#thinking he should cut all ties with him forever and fake his death

[jorisjurgen]

i do think joris and kerubim both kinda have bpd.

[ineffable-monster-romancer]

I blame @acepalindrome for this one. Check the post it's based on HERE

Uhhh, trigger warning for the usual gross stuff with hanahaki au? Choking mostly, nothing overly graphic.

Enjoy, its a mess but I liked writing it!

-

They're damn hard to get rid of, is what First Mate Israel Hands thinks, stuffing the fistful of small, vibrant red blooms into a cloth sack he has specifically for hiding the buggers until he makes it onto land.

It had been somewhat easier, back then, when it had just been himself and Edward with the crew of Queen Anne, each one forged in gunsmoke and violence. They kept to themselves, and followed Blackbeard into many a successful raid, bringing terror to the seas. It had been easier then because nobody would have dared question Izzy Hands. Because he was Izzy fucking Hands.

Now though, these "pirates" want to do fuck all but talk, and poke and prod, to sit in feelings circles before their bed-time stories where stupid fucking Stede Bonnet with his suave looks and gentle curls and his shoulders filling out his stupid poncy shirts -

If he thought the bright red blooms were hard to get rid of, these vibrant orange ones that cut off that train of thought with their desperate clawing through his throat, these are worse.

They come up in clumps, angrily scraping at his throat, covered in specs of blood, intermingled with petals of the other plant, forever tied up, wrenching him apart with their combined take over of his lungs.

It was easier. (Dianthus). He could deal with his love for Edward, his loyalty for Blackbeard, that was easy. (Feelings of love). That was decades of his life following where he lead and loving whatever scraps he was handed. (Gratitude) Those blooms settled into his body and were common as blood spilt in his name. (Admiration).

But it had never been enough. Edward had thrown him these scraps until even those stopped, and now there was Stede Bonnet.

It's a sick act of fate that Izzy Hands should feel anything other than loathing for Bonnet. After everything that happened on board the revenge, after the fake death and the toe and the boy being pushed over the ledge and the crew being abandoned, Israel and Stede should have nothing but a deep resentment for one another, something legendary and filled with many plots to kill the other.

And yet.

It's started to get worse now. He can barely shout orders at the crew for more than a few minutes before he's trying to simultaneously bring up a lung and keep any flowers inside his chest, which results in a sound not unlike a kicked dog.

At first, the crew had laughed, poked, and prodded, asked if he was going to spew all over the deck, yells of "Dizzy Izzy." It's quiet now as they work though, each one responding to a rasped order with stunning alacrity, eyeing him with a mix of concern and intrigue. The cook, Roach, even offers him some sweet smelling mixture, only going as far to say "Come back for more if it helps."

It doesn't. He goes back anyway.

It's Stede and Edward who are the worst about it all though. After a storm sweeps through, rocking the ship violently as they crest each wave, Israel's stomach already in knots from the two separate blooms. Edward grabs his arm while they're on deck, after cresting a particularly tall wave that almost smashes down on top of them. And Edward is grinning madly, wearing a plain white shirt that has soaked through and clings to his chest, showing off his tattoos. He's laughing too, clutching at Israel as though he were an anchor, his hair a halo around his head, the rain still thundering down around them but in this second between them the water doesn't even seem to touch Edward.

It feels like a benediction. Edward is praising Israel for his quick thinking during the storm, screaming something with joy about how long it's been since the two of them have faced down something that incredible, and desperately Izzy thinks "I would face anything with you. I would look death in the eye for you."

Edward turns away, his hand slips from Izzy's shoulder, the rain thunders and the ship lurches. That night he pulls a full stem out of his throat with his own fingers.

.

The crew are on shore leave, but the brief time Izzy spent onshore to get rid of the accumulated flowers left him feeling more shaken and weak than he had in a while, so now he sits alone on the deck of the revenge, tying knots for the rigging and focusing on anything but the tightness in his chest.

At least he thinks he's alone, but a pair of fancy, pointed and poncy shoes land in his vision and then Stede Bonnet has plopped himself down next to Izzy and asked for a demonstration on the knots he is tying and fuck. He's being genuine too, his tongue poking out as he slowly recreates the movements Izzy makes. His first attempt is so poorly done that it actually makes Izzy chuckle, and to his surprise Stede chuckles too, leaning into Izzy to get a better look at his hands. Staying that close when he goes to recreate his own knot, a line of heat right along his side from leg to thigh to hip to-

There's a commotion off the side of the boat, and suddenly that heat is gone as Stede rushes to look, Edward walking along the pier, Frenchie on his shoulders, strumming a lute and singing something dopey and romantic. Stede melts against the railing, and Israel feels like an intruder.

That night is the worst, blood speckled blooms so entertwined there's no telling which is which.

-

They're dead in the water, and have been for a couple of days now. It is soon enough after their shore leave that they don't really need to worry about food and water rations, but even Stede has cut down on his pots of tea and 40 orange cakes.

Izzy has to concede that the boat isn't going to get any cleaner than it is, the crew having scraped every barnacle from the hull, scrubbed and shined the deck, sewed the sails, checked the rigging, counted and re-counted anything that could possibly be counted. So Stede sets up some games, and Israel is forced to sit between him and Edward with the rest of the crew in a massive circle, playing a complex card game that he's certain everyone is cheating at, considering there's more than triple the cards and he's holding five Kings.

It's... Nice. Safe. Content in a way he hasn't felt in a while. He thinks, sitting here wedged between two men whom he has unwittingly fallen in love with, knowing that there is no chance of it being returned. Surrounded by this crew who are truly some of the worst pirates he has ever met, but possibly some of the better people, in a ship that is so clean she looks fresh off the docks. Israel thinks he could die like this.

At some point in their card game after someone (most likely Frenchie) has introduced a pack of tarot cards into play and Izzy has amassed a collection of 8 Kings, rum has been introduced. Izzy passes the drink on immediately after being handed it the first few times, but Stede and Ed imbibe, and gradually become more touchy-feely.

But he's in the middle.

And Stede's arm is settled around Izzy's waist, and Edward has an arm around Izzy's shoulders. And Izzy's resting his forehead against Ed's, revelling in this feeling of closeness. Revelling in the feeling of air in his lungs.

Lucius laughs, loud and brash, quite far into his cups. Slurs something about how cozy they all look, Dizzy Izzy making himself quite at home, and isn't it so cute?

Israel freezes, feels Stede's arm retreat from around his waist, sees him look down and blush, feels Edward's arm leave his shoulder and reach for Stede instead.

Almost can't pick himself up in time.

Fool. Fool. The biggest fucking fool of the lot.

Who was he kidding? Who really is the odd one out here? Even Blackbeard is one of them now, soft and delicate and wanted. Wanted and needed and kept close.

It's Israel that's the fucking stand out on board this ship, he thinks, hysterically, as he crashes into his room, collapsing against his door and struggling to untie his cravat, petals pouring from between his lips, the scent cloying and brittle, the stems wrapping around one another, pulling, pulling, wrenching him inside out.

There's a knocking at the door, a soft voice asking to talk, Izzy can't identify who it is over his tears and the pounding in his ears, the deep fear set in his bones from years and years of fighting tooth and nail for survival and the blissed-out silence in his head that says "Yes. This is the way to go. Above all else, loyalty to your captains".

The knock at the door is less polite now, maybe more insistent, the rattling of the door dislodging Izzy from where he was leaning against it, sending him sprawling to his side. He sees his cravat in front of him, tied around two rings, one given to him after his first raid with Ed, one stolen from Stede's extravagant jewelery box. He hears the door splinter.

A gasp, shock, shouted orders, arms around his shoulders, holding him up-

"Breathe mate, come on Iz-"

"Israel please, Ed what-"

"Please don't leave us Izzy, please"

Flowers, flowers, flowers. Always a fool. The first and last order he will ever disobey from his captain.

A hand, carded through his hair, tears dropping onto his face.

"I wish you'd told me, I'd have found them for you, you know? I want you to be happy, Israel."

He doesn't sound happy. He sounds gutted, as though the words are wrenched from his soul.

The flowers moving slower now, rooting instead of falling.

Izzy reaches up and cradles Ed's stricken face, and watches as realisation sets in his face. Izzy lets the hand fall, reaches for Stede with it, is sure. So, so sure that Stede will bat it away with revulsion, having just learned of Izzy's feelings.

Waits for that last rejection.

But Stede's wrapped his hand around Izzy's, fingers slotted together and Ed is looking at Izzy as though he is a revelation.

The hand in his hair angles his head, lips pressed to the side of his mouth, gentle and precious.

The red blooms slowly start to wear away, turning into that strange glow only ever described in story books, and Izzy thinks he's lived with flowers in his lungs for so long, he doesn't mind carrying Stede's, who is silent next to him.

Maybe he'll only need to carry them a short time. Maybe Bonnet is secretly the jealous type and will plot to be rid of him. Maybe he's biding his time -

Stede, still holding Izzy's hand, leans in and brushes his own, soft, soft lips against Izzy's, with a purpose that can't be misconstrued.

And after decades of carrying this weight in his lungs, for the months carrying the extra pressure of two. For the relief of sweet, sweet air, Israel passes out.

-

The bed is so soft he's sure that death claimed him during the night, to awaken in such comfort.

There's a wet cloth on his forehead, two sets of arms wrapped around his bare chest, and a contrite and hungover Lucius placing a tray of food on the bedside table, avoiding his eyes and practically running through the door.

He lets out a huff of a laugh at that, though it quickly turns into a wince and then a cough, his throat still adjusting and dry.

Instantly his captains are up, Stede seeming panicked at the noise, floundering, and Ed grabbing his face and hauling him into a kiss.

Unfortunately it makes the cough worse, though he appreciates Ed is maybe terrified that the first kiss didn't entirely work in eroding all the flowers.

Easing them out of the kiss, he smiles and feels carefree and unburdened like he hasn't in a while.

"Just need some water, Ed"

"Oh..."

"Well," Stede says from his other side, "Just to be safe!" And there's another kiss pressed to his lips, just as insistent. Just as loving.

It still doesn't help the cough though, and they all laugh when Israel playfully shoves Stede away to grasp the cup Lucius brought in.

Swaddled between the two men he loves, who love him in return.

-

It's later when he's taking the plate back to the galley, dressed in a simple black shirt, trousers that aren't leather and an impressive dark green robe, that he finds the sketch, tucked underneath the plate that he hadn't noticed.

It's the three of them at the card game, lovingly rendered with every attention to detail from the moment. Stede looking bewildered at his deck of cards (which was The Fool, a sixteen of hearts and a terrible stick drawing of what he assumes was Blackbeard), he's nestled into his side though, pressed right up next to him. Ed, who inexplicably had the most normal hand of cards out of the lot of them, forehead pressed to the side of Izzy's head toying with his shirt, concentration on his face as though this were a high-stakes poker game.

And Israel himself, smiling. Content.

"You can come out now Lucius."

"I'm forgiven?"

"You're still not drawing my cock, boy."

[sheetsonfire]

Dead and Waiting | Part 8

Fandom: Chicago PD

Pairing: Jay Halstead x Reader

Genre: Drama, angst, romance, thriller

Warnings: smut, violence, harassment, swearing, gun mentions, fire, injuries, sickness

Word Count: 5598

Requested By Anon: hi! can i request a jay halstead x reader where you work in intelligence with him and for some reason (maybe undercover work) you have to fake your death and no one knows, not even jay… but you end up returning once it’s safe again and he’s mad but also relieved?

thanks and totally understand if you pass over this request <3

This is Part 8, click for Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 9 (FINAL PART), EPILOGUE |

A/N: Whew. First off, I am so very sorry it took so long to get this next part out to you. Between work and excessive heat, my brain was fried. I hope it’s worth the wait, and I will try to make sure part 9 isn’t so far away! Enjoy! I promise the angst will be easing up soon!

-

Hank didn’t know what Huffman could have meant by his words, but he knew as soon as Jay heard “It’s about Y/N Y/LN” there would be no sense in even attempting to drop him back at the 21st, before heading to the location Huffman had sent him. It was listed as a private government building, but there was not much detail provided after that fact.

Jay was pensive on the journey, Hank was starting to think it was contagious like he could hear Jay's every curious and agitated thought - his own body rigid with anticipation. He knew that he couldn’t keep the rest of the team in the dark forever, but he figured that whatever they were about to learn of your death should be heard by him and Jay first.

“What do you think they have?” Jay’s voice is sharp, on edge, eyes looking dead ahead at the open road. Hank’s not quite sure whether the question is directed at him or at the general silence that hung in the SUV.

“I don’t know, kid. We’re about to find out, whatever it is, we’ll deal with it.” Hank huffs, he really didn’t want to let his stress present itself, but he was finding it hard not to be aggravated by the possibility and likelihood that the ATF had been keeping more secrets.

Jay let out a sad half-laugh at Hank’s use of “kid”, they’d worked together for so long he couldn’t feel further from a kid, so much had changed in the last month that Jay felt he had aged another decade. 

Yet Hank had become this all-seeing, all-knowing, fatherly protector of late. If not for Hank, Jay's not convinced that he wouldn't have found a way to go off the rails. So maybe ‘kid’ wasn’t such a stretch. 

As they pull up to the marker on Maps, Jay’s stomach sours. The sign outside the avenue of trees leading up to an industrial-looking building read “Federal Medical Centre”, prefaced with the name of some benefactor who presumably funded the facility. Whatever ATF had to say, Jay at this point could bet it was to do with your body. Had they recovered you from the river? The mere thought of having to ID your body makes him want to hurl all over Hank’s dash.

Hank turns into the long drive, trees looming and casting shadows over the SUV. Jay’s fingers clench into the material of his jeans, shifting nervously.

[Inside the Medical Centre]

You paced your room, glancing at yourself in the mirror of the tiny bathroom every so often, looking at your tired eyes, the faded cuts and bruises, your arm still in its sling, hair somewhat unkempt despite your efforts to look like you hadn’t gone feral being stuck in the secluded hospital. To put it lightly, you looked stressed. 

And you were. 

You had packed up what small collection of belongings they had brought you in with from the river, it fits easily into the miniature non-descript backpack they had provided you with. Tucked in there was the short-term course of the anti-anxiety medication the doctor had given you for your nightmares, some hair ties, toiletries you decided to take with you, your own personal case notes, and the letter you’d written to Jay.

It was hard to encapsulate just how giddy and terrified you were to see your fiancé again, not knowing what to say or what to expect from his end. You knew Voight would be coming to get you, and you wondered if Jay would be in tow. From what you gathered the agents hadn’t given your boss many specifics, so you didn’t hold out hope to be reunited with your partner immediately. 

Maybe it was for the best, you pondered. Maybe you could use the time in the car with Hank to think some things through, get your head on straight so you could be strong when you saw Jay again.

“Who am I kidding?” You mutter to yourself. You knew you’d collapse into Jay’s arms the second he was in front of you. 

Your heart is hammering rapidly, fluttering like a bird’s, it was so strange for the idea of seeing Jay to invoke such apprehension within you - but you knew the burden he had been forced to bear, to experience your death must have been overwhelming and you weren’t able to tell him the truth nor give him peace when you most wanted to - it made you worry where this left your future together.

As you sat yourself down in an attempt to calm down, the door opened, Huffman stood with a hand on the door, holding it open for you to exit.

“They’re here, Detective.” 

You swallowed. “They? Plural?” You felt the world spin, gripping the armrest of the chair tightly. 

“Yes, Sergeant Voight and Detective Halstead.”

Your knee bounced nervously, willing yourself to get up from the chair but suddenly terrified to do so.

“Detective?” Huffman prompts, nodding with his head in the direction of the corridor beyond your room.

His voice brings you back, and you blink, “Yeah, sorry.” You silently count to 3 and then spring from the chair, wincing at the tug that the motion gives on your still healing gunshot wound.

With one last glance at what had essentially been your isolation room for the past month, you swoop up the small bag and follow the agent down the hall. 

-

Stensing stood, arms folded, resting against the desk in the meeting room Hank and Jay had been ushered into. Huffman had promised to be “right back” and had left the other three men in total silence.

Jay could not take his eyes off the door, waiting for Huffman to return and explain what the hell was happening. Voight’s jaw was set tight, occasionally staring at Stensing who made a point to avoid the Sergeant’s gaze, pretending to be interested in his phone.

There was movement outside the door, both Jay and Hank stand to almost attention, Huffman appears and gestures to an unseen figure behind him, encouraging them to step forward.

Cautiously, you enter the meeting space, body cold with nerves as you step slowly into the lion’s den. You meet Hank’s eyes first, the utter shock blooms in his expression, you then cast your eyes to a gaunt, detached-looking, Jay, his eyes wide. You’re frozen to the spot, willing yourself to move further but you can’t. It’s by some mercy that your vocal cords still work.

“Hey…” You take a shaky breath, you note Stensing and Huffman heading towards the door, and Hank’s gaze turns sharply to them. 

“We’ll return once you’ve got reacquainted with Detective Y/L/N, we will… debrief then.” Hank doesn’t speak, his lips couldn’t be pressed any tighter and yet. He would absolutely not leave the building without ensuring they would take the heat for the shitshow that was your ‘death’.

With that, the door closes and you’re left in the strange silence with Voight and Jay. 

You thought it would maybe be more jubilant, more like the movies where you'd go running into Jay's arms and be kissed senseless, but it's not. You're not sure what to do with that.

To your surprise, Voight moves first, Jay’s eyes never leave you, simply staring in disbelief as you feel Hank wrapping an arm around you, careful of your sling. You’re trying to discern the look in Jay’s eyes, whatever it was it wasn’t comforting, it only made you more unsettled than you had been. It’s only Hank’s voice that brings you back to his attention. 

“Sarge.” You exhale, your voice is muffled against his shoulder, and you feel a strange wave of emotion come over you, it was bliss to be held by someone familiar, someone who cared about you. You hadn't been around anyone like that since before the undercover had started. The feeling was surreal. You can’t stop the tears welling up, both in relief for your safety and in rapidly growing worry at Jay’s reaction.

“You’re safe now, kid. I’m so sorry we didn’t know, we searched…” He cups your cheek gently, you are not used to seeing this side of Hank Voight, especially not towards you.

You sniff, swiping at the tears, “I know, it’s okay, they screwed us over and I had no way of getting a message to you.” When you say “They” you gesture towards the door, meaning the ATF. 

“Knowing everybody would think I was dead was the worst feeling in the world, it felt like I was betraying every single person I know.” 

Your head drops, that pang of guilt ever-present, Hank tilts your head back up. "You did nothing wrong, Y/N, you hear me? They let you stay as bait in that boat warehouse, they took you from the river and they didn't tell us. Believe me, hell is gonna rain down on them... What the hell happened in there, kid?" Hank queries, glancing at Jay who leans against a table, hands in a knuckle-tight grip on the edge, he looks as though he's in a trance.

You don't mean for your voice to get quieter, but you can tell Jay's struggling and you don't want to draw attention to him. "It's a long story, and I wanna tell you... It's just, maybe me and Jay could get a sec, alone?"

Hank blinks, nodding, "Of course, I'm sorry, yeah. I'll be outside if you need me." He squeezes your arm gently, eyeing Jay for one last time, before going to stand outside the room.

-

When the door shuts you almost flinch, putting your backpack on the table as you slowly approach Jay. Taking a deep breath, preparing yourself mentally for whatever was about to happen.

"Jay?" You whisper, not wanting to startle him from his vacant stare. "Jay, I'm so sorry, you must be in total shock. I understand, okay? I want you to know if you need time...I understand, I just... I missed you so much, and I want you to know that I love you. I love you and I have been counting the days till I could be in front of you again."

Jay's eyes are glazed with tears, and you can see his bottom lip fighting the urge to cry. 

You get braver, using your good arm to reach out and touch his cheek, your hand shakes as it makes contact with warm stubbled skin. "Jay. Look at me. It's okay, I'm real, I'm here, baby."

Slowly, Jay blinks, the tears rolling down his face make you want to cry too, you can feel it coming in fact. Bubbling up from your stomach into your chest, your throat, a small sob escapes you. Stroking along Jay’s jaw as his attention turns to you. He swallows, and you smile through your tears.

“Y/N?” He murmurs, leaning into your touch, almost nuzzling. 

“Yeah, baby, it’s me. I’m so sorry.” His whole body shudders with soft sobs, tucking his face into your neck as you stand between his legs, wrapping your arm around his waist. You press your lips to his hair, smelling his shampoo, planting kisses on the top of his head, his ears, “I’m right here, I’m not leaving again. I promise, and they’d have to shoot me…again.”

Jay’s head snaps up, scowling and you instantly have the good grace to look sheepish. 

“Sorry, poor taste, but the sentiment still stands.” You try for a weak smile, holding on to Jay so tight, inhaling his scent, relishing his warmth, the feel of him is as commonplace for your senses as breathing. 

“What happened to you?” Jay’s mouth is dry, eyes darkening at his own question. 

You clear your throat, moving your hand to grasp Jay’s. “Maybe let’s call Hank in now then, hm?” 

Jay nods but squeezes your hand before you move away. “Y/N, I love you so much. I never want you out of my sight.” 

You want to laugh, but honestly, you felt the same right now, nodding. “I love you, Jay. More than I can stand it.”

You look at each other for several moments, and you get butterflies as you lean back in, like you were about to kiss for the very first time. You close your eyes, feeling the brush of his lips against yours, it was sweet bliss. A soft sigh escapes as you part, you feel grounded in his eyes, pressing another kiss to his lips before you will yourself to go get your sergeant.

There was some explaining to do.

-

It was difficult to explain how everything had escalated so fast, you had tried like hell to keep the operation in play, but once enough people on Burden’s side knew of your real identity, it was all over. ATF should have pulled you, but instead, they let it go to the ultimate extreme. It was pure luck that they had found you on the other side of the building in the river, and it was worse luck that they were the first ones there. So much could have been different if CPD or CFD had been able to get to you first.

You told them about getting shot, falling through the rotten floorboards, struggling to stay afloat in the water, screaming for help with nobody to hear over the ruckus of flames and sirens, about your pneumonia, about your ‘ban’ from communication with the outside world. You had physically and mentally been through the wringer. Voight was visibly angry, of course, and you knew he would absolutely kick up a stink on your behalf. True, witness protection was par for the course in a case like this, but it usually came with counselling for the witness and a confidentiality agreement that Hank should have been privy to. 

