while I agree to an extent, I also think they went about it the wrong way.

This quote, in particular, made me think a lot:

This was their way of showing how survivors are suffering and punishing themselves after the Snap. This was a physical way of manifesting the grief and regret Thor feels. But how do you punish a deity? How do you show that someone who looks like Chris Hemsworth has let everything go?

They made him a trainwreck.

I think the real problems I had with Thor and I know a lot of others in this was that whole movie concept of ‘show, don’t tell’. They went the very, very showy route.

The weight gain honestly was a bit surprising at first when I heard about it, but really I couldn’t give a fuck. I love him no matter what. I’d still glad drag him to bed if I were given the opportunity. I just wish they could have done a better job with the actual weight on his body. Hemsworth is obviously in peak physical shape, so the obvious thing was to just slap a fat suit on him and call it a day. I really don’t think they put enough thought into how fat would have distributed on his body and frame. It’s almost as if there are *gasps* no fat people in Hollywood to talk to about this. *rolls eyes* They really could have done better with the physical aspect of his body.

The fat jokes... well, as someone who has been fat their entire life they can be very triggering for me and I honestly had one or more anxiety attacks after hearing that he would be heavier for the duration of the film before seeing it. While the fat jokes aren’t really blatant fat jokes (it’s kind of hard for me to explain to people who haven’t had similar situations like me), I was okay. I’ve heard the fat jokes before, I’ve been the victim of many fat jokes before, so while I would have preferred not to have any, I think they were the milder of what you could have. If that makes any sense.

I am very tired of the trope that the fat people are only there for the comedic relief. I wish they could have toned that down a lot because I am tired of the way media treats fat people. Tired that fat people don’t get to be superheroes unless they’re a villain or just there for the laughs or laughs as a side character that helps out the superheroes. In this way, the movie let me down and let Thor as a character down. I think Ragnarok set up very nicely the balance of Thor’s comedic side and serious side. He was funny but not funny as to diminish him as a character or the storyline. This just felt he was there to be the funny one, like Drax in GotG Vol. 2 and I haaaaaated him in that. 

One good thing they did right by him in respect of his weight is that they didn’t change it. He stayed the same during the whole film and didn’t have any special powers or short cuts to make him buff again or ‘right’ again as a large part of the toxic beauty/health industry/society has taught us. He was still the mighty Thor only with an added beer gut. 

While I felt like his final battle wasn’t as epic as it was in Ragnarok or IW, I still think he kicked a lot of ass and took a lot of names. 

And his Magical Girl transformation at the end... hoo boy I needed a moment there. The hair and beard with the braids it was just... ghnnnn amazing. It was true Nordic Viking God Thor right there. 

Overall his arc in this movie wasn’t as deep as I was expecting. They definitely gave that to Tony and Steve. Thor’s journey was more there for the comic relief. I’m still not sure of how I feel about the end and the way he took off with the Guardians. It felt wrong but also like it was needed in a weird way. I’m still thinking over that. What I felt was wrong is that it severely throws out what was done in previous movies about Thor and his leadership, love for his people, and him being king of Asgard. That felt like a big slap to the face for me. When I first heard of that I felt so angry, so hurt that they would throw out everything that was built up for Thor and his overall character. After seeing it I’m less of that mind, but those feelings are still there. I think it may have sat with me better if it wasn’t just Thor literally handing Valkyrie the keys to New Asgard and buggering off. Because on the surface that’s what it was. I think it would have been better if it was presented as Valkyrie as temp ruler of Asgard while Thor went off to heal or find himself, which he is doing and I want him to do, or even find a new planet to be Asgards home, but not like that. The utter devotion and care for his people was such a key point for him in the previous movies. He’s better than that and to strip that all away and just hand it off to Valkyrie even if she is technically the better leader at the moment hurts. It could have been handled so much better and have Thor not feel so OOC at the end.

I really, really hope that this isn’t the end of Thor’s story because it feels unfinished. They left it open ended for more unlike with Tony and Steve. The Guardians still have another movie and I am really wondering if Thor will still be a part of that with this story. Will he be there to tie in Angela if she is introduced? I don’t know, but I want more, not just because he is my fave but because I feel as if his journey isn’t complete. It’s like there’s something missing and he needs to have the final say and find this inner peace. Tony and Steve were given this complete circle and that circle has been closed. Thor’s has not and while I can understand we may never get that as tight as the others, I think there’s definite room for it.

After seeing this I really hope the rumours of a Thor 4 will come true, especially with Taika. I can see a really fun movie of Thor healing and learning to live with the past. Will he be out there looking for Loki? Will he be with the Guardians? Will he be out there just him doing him? Who knows.

They tried to hold onto that humour from Ragnarok and some moments they did, but ultimately they failed spectacularly with pushing it way too far. If they pulled it back some and tweaked some things with the way others interacted with him then I think it would have been a lot less jarring.

If you’ve read this far then kudos to you. I know this may seem kind of a convoluted meta and thoughts about him in Endgame and I’m still very much in a mindset of that. I loved some of what was done for him/to him in the movie and hated other things. I need more time to digest.

tl;dr version: I love Thor so gd much

[doyelikehaggis]

Kylex - no 20 :)

Thank you so much for this!! ❤ 20: things you said that I wasn’t meant to hear

The door doesn’t make a sound when Alex walks back into the Crashdown Cafe.

It’s late, and he knows that technically they’re supposed to be closed, but Liz always has a habit of leaving it an hour or two when it’s her shift, and Rosa’s been MIA all day. 

Voices drift in from the back room, giving him pause. Assuming it’s just Liz talking to her dad, he quietly continues across the cafe to the booth he had been sitting in a few hours ago.

Neither of them ever usually mind when he shows up late; he’s pretty sure it has something to do with him accidentally letting it slip to Liz once about a bruise on his ribs. 

He does a quick sweep of the seat, the table, underneath the table, and the windowsill. Nothing.

Honestly, he considers just leaving his bag until tomorrow, but he’s got the feeling that Miss Fritz would kill him if he showed up without tomorrow’s assignment. 

He moves away from the booth, glancing around the room. Recalling the time that he left a textbook when he and Liz had been studying together, he moves over to the counter.

Sure enough, when he moves around to the back of it and crouches down, his bag is tucked away safely behind it. 

Smiling, he moves to grab it, planning on leaving a message for Liz to thank her and tell her he stopped by. It’s probably best if he doesn’t go back to see her. He’s guessing the hushed sound of arguing has something to do with Rosa’s absence. 

Before he can pull his bag out though, he freezes.

“No, Kyle, I’m not buying your excuses anymore,” Liz’s voice drifts from the back room, clearer now. “Something’s going on. It’s why you’ve been a total jerk lately. Especially to Alex. What is it, and why do you keep avoiding everyone?”

Alex’s throat tightens at the mention of his own name. He and Liz have had more than enough conversations about Kyle for her to have agreed to keep him out of her ones with him. It never seems to end well. 

“Everything’s fine,” Kyle says, and Alex’s eyes widen. It somehow hadn’t occurred to him that the other voice belongs to him. “Just drop it, Liz. Please. It’s nothing, I swear.”

“I can’t. Not when it’s clearly bothering you this much. And — now that we’re on the subject, why did you and Alex fall out? Is it because of whatever it is that’s going on with you?”

“I — sort of, but — Liz, I really don’t wanna talk about this, alright? So, can we please just leave it?”

“No, I’m sorry, but we can’t,” Liz says as Alex’s eyebrows draw together in confusion. “Alex is one of my best friends. And if you���re really being this much of an ass to him because he’s gay, then—”

“It’s not that.”

Alex doesn’t dare breathe. His plan was just to grab his bag then go home, maybe stay to say hi to Liz and her dad. Maria, too, if she was around. Now he has no idea what’s going on, but he’s positive he isn’t supposed to be hearing this.

He should leave. He knows he should. But they’re talking about him and now they’re silent, Kyle’s words hanging in the air, waiting to be pressed or continued or explained, because Alex would really like to know what he means by it’s not that.

There’s a quiet sigh. Kyle’s voice is calmer when he speaks again, the defensive edge slipping away. 

“It’s not because he’s gay. Not… not really, anyway.”

Alex’s eyebrows furrow, staring at a spot on the ground. 

“Okay, that wasn’t even slightly convincing,” Liz says. “If you have a problem with Alex—”

“He can be himself, that’s the problem.”

Alex blinks at the floor, his confusion growing, twisting around in his stomach. There’s something underneath the words, poking out, just begging for him to figure it out.

“He can be himself?” Liz repeats incredulously. “Kyle, you and your little gang bullied him for being who he is. His dad — don’t even get me started on him. You do not get to be mad that he is being himself.”

“I mean that he has the courage,” Kyle explains. “Even with everything you just said, he still doesn’t deny who he is! I can’t do that. I couldn’t even admit to liking him because of how terrified I was of what it would mean, and yet, there he is. Proud.”

The entire cafe rings with dead silence. Alex can’t move. He can only stare at that one grey square on the floor.

His heart has already leapt into his throat, his brain trying to muddle through what the hell he just heard and pick out pieces that he’s sure can’t possibly mean what they sound like. That would mean…

The air collapses all around him and it’s hard to breathe, and he’s almost positive the world is crumbling because no. There is no possible way… he would have known, surely…

“Kyle…” Liz says gently, her sympathetic, sad understanding shining through in her voice. All the confirmation he needs.