Throughout, Jay sits beside you, that glazed-over look returns and his body is vibrating with rage. You want to hold his hand, to just go somewhere where the both of you can be left alone, but there’s something about Jay’s posturing, about his lack of communication that grows a seed of worry in your gut and chest.

You had the privilege of knowing there would probably be a time where you could go back to your life, Jay had to live each day thinking you were gone from his for good.

Voight had mentioned that he wanted to schedule an appointment for you with a CPD therapist, and now as you were sitting listening to Hank talk about what would happen next, you made a subconscious note that you would enquire with Hank privately about whether Jay could be given some sessions but with Dr Charles. You knew how your partner felt about strangers from the CPD getting into his head.

It takes another 25 minutes before you’re in the cool early dawn air of the parking lot, walking towards Hank’s SUV as Jay keeps a light supportive hand on your back. It felt like the right thing, yet at the same time, it almost felt forced. You didn’t know if you were being paranoid but you thought Jay might have been more touchy-feely upon your return, but almost immediately after the kiss, it was as though the distance had returned.

You reconcile he might not want to be affectionate in front of company, or that he is probably still in shock. You set it aside, focusing on the bliss of being able to resume your life. Hank would be visiting the ATF field office later in the day, after some shuteye, and giving them a piece of his mind. He had mentioned taking Trudy with him too, you pitied whoever was on the receiving end of that.

The ride home is quiet, and you’re grateful for it. The further you get back into the city, the more the emotions return. Chicago looked glorious under the early morning glow, you found yourself leaning on your good side to watch the world go by. You had ended up using Jay’s jacket as a pillow, a small gesture from your fiance that kept you hopeful.

Tentatively, as you got closer to your neighbourhood, you sit up a little more. Putting Jay’s jacket in your lap, you rolled out your neck and winced at the stiffness in your shoulder. Slowly you turned to look at Jay, he was looking out the other window, his hand sort of close to your leg but almost afraid to commit to touching you - like you’d disappear if he tried. Carefully you reach your hand out and brush your fingers against his, he jolts slightly but recovers, offering you a weak smile as he lets you clasp your fingers with his.

-

When Jay opens the front door to your apartment you want to cry, it was like being back on dry land after a storm. It smelled like home, it felt safe, it was yours and nobody was going to reach you here if you didn’t want them to. 

A clearing of a throat gets your attention, “Are you hungry?” Jay asks, scratching at the back of his head. He carried himself like you weren't a cohabiter in this apartment, and you would have laughed if it weren’t for the fact that it felt so disconnected from how you and he had been with each other before your disappearance. 

“Uh… not really, I’m kinda tired actually. Could use a nap, and then maybe breakfast?” You smile, wanting to see that sweet smile on his face return too. He nods, face barely lifting from neutral. There was definitely something wrong, you weren’t surprised, but you knew you had to bide your time on how to approach it. You didn’t want to pressure Jay into feeling emotions or confessing things that were difficult to confess. You could be patient, especially with him.

He gestures to the bathroom, “Sure. I’m…uh, I’m just gonna take a shower, it’s been a long night. I’ll be with you in about 15 minutes.” And with that he’s already wandering down the hall, leaving you to head to the bedroom. Silently wondering how to even process being back, wishing you could know how it was going to turn out for the both of you. You just hoped everyone at the 21st, your friends, and Will would have a reaction that you could handle.

-

To your total surprise, Jay doesn’t come back from his shower, in fact, he doesn’t stay at all. At around the 30-minute mark after his shower, you hear the front door close, and a message on your now nearly re-charged phone flashes. You’re surprised that Jay hadn’t cancelled the contract by now, but then again you figure he’s had a lot of things on his mind. 

[Sorry, had to head back to the District, forgot to finish some things. I’ll see you later, don’t wait on me for breakfast, there’s food in the fridge and the cupboards. Love ya x]

You blinked at the screen, re-reading the words over and over. You couldn’t believe you’d come back from the literal dead and Jay had skipped out on you, and to finish it off you'd got a half-hearted “Love ya x” not an “I love you” or anything closer to sincere. You stared up at the ceiling, fingers drumming on your growling stomach, anxiety the only thing sitting in it. You had been hungry when you got home, but you had also wanted to lie down with Jay and be there whilst he got some rest. Now that was out of the window. You sigh, feeling somewhat stupid for subconsciously thinking it would be easier than this. 

First you reply to Jay, hoping that communicating via text might be easier for him. 

[Hey, honey. Was a little surprised that you left, but you do what you need to. I’m here if you need to talk, okay? I miss you already, come home safe. x]

Then, you hesitate on ringing Hank, but as far as you knew he was the only other person that was aware of your existence. You decide you might as well chance seeing if he was still awake and whether he could help you reach out to Will without giving your brother-in-law a heart attack.

You get a message from Jay, [Thank you, I know. See you later. X] It wasn’t an essay, but it was something, you half-expected no reply at all. 

You’re about a second away from hitting Hank’s name when [BROTHER WILL] flashes up as an incoming call. You blink in surprise, laughing at the ID, it felt good to see it again. You and he had really chuckled over the title for him in your contacts, it made him sound like some sort of priest. If he was calling that meant either Hank or Jay had told him already, you were willing to wager it was your ‘freaking out, missing fiance’ that was the culprit. 

Suddenly you feel nervous, hesitating before you slide the icon to answer. You take a breath, scared to speak.

“Y/N, is it really you?”

Your heart thuds, it was weird to announce your 'resurrection', “Uh…yeah, yeah, Will, it’s me. Hi.” You feel your cheeks go a dusty pink, suddenly very self-conscious, like you’d chosen to run off and disappear. 

“Oh my god.” Is Will’s response, you can hear the audible exhale of his relieved energy through the phone. 

“I know, I’m sorry… Uh, Will, listen this is a lot to explain over the phone. Could we meet soon? Jay’s gone back to the district, and well, I just could use the company. It’s not turning out to be the homecoming I imagined..."

“He called me, Y/N. Believe me, I wanted to chew him out, but I think this is a trauma response and I didn’t want to push it. I told him to stop by Dr Charles’ office after work… I can’t promise he will, but…” Will sighs, “I would love to see you, and we can talk about everything, and whatever you need from hereon out.

“Yeah, no, I know, I’m not mad at him, Will. It’s just, it…stings? You know? I just missed him so much, like I couldn’t breathe, and now… he still feels so far away. I want to help him through this too and to be honest, I’m glad you mentioned Dr Charles, that was going to be my suggestion. You know how he gets about CPD therapists.” 

Will scoffs a laugh, humming in agreement. “Oh, I sure do. Listen, I just need to get some sleep, I just got off of shift. As soon as I’ve had a few hours, I’ll be right on over. Will you be okay?” 

You do take a second to ponder the question, but decide you needed the rest yourself, a rest that came with the security of being in your own home.

“Will, I’ll be absolutely fine, take the time you need. I’m not going anywhere now.” 

“You better not, Jay has been insufferable and I haven’t been much better.” 

You laugh quietly, smiling, “You’re sweet. I’ll see you later, Will, it’s so good to hear from you again.”

“You too, Y/N. Like you wouldn’t believe, I’ve missed my best drinking buddy.” 

“We’re back in the game, partner. See you soon.”

“See you soon, if you need anything at all, call. Okay?”

“Yeah yeah, alright mother hen. Go sleep.”

“Alright, bye for real.” 

The call disconnects and you’re left in the quiet of your bedroom once more. You knew you had to stay strong but you missed Jay, and you wanted nothing more than to curl up in his arms and forget the world for a while.

-

In a surprising turn of events, when you woke up you had received an invite from Hank to make a brief return to the district yourself, the team had been informed of the news and understandably they were all eager to see you. They had been there that night by the river, they had been there when Jay's world fell apart, they had been there when they 'buried' you and they had to be there when life had started to carry on without you.

It was a surreal day in the bullpen, you had been pulled into tight squeezes and tearful reunions with your friends and colleagues, and you were convinced that Trudy wasn't going to let you go. From time to time you'd catch Jay's eyes, and each time it made you, in part, in a hurry to wrap up your visit to the district. You had been reading about Jay's behaviour on your phone as you sat and drank your coffee at breakfast. You were more than convinced Jay was experiencing the anger that came with grief during a loved one's passing, but you were actually here to see it.

Part of you thought you should stay at the apartment for when Jay got home from work and therapy, but the minutes alone only made you more anxious as you replayed Jay’s look of utter contempt towards you when Voight and Trudy had gently ushered you into the bullpen. The others had surrounded you with careful embraces and relieved, emotional, words of comfort. Jay’s expression was colder, distant, he had hugged you again but he could have been a stranger for all the familiarity that was lacking from the gesture.

You had no clue what work looked like for you now, you figured you'd have to do a lot of therapy and training to be declared fit for duty again. So you found yourself wrapping up the social call, using Will as the perfect get-out to leave and get away from the fear of losing your partner.

Again, on a day of surprises, Dr Charles was at Will's apartment when you had arrived, something about taking a personal period from his workday to come and see you, for which you were extremely grateful. After a lot of hugs from your brother-in-law and a lot of your own tears, the psychologist tried to reassure you and helped you put together a plan for how this could improve over time.

Yet, you were afraid of encroaching on Jay's personal space.

Later that evening you got another message from Jay, one that sunk a weight into your stomach,

[Hey, I got caught up at work, another case, I'll see you tomorrow maybe. Don't wait up. Sorry again. J x]

Carefully you typed the response, trying to not let your anger show through. 

[Okay, Jay. I’m going to be at Will’s, so you can find me there. I hope you know I’m sorry for what you went through, and we can talk about how it made you feel. See you soon x]

And so as you woke up in Will's spare room the next morning, you made a decision. You would stay with Will until Jay was ready to see you, you weren't all that certain you'd cope with the lingering loneliness in an empty apartment and Will was more than accommodating. He could give you updates on his brother's movements, as well as helping you with your medications and change the dressing on your shoulder.

Will did have work so you'd been left to it during the main bulk of the day, but that was alright, it still felt warmer than home.

The team had all messaged you asking if you needed anything, including Voight who was adamant that you call or message for any reason that crossed your mind. In your chat with Jay the last time you had spoken via text caught your eye, it was from a month and two weeks before this whole thing started.

The last message on record read: 

[Hey, baby. I know we just said goodbye, and you won’t read this until the operation is over, but I love you so much. And I can’t wait for you to be my wife. Be good, be safe. I’ll see you soon. Love, J x]

You sat like a robot on Will’s couch, a pint glass of water half empty and some crackers half-eaten, your fingers fiddling with a loose thread on the sleeve of your sweatshirt. You had closed the curtains, somehow the daylight made you feel too exposed. Your mind was starting to feel like it did in those early days of your convalescing at the hospital, dark and spiralling. 

Will turning the key in the lock made you jump, but you composed yourself by the time he actually saw your face and you saw his. You mustered a smile, and he smiled reassuringly back even though he could clearly see you had sat there all day feeling out of sorts. 

He felt like a point of safety to you right now, somehow a connection to Jay but without any of the disappointment. It also helped that he had his own first-hand experience with witness protection, something that made him easier to communicate with.

It was later into the evening now. Will managed to get you to eat some soup and watch a nature documentary with him.

You were back in the spare room now, “I got you a toothbrush, some toiletries, you know just to tide you over. You can stay as long as you need. Whatever you want in the kitchen, anything here, it’s yours alright? If you need me I’m just down the hall, day or night, come get me or ring me. I can pick up some more clothes for you tomorrow if you like…” He opens his mouth to say something about Jay but thinks better of it. You were hurting as it was, and Will needed to speak to his brother properly and work this through with him. He knew Jay was suffering too, but you would have never left him or let him think you were dead if you ever had a say in the matter. Jay would have to understand that soon enough if he didn’t already.

You nod feebly, whispering a tired, “Thanks, Will.” As you curl up on the bed, hugging yourself. Your possibly now ‘ex-brother-in-law to be’ leaves the light in the hallway on, keeping your door ajar so you don’t feel isolated from him. Coming home was supposed to make you complete again, but the hole in your heart had only got more grotesque and painful with every passing hour. The bruises, cuts and discoloured skin from your time trapped with the Burden family and the events subsequent to that were now being exchanged for a far deeper torment. There was one person you only ever wanted at the end of this hell, and now you felt as though he hated you for what you’d ‘done’. You exhale shakily, whispering to the emptiness of Will’s spare room. “I’m so sorry, Jay.” A tear rolls down your cheek as your mind spins into a fitful sleep.

-

Unbeknownst to you, Jay had been sent to an ‘emergency’ therapy session by Voight, earlier than Jay's scheduled time, and then he was politely albeit firmly ordered to go home and take some furlough to sort things out with you. 

Jay had left his therapy session with a mountain of regret sitting on his shoulders, but ultimately clarity on everything that had transpired. Those feelings of loss, betrayal and resentment were perpetually cycling in his mind, but now he could see that you had suffered immeasurably too, and that to have been pushed away by him the past few days must have been unbearable given everything else. You had always told him that he was a safety point for you, and he had taken that away from you against your will. 

"For fuck's sake, Halstead." He mutters, slamming his hand on the steering wheel. 

When he gets home, he sees a note in your handwriting, Will had left it earlier on your behalf, on his way back from the hospital. It re-iterated what you had said in the message you sent. It talked about where you'd gone and that you’d be there if and when he was ready. He only feels worse to discover his detachment had actually scared you away from the apartment. He felt dizzy with the sense that his whole life, his marriage, his wife-to-be… it was all disintegrating before his very eyes, the one thing he had wished for was falling away from him again.

Getting back in his truck he drives to Will's with the intent of coming to see you and take you home, but he's frozen once he gets to the road outside the complex. He doesn't even know where to begin to apologise and make it up to you. So he sits in his truck, dozing restlessly, keeping watch over Will's apartment complex. Close by if he were needed.

-

It's around 2am when Jay's phone buzzes loudly along the seat next to him in the back, Jay's eyes snap open and he sits up with a groan from his uncomfortable position across the passenger seats of his truck. Bleary eyes squint at the bright light, fingers fumbling to slide the icon to answer Will's call.

The sounds in the background make his blood run cold, he can hear an edge to Will's tone.

"Man, I don't care where you are or what mood you're in, if you're sober and safe to drive, get here now. It's Y/N, she needs you."

With that, the call ends and before Jay knows it he's sprinting towards the complex's front entrance to get to you.

-

End of Part 8

-

Tags: @briannareneea985 - @mrspeacem1nusone - @elius-learns-to-write - @surftrips - @resanoona

[vickyvicarious]

I was in the shower a minute ago when suddenly, out of the blue, I realized how much symbolism there is in Phoenix's fall from Dusky Bridge. So I came running over here, wet hair and all, to write it down before I forget.

And no, when I say 'symbolism' I don't just mean the obvious line about a phoenix burning and 'dying' (at least Edgeworth thought he was) before being reborn a short time later. The 'rebirth' here would be his debut as a self-sufficient lawyer, when Mia says he no longer needs her and it's implied he is ready to begin his career in earnest from now on at the end of the trilogy. (AJ kinda messed up the long-term effects of that storyline, given how soon the timeline has Phoenix's disbarment after this, but that too could be seen as its own kind of death/rebirth, and in any case when the trilogy was first written the analogy worked just fine.)

But that's not what I just noticed. What I thought of has to do with fire as well... but not on a mythological bird.

A burning bridge.

Burning one's bridges is an idiom that stretches back to ancient military history supposedly. It means to commit oneself to a course of action by cutting off all avenues of retreat. There's no going back across a burned bridge; you have to keep pressing on ahead.

There is a second meaning as well, not quite something defined totally separately, but I've definitely heard the phrase used this way. Namely, to burn your bridges in an interpersonal sense means to destroy your relationship with someone. Usually by doing something unforgivable, but just generally to completely cut ties in an irreversible way.

Phoenix is trying to cross a burning bridge to save a friend on the other side.

I cannot think of a sentence that better sums up what kind of person he is. It basically sums up his entire story in the first game. What is he doing with Edgeworth, if not trying to cross the bridge Edgeworth is actively trying to burn down, in order to save him from being trapped on the other side?

In case that's not very clear:

The bridge = their relationship.

Burning = Demon Prosecutor, telling him to stay away, trying to convict him of murder, etc.

Trapped = not just convicted in that one case, though that too, but remaining the Demon Prosecutor, becoming a corrupt and cruel person forever.

In the second game, the positions reverse... sort of. More like, Edgeworth is now standing out of sight on the other side of a bridge that Phoenix keeps trying to burn but can't quite bring himself to fully burn up/keeps telling everyone else the bridge is long burned down already. In the final case, Edgeworth comes back across the bridge partway, or maybe works on repairing it, and invites Phoenix to come join him, which Phoenix eventually does end up doing.

Still, 'crossing the bridge' comes back with a vengeance in the third game. Phoenix only goes to Hazakura Temple because of Iris, after all. And then he insists on defending her, even though by all rights he should consider that bridge as having been long burnt. But he doesn't want her to be trapped on the other side any more than Edgeworth in the first game.

Once again:

The bridge = their relationship.

Burning = colluding with Dahlia, lying to him for months, not trying to save him - or in his eyes, attempting to murder him, faking that she ever loved him, using him as nothing but an alibi.

Trapped = once again, technically getting convicted of murder, but moreso giving up on the person he knew and loved, accepting that she is truly an evil or worthless person with no hope of change.

Just like Edgeworth in the first game, Iris doesn't want Phoenix to cross the bridge. She's trying to burn it away completely. Her reasons for doing so are different, but in the end she tries to push him away just like Edgeworth did. She pretends not to know him, and needs to be convinced to let him defend her.

But once again, he is able to cross the bridge. He is able to save her.

On a less emotionally significant level, this is in some sense what Phoenix does with every case. He is always trying to reverse irreversible decisions and situations, often with not much more to his name than an intense determination to save the person about to be trapped by said decisions/situations. And a lot of the time, he's able to do it. He manages to get across the bridge before it burns away beneath him, he reaches the person, he reverses the situation.

But other times, he falls.

You can't just run across burning bridges without consequence. Sometimes, they're too far gone. Sometimes, you fall through, and not only is the person on the other side no better off, but you're the one hurt.

Just like what happens when Phoenix runs across Dusky Bridge.

Except... think about what happens next. About who returns to save Phoenix, to build a new bridge where the old one has burned away.

Miles Edgeworth. The first person whose bridge Phoenix successfully crossed. Edgeworth flies in, he comes back from somewhere far away (just to extend the metaphor even further - he can do so now because he has a bridge. Phoenix saved it for him and they rebuilt it together) and takes over where Phoenix can't continue any longer. He holds the fort until Phoenix is recovered enough to fight on.

And this keeps happening. Because of all the effort and determination and heart Phoenix has, he slowly develops these all-important relationships that help him to cross what would otherwise be insurmountable gaps. It happens with Mia returning as a ghost to help him solve her own murder, with Edgeworth and Franziska and Gumshoe helping to track down de Killer, and again to coordinate the effort to save Maya when she's trapped in the temple.

It even happens in AJ, in a way. That's probably the biggest fall Phoenix has ever taken, and for a long time that bridge (his badge, his ability to keep saving others) seemed completely burned away. But not only does Apollo aid him in finding justice and clearing his name (rebuilding a new bridge), but Edgeworth helps him to get his badge back, and Trucy is his light and brings love into his life for so many of his darkest years (rebuilding/crossing the bridge). At least in Trucy and Edgeworth's case, there's a definite element of them being people who Phoenix has saved himself in the past (or for Trucy, concurrently; they saved each other at the same time).

Crossing burning bridges, it turns out, is a contagious habit.

.

A final bonus: Phoenix is crossing Dusky Bridge to try and save Maya. Maya, who from early on served as a bridge herself, connecting Phoenix and Mia across what would normally be the impossible divide of death. Not to mention, every other time he's running over bridges, she is following right behind him and helping him to watch his step and make it safely across.

[shroudcore]

Speak now, or forever hold your peace.

Summary: Ace, Rook, Epel, and Riddle failed to stop Eliza and Idia’s wedding. All hope is lost, and midnight is approaching. 

An angstier take on Ghost Marriage. Idia x GN!reader. Idia-centric. Reader is MC, or takes the role of MC in this story. (Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4)

Warnings: none

Wyd when you’re minutes away from receiving the literal kiss of death? Idia wished he could ask Threaddit. Of all ways to go, he never imagined getting kidnapped by a ghost princess and being forced to marry her. It was a dark but almost funny twist that wrote itself into his uneventful shut-in life. 

“The wait is over, my prince. It’s time for our vows!” Eliza told him, as if this were something to be happy about. It was absolutely baffling how she never noticed his tears today. His pleas fell to deaf ears as an ancient wedding march played, which sounded more like a funeral march. It was a fitting BGM. 

> Idia tried to escape, but was paralyzed on the floor and couldn’t move an inch! 

> We need a healer to come save us! 

> Someone with a skill to clear debuffs!

At first, he thought it was ridiculous for him to be chosen when Vil, Leona, and Malleus were right there. But now, he figured it was only right for an NPC like him to be sacrificed so that the heroes could shine. The problem was that there were no heroes here—everyone here was selfish. Besides, no one could really save him now. His schoolmates lay defeated on the floor, frozen by Eliza’s OP status effect. 

Ace-shi was tied up and silenced after “offending the princess”. He tried to speak, but only incoherent grumbling could be heard with that silvery, translucent gag in the way. 

Epel-shi followed after him, but started yelling and wildly waving his bouquet around after Eliza asked him to consider being a bridesmaid. He had to be restrained by the ghosts. 

Rook-shi almost did it, but was slapped after Eliza somehow felt that his words weren’t for her alone. 

Riddle-shi was rejected for being too short. He tried to reason with the princess, making her feel that he was too serious. He was slapped. 

These four would-be saviors were frozen on the floor like everyone who came before. The Headmaster was nowhere to be seen. Since he’d been kidnapped, Ortho had been trying to help. Unfortunately, his brother was unable to do much for him without anyone’s aid. He isn’t even here right now. Idia’s heart broke at the thought of his brother still gathering people to help him.