“Pathetic, huh?” Kyle huffs out, and Alex can see his face in his head, the forced, humourless smile. “I’m a total stereotype. Guy figures out he’s not straight by falling for his best friend then turns into a total dick so that he doesn’t have to deal with any of it. Alex was right. I’m a coward.”

Alex’s head is spinning. The entire world is off kilter, tipping as it all sinks in. The urge to move and leave as fast as possible grows, but he can’t bring himself to do it. 

“You were scared,” Liz says, “but… you could have said something. Told Alex the truth. This whole time… god, Kyle.”

“I was afraid,” Kyle agrees. “I knew what could happen, and I just… didn’t wanna face it. It’s too late now to fix things anyway. I made the mess, I just have to deal with it now. And, I know treating Alex the way I have wasn’t the way to do it. I should never have… I just need to stay out of his way, that’s all.”

“Do you…” Liz starts, then pauses, seeming to think her words over carefully. “Do you still…?”

Alex sucks in a breath, holding it there in his lungs as they burn. They all know what the question is.

Leave, a little voice pipes up, right now. Just go.

A beat passes. 

“I thought that I could force myself not to.”

The air leaves Alex in a rush, his stomach dropping. 

“I thought that maybe if he hated me, I could get over him,” Kyle quickly continues. “It didn’t work, obviously. I… I still really like him, and I’ve just… everything’s screwed up now.”

“Oh, Kyle,” Liz sighs. “You have to talk to him.”

“I can’t, Liz,” Kyle tells her right away. “There’s no point. It would just sound like I’m trying to make an excuse for everything I’ve put him through, and I can’t do that. It’s not right. This doesn’t change anything. I’ve already accepted that I did this, and that this is how things are now.”

“They don’t have to be,” Liz tries to protest, her voice soft, gentle. “I know Alex. You know Alex. He would listen.”

Alex isn’t sure if he wants to agree with her or not. He would listen. If Kyle walked up to him tomorrow and asked to talk, he’d hesitate, but he would agree.

A part of wants to think that Kyle is right, that it wouldn’t change anything. Another part of him isn’t so certain. The regret and guilt in Kyle’s voice is so sincere that it’s making it hard to be.

“Liz, please. I just… I can’t.”

Liz sighs again. “Okay. I won’t push you to tell him. But you can’t keep treating him like this, Kyle. At least… apologize.”

There’s a pause.

“Yeah, okay, I will,” Kyle says. “I’ll do it tomorrow. I’m just not so sure he’ll want to hear it.”

“Maybe not,” Liz agrees, “but it’s worth saying it.”

There’s a silence after that, and Alex takes his opportunity. He forces himself to grab his bag and finally straightens up, quickly moving out from behind the counter, and leaves. His heart’s still pounding even then, and his mind is racing.

He’s definitely sure he wasn’t supposed to hear any of that.

[purrpickle]

Random Pezberry Thought of the Day #263

A/N: One of the first headcanoning flows that kickstarted everything with @thedeadflag. :D

purrpickle

I actually have a new prompt that I'm kicking around, that reminds me a LOT of one of your Encores (AO3 Pezberry Encores).

thedeadflag

:O which one?

purrpickle

This one: "You're my best friend who's just waking up from a concussion, I played a trick on you and said we were married and you have amnesia... but you just rolled with it and now I don't know what to do" AU 

Only it would be Rachel tricking Santana.

thedeadflag

XD That's perfect!

And I could actually totally see Rachel doing that

After all, she is no stranger to pranks, especially ones she thinks would be harmless but of course turn out much more dramatic than necessary due to her ramping up the stakes

or, at least, that's the sort of thing I'd imagine her doing

purrpickle

And especially after maybe Santana's done something to her that she wants to get back for.

And definitely.

thedeadflag

absolutely, Rachel is at times powered by the engine of spite and petty payback

purrpickle

Like, she was taking advantage of this moment to have some (harmless) fun, seeing it as a valid way to get back at Santana... only for it to spiral out of control, like you said.

thedeadflag

and because it's Santana, she loves her too much to do anything particularly mean, but she would like to get a good laugh in at Santana's expense, especially thinking it'd be harmless and that Santana wouldn't remember it, except...Santana just rolls with it

haha my thought process exactly on that

purrpickle

She's also spiteful enough that she's willing to take the licking of her wounds she expects to get from Santana vehemently denying that they'd be close at all.

thedeadflag

yep, because there's no way she goes into that thinking Santana would accept that idea. She expects denial and the opportunity to tease San

even if it stings a bit, she'd for sure put up with it for the chance to freak Santana out for a bit of (thought to be harmless) fun

purrpickle

Only, after a long blink and staring at her, Santana relaxes and smiles, inviting Rachel to come "keeps her company in this tiny hospital bed", patting the bed next to her with the most charming, warm smile on her face.