And you? He hadn’t seen you all day.

While he waited for a savior, Eliza waited for his “I Do.” When the clock strikes twelve, she would kiss him. Then, it would be Game Over. 

“I stand before this couple this day to unite them in the bonds of matrimony,” begins the ghost officiant. Idia thinks of his unfinished manga volumes, the anime he didn’t get to watch, the games he never got to play, and movie sequels he’d never get to see. Most importantly, he thinks of you—his unexpected friend. Or maybe the more appropriate word would be crush. These past few weeks, he strongly denied these feelings as if his life depended upon it. Maybe it did. 

“... if there be anyone present that may present a just and lawful cause why these two individuals may not be lawfully wed…”

It was totally lame, but yes—your rejection would Crit him. 

“... let them speak now or forever hold their peace.” 

If his schoolmates couldn’t do anything, he didn’t expect you, a magicless human to be able to stop this. Still, it would have felt better to see you try. So, where were you? Did you ever care for him at all, or did he overestimate your friendship points? 

“Do you, Idia Shroud, take Eliza as your lawful wife...”

Can someone crash through those doors right at this moment?

to have and to hold from this day forward—”

Maybe an explosion could happen in the middle of the cafeteria idk

“for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer,”

Or the ground could crack open, sucking all the ghosts into the Underworld! 

in sickness and in health?” 

Anyone, please?

“Man, I’m so done with this!” Floyd whined, cutting off the vows and distracting the ghosts. Idia let himself exhale as he silently thanked the eel for interrupting. “When Mr. Firefly Squid gets a kiss, we get to go home, right? Get it done already.” Oh. Or maybe not.

“My back is starting to hurt from being stuck in the same position for so long. Give her a good peck on the lips while the gettin’s good,” said Lilia. What? I gamed with you! Traitor!

“Do as Lilia says! Hurry and give her a good peck!” yelled Sebek. This was followed by more jeers—more urging for him to just die already. 

Unbelievable. But he should’ve expected this from the beginning. This was why he hated people. None of them liked him, so none of them would care. It was fair, wasn’t it? There was no one he cared about in here. Only Ortho strongly protested against the wedding, but what could he do and where was he now? If only he knew this was going to happen, then maybe he could have installed some ghostbusting features into Ortho—like that one movie he watched!

In his desperation, he tried to appeal to the closest person to him in the room. “Azul-shi, we’re board game club buddies. Do something!” 

But his friend, if he could even be called that, only faked a sniffle. “I’m so moved I can barely see through my tears. Congratulations, you have my blessing!”

If Azul-shi, his closest in the room won’t and couldn’t help him, who would? He hoped it would be you, but that hope has long been squashed and only left him hating that he ever hoped at all. He must have bullied you too much while you were gaming. Did he overdo the trash talk? Was he too mean? (He swears it was all light-hearted!) Did he shut you out too much? Did you hate hanging out with him all along? Of course you would. 

Gaming together and talking on VC for hours, he supposed, weren’t enough to make you care if he lost his life tonight. 

Eliza talking about the kiss barely registered as a lone tear escaped his eye. 

“Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!” If you were here, would you be chanting with them? Probably. It’s about time you showed your true colors too. 

“STOP CHEERING!” he yelled, anger flaring amidst his sadness. Did he deserve this? Did he deserve to be this hated?  

“Pay them no more mind, Idia. Midnight is here!” 

“Shut up, shut up! Can’t you see I don’t want this?”

But Eliza leans in, drawing closer and closer. Tears seep out of Idia’s eyes, weeping for things that never came to pass. No. No. No, he chanted in his head with his eyes closed, as if it could do anything. A chilly feeling begins to cover his face. This is it. GG. 

A sad and pathetic ending for a sad and pathetic shut-in boy. This was the only love he’ll ever get. Love wasn’t real. Heroes aren’t real. Dating sims aren’t reality. He should just—

BANG. 

Huh?

“I OBJECT!” 

“That voice!”

“Is it really…?”

Gasps and murmurs erupted in the hall at the sudden arrival of a figure clad in all-black. Beside them was Ortho, and at their feet was Grim. A large hat obscured their face, adding to the mystery of their person. The entire hall was awe-struck.

The ghosts whispered in confusion and alarm, but those who recognized the voice began hoping to be saved. Eliza, who’d been stunned into silence, quickly grew annoyed at the new interruption. 

“Who is that?” she asked him, but Idia couldn’t care about her. His heartbeat drummed in his ears. His blood was alive. There they were again—those butterflies you’ve been giving him… as cliché as that sounds. 

He watched you take off your hat as the hall greeted you with cheers. 

~~

To be continued

This is my first post and I’m nervous as hell.

I’ve been seeing the “Yuu-crashes-Ghost-marriage” idea around and decided to write my (really long) version of it. (Seriously, it got really long ahaha) Thank you for reading. If you liked this, stay tuned for the next parts!

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4)

[gay-otlc]

Straight A Supervillain- Chapter 9

Plot stuff, with a healthy side of crew banter and Naomi being a drama queen. Only content warnings I can really think of are joking death mentions, unintentional misgendering, and a line or two about trich. Enjoy!

previous

next

Of course it couldn’t last forever, of course ey had to go back to classes. None of them were all that fun- except arson, obviously, and the villain monologue class wasn’t too bad- but math? Math was awful, and Noel refused to reveal his Math Queer secrets. What a bitch.

Other than math, and maybe history- ey wasn’t doing too hot in that class- ey felt pretty confident about eir academic performance, even if it bored the hell out of em. So, when eir teacher for hiring henchpeople said in that ominous teacher voice, “Naomi, talk to me after class,” Naomi was baffled.

And fucking terrified. Had ey been caught? Eir identity figured out? Naomi was a bit surprised ey hadn’t gone bald during the class, with all that anxiety. Lani looked concerned as she wished em good luck.

“Tell Cameron and Noel I died bravely. And with great honor.”

“The world will miss you.”

Professor Night rolled her eyes at the two’s dramatic antics. With a sigh and more well wishes, Lani left, abandoning Naomi to eir anxious thoughts and terrifying teacher. It was unclear which was worse.

“So, Naomi…”

Oh fuck. Oh shit. This was it. The life ey’d made for emself, the way ey felt comfortable with the person ey was becoming, it was about to crumple down around em. The school would expel the daughter- no, child, the villains would still respect eir gender- of Blaze and Thunderclap. No ties to superheroes. It was their most important rule, and Naomi had been breaking it all along. What a fool to think ey could get away with it.

Ey would miss this place so much. Miss Noel muttering equations to himself, and whatever ridiculous earrings Cameron chose each morning, and Lani singing when she thought no one was listening, either Broadway or traditional Hawai’ian songs, depending on the day, and- “I was surprised to see that you had such a good plan to deal with Blaze.”

The first words to register for Naomi were surprised, you, and Blaze. That all but confirmed the worst until the other pieces of the sentence slotted into place.

“I- what?”

“I looked at the fake superhero school website you designed, and it’s very impressive. I showed it to a friend as an experiment, and he said- and I quote- ‘oh shit, another hero school to deal with?’ So I believe it would be convincing enough for Blaze. I think if we selected several students here to pretend to be an intern to Blaze and sabotage his plans, his interference in our plans would go down. If this succeeds, you will be credited in some meticulous log of hero/villain victories, and you get a cut of whatever we steal without Blaze stopping us. Congratulations, Naomi.”

Beyond the shock… there wasn’t a whole lot beyond the shock. It was hard to wade through. But this was also really, really exciting. Being proud of emself wasn’t really something ey was used to, especially without it getting stomped on immediately after. So ey was kind of cautious of the feeling. But also, what the fuck!? This was incredible! Ey wanted to wave eir hands and make fireworks burst through the classroom. That probably wouldn’t look good, though, so ey settled for grinning widely and bouncing on eir toes.

“I. Um. Thank you. I’m honored.”

“You should be. Now, would you like to be one of the fake interns for Blaze?”

Naomi laughed nervously. No, not exactly, he would probably recognize em as being related to him, and ey had done enough trying to help him and never really getting thanked for a lifetime. But ey couldn’t exactly say that while declining the offer. “Oh! Uh, no. No thanks. I don’t think I would be a good fit for that. I have trouble pretending to be nice to people I don’t like.”

“Fair enough. It’s good to know your strengths early, so you don’t, say, choose to enter a career in infiltrating hero spaces and fail miserably.”

“Yeah, I’m much better behind the scenes.”

“Well, you will of course have input into which students are chosen.”

Oh, wow, this was very cool. “Thank you! Is that all?”

“Yes, that is all. You may now go tell your friends you didn’t die after all.”

Okay, maybe in retrospect ey was being really melodramatic. It seemed reasonable at the time, though! It was always nerve-wracking when a teacher asked to speak with you after class. Teachers had to remember how that felt, right? Did they just like scaring kids? Regardless, ey thanked Professor Night again and floated off to eir room. Not literally, like Cameron would have. But it felt quicker than it must have realistically been before Naomi knocked on eir door.

Noel let em in. “You’re still alive, I see.”

“Yep. I bet you were so worried.”

“Terrified,” he deadpanned. He looked over his shoulder. “Hey guys! Naomi’s still alive, and ey has all of eir limbs!”

“She’s alive!” Lani cheered. Before Naomi really even had time to process the mistake- ey was used to it, after all, “she” had been normal for over fourteen years- Lani was saying “My bd. Ey’s alive!”

Oh. Right. I use ey/em pronouns now. It didn’t feel as good as it was supposed to. The initial thrill of those syllables seemed to have worn off, leaving em only with something like discomfort and embarrassment and anxiety.

Great, just when ey thought ey had this shit figured out.

“So, how much detention do you have?” Cameron asked.

Ey stuck eir tongue out, and Noel laughed, and the discomfort evaporated. “None, for your information.”

“Then what did she need you for?”

Ey grinned against eir will. It wasn’t often ey felt like ey could brag about emself. “Well, remember that extra credit thing I did about Blaze? The one I was working on that time we yassified a Chick Fil A? Apparently, people really like it and they want to use it as, like, an actual plan. And I get credit if it works! And maybe also money!”

“Dude, that’s really cool!” Cameron held his hand up for a high five. Ey slapped it.

Lani gave em a high five too. “Nice job.”

“Damn, congratulations. Does this mean we finally get to hear about it?” asked Noel.

“Yeah, so, basically-” Naomi clapped eir hands together and grinned. “Ooh, I should make a google slideshow! For you guys, and for if I need to explain it to henchpeople later.”

“Naomi, bestie, please don’t make us sit through google slides, that’s torture!”

“We’re villains, Cameron. I know it’s torture. That’s the point.”

“Yes, but this feels extreme.”

“I think it’s fun.”

He flipped em off and ey cackled. “Yeah, so, I think I’m gonna skip math to work on that.”

“But Naomi, math is important!”

Ey laughed at Noel. “You’re such a nerd.”

“Oh. Sorry.”

Well, now Naomi felt like a real asshole. “Fuck. I meant nerd, affectionate.”

“Oh. Um. Thank you, then?”

“No problem. But yeah, I’m ditching math. Just tell the teachers I’m missing class because of ‘girl problems,’ that’ll definitely freak him out.”

“You’re not a girl, though.”

“Right.” Ey had kind of forgotten about that. It was nice that Lani remembered, but why hadn’t ey remembered eir own damn gender? Did that mean ey was just faking?

“How about lad-eyyy problems?” Cameron asked. Naomi slipped out of eir thought spiral and gave him finger guns.

“I thought you didn’t like the puns?” Noel groaned.

“They’re funny when I make them.”

“Yes, Cameron, that makes complete sense.”

“Obviously! I’ll give you my math notes, good luck with the fucking google slides.”

Ey blew him a kiss. “You’ll love it.”

“Fuck you.”

“Love you too!” Ey waved as eir friends headed out to their math class. Suckers. With an evil laugh, courtesy of that one class, ey sat at eir desk and prepared to make the most hellish google slideshow ever.

“Hello, ladies and gentlemen! And also Cameron!” As soon as the other three walked through the door, looking like they’d alread been through hell and back, ey started the powerpoint. Well, considering the general state of geometry, they honestly had been through hell and back. Ey waved enthusiastically and eir opening slide, that read “Naomi’s Plan To Fuck With Blaze! Naomi ‘Heatwave’ Lebowski.” The background was rainbow, obviously, and also included fire. Did a better background exist? Probably not.

Cameron groaned. “Hi, Naomi.”

“Take a seat! And prepare yourself for boredom mixed with occasional polite applause!” Lani rolled her eyes and provided the applause. “Thank you, Lani.”

Raising his hand, Noel asked “Did you have to do this in comic sans?”

“Yes, I did. No further questions.” Ey grabbed one of those finger pointers that elementary school teachers always had. Like a yad, but bigger, and plastic, and not Jewish. How did ey get this? Honestly, Naomi didn’t know either.

Onto the next slide! As ey read, eir finger pointer indicated each word, one by one. “Why Blaze sucks. Number one, he’s a hero! Need I say more? Two, he injures a lot of civilians, which is unlawful in accordance with the Reduction of Civilian Casualty Agreement. 1953. Three, he frequently discovers and sabatoges villain plans. Three A, his assistants, who are likely used for this, are paid minimum wage for a job which, considering how skilled we villains are, is probably pretty hard. Three B, also, minimum wage in this city is too low. But that is a discussion for another time. Any questions?”

Lani raised her hand, and Naomi nodded. “Why do you think his assistants are used for discovering the plans?”

That was a good question, and ey needed to think fast for an explanation that didn’t consist of “he’s my dad and he couldn’t hack into anything to save his life.” That was harder than expected.

“The application forms specify technological skill as a qualification, which probably means hacking but he can’t just explicitly say that, you know?” Would they buy that? Fuck, keeping this hidden was so hard.

“Okay, maybe add that.”

“Noted. Onto the next slide?”

Cameron groaned. “Just get this over with quickly.”

“I’ll go extra slow now just to drive you crazy.”

“I will murder you on your sleep.”

“Joke’s on you, I don’t sleep!”

“You should maybe start doing that,” suggested Lani.

Naomi pointedly ignored her and changed the slide. “Being Blaze’s Assistant. Working for Blaze must be awful. Hard work, low wages, being forced to do heroics by some entitled bitch who doesn’t appreciate what you do for them.” Ey cleared eir throat. Thankfully, ey’d had the good sense to delete it, but it was hard not to think about what else ey’d written in eir description of working for Blaze.

Someone who thinks that they’re the best person to walk the earth and no one will ever be as great as their perception of themself, but they expect you to be anyway. Someone who sees you as potential and not a person. Someone who tells you to work harder but never thanks you for the work you do already. Someone always disappointed in you because no matter how hard you try, you’re still not enough, someone who- Okay, that’s enough angst for you, Naomi. Your friends are starting to look concerned.

Ey cleared eir throat. “However, it might be fun to work for Blaze… if you were doing so to sabotage him!”

Waving eir hands, ey grinned. Everything was great! Ey could sabotage Blaze, be an accomplished villain, everything was going perfectly and ey wasn’t upset about eir parents. Maybe if ey smiled a little wider, eir friends would stop worrying about em.

Next slide.

“After school Tuesdays and Thursdays, and on Saturdays- apply for an internship with Blaze at- yeah, this URL.” Naomi didn’t particularly feel like reading it out, opting instead to gestrue vaguely. “Counts towards your grade, and is good life experience. You will be paid for working with Blaze and we will pay you too, because you need to be compensated for working with that loser. Broken heart emoticon.”

Lani raised her hand. “Are you sure you can put emoticons in this?”

“Yes. No futher questions.” Ey clicked ahead to the next slide. “While working for Blaze, feed him believable- but fake- information about our plans. All decoy plans must first be cleared by Professor Night. Additionally, gather as much information about his plans as you can, but don’t take unnecessary risks and get caught.

“But Naomi, you must be thinking, what if he asks what hero school we go to? We can’t exactly admit to going to VHS, but if we lie, he can verify that!

“That’s a good question, imaginary respondents. You will claim to attend a school called Moonshadow’s Institute of Heroics. It doesn’t exist, but has a convincing website at moonshadowsheroics.com. Learn the information on that website so you can answer questions if necessary.”

Though of course, they would have no reason to doubt the school their beloved daughter supposedly goes to. They trust Naomi and have absolute faith that ey would never end up a villain. Oh wait…

Yeah, hopefully the volunteers for this knew their shit about Moonshadow’s.

“Good luck, and remember the villain motto: Fuck Shit Up!”

[pathsofoak]

The Cold Half WIP excerpt

Okay. Ridiculously long excerpt that is technically just an entire chapter (and a long one at that). I've got some context at first under the cut, beware for a torture mention (nothing is shown, it is implied to have happened earlier) as well as a reference to deaths (again, nothing major, no one is named).

This thing is 4000 words.... Like I said it's long.

But I liked this scene (ehh, two technically) so I wanted to share. It's kind of Minho having mixed feelings about hating Teresa, because it's valid, but also it hurts him more than it helps him sometimes.

So context first. Teresa, Brenda, Chuck, Newt, Gally, Frypan, and Minho are all stuck at WCKD. They have been there for about two to three months at the time of this chapter, and WCKD has been suspiciously humane so far (not important in this chapter, but just as an explanation as to why they move around so freely).

In the chapter before this, Minho is forced to watch Teresa undergo the same procedure he went through in the Death Cure movie. WCKD makes them go through it (the fake Maze, not the watching. That is a one-time thing) every week, but erases any memory before they wake up (like I said, suspiciously humane. As far as they remember they just fell asleep).

Teresa then had to watch a video of Minho watching her, and discovered he actually yelled for it to stop. (This happens the chapter before this one, which is from her POV, but that one is a lot... angstier)

Anyway it's 4000 words here goes

Minho kept moving the potatoes on his plate from one side to another. Frypan and Gally were just as tired as usual after a long run. That’s what they had started calling it. Long runs. Harvest sounded wrong that was what it was, but Minho never liked the name. WCKD had a lot of useless euphemisms for it. Extraction. Procedure. Just a little test.

His first time—back before they came for him, doctor Paige had come for him personally. They had put him in a cell all alone, but he could hear all the other kids that hadn’t enjoyed the same luck as the other kids on the train complain and yell, and sniffle and cry.

She had come for him followed by a gurney and a syringe Minho had made close acquaintance with more than once up to that point. You are the best we have now, Minho. I do hope you’ll understand. This procedure is a last resort, we didn’t think we’d need it.

He remembered every little bit of it. From the moment he woke up in there to the moment he woke up tied to a table with that woman sitting by his side drinking a shucking cup of tea. A fake apology here and there, she hoped they wouldn’t have to do it again, but it worked. It showed promising results.

“You okay there?” Gally sat down again after taking seconds. They let them do that after the long run only. All of them, not just the lucky four. “Minho?”

Yeah. The silence around him told him he forgot to say that out loud. “I’m all right.”

“I’m just tired, all right?” They still hadn’t brought her back. As far as he knew, except for him, they had done nothing different. They put her to sleep at the same time as Frypan and Gally, and she had woken up at the same time too.

“Did you… did you remember?” Frypan asked. “Is that it? You’re the last person to be worried about Teresa, so that’s not it.”

They had sedated him to keep up appearances. A month or two ago he might have told them. He glanced at Newt. He was having a good day. For the first time since they had gotten there, he had come with to the common room that morning. His face had color in it, his limp wasn’t worse than before he got sick.

WCKD said he didn’t have to keep his little secret forever. It wasn’t that big a thing anyway. It only concerned Teresa and him. He knew he couldn’t save Newt, but he believed WCKD when they told him they could make his end bearable. No voices and visions, no clawing his friends’ heads off. If Thomas’s blood could cure Brenda, it could do that.

For as long as WCKD let it.

He didn’t think it would bother him much. Or, should bother him much. Seeing her writhe and scream wasn’t exactly how he’d pictured revenge. Which he had pictured. She’d get off easy, he was done with all the death. It wouldn’t be fun, but it would have ended. He wasn’t that cruel. So did the long run. It ended unconscious, on a table with a weird mask that had a dozen wires coming out of it to take the nasty memories away.

It shouldn’t bother him. Even if he didn’t hate her, she didn’t remember.

“All right,” Newt said. “There is something wrong with you.”

The med-wing’s door opened down the hall. Footsteps came in, several pairs. They ended at their bedroom. They stopped there for a while, until the med-wing doors opened and closed again.

Chuck got up, but Minho put his hand on the boy’s shoulder and forced him back down. “She’ll be tired. She’s been in there for a while.”

“Like I said.” Newt moved his plate aside and leaned forward to look Minho in the eyes. “There is something wrong with you.”

“I’m trying to be nice for the time being,” Minho said with a shrug. It wasn’t all a lie. He still wanted to punch her in the face, but if they really were to spend the rest of their lives with WCKD, as everyone but Gally seemed to have accepted as the truth so far, riling himself up each time wouldn’t help.

If today hadn’t been a trick, he was prepared to call a truce. She started the fight. It shouldn’t be his move, but if WCKD kept her for an entire afternoon and a good part of the evening she wouldn’t have much left to make the move herself.

She hadn’t stepped out of line so far, and the cries. The screaming. That couldn’t be faked. That was real. Either she had some messed-up kind of determination to the point of torturing herself, or WCKD really banished her to the other side of the story for good.

He meant what he screamed at them. He knew they did it to all of them, but seeing it like that, whether she would remember or not, it did something to him. Like it was somehow worse now he saw it, almost all of it, in person. If it had been Gally or Frypan he would have tore up the room. WCKD should count their blessings. Though, that could just be the reason they picked Teresa for him to watch.

She’s a kid. They are all kids, she’s just a kid. He would repeat it from now on. They could do whatever they wanted, he had no way of stopping them. But until that statement wasn’t true for any of them anymore, he would repeat it. He would shove and rub it in their faces, he would spit it out at every soulless piece of klunk that worked in there.

Not necessarily for her, he hadn’t come that far. He might. One day.

“I’ll go check on her.” He got up and shoved his still half-full plate through the same hole he got it from without bothering to throw the leftovers in the trash chute first. A thank you. If they wanted him to eat, they shouldn’t show him things that made him want to puke his guts out once for seeing it and a second time for the realization he felt bad seeing it. Not to forget the third time just now, when he realized he felt bad over feeling bad over seeing another teen tortured.

Brenda blocked the way. “Are you sure?”

“I won’t lay a finger on her.” He put her hand on her arm to move it out of his way. “That would hurt me more than her anyway.”

She moved, but only because of Newt’s nod he wasn’t meant to notice.

He didn’t know what he expected when he turned into the room they all shared, but it wasn’t what he found.

Teresa sat in her bunk with her knees up to her chest, pillow tucked in between. She held her head in her arms, which she rested on the tops of her knees. He breathing went ragged and hitched.

She cried. The kind where you try to keep it quiet, but all that means is you end up with constricted sob after sob you almost choke on. She looked up. Her eyes were all red and a shiny coat of tears covered her cheeks.

“I—I know you’re pissed, and you probably got all kind of feelings or whatever,” she said, half out breath. “But I’m tired, okay?” Her eyes moved up and down. She studied him. He had gotten used to that look, not even from her. It was different this time, though. It was like she told him without saying a word.

“What did they do to you?” He sat down in Gally’s bunk. “After the long run, I mean.”

She took a few deep breaths, and made the correct assumption that he wasn’t about to leave.

“They made you watch me.”

He nodded, though it wasn’t entirely true. If he had had a choice he might have said yes, if he hadn’t known what he would see beforehand.

She swallowed a few times, trying to calm herself. “I’m not… I’m going to bother you with…” She sighed. “I don’t hate you. Any of you, I never have. We grew up together, you guys were like brothers to me.”

Minho scoffed softly and shook his head. “If you remember all that…”

“Exactly. I remember all that.” She put her pillow away. “All the good things, and I promise you there was more of it than you think. WCKD didn’t start out terrible. Not compared to what it’s become. We played together, we had fun together, and I—” She shook her head and sniffed.

As she looked him dead in the eyes she said, “I watched the same thing you watched happen to me happen to you. And I pushed every thought except for the patterns we’d record out of my head.” She half-smiled, though it didn’t seem too happy. “I don’t even dislike you. You hate me more than anyone else and you still…”

So this was how guilt looked at its peak.

“You watched me?” He wasn’t sure if he meant that afternoon or earlier. If he meant the former it would be rhetorical question anyway.

“You, once. Thomas twice. I couldn’t turn it off anymore after that.” She looked down. “They recorded you, watching me. They played the entire thing. Start to finish.”

Minho rubbed his chest. So she’d seen him. She’d seen him trash and yell for her. “It’s not forgiveness.” He could have picked a better moment to rub that in. He still shared a room with her.

“I don’t think they picked us because we were smarter.” She pushed herself into the back corner of her bunk. “Paige always said it was, the teachers always said it was, but that was just part of it. Thomas and I are no smarter than you are. Not as much as they said, anyway.” She pulled her lips into a thin line as she bit the bottom one of them. She gazed up. “We’re just gullible. I can solve any puzzle you put in front of me, but for the life of me I can’t tell wrong from right. Thomas couldn’t either, until it hurt too much.”

Gullible wasn’t a word he ever associated with her. Thomas, sure. Once or twice. He noticed when you kept a secret from him, but it didn’t matter whether or not you told him the truth when you shared said secret. He would believe it if you didn’t give him a reason not to.

Her first response to meeting a bunch of strange shanks had been to throw every solid thing she could find at them.

“The two of us actually grew up thinking we were special.” She stood up, but the way she clutched the top of her bunk told him she shouldn’t move an inch more than that. She stared at the image covering their back wall as if gazing out a window. “It shouldn’t even feel so bad, I don’t remember a thing.”

“It’s called a conscience,” Minho said. “How’s it feel having one?”

“I’m serious.”

“Me too.”

She turned around. “It’s not having a conscience, is the guilt. I had a conscience before, I just didn’t know to trust it.”

Newt knocked on the doorway. “Are you two in one piece?”

They both nodded.

Newt looked at Teresa, then Minho, then Teresa again. “All right. Something is off with you—” he pointed at Minho—“and you,” he told Teresa, “you and I have a deal.”

Minho frowned. “What deal?”

“No secrets. From my side, at least.” She looked at Minho. “No one in there told me to keep it to myself, so…”

He nodded.

Teresa explained it all to Newt. Nothing including all the details, just the simplest yet uttermost factual report of what she remembered of that afternoon.

He didn’t have to, but Minho filled in his part. Every bit of it.

“You bloody shanks need to stop putting yourself on the line for me,” Newt said.

“You said do what they say, I did what they said.”

Newt nodded, still standing in the doorway. “Just for the sake of having one less thing to worry about, can we agree to a truce here? If anything this proves she’s on our side, so—”

“I’ll back off if she quits being a doormat. And I want to know why I’m more important than Gally and Frypan.”

Teresa nodded to the first one, but the second she had something to say about. “If they knew why your immune system fights the Flare more efficiently than theirs, we would have found the cure long before the Maze Trials. That’s not something we’ll ever find an explanation for. Thomas, as far as they know, was a coincidence.”

“As far as they know?” Newt asked.

“I had an hypothesis, but I’m pretty sure it’s already been proved wrong.” She wiped her face off with her sleeve. “Do you guys mind if I sleep now? I’ll talk in the morning, it’s just been a lot.”

Minho got up. He didn’t have a hard time believing that. If she watched the whole thing, they started it right after she woke up, considering the time it took for her to come back. Minho was tired from just half an hour’s worth of sleep. He refused to call it sedation or anesthesia. This one, he didn’t mind a euphemism for.

Newt looked at him as he stepped into the hall. “The cat’s out of the bag. I told them not to ask, but if they do, just tell them, yeah? I’ll take the fall.”

WCKD wouldn’t let that happen, but if Newt told the others not to ask about it they wouldn’t.

“And…” Newt said more quietly as Teresa tucked herself in. “You’re not wrong to be pissed. I know I can make it feel like you are, but I’m just trying to keep the peace where I can.”

WCKD picked them up early that morning, maybe that was why Newt had so much more energy left by dinnertime. “She’s a puppet. Or… was a puppet. She feels plenty bad about it. Truce. For now. No promises on friends.”

“You’re the one who brought that up.” Newt sat down in his own bunk. “Tell the others to be quiet? I’d like to build up some reserves.”

Minho flipped the light switch. They could only do that once a day. It meant their sun set sooner, but it wouldn’t come up again until the next morning. He would have to tell Chuck to keep his puzzles in the common room.

He left the door ajar.

Gally and Frypan waited for him in the hall, curious looks on their faces.

“I didn’t kill her,” Minho sneered. “Quit trying to make me feel like the thought of doing it makes me a bad person.”

Gally shrugged as Minho passed him toward the common room. “I mean… out of the three of us I came closest, so I’m not here to judge. It’s temporary anyway.”

He still had his mind on escape. Minho on the other hand, had a growing list of frustrations that sentiment would become a part of very soon. Ironic, since out of the three of them he would have been the first to suggest it if he hadn’t known better.

Chuck and Brenda sat bent over a game of checkers, too deep in thought to notice him. Chuck was smiling. He couldn’t see Brenda’s face, but she chuckled.

Gally patted his shoulder on his way to the couch.

Frypan still stood in the hall. “Newt said not to ask, but—”

“Then don’t,” Minho said. “Because he said to answer if you did and I really don’t want to.”

Frypan nodded toward the cafeteria.

Minho didn’t want to ruin the mood in the common room, and because of his display of displeasure his stomach kept nagging him. He picked a banana off their daily fruit tray and sat down across Frypan. “Gally’s still optimistic,” he said to avoid the other topic.

“I’m starting to think they messed with his head,” Frypan replied. “Sorry,” he followed. “Not funny.” He stared through the walls toward their bedroom with a glare Minho hadn’t seen from him before.

“It’s like he wants us to six year olds who still believe in shucking Christmas,” Frypan said. “I mean I get it, Brenda doesn’t know half of what they’re capable of, and I’m guessing Chuck doesn’t always pick up on it either, but he shouldn’t be trying to trick us.”

Minho thought of his night after that first time. After he woke up, doctor Paige told him to sleep it off and sent him back to holding. He didn’t sleep. He didn’t close his eyes for one second, because as long as he could see the bunk across his he would know he wasn’t there.

Minho had no one. They had him alone in there, probably so the sight of him wouldn’t scare the others. “He kept saying this place is our Glade. Of we fight each other inside, we won’t survive outside.” Minho was the last one not to be on neutral terms with her. She could save his life and he’d still never be anywhere close to good terms, but maybe Newt had a point somewhere.

She wasn’t a danger or an enemy anymore. Just a reminder of one.

“He wants us to make peace with being here.” Minho peeled his banana, but he still wasn’t that hungry. “Before he dies, I guess.”

WCKD helped. Maybe it was the tiniest hint of revenge he’d inflicted by waiting those few minutes before he called out, even if it did nothing. Maybe it was the way the doctors talked to them opposed to what he was used to. He could name a list of other things, but it didn’t matter which one it was.

“WCKD’s kept their promises,” Frypan said as if he’d read Minho’s mind, likely to avoid discussing Newt’s inevitable end. “None of it ever happens in here either. I know it’s because they have something to gain, or because they have something to lose if they hurt us more than they think they have to, but…” He didn’t finish his sentence. He swallowed and shifted positions. “If it stays this way, and I know it sounds weird and wrong and all kinds of messed up, but do you think we could be happy in here? Or okay, at least?”

Frypan pressed a bowl into his hands and sat down next to him, watching over the crackling fire. “You better eat that before someone notices. You never eat much when the Box comes up.”

Minho sat on the side of the log he’d claimed as his spot for the night. Newt showed the Greenie around. A confused shank, maybe a bit too curious for his own good considering his little show at the doors.

“Thanks.” Frypan didn’t come to him for the food.

“I know you guys don’t talk about the maps, so we don’t get too worried and all, but… not because I don’t trust you can do it…”

He couldn’t. That was the secret lying under that tarp. Every corner, every sequence, nothing had an exit.

“Do you think we can stay here?” Frypan asked. “If we had to, do you think we could just end the running and stay in the Glade forever? No more names, no more graves. Do you think we could stay?”

That was Newt’s goal, wasn’t it? Newt knew the past weeks the only thing that had kept Minho from throwing Teresa across a room just once had been how much Newt needed her, and Janson’s growing list of threats. The only reason he kept pressing it was because he must also have thought Minho would lose his mind with anger over time.

“If they keep this up,” Minho considered. “It’s not like we have choice other than accepting it. If there is no more Maze, no more dying, and we never remember…” He didn’t want it to be an option. He knew in order to be happy anywhere he shared a room with six other people he had to be able to get on with them at least a bit.

Frypan interrupted his thoughts. “And Thomas. From their side I get they keep him separate, but that’s what a common room is for, isn’t it?”

Time. Thomas would take time. Blake said it would, so they wouldn’t never see Thomas again. He didn’t think Blake was a woman of her word, but she made it clear enough that sooner or later she needed their cooperation for something WCKD wouldn’t care about if they refused. She couldn’t afford to lie.

“Maybe,” he answered. “But it’ll be a while after Newt’s gone.”

They all swirled around that topic, but when push came to shove they all said it. Newt would die. Maybe if he kept repeating it, that tiny bit of him that hoped he wouldn’t would die out. It would hurt less that way.

It wouldn’t be long before Newt would try to prepare them for that too. If he wasn’t doing it already.

“I don’t like how he’s all grown up all of a sudden,” Frypan said. “And I know it’s not the Flare, it’s like he’s a different person even when they’re pumping him full of that stuff.”

“Maybe he doesn’t want to die feeling like a kid.” That wasn’t it and Minho knew. Newt lost his sneer when things got dire. He lost his sneer in the Maze that day. He made jokes, sure, but nothing but kind ones. The type that lifted everyone’s spirits instead of making fun of someone else—though, those jokes could easily do the same except for the one on the wrong end of it.

Minho realized something, in that moment. “I guess fear makes you older the same way it made Chuck younger for a while.” Chuck wanted safety after the Maze, so he clung to Justin in a way he never did to a soul in the Maze—Alby included. Newt wanted peace of mind.

As long as they had conflict among each other he could never be sure he had it.

“I… I saw something happen to Teresa.” He looked for a reaction from Frypan, but he couldn’t read him. “I don’t want to forgive her. I’ve banished—I’ve killed people for less than she did. But it just…” He took a breath. Since when did he get emotional like that? Since always, but not in front of someone. He was Keeper of the Runners. He ate nightmares for breakfast. Considering he woke up with them more often than not.

“Well forgiving her only helps her so put that out of your head if you don’t want to,” Frypan said. “Honestly? Just let it be. There were plenty of people in the Maze we didn’t particularly get along with but we were okay to each other. I know it’s not the same, but it’s possible. You don’t have give a shit about her. I don’t.”

“I hate her but what I saw—I don’t even care what kind of past she has with it, I don’t want to be burning everywhere all the time but if I convince myself to forgive her for what she’s done it’s like I’m smearing klunk over our wall and their graves.”

“Believe it or not, as it turns out I do. Not… as a friend but… I just don’t want to see people hurt anymore.”

“Do you trust she won’t turn to WCKD?”

“After today? I think so.”

“Then, you have no reason to be scared of her.”

“I didn’t say—”

Frypan stole the banana Minho still hadn’t eaten from. “It’s something Vince once said while we were looking for you. Hate is fear mixed with anger. You don’t want to stop being angry, so then stop being scared. Being angry with someone is a lot easier than hating them.”

Maybe. “When did you get wise?”

“Like you said. Being scared makes you look older sometimes.”

[wildlittlefoxsworld]

Booker x Fem Reader Unlike your family you're not a soldier, more of the tech nerd of the group but that doesn't mean your some damsel in distress! It be good of your family to remember that so when you get kidnapped by people with a grudge, the kidnappers aren't the only one in for a surprise! Also if you could maybe add Angst 6,8 and Random 11,29,36 from the prompt list into the story if you can no pressure Thanks!❤

Badass wife | The Old Guard | Booker x Fem!Reader

Warnings: rape (but only mentioned), reader is kidnapped, torture (only mentioned), angst with happy ending

Words: 3k

Prompts:

-Angst

6. “Don’t you ever do this again.”

8. “Nobody’s seen you in days.”

-Random

11. “You’re insane.” “You love me.” “Not right now, I don’t.”

29. “How is my wife more badass than me?”

36. “That was kind of hot.”

Masterlist

***

If you were honest, you never enjoyed or loved being immortal. Of course, your immortal life had a lot of benefits. You couldn’t get ill, you were forever young and beautiful (that was what your husband said all the time to you), you spend the eternity with the love of your life. Sometimes it was very great, but sometimes you hated it. Your loved ones died a long time ago and you saw all the people in the world getting old, and you wanted that with your husband. Growing old, playing with your grandchildren, remembering a wonderful life.

But you had a family and currently you were the second youngest of your group. A few months ago Nile joined your little family and she was a former marine. Nile was a soldier, like the others in your group. You weren’t a soldier; you never learnt how to fight before you died for the first time. You were born in 1985 and during your time in school it emerged that you were a genius, primarily in mathematics and biology, but you focused your interest mainly in computers and other kind of this stuff later in high school. You made money with programming security and anti-virus software for companies to protect their data.

The first time you had died wasn’t something really special or spectacular, but you had died on smoke poisoning after a fire was breaking loose. You had woken up in the mortuary in the hospital and you couldn’t believe what happened. You had been disoriented and confused, so you just wrapped the white sheet tight around your body and searched for a way out of the hospital, because you wanted to go home. But you hadn’t come far… that was when you met Joe and Nicky for the time. Joe had explained you quickly that you had died, because of a fire in your house and they were there to help you. Nicky had wrapped you in his leather jacket and carried you in his arms, because your feet were bare.

That was six years ago in 2015 and you were now married with Booker for four years, these were the happiest in your life. Booker and you had become very close immediately and you couldn’t ask for a better man or husband. Booker was good with all the technical stuff, but you showed him skills that he only had dreamed off and fast you were responsible for finding persons or hacking any websites, searching for information and made sure that all the tech stuff ran smoothly. You felt sometimes like the fictional figure Ramsay from Fast and the Furious.

The time in your little cell gave you enough time to think about your life. You were here for three or four days now and your kidnappers thought you had find out information about their criminal business, and you had gave the info to the FBI, which was true, but the criminals couldn’t prove that. So they had water-boarded you already and now they were trying to starve you, so you would tell them what you did and what exactly you told the FBI.

You had a little worry that your family couldn’t find a way to rescue you or that it was very difficult to break in the building where they hold you hostage. You wore a little location transmitter under your skin, not only one, but four in different places. This was your first idea after you joined the team, because it would be easier for the team to track someone if one or more of you got kidnapped. You hoped the others already found you.

You were sitting on the floor with chains cuffed to your ankles and wrists when one of your kidnappers opened the door. It was Paul, the at least friendly one of the men, but he wasn’t very talkative. He checked the chains and brought a new bottle of water, but clearly no food. You didn’t eat something in the last seventy-six hours and you were very hungry, but you wouldn’t beg for food. You weren’t weak or easy to break, but your kidnappers didn’t know that and maybe your family members would rescue you in the next coming hours. You would definitely eat a cheeseburger and a large portion of fries.

“Do you want to tell me something, sweet girl?” Paul asked you with a gentle voice and little smile, but you only quirked an eyebrow and looked dumbfounded at him. Did he really think you would talk so fast? Andy had one rule; don’t say anything about their missions no matter what they would do to you. It was easy to follow the rule. Of course, you were afraid that they would water board you again. That wasn’t very pleasant, but they could do other things and you didn’t want to think about it.

“It’s very sad that you don’t want to talk with me and it’s impolite, too. You should show us more respect and answer a question when someone asked you.”

With two fingers he tipped your chin up, but you refused to look him in the eyes.

“No, I have nothing to tell you.”

“Well, that is bad… for you. My boss said that I have to make you talk and that I could do anything with you what I want. You have a pretty face, you know, I would really like to kiss your lips. But your body is more interesting, I ask myself what you hide under all your clothes. What do you think… can I take a look?"

That was the first time you gave him a glance and you were disgusted by the smug grin on his face.

“Fuck you,” you cursed and spit him in the face. Your spit landed on his cheek and mouth and brushed with his hand the wetness from his skin.

“Don’t you ever do this again!” he warned you with an angry voice and slapped you across the face, so that your head flew to the side. Your cheek burned where he hit you with the back of his hand, but you only turned your head slowly to him and grinned slightly. “That was your answer.”

His eyes were filled with rage now, because he had thought you were just a pretty little girl who he could threaten and you would sing like a bird. In the next moment he pressed his mouth hard on yours and his tongue tried to invade your mouth, but you bit him as hard as you can on the lip that you could taste blood in your mouth.

“You bit me, you little bitch. You will wish you were never born when I’m done with you.”

“I think it will be the opposite,” you considered and he shoot you a death glare. He came closer to you for a second time and you watched the blood dripping from his torn lip.

“You really want to be hurt, right?”

“No, but it seems you want to,” you replied and kicked your knee into his stomach. He gasped and fell backwards on his butt.  You didn’t get much time to put your plan into action. The chains around your ankles were tied to the ground, but the ones around your wrists were connected with a chain. You stood up fast to your feet, ignored the dizzy feeling in your head from sitting so long and wrapped the chain around his neck. You pulled tight to cut his air supply and he tried helplessly to inhale the much needed air. You used all of your strength to strangle him, because he started trying to put his fingers between the chain and his throat. You noticed how strong he was and he scratched the floor with his feet helplessly. You couldn’t give up now, you know there would other men come, but maybe he had any keys that you could use to free yourself from the shackles.

You felt how slowly his strength faded, but it did and you collected all of your strengths to pull the chain tighter. You thought it took you minutes until he gave fighting, but it was only a few more seconds until he went limp and you counted to sixty in your head to be sure he didn’t fake it.

 You searched in his pockets for any keys and you were successful. You thought why they were so stupid to give Paul the keys, but you thought that they weren’t smart enough to assume that you could have overpowered him. But you could only free yourself from the chains around your ankles, your hands were still in chains and you cursed that you couldn’t defend yourself properly. They weren’t very tight, you could have freed yourself earlier from them, but you would have to dislocate your thumb and break your hand in the process, and you weren’t brave enough to do it. Maybe you would find the keys somewhere else, you weren’t happy how the situation turned out, but at least you weren’t raped by Paul and you took Paul’s gun to your defense, then you walked on wobbly legs out of the little room. You didn’t know if there were any cameras, but you assumed they had a few, because you heart already shouting and appearing footsteps from down the long hallway where you stood now helplessly. You didn’t know where you were or how they got you here. Normally you weren’t active in any mission, you were the tech nerd and you stayed often with Nicky when he searched for the perfect position for his sniper rifle. But the last time you were with Nicky, he needed to change his position and you decided to stay in the first place he had chosen. You always had a gun with you and Andy had trained you, but you weren’t used to fight against so many men that had approached you after Nicky was gone. You were sure Nicky was crestfallen, because he left you there alone and Booker freaked out probably in the moment.

You thought about which way you should take and it would have been probably stupid if you would go into the direction from where the shouting was coming.

“She’s this way, boss,” you heard a familiar voice from behind you and your heart began to beat faster. That was your husband and the shouting was from the other criminal men, when the team had surprised them. You were glad that they finally came for your rescue and started running towards them.

“I hope they didn’t hurt her or I will them kill all over again,” Booker said maybe to Andy, because you didn’t know if all of them were in the building.

“She’s moving fast into our direction,” you heard him gasping shocked. In the next moment you ran around the corner and directly into his arms when he recognized you. Booker his arms around your body and you buried your face in the crook of his neck; you inhaled his familiar scent that helped you to calm your nerves slowly.

“Nobody’s seen you in days,” he joked chuckling in your ear and you laughed along with him. Of course, he had to make a stupid joke in the middle of a rescue mission. “I’m so happy that you are with me again.”

“Are you alright, Y/N?” Andy asked while she observed your surroundings. You looked up and she gave you short glance.

“I’m okay, but my hands are still chained.”

“How did you escape?” Booker asked and you quirked an eyebrow at him.

“The bad man wanted to touch me, so I killed him.”