*charming, warm, and nervous smile

thedeadflag

Haha absolutely. And Rachel's inner Rachel berry is all:

Because she's (A) committed to the prank, but (B) her best friend, or at least a part of her, would be cool being married to her, meaning there's clearly attraction, and (C) she cannot be denied her payback but she also cannot take that out on this Santana and say it's all just a prank, not when this Santana is so...well, Rachel always did want to be a star, and Santana's looking at her like she hung them XD 

purrpickle

HAH! *continues giggling* What even scene is that FROM?

Like, Santana's nervous. But if it's true - and DAMN does her head hurt enough for it to be true - her heart's racing at the chance to actually get to touch and hug and hold Rachel like she'd been steadily accepting she wanted to do.

thedeadflag

that was when Rachel and Santana went back to McKinley, iirc

aaaaaaaaaaa i love this

purrpickle

That's when I thought it might have been from, going from Rachel's hair. XD 

And, right. I can see Rachel swallowing and finally deciding, okay, she'll go along with this - at least until Santana falls back asleep where she can "reset" everything when she wakes up again and act like it never happened.

thedeadflag

Yep. That, of course, seems like a perfectly reasonable internal compromise....except maybe (A) Santana doesn't "reset", or maybe she does and Rachel can't help but wonder all sorts of "what ifs" about Santana and her.

Or maybe it takes Santana a while to recover her memories completely, but she can't exactly lose her recent memories, either. Ones where she thought they were married. And then she feels the sharp emotional sting of realizing they never were and thinking it was just some long-game prank

purrpickle

Or... Santana "resets"... Only to come out and say, hey, I remember what you did and I totally figured out you were playing with me when I woke up again, so are we gonna talk about this or what?

Right. Like the second time she wakes up, she's a little clearer in the head, but still remembers what Rachel said.

thedeadflag

yep, and Rachel's prank is just totally foiled because Rachel played along with it, and maybe Santana really did have those underlying feelings, but now there was a possibility that Rachel wasn't such an impossible unrequited love

so hells yes she's going to bring that up

purrpickle

It all becomes a muddled mess.

Like confabulation!

My most favorite underused coma trope!

Or, I guess, head trauma trope.

In psychiatry, confabulation (verb: confabulate) is a disturbance of memory, defined as the production of fabricated, distorted, or misinterpreted memories about oneself or the world, without the conscious intention to deceive.

I've used it only once because it hurts my heart.

thedeadflag

there's so much potential for both fluff and angst with that one

purrpickle

Exactly. I can imagine it kind of being like being plucked from a universe and shoved into another where no one else remembers what you do.

I think... If anything, my goal for this would be an emotionally bare Rachel standing in front of an equally emotionally bare Santana. 

Honestly, it seems like such a Rachel Berry way to stumble into a relationship.

thedeadflag

tbh I'm always for people stumbling into relationships. It's such an endearing way to go about things IMO and provides a lot of room for hijinks, heightened emotions, fluff, and sometimes angst depending. Lots of variety in it, while being consistently entertaining. And yeah, it's definitely one of the big ways I could see that happening for her

purrpickle

God. I can't agree more. I love stories that explore things all just coming together perfectly to stumble two characters together. :D Also, after everything's settled, Santana can't help but joke that Rachel married them even before they kissed.

[maitredesnavires]

ML Fan Fic - Movie Night: Chapter 3

Has Adrien figured out Marinette’s secret? How will he face her the next day at school?

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2

ao3

As the darkness lifted, Chat slowly found his way back to his room. As his feet hit the ground, he de-transformed back into Adrien and Plagg spun out in front of him.

“What the hell was that?! You know what, I don’t even care, I don’t want to know. I’m exhausted and I neeeeeed my cheeeeeese.” Plagg bobbed up and down in front of a blank faced Adrien who continued to stare off into space. “Hello?! Anyone in there?! I need cheese and I mean the good stuff. You kept me up all night and now you’re just standing there. Helloooooo! Blagh, forget it, I’ll find it myself.” The small black cat zoomed out of the room and through the door.

Adrien stared into his empty room. His mind reeling. Ladybug is Marinette. Or perhaps more precisely, Marinette was Ladybug. He squinted his eyes, as if peering into the void of his room would help make the two girls he knew morph into one. He tried to picture Marinette with a mask, gracefully flinging from one rooftop to the next as she threw herself into danger. He shook his head. Marinette and graceful in the same sentence? And throw herself into danger? Sure, on the one hand, she had stood up to Chloe a number of times and was very defensive of her friends. She even ran for class president to represent her peers and make some positive changes. On the other, she seemed skittish and nearly jumped out of her skin when spooked.

It’s kind of adorable. Whoa. Where had that thought come from? Adrien groaned while throwing himself onto his bed. He had an early photoshoot before school and needed to be up, dressed, and ready to walk out of the house in less than an hour. Perhaps he had been mistaken. Perhaps Marinette wasn’t Ladybug. He could have just overreacted. Yeah, that’s definitely it. I just overreacted. Nothing to lose sleep over.

Adrien lay awake in his bed until Natalie came knocking at his door.

To say Marinette was conflicted would be an understatement. Hanging out with Chat last night was definitely not in her plans for the evening; however, it was not entirely unwelcome. It was weird hanging out with him as her civilian self but had also felt like the most natural thing in the world. She couldn’t get him out of her head. He had wrapped himself around her to comfort her during the movie, sprawled out on her bed, leaning into her, always protecting her….stop it right there, Marinette. She shook her head and then let it fall to her desk. Chat was her partner, one of her best friends. She would never want to put that type of strain on their relationship partnership. Ugh, mangy cat. She really didn’t need this right now.

“Tiiiiikiiiiiii,” she whined. “What am I going to do?” She peered over at her kwami.

“You know, Marinette, you could just talk to him. I’m sure he’d listen. You already know he likes you. Honestly, it wouldn’t be that much of stretch for you to be together.” Tikki encouraged her chosen.

“But its Chat. He’s flirty, and arrogant, and showy, and always putting himself in danger, and protecting me, and being kind, and caring, and trustworthy and...ughhhhhhh.” Marinette hit her head on her desk to stop the barrage of muddled thoughts. She really didn’t need this right now. What she needed to do was get to school. School. Class. Friends. Adrien. Marinette really was having a terrible week.

Marinette peered through the classroom door but Adrien wasn’t in class yet. Of course he isn’t, he has a photo shoot until 11:00. Marinette sighed. She needed to stop keeping tabs on him. He had made himself abundantly clear. Not interested. Head down, arms wrapped around her books, Marinette dragged her feet all the way to her desk and slumped into her chair. Alya sat next to her, compassion in her eyes as she patted her shoulder. The girls made eye contact but no words were said. No words were needed.

Adrien, on the other hand, rushed into class right before the bell rang at 8:05. His photoshoot had been cut short because he hadn’t been focused. He could usually turn his brain off long enough to get a few good shots in but today had been impossible. He would definitely hear about it later from his father. A lump settled in his stomach. He hated disappointing his father but, alas, making his father proud seemed to be the only thing the model, piano prodigy, fencing champion, and star-student couldn’t do.

So caught up in his thoughts about the events of this morning and the night before, he forgot about his last encounter with Marinette as Adrien. The one where he told her she wasn’t the one, she wasn’t what he wanted, he just wasn’t interested her in her like that. He should have been kind and gentle. He should have given her space. He should have given her an apologetic smile and then turned his attention towards his history teacher. He should have done all of that. But instead…

“Hey, Marinette! You look cute today. I really like that jacket. Did you make it yourself?” Adrien greeted Marinette in a chipper tone. She squeaked - God that’s cute - and slumped further down her chair, hiding behind her history book until he could only see her fingertips, white knuckling the book in front of her...

Adrien went into panic mode. She couldn’t recognize him, could she? Did she figure out that he was Chat Noir? Was she acting all shy and strange and awkward because she had figured out his supersecretidentityohmygodplaggisgoingtokillme…

“Adrien, why don’t you give Mari some time before you start acting like everything is all hunky dory, okay?” Alya’s voice cut through his thoughts. He looked up at her and winced. She was shooting daggers at him with her eyes. Realization, finally, dawned on him and he stood there open-mouthed.

“Oh, yeah, right. Uh, sorry.” Adrien turned five shades of red before turning and sitting in his seat. Nino gave him some side-eye and raised his brow. The “what the hell, man” was unsaid but permeated Adrien’s thoughts nonetheless. He was such an idiot. For being so good at so many things, he really, really sucked at this.

Marinette couldn’t focus on Mme Bustier’s lesson. It didn’t matter if she looked at the teacher, the board, or her book, Adrien’s blonde locks still invaded her field of vision. A sigh escaped her lips but came out more of a grunt then anything lady-like. Alya glanced at her but Marinette just gave her a half-smile. No reason to worry her best friend at this particular moment. Another wave of blonde locks caught Marinette’s eye. She could really use a distraction from the distraction sitting directly in front of her.

As if on cue, several screams pierced the quiet classroom before being silenced one by one. The heads of her classmates jerked up at the sound. A strained voice came over the intercom.