“How?” – “I suffocated him with my chains.” I held my hands up in demonstration and Booker nodded in admiration.

“How is my wife more badass than me?” he said stunned.

“I trained her. Now let’s go!” Andy replied impatiently and let the direction to get out of the building.

The three of you ran down the hallway from Booker and Andy had come and you saw all the dead men on your way to the exit. You counted the corpse, twenty-four. You were still impressed, because you hadn’t often the opportunity to see the others in action. You saw a lot of flesh wounds that Andy had caused with her axe and the others had bullet holes from Booker’s guns. You hoped you would leave this building without meeting more of the men, but you didn’t come far when you heard again footsteps coming into your direction.

Andy gave a sign to slow down your tempo and you tightened your grip on the gun. You didn’t know how to describe your feelings in the moment, because you hated to be forced with the enemy. You felt tired, because you hadn’t eaten in days and you used the last bit of your strength to kill Paul. You were mostly pissed that they had you taken and they were still stupid enough to stand your in way to freedom. You were glad that you weren’t alone, because when you arrived in a great hall where they stored their stolen guns and drugs and all the other ware which they made profit with.

“I see you managed to escape. You killed one of my best man, you slut.” You knew the voice very well, it was Paul’s boss and he wasn’t happy about what you did to Paul. You saw his angry red face and the gun he pointed at you.

“I’m bulletproof… but please, don’t shoot me. I really hate the feeling of bullets in my body,” you answered him and he looked dumbfounded at you for a second.

“What are you talking about? Are you already gone mad? Well, I don’t care. You killed my man, so I’m going to kill your man, then the crazy axe lady and in the end I will torture until you beg me to stop and you will tell me your little secrets, and maybe then after every one of my men had their fun with you, I let you die.”

“You’re pathetic. You will pay for what you did to my wife!” Booker screamed and tried to push you behind, but you didn’t let him, you were too angry.

“You’re disgusting, Antonio. I make you a better offer: I will shoot your balls off and let you bleeding out like a pig, while you can watch how we kill the rest of your men and then we will blow up this whole building.”

You grinned like a mad woman when you aimed to shoot him between your legs and you didn’t hesitate a second until you heard the echo of your shooting. Antonio screamed in pain and felt down to the ground. You could shoot him again, but his men already began to fire in your direction and Booker pushed your forward, so you could get out of there finally. It took a lot of bullets and fighting until you were even near to the exit and then Joe came through the large door of the hall and shot two of them precisely in the head which left only two of them in the end.

A dark haired man fired a bullet into Booker’s leg and he winced in pain, but kept running. But you got so angry that they had the nerve to shoot your husband, when it was clearly that they were going to lose. You stopped and turned around to shoot them, but you were out of bullets.

“Fuck,” you cursed. That was definitely your favorite swear word. You used the handle of the gun to hit the dark haired man on the cheek and you heard the satisfying cracking of the bone. He tried to punch you, but you crouched down and tackled his body with yours, so you fell on the ground. The man had no time to react when you grabbed his head with both of your hands and smashed his head on the hard floor four times.  

Andy killed the other one with her axe while Booker pushed off the dead of the dead man and out of the building, and that was when you inhaled fresh air for the first time in nearly eighty hours.

“Are they all dead now?” Joe asked still aiming the door, but you couldn’t answer him, because you were pulled in tight hug from Nicky.

“Thank god, Y/N. Are you okay? Did they hurt you?”

“I’m perfectly fine, Nicky. Are you okay?”

Nicky watched me confused. “You’re asking me if I’m okay after you had been hold hostage for more than three days.”

“Ah yes, you seem very distressed.”

“You’re insane,” he mumbled when he kissed the top of my head.

“But you love me,” you replied laughing.

“Not right now, I don’t. You made me leave you alone there; I will never let you alone again.”

“Isn’t that my husband’s part?” You said still laughing when Booker hugged you from behind with his arms around your waist.

“He can share,” Nicky prompted snorting and both men cuddled you between them.

“Can we go home then?” Andy asked still impatient.

“Yes, boss,” all of you saluted and Andy rolled her eyes on you.

The ride home was silent. Joe and Andy switched on driving and you sat with Booker and Nicky in the backseat. Nicky was peacefully snoring beside you and you were cuddled up in Booker’s lap. When you got in the car earlier he had kissed all over of your face and then your mouth, he let you feel all his love for you.

“When Nicky had told us that they kidnapped you… I thought I would never see you again, but then I remembered how brilliant you were to get us the location transmitter last year and it was easy to find you, but to get in the building was so much harder. Please tell me, he didn’t get a chance to touch you? I can’t bear the thought that he might took you with force… I…”

“Shh, my heart. He didn’t touch me. I killed him before he got a chance. At least I was lucky enough to overpower him… don’t think about all the other possibilities how it could have ended. We are together again and that’s all what matters.”

“You’re right, sweetheart. I love you so much. Please, never leave me again.”

“How could I ever leave you, Sebastien. You are the love of my life and our life had only just begun. Wonderful five years, yes, but I hope it will be at least five hundred more.”

Booker chuckled at your words. “I will five thousand years at least, and more.”

Your lips found each other again and you know that as long as Booker was at your side, you would be never alone.

“I hope you can free me from this chains as soon as possible,” you told Joe and he only grinned at you.

“Don’t worry, we will make it when we’re at home. But are you sure you want to be free so soon? I can tell you that they’re perfectly for role games in the bedroom. Nicky and I had a lot with chains in the past.”

You looked back at Booker questionly. “Sounds like an interesting idea. You know when you hit and tackled the man down on the ground. That was kind of hot. It turned me really on.” The last words Booker whispered in your ear and you knew you wouldn’t leave the bed in the next days.

[techmomma]

YOU KNOW NOT WHAT YOU ASK FOR

Because OKAY

OKAY

LISTEN

HERE IS WHAT CANONICALLY HAPPENS IN ZORA’S DOMAIN. You get close. Zoras keep telling you that Prince Sidon is looking for a Hylian’s aid. NOTE. PRINCE SIDON. Not King Dorephan. Not Zora’s Domain. Prince Sidon. We’re just gonna keep that in our little brains for now.

We meet Sidon at the bridge. He is very polite, and sends us on our eay. I need to review that scene but for now it’s not terribly important. We get to Zora’s Domain, and we meet the regular people, who know it wasn’t Link’s fault, and the old geezers, who got a nasty case of misplaced trauma guilt goin’ on maskin’ as racism, hate him. But they are also ADAMANTLY turning away hylian aid with disgust. At least one of them is a Councilman, Muzu. Keep this in your brains too

We meet King Dorephan, and it’s apparent that he was not in on Sidon’s plan to get aid from a Hylian. He seems aware of it, “the Hylian the prince was looking for,” something like that, but either is hiding his participation, or was not participating at all. If Dorephan was sending out for help, we don’t see it. My guess is with the reservoir flooding, he had enough on his hands just trying to put out fires as they sprang up.

This was Sidon’s plan. Sidon’s plan was to get the aid of a hylian, who are more immune to electricity, and he was doing this against the opinions of the elders, and at least one councilman. I suspect the other elders we see are also councilmembers, but I can’t confirm it. At most, he had Dorephan’s blessing, but at worst, he was doing this against the council and probably because his father’s hands were tied with a council full of old geezers turning away aid but disobeying them would probably look like tyranny.

But a royal who can more easily get away with this plan? A prince.

Sidon is so convicted or at least so damn fed up that he is going against the elders, possibly against a council, to get help for his kingdom. That takes a lot of guts. That takes conviction. This is not a wishy-washy prince, this is not a dumb prince, this is a prince who has taken on the mantle of leading and protecting his domain.

And he is compassionate enough, like his father, to understand that Link wasn’t at fault. He and his father, if anyone had the right to be angry about Mipha dying, it’s those two. But they’re not. They both treat Link with kindness and in Sidon’s case, endless advocacy. Even after Muzu’s outburst, he treats him kindly, if firmly. He even talks to Link about understanding why they harbor such feelings, even if they’re unfair to Link. He is the ideal prince, protector of the realm and tireless advocate.

Something that he clearly puts great effort into, while his sister exuded it effortlessly. Sidon is working the whole time you’re doing the quest and then going after Vah Ruta. He swims right into battle with you against the thing that took his sister’s life.

Imagine your sibling dying in a particular building—one that looms over your city for as long as you can remember. Do you think you’d have the stomach to even approach it? Maybe you would. Maybe you wouldn’t. I still haven’t been to the place my sister died. It’s a half-hour away.

A reminder that Sidon was a child when she died. I’d say he’s roughly the equivalent of a toddler. He was a toddler when the title of crown royal came to him, and he would have to assume the real training to be king one day, take on the duties of his sister. Dealing with a father forever scarred by the loss of his child, dealing with his own trauma and grief that he’s probably had to stomach down for a century to do his job and do what’s right, all in the shadow of his peerless, graceful sibling who, almost perfect in life, was now perfect in death to the domain. Who could match her skill with her trident? Who could be so easily loving and courageous and strong?

How could a grieving, heart-broken toddler with his childhood ripped away from him compare to that?

There’s aspects of his characterization after this that would entirely be my own speculation and spin on him, such as attempting to fill the space Mipha left behind, seen in how diligently he tries to tell Link how incredible he is, how wonderful and amazing—perhaps also because he never got to tell those things to Mipha, and now will never get his chance. I see him as a prince who looks endlessly enthusiastic—and he is, in a way. But stretches himself thin, pushing himself harder than he should both to fill the gaps left behind by his sister and perhaps, though he’d never admit it, crawl out of them himself. He puts on a brave, strong face, for his father, for his people, for Mipha, and for himself. But it tears at his soul in death by a thousand cuts, a little at a time, every time he can only see his own shortcomings and failures and inability to fill the shoes his sister left behind.

I would not say he is tormented, or that it’s all fake; far from it, I think he genuinely believes not only in Link’s abilities but the abilities of everyone around him. But I believe he aches. An old bruise that’s easy enough to ignore most of the time and healing slowly. But it lingers, aching whenever he thinks he comes up short, pun intended. Reminding him that he is not Mipha. Reminding him that when his father looks at him he no doubt causes him pain, to resemble Mipha. Dorephan is a loving, supportive father, but even the most loving will be different after the loss of their child. Nothing will bring back the days that Sidon probably remembers faintly. And that is, itself, a grief that Sidon is, has, or will have to come to terms with. Your parent cannot be the same parent after the loss of your sibling, and your life will forever become Before Their Death and After Their Death. His father loves him, but grief paints them both. Their love as father and son is forever changed with her death. Each has a hole that neither can fill—and both of them know that. It does not lessen their love; but it remains incomplete.

He has well-earned his fan club, but not for his hot bod.

And no I wouldn’t ship him with Link because yes falling in love with your dead fiancee’s sibling happens irl but like I said before if one of my own dead sister’s old boyfriends came back from the dead and was crushing on me I’d be out of there in a heartbeat, GOODBYE. It’s a perfectly fine ship BUT I GOT MY OWN BAGGAGE OKAY.

Maybe Bazz. Or Yunobo. Or Kass and Teba if they’re down for some polycules. Link and Sidon can be good-but-slightly-awkward-bros.

[eldritchw1tch]

i don’t want you like a best friend: a tswift-pimms playlist

i don’t want you like a best friend: a tswift-pimms playlist 

link

this is the pimms playlist i spent more than a year working on from like, 2018 to the end of 2019! as such, it only contains music up through lover, not anything from folklore or evermore. @permets-2​ finally poked me into posting the liner notes, which I gave up on because tumblr formatting was fighting me, so please know i haven’t actually looked at them since 2019 and there might still be missing things? idk.

this playlist is absolutely dedicated to my beloved @faiasakura​, who did her own version of an all-tswift pimms playlist completely independently (we actively avoided comparing notes, lol), which can be found here!

i don’t really go here lately but i hope this is of interest to someone!

Prologue

1. Don’t Blame Me (reputation)

for you, I would fall from grace

Just to touch your face

If you walk away, I'd beg you on my knees to stay

…

Lord save me, my drug is my baby

I'll be usin' for the rest of my life

Act 1: The Q

2. Gorgeous (reputation)

a crush

Ocean blue eyes looking in mine

I feel like I might sink and drown and die

…

You're so gorgeous

I can't say anything to your face

'Cause look at your face

And I'm so furious

At you for making me feel this way

But what can I say?

You're gorgeous

3. Treacherous (Red)

something magnetic, pulling them both in

And I'll do anything you say

If you say it with your hands

And I'd be smart to walk away

But you're quicksand

…

Your name has echoed through my mind

And I just think you should, think you should know

That nothing safe is worth the drive

And I will follow you, follow you home

4. Dress (reputation)

a shared and precious secret: love, desperate and messy and everything. But also: the scrutiny, the frenetic anxiety, the fear.

I’m spilling wine in the bathtub

You kiss my face and we're both drunk

Everyone thinks that they know us

But they know nothing about—

All of this silence and patience, pining and anticipation

My hands are shaking from holding back from you

5. Tied Together With a Smile (Taylor Swift)

the pressure builds; jack’s anxiety gets worse

Hold on, baby you're losing it

The water's high, you're jumping into it

And letting go, and no one knows

That you cry, but you don't tell anyone

That you might not be the golden one

And you're tied together with a smile

But you're coming undone

6. Long Live (Speak Now)

the glory, the playoffs, the memorial cup: the golden boys of hockey, on top of the world

Long live the walls we crashed through

All the kingdom lights shined just for me and you

I was screaming, long live all the magic we made

And bring on all the pretenders

One day, we will be remembered

…

Hold on, to spinning around

Confetti falls to the ground

May these memories break our fall

7. State of Grace (Red)

the 34 days, inside kent’s euphoria

This is a state of grace

This is the worthwhile fight

Love is a ruthless game

Unless you play it good and right

These are the hands of fate

You’re my Achilles heel

this is the golden age of something good and right and real

8. Cruel Summer (Lover)

(that golden season and its dark underbelly)

So cut the headlights, summer's a knife

I'm always waiting for you just to cut to the bone

Devils roll the dice, angels roll their eyes

And if I bleed, you'll be the last to know

-

Said, "I'm fine," but it wasn't true

I don't wanna keep secrets just to keep you

And I snuck in through the garden gate

Every night that summer just to seal my fate (Oh)

And I scream, "For whatever it's worth

I love you, ain't that the worst thing you ever heard?"

9. Haunted (Speak Now)

the overdose: kent finds jack on the bathroom floor

Whoa, holding my breath

Won't lose you again

Something's made your eyes go cold

-

Come on, come on, don't leave me like this

I thought I had you figured out

Something's gone terribly wrong

You're all I wanted

10. I Know Places (1989)

kent in the waiting room, holding on hope

Something happens when everybody finds out

See the vultures circling, dark clouds

Love's a fragile little flame, it could burn out

It could burn out

…

Lights flash and we'll run for the fences

Let them say what they want, we won't hear it

Loose lips sink ships all the damn time

Not this time

Act 2: The Fallout

11. The Story of Us (Speak Now)

kent goes to the draft; jack won’t answer his calls

Now I'm standing alone in a crowded room

And we're not speaking

And I'm dying to know

Is it killing you like it's killing me?

Yeah, and I don't know what to say

Since the twist of fate, when it all broke down

And the story of us looks a lot like a tragedy now

…

The battle's in your hands now

But I would lay my armor down

If you say you'd rather love than fight

12. Last Kiss (Speak Now)

jack and kent, the same realization from opposite sides

So I'll go sit on the floor

Wearing your clothes

All that I know is

I don't know how to be something you miss

I never thought we'd have a last kiss

Never imagined we'd end like this

Your name, forever the name on my lips

13. Death By A Thousand Cuts (Lover)

Starting to live with the devastation and the broken heart

Saying goodbye is death by a thousand cuts

Flashbacks waking me up

I get drunk, but it's not enough

’Cause the morning comes and you're not my baby

I look through the windows of this love

Even though we boarded them up

Chandelier's still flickering here

’Cause I can't pretend it's okay when it's not

It's death by a thousand cuts

14. If This Was A Movie (Speak Now)

regrets and memories

Last night, I heard my own heart beating

Sounded like footsteps on my stairs

Six months gone and I'm still reaching

Even though I know you're not there

I was playing back a thousand memories, baby

Thinkin' 'bout everything we've been through

Maybe I've been going back too much lately

When time stood still and I had you

15. Cold as You (Taylor Swift)

the grief and pain become anger and bitterness

And when you take, you take the very best of me

So I start a fight cause I need to feel something

And you do what you want cause I'm not what you wanted

…

You put up walls and paint them all a shade of gray

And I stood there loving you and wished them all away

And you come away with a great little story

Of a mess of a dreamer with the nerve to adore you

Interlude 1: Jack

16. I Almost Do (Red)

kent doesn’t know as much as he thinks he does (but jack doesn’t either)

I bet you think I either moved on or hate you

‘Cause each time you reach out, there’s no reply

I bet it never, ever occurred to you

That I can’t say hello to you

And risk another goodbye

…

Oh, we made quite a mess, babe

It’s probably better off this way

And I confess, babe

In my dreams, you’re touching my face

And asking me if I want to try again with you

And I almost do

Act 3: Coming of Age in Vegas

17. New Romantics (1989)

vegas; teammates; living in the moment; drinking, dancing, and self-destructing

We're all here, the lights and boys are blinding

We hang back, it's all in the timing

It's poker

He can't see it in my face

But I'm about to play my Ace (ahh)

We need love, but all we want is danger

We team up, then switch sides like a record changer

The rumors are terrible and cruel

But honey, most of them are true

…

Heartbreak is the national anthem

We sing it proudly

We’re too busy dancing (yeah) to get knocked off our feet

Baby, we're the new romantics

The best people in life are free

18. Begin Again (Red)

kent starts to move on

And you throw your head back laughing like a little kid

I think it's strange that you think I'm funny 'cause he never did

I've been spending the last eight months

Thinking all love ever does is break and burn and end

But on a Wednesday in a cafe, I watched it begin again

19. The Way I Loved You (Fearless)

all the drinking and dancing and dating still feel empty and hollow; he just wants to feel again; he just wants that love back

I miss screaming and fighting and kissing in the rain

It's 2 AM and I'm cursing your name

I'm so in love that I acted insane

And that's the way I loved you

Breaking down and coming undone

It's a roller coaster kind of rush

And I never knew I could feel that much

And that's the way I loved you

…

He can't see the smile I'm faking

And my heart's not breaking

'Cause I'm not feeling anything at all

And you were wild and crazy

Just so frustrating

Intoxicating, complicated

20. The Lucky One (Red)

kent parson: the loneliest boy, so alone at the top of the world

You had it figured out since you were in school

Everybody loves pretty, everybody loves cool

So overnight, you look like a sixties queen

…

And they tell you that you’re lucky, but you’re so confused

'Cause you don’t feel pretty, you just feel used

And all the young things line up to take your place

—

Another name goes up in lights

You wonder if you’ll make it out alive

21. Come In With The Rain (Fearless)

(starting to move on is not the same as letting go)

I’ve watched you so long, screamed your name

I don’t know what else I can say

…

But I’ll leave my window open

'Cause I’m too tired at night to call your name

Just know I’m right here hoping

That you’ll come in with the rain

Act 4: Implosion

22. Out of the Woods (1989)

memories he can’t escape of a love like a car crash

The night we couldn't quite forget

When we decided, we decided

To move the furniture so we could dance

Baby, like we stood a chance

Two paper airplanes flying, flying, flying

And I remember thinking

-

Are we out of the woods yet? Are we out of the woods yet? Are we out of the woods yet?

…

You took a Polaroid of us

Then discovered (then discovered)

The rest of the world was black and white

But we were in screaming color

23. Red (Red)

Kent decides to go to epikegster

Loving him is like driving a new Maserati

Down a dead-end street

Faster than the wind, passionate as sin

Ending so suddenly

…

Remembering him comes in flashbacks and echoes

Tell myself it's time now, gotta let go

But moving on from him is impossible

When I still see it all in my head

In burning red

Loving him was red

24. The Last Time (Red)

didja miss me? (something tentative; something a little bit hopeful on both sides)

Find myself at your door

Just like all those times before

I’m not sure how I got there

All roads they lead me here

I imagine you are home

In your room, all alone

And you open your eyes into mine

And everything feels better

25. The Archer (Lover)

kent tries to extend an olive branch but it’s still covered in thorns

Combat, I'm ready for combat

I say I don't want that, but what if I do?

'Cause cruelty wins in the movies

I've got a hundred thrown-out speeches I almost said to you

…

I've been the archer, I've been the prey

Who could ever leave me, darling

But who could stay?

…

And I cut off my nose just to spite my face

Then I hate my reflection for years and years

26. Bad Blood (1989)

jack’s answer to kent’s wounded lashing out

Oh, it's so sad to

Think about the good times

You and I

…

’Cause baby, now we've got bad blood

You know it used to be mad love

So take a look what you've done

’Cause baby, now we've got bad blood, hey!