“AKUMA! THERE’S AN AKUMA IN LIBRARY! I REPEAT, AKUMA IN THE LI...”

The voice cut out. A female voice cackled in the background before the microphone screeched.

“Attention all students,” the high-pitched voice was much clearer now. “I am Dewey Decimator and I am here to make sure all library fines are paid in full!”

[backtothestart02]

It Didn’t Used to Be Complicated - 1/1

A/N: My first Emron (Aaron/Emily - Designated Survivor) fic. I just felt inspired from the last ep, and while delayed, I hope some of you will be able to check it out before the next ep (1x16).

Synopsis: Post 1x15 - Emily finds herself stewing in her office hours after her meeting, unable to decide how to feel about Aaron Shore. 

*Tagging @designatedtrash b/c she seemed enthusiastic about my writing an Emron fic, even though I’ve never written them before. I’d love to know your thoughts, dear, if you end up reading this.

*And ofc a big thank you to @valeriemperez, my ever faithful beta. Girl is not even caught up on this show and she went the extra mile. As did my bestie @simplylove101 who looked it over to make sure it wasn’t OOC before I posted. I love you both!

Whoever ends up reading this... Enjoy! <3

Hookstraten.

The conversation with Aaron still bothered her two hours after her meeting with State had ended. There she sat, alone in her Chief of Staff office, an untouched half-filled glass of wine sitting on her desk, and nothing on her mind but Aaron Shore.

How could he work for Kimble Hookstraten?

The woman had proven time and again that she was only genuinely helpful when she and Tom’s goals happened to align. That was not overly frequently. And she’d made no secret of maybe running for president herself when Tom’s term was up.

Not that Tom had shown any desire to try to run for another four years following his unexpected insertion into the presidency role. And certainly there were worse people Aaron could have chosen to work for. At least she’d be able to see him on a semi-frequent basis again.

And that thought in particular is what kept her digging her nails into her palms and not quite downing her half-glass of wine.

It had been a good month at least – right? – since the President had asked her to look into any suspicious behavior Aaron might have had before the bombing of the Capitol. The distance she’d had to create between her and Aaron had been torturous, not to mention the gut-wrenching possibility that he actually was a traitor.

It would’ve been easy for her to hate him if this news had been brought up back when they’d both been elected part of the President’s cabinet. She hadn’t been very fond of Aaron then, and he hadn’t been very fond of her either. There would be no love lost between them if he’d been sent packing or maybe worse – if he had faced imprisonment or death. He would deserve it, and she would tell herself she’d known there was something off about him from the start. She would’ve been shocked along with everyone else, and horrified given how close he’d come to advising the President. But she’d have gotten the Chief of Staff position a lot sooner. Despite Aaron’s hypothetical threat to national security, all would be as it should be. The terrorist would be locked away and any future catastrophe averted, at least from that sector.

But it wouldn’t be that simple now, months later, after they’d established a compatible comradery with each other and were on the brink of something more.

The flirtation. That kiss. That almost date that never was.

She’d be lying if she said she didn’t dream of those things on the daily, that those memories made the distance between them all the harder to maintain.

It felt like an eternity ago, like it had happened in another life. Every day her heart sank with the possibility he might be guilty. And every day it broke her a little more to see him try to interact with her when she could never genuinely participate. She couldn’t let herself relax. She couldn’t enjoy the experience.

She told herself it was because she didn’t want it to accidentally slip that she was doing research on him, background checks, looking into his whereabouts the days and weeks and months leading up to the bombing.

But also it was because almost being with Aaron Shore – as more than just a co-worker or friend – gave her a light and airy feeling. She was purely and exquisitely happy. She melted when he looked at her, and she couldn’t stop smiling when he spoke or when she even heard someone say his name. She looked forward to every conversation and yearned for breaks between meetings or the end of the day, so she’d have an excuse to stop by his office and see him if she didn’t have enough patience to wait for him to come see her.

She wasn’t in love. She knew that. Maybe borderline infatuated. Okay, infatuated. But really the promise of what was to come was just exciting. She wanted more of that. She didn’t want it to end.

She didn’t want to fall in love with a traitor if it could be avoided.

That was what was really at stake here. Her heart.

Technically speaking though, it no longer was. Aaron had been cleared. He wasn’t a suspect. He wasn’t guilty. There was no reason at all for her to worry about what would happen if she let herself continue to melt under his advances, should he choose to resume them.

So why then had he resigned?

Aaron loved his job. He loved… liked his co-workers. It could no longer be doubted that he was fiercely loyal to Tom.

Taking these facts into consideration, it made no sense for him to resign and even less sense for him to start working for Kimble Hookstraten. What had made him accept her offer of employment? Or maybe he had been the one to put it on the table. That possibility left her feeling even more unsettled.

Something had to have happened before his resignation. Something that made him feel like he had no choice but to resign. It couldn’t have just been her doing a background check on him, because if it had been that alone he’d have resigned weeks ago.

She had no intel on Aaron’s personal conversations with the President, and she had no way of knowing if anyone else had gotten involved in trying to clear him. There was no reason to believe they’d actually found evidence to be suspicious of him because he had been let go.

So why…

She shook her head and finally succumbed to taking a sip of the red wine sitting all by its lonesome on the corner of her desk.

She’d pushed a lot aside in recent weeks when it came to all things Aaron. She didn’t want her heart to break. She wanted to stay professional. And while his most recent decisions didn’t leave her feeling quite as wary and unsettled as the possibility that he was a traitor, it did still stir her curiosity. It was insatiable.

She no longer had any reason to doubt he was telling the truth, that he had nothing to hide and he was doing everything for the right reasons, as far as he could tell. But she still didn’t quite know how to take his I'm looking to redefine the playing field and the party lines don't seem to mean as much as they used to, you know?

Because she did know.

Things were changing in that regard, though not enough to be used as a valid excuse for joining Hookstraten’s team. At least, not as far as she was concerned.

Then again, maybe way deep down Aaron didn’t even know why he was doing it. How could she fault him for doing something that he wasn’t even 100% sure the reason behind it?

The knock on the door served as a much needed reprieve to her heavy, racing thoughts.

“Come in.”

The door opened and in walked Seth, his lips halfway to a smirk but his eyes and eyebrows sporting confusion.

“Did I just see Aaron?” He stuck his thumb out toward the hall.

Emily smiled complacently and nodded once.

“You did.”

“And he’s…?”

“Working for Kimble Hookstraten as her Chief Strategist.”

Seth’s lips twitched as he tried to process the information.

“You’re joking.”

“Dead serious. He told me himself.”

Seth blew out a puff of air and sank into the chair across from hers.

“Well then.”

Emily laughed and took another sip of wine. It was amazing how the beverage called to her when the issues swimming in her mind suddenly were being discussed aloud.

Seth shifted his gaze to Emily who set down the wine bottle and another empty glass in front of him. Without a word, he took advantage of the offer.

“He remembers he’s a Democrat, right?”

Emily nodded, cradled her glass in her lap.

“And that she’s a Republican.”

“She’s not always Kirkman’s biggest fan either. He didn’t forget that, did he?”

Emily sighed and sank back into her seat.

“I honestly have no idea. I had to go… He had to go…” She waved her hand to the side and then let it drop along the side of her chair.

“Was it tense?” he asked.

“Polite,” she murmured into her glass.

“On purpose?”

Emily closed her eyes and decided not to answer the question.

Silence lingered between them as Seth settled into his own chair and sipped his wine. He gently set the empty glass on her desk when he had finished it, then stood to his feet.

“I suppose on the bright side we’ll be seeing him more often.”

Emily nodded, a half-smile tugging on her lips.

Seth turned and headed for the door, pausing and bracing his hand briefly on the doorframe before passing through to leave.

“It hasn’t been quite the same without him here with us every day.”

“No,” she agreed, though the word was so soft she wondered in hindsight if he’d heard it. “It hasn’t.”

Seth’s knowing smile went unseen by her as he stepped out into the hall.

“Goodnight, Emily.”

“Goodnight.”

She sat unmoving as Seth closed the door behind him and presumably went home.

She should go home too. She’d only had one full glass of wine. She could drive. And she didn’t live far away either. The best thing to do was probably to stop thinking so much about this new development and get some sleep instead. Things would probably be clearer in the morning, less muddled, less…complicated. The quiet voice in the back of her head whispered that wasn’t true.

Because there was one aspect of the situation she hadn’t thought about. That she had deliberately avoided thinking about. It irritated her more than anything else because it actually intensified all the other excuses why Aaron’s return to politics ruffled her feathers.

Because when she’d walked down the hall and seen him standing there, one thought existed in her mind.

Did he come to see me?

But no, he had not.

Instead, he had come to get identification to work for the enemy – Kimble Hookstraten.

Not exactly the enemy, Emily, she scolded herself.

But he hadn’t come to see her either, and that wounded her. That kept her pretty smile in place, the scorn in her initial response potent, and her exit quick and meaningful and completely justified. She had a meeting to keep after all.

And it was unrealistic – really – to think he had nothing better to do than to come and visit her. He would know how busy she was too, so she couldn’t possibly set aside time, but—

Another knock at the door, but it opened before she could respond.