27. Breathe (Fearless)

kent, driving away from epikegster

I see your face in my mind as I drive away

'Cause none of us thought it was gonna end that way

People are people and sometimes we change our minds

But it's killing me to see you go after all this time

…

And we know it's never simple, never easy

Never a clean break, no one here to save me

You're the only thing I know like the back of my hand

…

And I can't breathe without you, but I have to

Breathe without you but I have to

28. All Too Well (Red)

despite all the pain, there’s an irresistible nostalgia for what they had all those years ago—for when things were so much simpler

Maybe we got lost in translation

Maybe I asked for too much

But maybe this thing was a masterpiece

'Til you tore it all up

Running scared, I was there, I remember it all too well

And you call me up again just to break me like a promise

So casually cruel in the name of being honest

I'm a crumpled up piece of paper lying here

'Cause I remember it all, all, all

Too well

…

Time won't fly, it's like I'm paralyzed by it

I'd like to be my old self again

But I'm still trying to find it

Interlude 2: Kent

29. Fifteen (Fearless)

a memory, a reflection

'Cause when you're fifteen and somebody tells you they love you

You're gonna believe them

And when you're fifteen and your first kiss

Makes your head spin 'round

But in your life you'll do things greater than

Dating the boy on the football team

But I didn't know it at fifteen

…

When all you wanted was to be wanted

Wish you could go back and tell yourself what you know now

Back then I swore I was gonna marry him someday

But I realized some bigger dreams of mine

Act 5: Moving On, Growing Up

30. Clean (1989)

finally learning to be his own person, separate from that shared past

There was nothing left to do (Oh-oh, oh-oh)

When the butterflies turned to

Dust that covered my whole room

So I punched a hole in the roof (Oh-oh, oh-oh)

Let the flood carry away all my pictures of you

…

The water filled my lungs, I screamed so loud

But no one heard a thing

…

Rain came pouring down

When I was drowning, that's when I could finally breathe

And by morning

Gone was any trace of you, I think I am finally clean

31. 22 (Red)

friends and freedom, and real joy in that this time around

It feels like a perfect night

To dress up like hipsters

And make fun of our exes, uh-uh, uh-uh

It feels like a perfect night

For breakfast at midnight

To fall in love with strangers, uh-uh, uh-uh

…

Yeah

We're happy, free, confused, and lonely at the same time

It's miserable and magical, oh, yeah

Tonight's the night when we forget about the deadlines

It's time, oh-oh

32. So It Goes… (reputation)

[a doomed love can still be a good one]

'Cause we break down a little

But when you get me alone, it's so simple

'Cause baby, I know what you know

We can feel it

…

And all the pieces fall right into place

Getting caught up in a moment

Lipstick on your face

So it goes…

…

I'm yours to keep

And I'm yours to lose

You know I'm not a bad girl, but I

Do bad things with you

So it goes…

33. Dancing With Our Hands Tied (reputation)

[a doomed love can still be a good one]

I, I loved you in secret

First sight, yeah, we love without reason

Oh, twenty-five years old

Oh, how were you to know?

…

Could've spent forever with your hands in my pockets

Picture of your face in an invisible locket

You said there was nothing in the world that could stop it

I had a bad feeling

…

I'd kiss you as the lights went out

Swaying as the room burned down

I'd hold you as the water rushes in

If I could dance with you again

34. Wildest Dreams (1989)

[a doomed love can still be a good one]

He's so tall and handsome as hell

He's so bad, but he does it so well

I can see the end as it begins

My one condition is

…

Say you'll remember me

Standing in a nice dress

Staring at the sunset, babe

Red lips and rosy cheeks

Say you'll see me again

Even if it's just in your

Wildest dreams, ah-aah, haa

34. Shake It Off (1989)

At the top of his game, at the top of his sport, and actually happy at long last

I never miss a beat

I'm lightning on my feet

And that's what they don’t see, mm, mm

…

But I keep cruisin'

Can't stop, won't stop groovin'

It's like I got this music in my mind

Saying it's gonna be alright

…

'Cause the players gonna play, play, play, play, play

And the haters gonna hate, hate, hate, hate, hate

Baby, I'm just gonna shake, shake, shake, shake, shake

I shake it off, I shake it off

Heartbreakers gonna break, break, break, break, break

And the fakers gonna fake, fake, fake, fake, fake

Baby, I'm just gonna shake, shake, shake, shake, shake

I shake it off, I shake it off

35. Holy Ground (Red)

Remembering with enough distance and experience to appreciate what was, not ache from it

Spinning like a girl in a brand new dress

We had this big wide city all to ourselves

We blocked the noise with the sound of, "I need you"

And for the first time, I had something to lose

And I guess we fell apart in the usual way

And the story's got dust on every page

But sometimes, I wonder how you think about it now

And I see your face in every crowd

…

'Cause darling, it was good

Never looking down

And right there where we stood

Was holy ground

Act 6: Reunion

36. ME! (Lover)

reconnection, reconciliation, re-appreciation

I know I tend to make it about me

I know you never get just what you see

But I will never bore you, baby

(And there's a lot of lame guys out there)

…

'Cause one of these things is not like the others

Livin' in winter, I am your summer

Baby doll, when it comes to a lover

I promise that you'll never find another like me-e-e

37. This Love (1989)

an unexpected reawakening

Tossing, turning

Struggled through the night with someone new

And I could go on and on, on and on

Lantern, burning

Flickered in my mind, only you

But you were still gone, gone, gone

…

Been losing grip, on sinking ships

You showed up just in time

…

This love is good, this love is bad

This love is alive back from the dead, oh-oh, oh

These hands had to let it go free, and

This love came back to me, oh-oh, oh

38. End Game (reputation) (ft. ed sheeran as jack)

After all this time, there are things they aren’t ever going to let go of again, no matter the trouble they bring

I got a bad boy persona, that's what they like (what they like)

You love it, I love it too 'cause you my type (You my type)

You hold me down, and I protect you with my life

…

I don't wanna touch you, I don't wanna be

Just another ex-love you don’t wanna see

I don’t wanna miss you (I don't wanna miss you)

Like the other girls do

I don’t wanna hurt you, I just wanna be

Drinking on a beach with you all over me

I know what they all say (I know what they all say)

But I ain't tryna play

…

I wanna be your end game (End game)

I wanna be your first string (First string)

I wanna be your A-Team (A-Team)

I wanna be your end game, end game

39. You Are In Love (1989)

something real; something sacred; something to build a life on

You can hear it in the silence (silence), silence (silence), you

You can feel it on the way home (way home), way home (way home), you

You can see it with the lights out (lights out), lights out (lights out)

You are in love, true love

You are in love

…

You kiss on sidewalks

You fight and you talk

One night, he wakes

Strange look on his face

Pauses, then says "You're my best friend"

And you knew what it was, he is in love

40. Change (Fearless)

when the two biggest hockey players of their generation come out of the closet—together—are in love with each other—it changes more lives than just theirs

So we've been outnumbered, raided, and now cornered

It's hard to fight when the fight ain’t fair

We're getting stronger now, finding things they never found

They might be bigger but we're faster and never scared

You can walk away, say we don't need this

But there's something in your eyes says we can beat this

…

'Cause these things will change

Can you feel it now?

These walls that they put up to hold us back will fall down

This revolution, the time will come

For us to finally win

And we'll sing hallelujah, we'll sing hallelujah

Oh, oh

41. Call It What You Want (reputation)

When it stops mattering what anyone else thinks

All my flowers grew back as thorns

Windows boarded up after the storm

He built a fire just to keep me warm

All the drama queens taking swings

All the jokers dressing up as kings

They fade to nothing when I look at him

And I know I make the same mistakes every time

Bridges burn, I never learn

At least I did one thing right

I did one thing right

I'm laughing with my lover, makin' forts under covers

Trust him like a brother

Yeah, you know I did one thing right

Starry eyes sparkin' up my darkest night

…

My baby's fit like a daydream

Walking with his head down

I'm the one he's walking to

So call it what you want, yeah

Call it what you want to

42. Lover (Lover)

love

We could leave the Christmas lights up 'til January

And this is our place, we make the rules

And there's a dazzling haze, a mysterious way about you, dear

Have I known you 20 seconds or 20 years?

…

Can I go where you go?

Can we always be this close?

Forever and ever, ah

Take me out, and take me home

You're my, my, my, my lover

43. New Year’s Day (reputation)

love

You squeeze my hand three times in the back of the taxi

I can tell that it's gonna be a long road

I'll be there if you're the toast of the town, babe

Or if you strike out and you're crawling home

…

Don't read the last page

But I stay when it’s hard or it’s wrong or we're making mistakes

I want your midnights

But I’ll be cleaning up bottles with you on New Year's Day

44. Daylight (Lover)

Building a new life in the daylight

My love was as cruel as the cities I lived in

Everyone looked worse in the light

There are so many lines that I've crossed unforgiven

I'll tell you truth, but never goodbye

…

I once believed love would be (burning red)

But it's golden

Like daylight, like daylight

Like daylight, daylight

…

I don't wanna look at anything else now that I saw you

I don't wanna think of anything else now that I thought of you

I've been sleeping so long in a 20-year dark night

And now I see daylight, I only see daylight

[askthetoppatclan]

We haven’t had a recap in quite a while, I think it’s time for a new one.

Okay, if you say so it’s probably right, random anon.  There are, uh, warnings I guess? For Violence, implied death and glitch themes / eye sores.

The Boss got introduced, the evil Leader of the Royal Toppat Clan, very focused on becoming the leader of the Toppat Clan and to get rid of Reginald once and for all.

Reginald and Seth met and officially became friends, with Seth starting to have doubts about the Royal Toppat Clan and wanting to investigate the situation further.

Sanji was introduced. Sanji has no emotions and also hinted at something bigger than the royal toppat clan they might need to worry about. Sanjis friends with Dave and Seth. Seth also became friends with Dave.

Seth became an angel or something, I don’t know, it probably wasn’t that important.

Reginald became a Cyborg, I don’t know, it probably wasn’t that important.

Right Hand Man became a human, I don’t know, it probably wasn’t that important.

Papageni raided a Radio station and blocked all of the communication channels so the airship couldn’t call for help, intel or reinforcements.

Cecil got introduced, revealing that he is looking for his husband, who went missing a few years ago. His husband, Valor, a previous Toppat Clan leader, is a cyborg and also has a chip in  his head that contains his emotions and memories. If whoever took Valor didn’t make a copy of his personality and just altered it Valor might be gone forever. Cecil also doesn’t like board games.

Reginald killed Right Hand Man and then cut your connection off.

Turns out it wasn’t the actual Reginald all along and he fooled you. The real and fake Reginald switched places after Angel Seth hurt the real Reginald and went off to rest.

I was there too I think.

Reginald had a neat new makeover and needed to do a really cool escape room scene which I worked on for a couple of months that you should really read through, its cool, I promise.

After Reginald leaves the room it is revealed by Seth that they were inside of Reginalds mind all along. Seth then shows him how The Boss was created, in the very same facility Sanji lost his emotions.

Turns out The Boss is an AI molded out of two personalities. Valor’s and Terrence’s. They then took all the memories and emotions out they didn’t need and turned The Boss into a hateful machine with no desires but revenge and not his own revenge, he is just there to execute their orders and he isn’t even aware of it because he thinks they’re his.

When Reginald woke up he was at the base of the Royal Toppat Clan, where he was tied down. Edna freed him and hid him, where they have one final heart to heart before Edna went to distract the Royal Toppat, who are ready to execute Regiald publicly, while Reginald fled into the woods to meet up with someone Edna got to get Reginald across the ocean and to the jungle base to kill the boss.

Said someone turned out to be Right Hand Man, who got fixed up by Clarkson and Edna. Right Hand Man now wants to leave Edna behind and just make their way to the jungle base already, but Reginald insists they take Edna with them, because he knows what she is doing.

Is Edna in danger? And how will everything play out? What about the Royal Toppat Executives who are all victims of The Boss’s abuse and manipulation? Only Time will tell....

[theatreslave]

Recovery

Chapter One

Drea Mikami silenced her cellphone for the third time in ten minutes. It was ringing incessantly, receiving calls from a number she didn’t recognize. She was supposed to be concentrating on paperwork but the sinking feeling that had started in her stomach two weeks ago when the number called her for the first time, was growing.

The phone rang again and she silenced just as her partner Michaela Stone-Landon reached her desk.

“You’re popular.” Michaela said with a raised eyebrow.

“It’s nothing just asking about my vehicle warranty or whatever. I swear those telemarketers are trying to annoy me to death,” Drea replied with her usual sass, trying not to show her nerves to her partner. Her amazing partner who was soon to be leaving her for a while. “Did you finish up everything? Are you excited?”

“Yeah I tied up loose ends and I have the rest of my paperwork done. Any open cases have been transferred to different detectives, barring the ones you wanted of course,” She said fondly. Silencing her friend’s phone for her the next time it rang. “In a couple hours I will be on a flight to my honeymoon, stress free!”

“I’m really happy for you Mick. I hate you for leaving me here by myself but how could I stop such a happy couple from enjoying their private time! Just make sure to have a few margaritas for me. Or better yet a few mai tais.” Drea laughed.

“You gonna be ok? I know Bowers assigned you to work with Jared while I’m gone.” Michaela asked, feeling a bit awkward.

Drea scoffed, “It’s just Jared. Afraid I’ll steal him away?”

“You can have him. Just don’t let him sulk too much ok. And take it easy on him. Your unending enthusiasm might actually make him smile and he might get a cramp in his face.” She joked.

“Oh trust me Mrs.Landon, I will make sure your ex-boy toy has nothing else to worry about except how to shut me up.” Drea stood up next to her partner and gave her a hug. “He’ll be ok Mic. He’s a big boy. I’m sure under all that brooding he is happy for you. Jared is just a passionate guy and you were all he was passionate about for a while.”

Drea released Mick from her hug. Mick nodded in agreement. “I know. He was all I knew for a long time too but Zeke, he’s everything and more. I can’t explain it. We are more than just soul mates. It’s deeper than that.”

“I know it is. I mean he survived against all odds because of you. So don’t worry, a dose of MIkami and me gushing over all the nauseatingly cute pictures you send me from your trip, will turn Jared off of you forever.” Drea was more than confident that she would have some fun while Mick was away. “And speak of the Devil.”

Jared Vasquez, newly appointed lieutenant, strode into the precinct confidently. He shrugged off his jacket and paused before scanning the bullpen and spotting the two women next to Mikami’s desk.

“It’s our big strong lieutenant back from a successful mission,” Drea teased. “I was just saying ‘bon voyage’ to the newly wed before she leaves tonight.”

Jared chuckled a bit then turned to Michaela, “Have a safe trip, and come back on time. Or if you’re going to disappear, take me with you this time.”

Michaela smacked the man’s arm, then gave him a hug as well. “I’ll be back, I promise. Be nice to Drea ok. I don’t wanna come back here and find out that you made her cry.”

“Like he could make me cry!”

“I’m not that mean!”

Drea’s phone rang and she absentmindedly silenced it again. Jared noticed but ignored it, figuring that she didn’t want to interrupt the conversation.

“So Vasquez, was it a successful mission?” Drea diverted.

“Yup, finally caught those Irish mobsters after, what, 6 months of tailing them. I am ready for something simple after all that.” Jared said as he loosened his tie and unbuttoned his top button.

“Congratulations! That’s great I know how that case has been bothering you. Using their prep-school sons as drug mules was a new low.” Michaela said with a sad look as she started packing up her bag at her desk just across from Drea’s.

Drea’s phone rang again and this time she flinched. Michaela reached over and silenced it again. Before Jared could ask what was up with that Michaela was ready to head off.

“I will see you guys in a month. I’ll send you guys some pictures. Call me if you need anything. But only if it’s urgent.” Michaela said with a wink and then waved as she walked out of the precinct.

“Aww they grow up so fast.” Drea said, wiping away a fake tear.

Jared stared at her for a second before rolling his eyes, “Make sure your weirdness doesn’t rub off on me.”

“I’m not weird! I’m just confident in my uniqueness.” Drea stuck her tongue out at him, “At least I know how to have fun.”

Her cellphone rang again. Jared finally lost his battle against his own curiosity and swiped Drea's phone and answered it. “Hello, you’re calling this phone an awful lot and it’s really starting to get annoying.”

Drea’s eyes were wide as saucers as she tried to take the phone from the much taller man in front of her. “Jared, what the hell! Give that back.”

“Who are you? Why are you answering this call?” A male voice answered. The tone he used alarmed Jared.

“Hey man, just stop calling this number ok. She doesn’t want to talk to you. And you’re making it so I can’t even enjoy the silence of a nearly empty precinct.” Jared scoffed.

“Are you that bitch’s new lap dog? She’ll curse you like she did to me. She’ll ruin you. Drea I know you’re there! You fucking bitch!” The man would have been foaming at the mouth if he were in front of Jared.

Drea finally pulled the phone from Jared’s grasp and disconnected the call. Jared was shocked then angry. “ Drea what the hell was that? Who was that? Are you in trouble?”

“Jared, it's nothing. I promise. Just some guy that’s mad that I didn’t go on a second date with him. Don’t worry about it. I was gonna get a new phone tomorrow anyway.” Drea just shut her phone off and tried to busy herself at her desk.

Jared took a moment to stare at her then went to his desk to grab a couple things, threw his jacket back on and then found his way back to her desk. “Grab what you need, the day is over and I am taking you to get a new phone.”

“Jared you really don’t have to do this,” Drea refused.

“I don’t but I’m not going to have a sleepless night thinking about that grim reaper calling you every ten minutes, so let’s move Mikami.” Jared said jokingly, trying to lighten the mood. At first Drea hesitated then grabbed her things and followed the Cuban man out of the precinct.

Drea sat in Jared’s passenger seat, having taken the bus that morning instead of her own car. It was silent as they made their way to the closest AT&T store. She played with her fingers feeling nervous for some reason.

“Do you need help getting a restraining order?” Jared asked, keeping his eye on the busy evening streets of New York.

Drea considered being honest but decided against it. Her and Jared weren’t very close and she didn’t need to involve him. “Yeah but it’s not like he’s stalking me. I probably should have given him a social media account instead of my actual number.”

“Don’t take any of the blame here, Drea. If this guy is really just being an asshole because he can’t take rejection. That’s all on him. You’ve blocked his number?”

“Yeah but he just calls with new ones. But it’s ok, I have my knight in shining necktie taking me to get a new phone so everything should be fine.” Drea teased, hoping the topic would be dropped.

“Brat,” Jared glanced at her, “If you ever need my help with some dude, don’t hesitate to ask. I know I may not be the best guy but I won’t stand for any of you girls getting treated like shit.”

“Thank you, Jared. Really it means a lot. But I don’t think this will be a big deal so don’t worry too much. That wrinkle between your brows will just get deeper.”

“I do not have a wrinkle!” Jared shot back as he parked the car. “Come on, let's go.”

“You’re coming with me?” Drea asked, surprised.

“And what, leave you here to take a night bus or taxi by yourself? Not a chance, especially after that phone call. We are getting you a new phone then you are buying me dinner for driving you around.” Jared said as they both exited the car and made their way across the street.

“How about I just cook you something? I was going to make some ramen when I got home anyway.” Drea said, smiling at Jared, honestly relieved to not be alone.

“That sounds like a deal. Just don’t poison me ok.” Jared joked as he pulled the store door open for her.

“You’ll see. Unlike Michaela I am an amazing cook!” Drea smacked Jared’s shoulder lightly as she walked past him.

The process of getting a new phone was a bit of a hassle as it always is. The minute Drea turned her old phone on, to transfer data, it started pinging with ‘missed call’ notifications followed by more calls from mystery numbers.

Jared looked a bit concerned but as soon as the service was cut off the phone stopped chiming. Drea opted for a Samsung, switching her allegiances, as the sales rep called it. It made transferring her phone numbers and data a little incomplete but Jared made sure to grab her phone and edit his contact information for her.

“Hey I literally just got that!” Drea said after saying ‘goodbye’ to the young man who helped her with her phone.

“I’m just making sure you have me saved properly.” Jared said with a laugh before snapping a picture of himself. “There ya go.”

Jared handed her the new phone as they both made it back to his car. Once they were both seated and Jared had her address in the GPS, Drea finally had a chance to look at his contact info. He had taken a quick selfie with a smile on his face from that dumb angle that guys always take it from. And had saved himself as Jared “Knight in Shining Necktie” Vasquez.

“You’re honestly a giant dork under all that machismo, aren’t you?” Drea smiled as she looked over at him.

“Only around my friends. So keep it a secret. Now are you really going to cook for me or am I just dropping you off? I’m starving after that kid couldn’t stop talking about Samsung being better than Apple blah blah blah. “ Jared said as he made his way down her street.

“Hey, we made a deal. Plus you were right, I definitely prefer this over taking the bus or subway. You can just have the valet take your car. Jonathan will take care of it.” Drea said as they pulled up to an upper class apartment building. Jared let out a low whistle.

“Your apartment complex has a valet? I knew you came from money Drea, but come on now.” Jared said, looking in awe as he stopped the car and spotted the valet driver.

“Jonathan, you’ll take care of Jared’s car won’t you.” Drea asked happily as she made her way into the building.

“Of course, Ms. Mikami. Will the Sir be spending the night?”

“Jonathan! You’re scandalous. Jared is just having dinner with me as a favor so don’t you go reporting to my mother about anything.” Drea teased the older gentleman.

“Of course Miss. Have a wonderful dinner.”

Jared watched the exchange and couldn’t help but chuckle at Drea’s cheerful manner. He followed Drea through the lobby to the elevators which were just as extravagant as the front of the building. “I’m guessing your mother likes to keep an eye on you.”

“She’s always been a tiger mom. She never did forgive me for going into law enforcement and now she wants me to apologize by getting married to one of her friends’ sons.” Drea scoffed. They made it to her apartment and she swiftly let them in.

Jared was pleased to see that her apartment was rather simple but lived in. She had a cat, or he figured she did from the litter box in the corner of the living room that opened up from the front door.

“You can hang your jacket up right there. And take off your shoes please!” Drea called as she rushed into what he assumed was the kitchen to work on their dinner. “Have a look around while I cook. And if you see Mimi, she’s friendly, I promise!.”

“You named your cat ‘Mimi’?” Jared asked as he made his way further into the apartment. He noticed a VR headset promptly displayed next to the TV, a bookcase filled to the brim, and that most of her furniture was a dark cherry color. The depth of which was offset by her cream colored walls and the shine of her lights off the various mirrors that helped make her apartment feel larger than it was.

“Yeah, why? You don’t like it?” Drea called back. The sounds of running water and then the telltale chop of a knife on a cutting board filled the apartment.

“Mimi Mikam? It’s cute.” Jared said with a laugh. He stood at the threshold of the kitchen.

“And she’s cute. If you haven’t seen her then she will come out when I bring her food out,” Drea said absentmindedly as she busied herself with the bowling water and what looked like noodles.

“Where’s your bathroom? I wanna wash up.” Jared asked, not wanting to try and find out himself in case he got accused of snooping. Not that he wasn’t a little interested in the inner workings of his silver spoon fed coworker.

“Just keep going down the hall past the living room. The first door on the right. The door on the left is the guest bedroom. The one at the end of the hall is my room, and across from it is a closet.” Drea answered not looking up from the meat she was slicing.

“Thanks. Not that I needed a full floor plan,” Jared replied as he turned to the hallway.

“I’m just being thorough. Like I am with this food you’re going to love by the way,” Drea shot back.

Jared just chuckled to himself as he walked down the hall, flicking a light switch as he went. The hall was longer than he expected. He found the bathroom easily and washed his hands. He pulled off his tie, finally letting himself relax after the long day. The Lieutenant looked at himself in the mirror, taking in the littering of grey hairs and the deepening crease between his brows. Jared let out a long sigh, he really wasn’t getting any younger. He shook his head and let his mind focus on the enigma that was Drea and her mystery caller. He had a feeling there was more to this than some stilted “nice guy” but he didn’t want to pry. He wasn’t as close to Drea as Michaela but hopefully a month as partners would remedy that.

Jared exited the bathroom only to hear the sound of something falling in what he now knew was Drea’s bedroom.

“Jared,” Drea called from the kitchen.

“Yeah?” Jared called back, his sense on high alert and his hand on his gun which was still at his belt.

“Can you make sure Mimi didn’t knock over the glass I keep on my bedside? She does that sometimes when she realizes I’m home,” Drea requested.

“Yea sure,” Jared let out a sigh of relief and then made his way down the hall. The door to her room was already ajar. Knowing that Drea asked him to check made it easier for him to flick the light switch and enter her bedroom. Jared chuckled to himself, “I guess this is one way to get into a woman’s bedroom.”

Drea’s bedroom was the definition of feminine sophistication. She had a four post canopy bed with light gauzy curtains that were pulled open. Her sheets were a cream color with mauve accents. The wood of her furniture matched the furniture in the rest of her apartment. Her side tables matched and had gold filigree lamps atop them. The carpets were plush and squishy under Jared’s socked feet. He noticed an empty glass laying haphazardly on the floor and moved to pick it up. The glass was placed neatly back on her bedside table.

Jared took a moment to snoop, unable to help himself. There was a small porcelain tree next to her lamp. A ring holder. He did notice she always wore a pinky ring on her left hand and a plain gold band on her right ring finger. A simple brush lay next to it along with a novel. Something horror related from the looks of the cover. Across from the foot of the bed was a dresser and next to that a vanity. In the opposite corner was a desk and a door that he assumed led to the master bathroom.

His attention turned at the soft mewl of Mimi who made herself known. She appeared and with the usual agility of a cat, hopped on to the vanity. That’s when Jared noticed that Drea’s window was open. She hadn’t been in here since they arrived and he doubted that she left it open by accident. Jared shut the window and did a quick sweep of the room. Once satisfied that no one was hiding in the room he turned back to Mimi.

“You wouldn’t be in here if there was an intruder right?” Mimi just blinked up at him. She was a short haired cat. Small and white, with striking blue eyes. She mewed at him and made a movement trying to rub up against him. Jared wasn’t a cat person but he had to admit she was cute. He stepped closer and tentatively reached out a hand. Mimi happily bumped her head against his palm asking for pets.

Jared smiled down at the cat just as Drea called, “Dinner’s ready! Quit snooping and come back out here.”

Jared slowly picked up the snow white cat and was surprised to see how easily she curled into him and purred. He held her to his chest, scratching her head as he made his way back to the kitchen where Drea had set a table for two at the small dining table. “Hey, I wasn’t snooping, I was bonding. See.”

Drea turned and smiled at the sight of the normally stoic detective holding her purring white cat while he scratched her head. “ Aww that’s so cute. Mimi likes you.”

“By the way did you leave your window open? I closed it for you. You should be more careful.” Jared said as he took a seat. Finally he relinquished his hold on Mimi who was more than happy to make her way to her food bowl which Drea had filled.

Drea hesitated then sat down as well, “Uh, yeah I must have forgotten about it when I went to work this morning. Thanks. I really should wake up earlier. Anyway, here we are, a Mikami special. Tonkatsu ramen and shredded seaweed chicken rolls with a side of rice.”

“Wow, it definitely smells better than anything Mick has ever tried to make,” Jared joked..

“Dig in. You had a long successful day and this is our first time hanging out as partners.” Drea said, “Thank you for coming with me to get a new phone too.”

“If I get fed like this every time I might have to do you more favors.” Jared happily dug in.

They chatted throughout dinner enjoying the food and eventually opening up a bottle of wine. Drea reasoned that they were both off tomorrow anyway. Jared, having loosened up, asked Drea about the VR headset he saw and she was more than happy to teach him how to use it. And that’s how they ended up in the living room, Jared exhausted after playing a shooting game and Drea exhausted from laughing so hard at his irritation.

“You know, I should get one of these. It’s like working out without a gym.” Jared said between breaths as he turned off the headset and returned it to its stand.

“I never took you for a gamer. But I must say that was definitely entertaining. You get way too competitive.” Drea said with a laugh. “You should just bunk out in my spare room. It’s late and we drank the whole bottle.”

“Are you sure? I’m not drunk or anything.” Jared realized it was nearing 2 a.m.

“You still drank. We’re cops Jared, we have to set a good example. And you won’t have to worry about me drunkenly jumping you in bed, the spare room has a lock.” Drea said cheekily as she started cleaning up the errant wine glasses and napkins.

“Let me do that then. You cooked and let me stay so I will wash the dishes. Go get ready for bed.” Jared insisted as he started picking up bowls and utensils.

“Yes dad, “ Drea joked as she let him take over, a yawn escaping her mouth.

“I prefer Daddy.” Jared quipped before he could stop himself. Drea let out a laugh and threw a pillow at him. “In your dreams Vasquez.”

He caught the pillow laughing as he cleaned up the remains of their dinner. It wasn’t until he was nearly done with the dishes that he felt the wine headache coming on. Drea met him in the hallway with some extra towels and a pair of sweats that were much too large to be her actual size.

“Here. So you can wash up and change. You’re lucky I like to wear big mens sweats when I’m home by myself. I will be off to bed now. Goodnight Jared.” Drea said nonchalantly as she handed him the pile then made her way back to her room, picking up Mimi who had been winding around her legs.

“Thanks Drea, goodnight.” Jared said. He washed up in the bathroom then went into the guest bedroom to change. It was simpler than her bedroom and slightly smaller but still had the plush carpet and elegant side tables. He took off his shirt and pants, hanging them up in the empty closet, then unfolded the sweats. They were a bit loose on him but were worn in. He could tell from the creases that Drea normally folded the legs up quite a bit. His eyes barely staying open, he hopped into the bed, thinking for a moment about how he ended up here. A ghost of a smile on his face as he drifted off to sleep.

Saying goodnight to Jared was an odd feeling but not bad. Drea definitely didn’t think her day would end with Jared Vasquez sleeping in her apartment. But as she went over the events of the day, it seemed to be an appropriate ending. Drea was about to climb into bed when she noticed something green on her vanity.

As she walked across the room and started to recognize the object, her blood ran cold. She stood less than a foot away, staring down at the handmade Valentine’s Day card wishing it would burst into flames. She looked up at the window next to the vanity, the one that had been open. For a split second panic filled her at the idea that he had made his way into her apartment. But Jared would have noticed, he wouldn’t let her get hurt. He wasn’t here but he had been.

Drea swiftly walked to the kitchen and grabbed some chopsticks and a ziplock bag, hoping her movements wouldn’t wake Jared. She was back in her room with the door shut behind her. She paused again, staring across the room at the offensive item. Until she let her anger surge up within her and drive her forward. She used the chopsticks effortlessly and put the card into the ziplock bag before shoving it in a bottom drawer of her vanity.

Breathing heavily she made her way to her bed. Hoping she would be able to get some sleep. Hoping the vents of the past two days wouldn’t send her spiraling back into her nightmares.

AND THATS IT FOR CHAPTER ONE. SOON TO BE ADDED TO AO3 and FANFIC.NET

[burlesque-articulation]

Alright, I pulled out my corkboard and red string again, this time in hopes of dissecting the MAG timeline to see if there is anything there to support my fan theory of:

~Could Jurgen Leitner be Martin’s Dad~

And so far, signs point to a solid "it could be possible”. So in lieu of this, I will be presenting all my evidence with exceptional bias so it better illustrates my desired outcome. Okay? Okay! Let’s get into it.

Let’s begin with 1985, when Jurgen Leitner supposedly begins renting an office in Pall Mall, central London. Presumably this is just where he sets up an office, and not the actual location of the Library, which isn’t something we get-- anyways, getting sidetracked, uhhh.

Right, we know, vaguely, that Martin was born in 1987, two years after Leitner would have set up shop in Central London; and interestingly enough, in that same year of Martin’s birth, Leitner attempted to hire some people to dig a big ol’ hole in the floor of his office to lead into the tunnels built beneath the building. And this could just be wishful thinking, but I believe it is implied that these tunnels connect to the other tunnels of Millbank Prison. Interconnected, and with many exits leading to various parts of the city. Basically, a needlessly intricate means of escape (I guess balconies and back doors just didn’t exist yet, you know) should shit get real. Anyways, the point I’m trying to make, is that it would make sense for Leitner to suddenly be very interested in having direct access to these tunnels from his main office after receiving news that he’s a father, or whatever. Or maybe it’s just because he’s always been a loser that loves vibing in tunnels.

[Obligatory readmore, because this shit gets long, and even more ramble-y. Also I’m not sorry, because y’all are more than welcome to continue scrolling past this mess]

Alright, now fast-forward to 1994, the destruction of the Library. At this point in time, Martin would have been 7. Now hold up! According to the Magnus Archives Wiki, Martin’s father abandoned the family when he was 8 or 9; so isn’t that a whole in the theory right there? No. It’s not. Because the only thing that is implied about Leitner around 1994, is that he went into hiding after the destruction of the Library. At no point is it implied that he even left the country (or even London, but like, I refuse to believe he’s that stupid; even if that alternative is hilarious). To set up my point, I’m going to shift the focus onto Martin now, and what his life might have been like when he was younger.

So, by present events (present actually referring to like, pre-season 4, actually), Martin’s mother is in a care home in Devon. Could be because care homes are cheaper there, or something, I have no idea. Honestly people in my family don’t live long enough to ever even consider this option, so I don’t know how assisted living works at all lmao. But let’s say, for simplicities sake, that Martin actually just grew up around Devon; and I’m throwing a dart at a map and declaring Plymouth as the city he grew up in. Anyways, why does this matter? Because I do in fact believe that Leitner is stupid enough to think that changing which county he lives in counts as being in hiding. And he gets maybe one (1) good summer with his family before the weight of his sins bare down on him, and he realizes that staying in one place really isn’t an option. So maybe he tries travelling around a bit; but inevitably he always ends up coming back to Plymouth. It takes him a year, maybe two, to finally realize that this won’t work forever. His habits are too predictable, and what’s this? The mother of his child is getting sick; and her condition only seems to worsen over time (you know, like how it usually works when someone is taken ill.); and Leitner gets it into his head that he could be the cause of it; so what is the safest course of action, but to completely abandon his family? Surely things will turn out for the better for them all if he were to just... disappear. To cut ties entirely, so as to make sure no one ever comes after them in an attempt to get to him.

And that worked out fucking great, didn’t it.

Bunch of unimportant stuff happens, and eventually Martin ends up dropping out of school, presumably only a year early from graduation (weird but fine); and it’s safe to assume he eventually ends up traveling to London in hopes of better job opportunities. Plus, if he’s gonna be lying on his CV, probably better to head out of county to some place where no one knows him from anywhere to begin with, right? That makes sense, and none of you can say otherwise.

And where does he find himself sliding into a new job position? Oh, that’s right; at the Magnus Institute. In the Library. I’m just saying. I am just saying, that’s a little interesting. I mean, he lied about having a degree in parapsychology on his CV; so if Bouchard really wanted to play along like he thought the CV was entirely legit, it actually would’ve made more sense to put him in Research, or even in Artefact Storage with a degree like that. But nope, Bouchard put him in the Library. Though, I guess we don’t know exactly what all might’ve been on Martin’s faked CV. But I swear to god, if we get bonus content that’s just Martin’s faked CV and it even hints at him working at a “family library/bookshop” I will spontaneously combust.

Regardless, in 2009, supposedly (according to the wiki), Martin began working at the Institute. Personally, I always thought he started working there in 2010, but that doesn’t matter. I actually like 2009 better, because then a year later, Leitner apparently begins working with Gertrude Robinson. Which I find interesting. I mean, really there’s no reason for them not to work together, I just find the timing of it interesting. Of course, Leitner (in MAG80) alludes to the fact that Gertrude was likely only working with him because there was a lack of anyone else around. But that really only explains Gertrude’s interest in Leitner. What attracted Leitner to the Magnus Institute in the first place, I wonder? Aside from the fact that it’s essentially the Library of Alexandria of research on the Entities. 

But Leitner had managed to stay out of public eye for about 16 years, why would he chose right around then to start playing peekaboo with the Beholding? Rhetorical question, of course. Y’all should already know exactly where I’m going with this line of questioning. Martin. Martin is what lead Leitner to the Institute, and to Gertrude. Dude just wanted to check up on his son, and now he’s just as trapped as everyone who works for the damn Institute because of all these weird rituals and shit. Plus maybe there was another reason why Leitner went through so much effort to help Gertrude, even putting himself on the line for it; and I think we can all agree that Leitner is a pretty selfish dude who’s only real character trait is being like a fucking cockroach. Straight up, the only way to kill a cockroach is to beat those suckers until they pop like a fucking pimple-- sorry, I’m actually getting ahead of myself, I don’t want to talk about that yet, um.

Leitner’s biggest character trait, and on some level, character flaw, is his Self-Preservation instinct. When the going gets tough, his own health and safety comes first. But maybe he gets a bit sentimental in his old age, and maybe he struck a deal with Gertrude; if he helps her stop the Unknowing, (or actually I think it would’ve been the Dark’s ritual first), she will bring his son down to the tunnels so Leitner can see how he’s grown, and maybe even talk to him. I just think that would be interesting character motivation; because at the end of the day, it’s still a pretty selfish motivation. But at this point, Gertrude’s only other option for help is a teenaged Shadow the Hedgehog wannabe; so she’d likely agree to just about anything for the extra pair of hands. And given what later happens in regards to the Dark’s ritual, which then results in Gertrude’s death; Leitner gets scared back into his hole in the ground.

But hey, I guess things actually kind of worked out for ol’ Jurgen. Because like a year later, his son* (*allegedly, according to apparently no one but me) starts living in the Archives. It’s like he’s living in his son’s basement, he can just pop up for tea and say hi whenever. Maybe complain about all the bugs that keep crawling around. Or not, because Jürgen Leitner is a coward. But I 100% would not put it past him to shuffle his old bones up into the Archives to stand creepily at the edge of wherever Martin was sleeping and angst quietly at the sight of his son. It’s creepy, funny, and sad. Basically a peak TMA scenario right there.

Then Leitner gets brutally piped by Bouchard. Actually, can I say it like that? “Piped” isn’t some kind of... new-age slang for something, is it? God, I hope not. Anyways; Leitner isn’t just beat upside the head with a length of pipe, but literally pulped by Bouchard (or at the very least implied so), in a way that makes identifying the guy difficult enough that he remains a John Doe straight up until Elias confesses to the murder. Now, obviously there are plenty of reasons for this; given that both Daisy and Basira are familiar with the name Leitner, so presumably other sectioned officers would be as well; so there was at least a slim chance that whatever officer got sent to the Institute upon the discovery of the body might just recognize Leitner immediately. But, and sorry to sidetrack here, but there was just one thing that really stood out to me about Martin. One thing that always stuck with me, that for some reason was the main thing that made me thing Leitner could’ve been his dad.

Martin looks like his father, whoever that may or may not be. It is explicitly canon, that Martin looks like whoever his dad is. So wouldn’t it be better safe than sorry for Bouchard to beat Leitner to a pulp wherein no one could easily discern any major features of him once he was found. After all, it would make things rather messy and a bit too complicated if everyone who saw the body was like, “wow! That looks just like you, Martin.” So really, it’s for the best that not only did Bouchard kill Leitner, but he thoroughly did so. 

And so, I will end this already way to long of a ramble with the one thing that solidified me on this theory, and Spoilers for Season 5 of MAG, but... In MAG181 Salesa says, “Now you mention it, you actually remind me of Jurgen a bit. In his younger days of course.” to Martin. Of course, Martin did just shoot out a snappy one-liner about books, but... it’s the clarification of Jurgen “in his younger days”, that gets me. Mikaele could just have easily said something about Martin just “sounding” like Leitner. But the way this reads, and how it’s spoken, even, it seems more like someone that might’ve been looking at Martin for awhile, squinting at him as if he’s seen that face somewhere before, and then right when Martin mentions books, it finally clicks. After all, it would’ve been almost 20 years, or possibly more, since Salesa would have left Leitner’s employ.

So yeah, I admit this theory has a much weaker backbone then my Banks/Folger post, but... I just think it’s neat. And it’s another one of those things that actually doesn’t have any affect on the major plot whatsoever. I dunno, maybe it was meant to be some sort of subplot early on that got ditched or something? Point is, that’s all for now, and with any luck, I will never post another crack theory again, and the TMA tag can be safe from my ramblings once more.

[bywordofaphrodite]

Book Reviews 7&8: Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen & Anne of Green Gables by L.M Montgomery

This review’s theme is female-led romantic classics ! Audience age: roughly age 10+

This review is about two of my all-time favourite female-led classics! Pride and Prejudice is one of the only classics I can truthfully say I enjoy, sorry to lovers of classics I just cannot bring myself to love many of them. Elizabeth Bennet is a timeless heroine, and her story is an easy, comfortable read. Anne of Green Gables, likewise, echoes the same sentiments, albeit with considerably more hijinks added into the mix- and with the heroines’ age gaps and very different circumstances, this is to be expected!

Nostalgic review

Rating: ★★★★★

These novels are, if I didn’t already make clear, comfort stories in the best sense of the word. It’s been several years since I last read either of them in full, but there is a special ease about them at all times; even in the midst of disaster, you know there is hope just around the corner.

In the case of Pride and Prejudice, I’ll admit that as much as I love Lizzy, it is the entirety of the story that draws me in more than just her character. I love the general vibe of the novel, the drama and gossip in the town and all the fuss that comes about with each new ball the Bennet sisters must attend for social reasons. The surprising scandals are all very alluring, and really, Jane Austen’s stories walked so Gossip Girl could run!

On the flip side, Anne as a character- she is one of my absolute most favourite characters ever written. I’m no orphan and I’ve never had to struggle in the way she did, but I grew up the odd one out in a small town, with a hot temper and a huge imagination that always managed to get me into trouble. Everything about Anne is relatable to me- right down to the infamous scene where she attempts to dye the red hair she hates and it goes green instead (I tried to bleach mine and it went orange, so I didn’t fare much better).

While it has been a long time since I last read these books, I am expecting more positive surprises than negative ones, now that I’m older with a bit more perspective!

Pride and Prejudice Review

Post-read: ★★★★★

Synopsis: Elizabeth Bennet, the second daughter of a middle-class family desperate to marry off their five daughters, navigates her way through matters of marriage, estate, love and temperament in an attempt to make a match that ensures her own happiness in a time where love was not always a priority.

Set in Regency England, the middle-class family the Bennets begin to fear their ruin as Mr Bennet grows older. See, Mr Bennet’s estate and fortune detailed in his will can only go to a male heir upon his death, thus ruling out his five daughters without their marriages taking place. As luck would have it, two eligible rich men arrive in town, and Mrs Bennet becomes obsessed with setting up her daughters with them. Amidst numerous balls and trips to the rich families’ residence of Netherfield, Jane Bennet catches the eye of sweet Charles Bingley, while Elizabeth begins a cold war with Bingley’s best friend Fitzwilliam Darcy, after he slights her upon their first meeting, to Mrs Bennet’s fury.

Over time, Mr Darcy becomes increasingly attracted to intelligent and witty Elizabeth, but so do other, less appealing characters to the likes of Elizabeth’s pretentious and stupid cousin, the clergyman Mr Collins, and the handsome militia officer Wickham, who tells Elizabeth that he has lost his fortune because Darcy stole it from him. When Elizabeth’s fifteen year-old sister runs away with Wickham in the middle of the night, Elizabeth is forced to hear our Mr Darcy’s side of the story and put aside her prejudice toward him. He, in turn, overcomes his pride, and by the end of the novel the two are able to freely admit their love without pride or prejudice standing in the way.

For such an old book, it really does stand the test of time. The lessons Austen teaches in this story are forever applicable to relationships in any timeline, though we have to make do without the fancy dresses and balls (and the gender norms and sexism, so it’s still a win for us, I suppose). I enjoy her writing and love how humorous it is; Austen perfected the art of polite mockery. Elizabeth is a good role model, and her character development over the course of the novel is wonderful.

Characters who aged well: first and foremost, Elizabeth Bennet of course. She’s headstrong and real, and satisfyingly selfish when necessary (nobody should be selfless when presented with a proposal from Mr Collins, and I will not hear otherwise). Mr Darcy remains an eternal heartthrob- I do sometimes wonder how someone less determined to see the bad side in Darcy would have viewed him from the get-go (my guess that had Jane been the perspective offered, Darcy might have been cut a bit of slack earlier. But where would be the fun in that?). I won’t comment on all the characters, but I will mention that I appreciated Jane much more as an adult. As often happened with sweeter female characters, internalised misogyny used to get the best of me on occasion and I would resent them for being ‘boring’. Now I just think she’s lovely.

For a villain, Mr Wickham aged so well. I once saw a Tumblr post declaring him the 1800s equivalent of a modern-day fuckboy and it’s stuck in my mind ever since because yes, that’s exactly what he is.

Characters who aged badly: Everybody hates Mr Collins, but I don’t know if I’m entirely correct in listing him here, given he wasn’t well liked back in 1813 either. As an antagonist, he technically aged well, but I’m going to keep him here anyway because I felt like ranting about him. The same goes for nauseating Mrs Bennet and Mary… they aged as intended, but I will remain frustrated with them anyway.

Favourite scene/quote: ‘An unhappy alternative is before you, Elizabeth. From this day you must be a stranger to one of your parents. Your mother will never see you again if you do not marry Mr Collins… And I will never see you again if you do.’