“Did you come back for—”

And there he was, causing her jaw to drop and snapping it shut just a second long enough to cause a reaction out of him. An amused grin. And those dazzling, dark eyes of his taking her in. Even from across the room in the somewhat dark she could see the intensity of them. She felt a chill ripple down her back when she should have been feeling irritation from earlier or the need to be brisk and polite, and she knew she was in trouble.

“Aaron.” She smoothed down her skirt and pushed her glass to the side. “I thought you were someone else.”

He raised his eyebrows and came in, sat across from her as if he did this every day and no weird phase of silence and distance had happened between them.

“Oh, yeah? Who?”

“Seth,” she said quickly. Too quickly? “He was just in here a little while ago.”

He nodded. “I just saw him in the hall.”

“Oh.”

She tried not to give away anything with the small sound, but his sudden laugh told her she had not succeeded.

“He as surprised as I was?” She asked, looking away, trying to find something to stare at in the immediate vicinity.

“Just about. He wasn’t quite as eager to leave as you were, though.”

Her eyes flitted up to his.

“I had a meeting to go to,” she defended, though not as harshly as she’d wanted to.

Aaron fought a grin and said nothing, just looked at her like it would be a crime to look anywhere else.

“I hope this doesn’t…change anything between us, Emily.”

She blinked and tilted her head to the side.

“No, of course not. Why would it?”

His teeth shown in this grin, and she blushed.

“Aside from the obvious reasons?”

“Right.” She avoided his stare again. “Besides those.”

Silence lingered again, him staring at her and her avoiding his gaze. The heat from her embarrassment and awkwardness burned the back of her neck until she wanted nothing more than to get out of that room and sleep and prepare to see him again tomorrow.

But he spoke just as she was about to jump out of her seat to leave.

“I like what you’ve done with the place,” he said, his eyes traveling from one wall to the next.

Emily followed his gaze and then scrunched her nose.

“I haven’t done anything.”

He grinned, his eyes dazzling when she made the mistake of turning to look at him.

“Which you knew.”

“Only just now,” he assured her.

She fought a smile and failed, this time slowly coming out of her chair and gathering her purse.

“I should probably go. It’s getting late.”

“How did your meeting go?” he asked, standing with her and backing up in the direction of the door as she crossed the room.

“Good.” She nodded, shutting the lights off and the door behind them. “Yours?” she asked, trying not to think about how his arm brushed against hers as they walked down the hall.

“Also good.” He smiled to himself. “Feels good to be back on the inside again.”

“Just on opposite sides,” he pointed out.

He sighed. “Emily—”

“I’m sorry.” She shook her head and waved the comment off. “I shouldn’t have said that. It’s just…going to take some getting used to.”

He nodded but said nothing. They were silent until they reached the street, each having to part to get to their respective homes.

“I’m this way.” She nudged her head in the other direction.

He smiled. “I’m that.” He stuck his thumb back behind him.

Her smile was forced, and she knew it.

“I’ll see you tomorrow then – or, sometime.”

He hesitated as she turned to leave, but then his hand reached out before she made a full 180. She turned to look at his grasp on her elbow.

“I’m still on your side, Emily,” he said, his eyes intense again and earnest, making it impossible for her to look away. “On your side, on Seth’s, on Kirkman’s. If there’s a tough call to be made, I’ll be doing it in the interest of what I think our President would do, not our Congresswoman.”

Emily softened, a weight lifting off of her for the first time all evening.

“Thanks, Aaron. I’m really glad to hear you say that.” She lifted her purse further up her shoulder. “I just hope you stick to it.”

His lips parted, preparing a defense, but then he saw the glint in her eyes and knew she was teasing.

“Goodnight, Aaron,” she said, gazing longer that she’d let herself before. For the briefest of moments her eyes dipped down to his lips.

“Goodnight, Emily,” he said, mirroring her actions and taking immense pleasure in the desire he spotted in her eyes, which she didn’t bother to hide.

Emily smiled to herself when he released her and started the walk home. She could feel his stare on her all the way down the block, figured he was smiling too and relished that fact.

There was no way they could rewind time and just pick up to where they left off. It was inevitable that the tension they’d known early on might return because of where they found themselves when it came to employment.

But the spark was still there. She felt the crackle in every breath of space between them.

*Also available on FFnet and AO3.

[robertjamesberry]

Mess

Honestly this motel is well below expectations. My brother might love the chintzy-coloured curtains and the bespoke coffee tables, but they’re not for me. I’ve been throwing my medication down the sink, and everyone’s too preoccupied to be much bothered. My head is clearer. It is like this tide is rising, and I may get swamped, only nobody cares. Aunt would have put this mess in order. The dead have this clarity when it comes to straightening things. I shall sleep now, tomorrow may be less muddled.

Robert James Berry