This line never fails to make me laugh, whether on paper or onscreen. He does delight in vexing his over-excitable and irritating wife, and in this case it was all the more pleasing: he saw his wife trying to force his favourite daughter into marrying perhaps his least favourite person on the planet and supported Elizabeth’s decision to reject the man wholeheartedly, as well as reinforces the bond between father and daughter in a humorous way.

Scenes I particularly enjoyed are the ones surrounding Wickham’s secrets and shocking fake elopement with Lydia, partially because Lizzy and Darcy become close, but mostly because all the detective work unravelling the drama is so entertaining. It’s pleasing to see Darcy come out the undisputed hero after all Wickham’s deceit and attempts to ruin many girls’ reputations in attempts to get their fortunes.

Anne of Green Gables Review

Post-read: ★★★★★

Synopsis: red-headed orphan Anne Shirley is adopted by unmarried siblings Matthew and Marilla Cuthbert by accident. After a trial period, they agree to keep Anne, and the misunderstanding brings the greatest joy to their small farmhouse in the town of Avonlea.

This book! Everything about it!

As I anticipated, time did not change any of my love nor expectations for this book, but rather made me fall in love with it all over again.

Starting at the beginning, Anne’s introduction to the Cuthberts starts off with her first asking him to call her by a name she chose herself, and then settling with keeping her own name as long as they remember to spell it with an ‘e’. This alone is already something I relate strongly to- I can’t bear when people forget the second ‘e’ in my name… it looks so empty.

Moving on from the names!

Anne is enrolled in school, a place she is successful in due to her intelligence, yet many adults in the town, including her teacher, refuse to treat her very well. Anne’s temper gets her into trouble of numerous occasions with adults and classmates alike, the most memorable instance being when the handsome popular boy Gilbert Blythe calls her ‘carrots’ and tugs her plaits to get Anne to notice him- and she does, but likely not in the way he hoped: she smashes her writing slate over his head. Utterly iconic move.

The friendship between Anne and her neighbour Diana is a high point of the book, too. Anne is always on the lookout for ‘kindred spirits’ or ‘bosom friends’, terms she applies not only to Diana, but also to Matthew and her second teacher, the amazing Miss Stacy who represents that one literature teacher every writer child connects with.

Navigating dozens of scrapes and accidents, Anne manages to graduate school and attend an academy where- with Miss Stacy’s encouragement- she obtains her teaching license in one year instead of two, and ties first place with Gilbert Blythe, whom she has ignored to the best of her ability since the ‘carrots’ incident, though he has tried many times to obtain her forgiveness. Toward the end of the novel, Matthew has a heart attack that shatters both Anne and Marilla, and she gives up the scholarship she won in favour of teaching close to home in order to stop Green Gables from being sold. Gilbert Blythe passes on his teaching position at Avonlea school to Anne so she won’t have to struggle, and Anne finally accepts that she has lot more love for Gilbert than anything else.

Though they do not get together in this book, the following sequels end with their marriage, and their developing romance is a special part of this first novel too.

Characters who aged well: Anne Shirley, best girl! I think I’ve already listed enough examples to showcase what I think of her, but I also think she has aged very well as an interesting character and feminist role model, all the way back in 1908. Gilbert, too, is a wonderful example of how a man should be, and his character growth is every bit as good as Anne’s. The supporting characters are wonderful too.

Characters who aged badly: Mr Phillips, Anne’s first teacher who treated her terribly and tried to marry a student in the same classroom. Predator teachers exist now too, of course, but this man simply did not cop the jail time he deserved (yes, times were different then, I don’t care).

Favourite scene/quote: ‘I’m not a bit changed- not really. I’m only just pruned down and branched out. The real ME- back here—is just the same.’

This is the essence of Anne’s story, and I like to think for many people. Most people like to think they’ve changed while growing up, but the truth is that most people remain the same, they just grow into their ideas and find new dreams to follow; change doesn’t have to signify loss, just growth.

There are many great scenes in Anne of Green Gables, and narrowing down favourites is quite hard. As a romantic, I loved any scene with Gilbert, even though Anne herself was desperately trying to ignore him. All of Anne’s scrapes are hilarious, too, but if I had to choose, it’s when Matthew picks Anne up from the station the day they meet, and the quiet man- whose only interactions are with his sister- immediately takes a liking to the poor orphan girl no other adult has ever been kind to. Their ride home together signifies a beautiful change in both their lives, and their instant bond is heart-warming.

Overall verdict: I’ve read both of these novels more times than I care to count, so there was never really any strong doubt that I wouldn’t continue to love them a fair amount. It may seem a ridiculous thing to say that I still find them both to be well-written, but as someone who finds many ‘classics’ incredibly boring and too wordy to properly enjoy (looking at Charles Dickens, by the way), I’m making a note of my contentment with Austen and Montgomery’s writing styles. I do generally prefer female authors in the first place (and not just because most men can’t seem to write good female characters to save their lives) so I’m not entirely surprised by this, though I think it necessary to mention after my shock over the stunted sentences in Enid Blyton’s works and Nancy Drew and the Mystery at Lilac Inn.

While rereading these books I also felt compelled to re-watch the televised versions and show them to my younger sister too (she loves them!). I do have personal favourite versions, and this is due not only to the actors in the cast, but to which I deem the most accurate and faithful in comparison to the original written source material. For Pride and Prejudice, contrary to the popular version amongst most people who reference it, my favourite is not the Kiera Knightley movie. I greatly prefer the BBC show, finding the casting, setting and costuming far more accurately detailed. I don’t hate the movie, just to be clear! But if you want accuracy watch the television show, especially because the episodes had a chance to explore more of the script than the movie did, so there was no need to cut things out or rush certain developments.

As for Anne of Green Gables, there are a few different movies and series. My forever-favourite is the Megan Follows and Jonathon Crombie led film series, with the first movie released in 1985. The casting was perfect, I adored the settings and costuming, and Megan as Anne captured everything about the character in the most perfect way imaginable. As for the newer Netflix series Anne with an E, I have only seen a few episodes but I think that was really well done too; the casting of the leads was also very faithful to Montgomery’s novels. It’s a shame that Netflix chose to cancel a show that so many young people really enjoyed, but I hope maybe some of them will watch the movies or pick up the books!

The true importance of these books for me as a child was my connection to the characters, which hasn’t changed at all. Though I do identify in part with Elizabeth, it is Anne who is so much like me, and while I haven’t reviewed past the first book here, I can confirm that my personality has evolved in the same way hers does in the sequels. Something interesting I noticed when mentioning either of these series to people unfamiliar with them is that they are surprised I like these books. The reason? Owing to how old the novels are, people expect the characters to be boring and grounded in sexist tropes. While I cannot deny there are plenty of books out there that are full of these issues, the characters of Elizabeth and Anne are very much feminist in the best way possible. They fight against the expectations for their gender and forge their own paths. Their relationships with the male leads take a long time to develop- Anne and Gilbert do not get together until proper adulthood- because they want everything to be done on their terms, within their own certainty. Neither lead suffers from ‘not like other girls’ syndrome, both cherishing their friendships with the women around them, and Anne especially is a celebration of the best parts of femininity.

Ultimately I find both Pride and Prejudice and Anne of Green Gables to be comfort novels. There is conflict and angst, humour and love, and the reassuring knowledge that by the end of it everyone will get their happy ending.

[societybabylon]

Across from her, Harry’s eyes glittered dangerously. He looked tired but wild, like there was something lurking under his skin that only revealed itself in the dark.  

It was at that moment that she realized how little she knew him.  

“I remember waking up on that day, the day of your birthday,” Harry said, still cast in darkness. “I remember seeing the tattoo for the first time. I was terrified and angry, but I wondered…what if? What if we didn’t deny the bond?”

Lifelong enemies Allie and Harry are devastated when they learn they are soulmates, so they form a pact to never act on their bond. Unfortunately, fate has other plans for them.

[read on ao3 here]

“Do you want to know your fate?”

Allie watched the old man place a crystal ball on the table in front of him. The bauble was unassuming and slightly dirty. Honestly, Allie wouldn’t have been surprised if it were made of plastic. It, like everything else in the cluttered store, looked cheap and fake. But then again, what did she know about the world of psychics? That’s why she was here, after all: she wanted answers about her future.

It was the day before Allie’s thirteenth birthday, and she was at a fortuneteller’s shop. Her friend Becca had insisted they come here to celebrate her impending soulmate reveal. Perhaps, Becca said, they could get a little insight into who she would be paired with.  

Allie’s world revolved around soulmates. When two people were ideally matched, an unbreakable soul bond tied the pair together. And two rules applied to all soulmates:

First, the bond was manifested in a tattoo. Everybody had their partner’s name written on their body somewhere. These tattoos didn’t require needles or ink; they showed up on their own, as if by magic.

Second, the tattooed names didn’t appear until the thirteenth birthday of the younger person in each couple. On that day, both soulmates would wake up to find themselves marked with their other half’s name.  

Assuming Allie’s soulmate was older than she was, there was only one day left until she learned who she was bonded to.  

Allie gazed at the crystal ball. Behind the fortuneteller, a pink neon sign buzzed an electric tune. The lights cast a dim glow throughout the small store.  

The psychic seemed over-the-top to her, not that she would ever tell Becca that. The man sitting across from her seemed more like a crackpot than a sage. His greasy hair hung in his face, so long that it nearly obscured his eyes. He reeked of licorice and burnt lavender. But they had already paid the man his fee, so they might as well hear what predictions he could conjure up for them.

“Do you want to know your fate?” he repeated. “Once you learn it, you can’t go back.”

“Yes,” Allie said. “I’m ready.”

The fortuneteller muttered a few unintelligible words and stared deeply into the crystal ball. “Hmm...it’s foggy, but some images are starting to come into focus. Ah, yes. I can see it now.”

To Allie, the crystal ball looked exactly as it did before.  

“I see money stained with blood. Tears and white bedsheets. Two bodies, submerged in water. A cellphone is ringing, but no one is picking up.”

“Okay,” Allie tried to figure out how to respond to this prophecy. She wasn’t sure what she had been expecting, but she certainly hadn’t thought he would list such unpleasant images. “But what does that mean?”

“These images foretell rejection and denial. You will learn who your soulmate is tomorrow, but you will be unhappy when you learn who you have been paired with. This bond will confuse you and bring you unhappiness. Yes, I definitely sense rejection and denial.”

Allie was stunned. “Do you see anything else? Like, happiness and love, maybe?”

“I cannot see specifics,” he responded with contempt. “That is not how my gift works.”

Of course the fraud fortuneteller wouldn’t be able to see specifics. She had shelled out good money for him to ruin her day. She protested, “But—”

The man cut her off with a dismissive wave. “Do not disrespect my craft. Just because you demand answers of me doesn’t mean that I’ll give them to you. I only see what the universe shows me.”

Allie glanced back at the crystal ball, which was still maddeningly clear. There were no bloodied dollar bills, no ringing cellphones. The fortuneteller could have invented any story he wanted. He could have reported that he had seen her in a happy relationship and with a successful career. And yet he deliberately chose to give her a bad fortune.  

“You must see something good in the crystal ball, right?” Becca murmured. She had been quietly listening in on the conversation between Allie and the psychic for the last fifteen minutes, mostly content to observe. “I mean, it can’t all be bad.”

“Actually, it can,” the man snapped. “I do not control your future. I merely pass on the messages that the universe sends me.”

“So you’re saying that rejection is my fate, and there’s nothing I can do to change that?” Allie said.

The man nodded eagerly, as if glad that she was finally catching on. “Precisely.”

“And why should I believe that?” Allie usually wasn’t so confrontational, especially with adults, but this fortuneteller was an exception. What did he know about her soulmate? Nothing.

The man scrutinized her frowning face. His lips went thin with irritation. “I think we are done here. I’ve told you what I saw. It’s not my problem if you don’t like the truth.”

Allie nearly scoffed. He read tea leaves and tarot cards for a living. He probably got pleasure out of ruining his customers’ days. Staring into a crystal ball and mumbling about dark visions wasn’t the truth, it was a cruel joke.

At least, she hoped it was a joke. There was a part of her (a part she tried to ignore) that worried that his predictions might come to pass. She pictured the images the man had mentioned—blood, tears, bodies in water—and she saw death. She shivered at the thought.

“Thanks for the crystal ball reading,” Becca cut in before Allie could offend the fortuneteller even more. “Well, we should probably go. My mom’s waiting for us outside.”

The fortuneteller wasn’t even listening. His attention had strayed to a stained, crumpled box of cigarettes that sat by his side. He picked one cigarette from the pack and sparked it with a pink lighter from his pocket.

Allie felt anger on her tongue, ready to be sharpened into spiteful words, but she could see that Becca was anxious to leave. She smothered her fury for her friend’s sake. “Yeah, thanks for the fortune.”

She stood up and walked out of the store with Becca. As the wooden door swung shut behind her, she turned around to give the fortuneteller one last glance. Thick smoke swirled around his head. His eyes were closed as if he had already forgotten that they were there.  

What did a man like that know about her fate?

+

The next day, Allie woke up at five in the morning. She was too giddy to go back to sleep. Despite how horribly the visit to the fortuneteller had gone, she was still excited by the potential of finding out who she was bonded to. She’d been waiting her entire life to see her soulmate’s name tattooed on her.  

She checked her wrists, a common spot for soulmate marks. They were blank. Her arms and legs, too, were bare. In fact, every visible inch of skin was unmarked.

Don’t worry, she reminded herself. It’s probably just hidden under some clothing.

She lifted the edge of her pajama shirt and walked to her mirror to get a closer look at herself. As she scanned over the planes of her stomach and saw more blank skin, she felt growing disappointment. It seemed that she hadn’t gotten her tattoo after all. Her soulmate was probably younger than she was, which meant she would have to wait until his thirteenth birthday to find out who he was.

But then she spotted a scribble of black near her waist. The writing was scrawled across her left hipbone in messy, boyish letters. She bent down to get a closer look at the words.  

Harry Bingham.

She gasped.  

Harry Bingham? No, it wasn’t possible. Harry had been her sister’s sworn enemy since preschool, which meant that by default, she and Harry were also enemies. Almost every time they had a conversation (a misfortune she did her best to avoid), he was arrogant and entitled and cruel.  

“No, no, no,” Allie said to herself. “This can’t be real.”

She paced her room, trying to rationalize why she was paired with Harry. She and Harry were nothing alike. It should have been impossible for them to be soulmates.  

Maybe this was some sort of cosmic joke, or the universe’s revenge for the times she’d been a bad person. Or maybe, while she had been sleeping, her sister decided to write Harry’s name on her as a prank. All those explanations were more logical than the thought that she might actually soulmates with Harry Bingham.

“This can’t be real,” she repeated.

But the ink was underneath her skin. As much as she wished that she could blink and watch the tattoo vanish before her eyes, she knew the mark was permanent. It would stay on her body forever, reminding her of the boy she’d been chained to.

When she took her shower later that morning, Allie tried, in a half-crazed stupor, to wash the name from her body. She scrubbed with her loofa until her skin was raw and red. But Harry’s name was still printed on her hipbone.  

After the shower, Allie dressed hastily, as if covering the mark would mean that it no longer existed. She even considered stealing a bottle of concealer from her sister’s room and smearing the makeup over her hip, but she feared that Cassandra would catch her in the act. Her mind was racing for solutions, and yet she was paralyzed by inaction.  

She curled up on her covers, her hair still damp. She was too stunned to cry. Instead, she just stared at the walls, trying to decode the mess she had landed in.  

By ten, Allie knew she could not hide in her room any longer. She crept downstairs to the kitchen, where her dad was flipping pancakes and humming along to a pop song. Cassandra and her mom were setting the table for breakfast. They had even put out a vase filled with her favorite peonies.  

“Morning, birthday girl,” her mom said.  

“Morning,” Allie replied, faking a grin. Her lower lip trembled from her anxiety.  

“I’m surprised you woke up late,” her dad said. “I remember waking up at the crack of dawn on my thirteenth birthday. I was so anxious I almost got sick. And then it turned out that there wasn’t even a tattoo on me!”  

“Sorry, dad, but even my birthday isn’t enough to get me to wake up early.” Lie. 

“You ready for breakfast?”

“Of course.” Another lie. Truthfully, she was terrified. She knew her family would use breakfast as an opportunity to spring the dreaded question: do you know who your soulmate is?

Her dad plated the golden pancakes and coated them with pats of butter and gooey, sugary syrup. He brought the food to the table, and they all sat down to eat.  

Allie shoved pieces of pancake into her mouth as if she were Joey Chestnut on steroids. She hoped that if her cheeks were stuffed with food, her family would let her eat her breakfast in peace instead of poking her for information.  

Across from Allie, Cassandra was only on her second bite of breakfast. She had cut her pancakes into delicate, precise slices and had taken care to ensure the syrup was evenly distributed. Even when taking sips from her orange juice, she was polished.

Perfect Cassandra, Allie thought. She would never be bound to someone as awful as Harry.  

“I remember my thirteenth birthday,” Allie’s mom said in between bites of pancake, seemingly clueless to the turmoil tearing her daughter apart. “I woke up and saw your dad’s name on the inside of my arm. But I had no clue who he was! Your generation is lucky to have the internet. You can Google your soulmate’s name and immediately find out who they are. We were in the dark about our soulmates until we met them in person.”

“Unless you knew your soulmate before you turned thirteen,” Cassandra pointed out. “Like, if you were paired up with someone that went to elementary school with you. Then you wouldn’t need the internet to help find them.”

Allie almost choked on her juice. That comment was uncomfortably close to her reality.

“I suppose that’s true,” her mom said. “That’s very rare, though. Your dad and I met when we were twenty-two, and we met earlier than most.”

“Well, I think it’s better not to use the internet to find your soulmate,” Cassandra declared. She said this frequently, especially when she was asked why she didn’t have social media. “I think you should meet your soulmate naturally, as you were supposed to.”

“So, Allie,” her mom turned to look at her. “Do you have any news for us yet?”

Allie went red. This conversation felt intensely wrong. Worse than the “sex talk” her parents had given her when she was eight. Although she had never considered it before, she wondered why her family felt like they were entitled to this information about her body and her future. Their society had bought into the idea that everyone should wear their soulmate tattoos like a badge of honor—but shouldn’t people be allowed to keep this information private?  

Allie was ashamed of her mark. She didn’t want to admit that she had been paired with West Ham’s most obnoxious idiot.  

“I don’t have a tattoo yet,” Allie lied, desperately hoping that her family would buy her act. “Guess he must be younger than me.”  

“Oh,” her mom said, clearly a little surprised. Her mom and her dad shared a look. “Well, that’s okay, honey. I’m sure you’ll find out who he is soon enough. Your thirteenth birthday doesn’t have to be all about finding your soulmate. You’re so young! You can worry about that later. Today’s still going to be a great day. ”

Allie almost laughed. Her parents thought she would be upset because she hadn’t gotten her tattoo. If they knew the truth...

“Yeah,” Allie said, grateful that her family didn’t prod further. And then she told her greatest lie of the morning. “I don’t really care about soulmates, anyway.”  

+

After breakfast, while her parents washed the dishes, Allie went back to hiding in her bedroom. She buried her head in the covers of her bed and let her emotions swallow her.

Harry Bingham, she thought again. How on Earth could I have been paired with Harry Bingham? We’re nothing alike.

She startled at the sound of her door swinging open. It was her sister. Cassandra wore a small, close-lipped smile that set Allie’s nerves on fire. Allie realized immediately that despite escaping the breakfast interrogation, she hadn’t escaped her sister.  

Cassandra sat down on the bed.

“You know you can knock, right?” Allie asked sharply.

“Sorry,” Cassandra said, entirely unapologetic. “So, who is it?”  

It was unlike Cassandra to be so upfront. Usually, she was the more reserved one, always telling Allie to calm down or be more patient.  

“It’s nobody. I told you, I didn’t find a tattoo on my body.”

“I know you’re lying,” Cassandra said. “I can hear it in your voice. You can fool mom and dad, but you can’t fool me.”

Anxiety shot through Allie. She thought that her performance at breakfast was Oscar-worthy, but as always, Cassandra saw through her lies. “I don’t want to tell you, okay? It’s none of your business.”

“I told you the second I found out who mine was.” Cassandra emphasized her point by sticking her wrist, which was encircled with blank ink, in Allie’s face.  

Allie could feel her panic growing. Her sister had a point, but Allie couldn’t possibly tell her the truth. How could she?

Allie imagined speaking Harry’s name aloud. She pictured her sister’s reaction, her mouth gaping wide and her eyebrows raised in shock. Cassandra would stutter out a kind response. She would try to make her congratulations sound convincing. Yet no matter what was said, they would both know the truth: Cassandra hated Harry, truly hated him. And that would never change.  

No, Allie could not tell the truth.  

“Just tell me.” Cassandra pushed. “I’m your sister. You can trust me.”

Allie’s eyes filled with stinging tears. “I do trust you, I promise. But I can’t tell you. Please, Cassandra, please just take my word for it. Please.”

Her sister looked bewildered. Allie knew Cassandra had never seen her beg like this before.  

“Fine.” Allie could hear the hurt in her sister’s voice. “You have to tell me one day, though. A soulmate’s not the kind of secret you can hide forever.”

Maybe not, Allie thought. But I can try.

+

When Allie arrived at school the next day, she was determined to corner Harry and confront him about the tattoo.  

As it turned out, she didn’t need to search for him. While she was walking down the hallway, a hand grabbed her arm and pulled her behind the lockers into a tight nook. It was Harry. Anger blazed in his eyes. He held up a cautious finger to his lips, shushing her. “Don’t say a word.”

Allie nodded. He stared at her suspiciously, as if he was worried that she would start screaming.  

“I think you probably know why I wanted to talk. I’m guessing it was your thirteenth birthday yesterday, Pressman. I don’t know what else could explain the tattoo I woke up with. And to think that I thought I would have a soulmate I liked.” The bitterness in his voice was unmistakable. “You probably prayed every night that you would end up with someone like me, huh?”

He was infuriating. She couldn’t believe that he had the audacity to think that she would ever be interested in him.

“You think you’re so special, don’t you?” Allie said. “Harry, you’re pretty much the last person I’d want to be bonded to.”

“Believe me, the feeling is mutual. You think I want to be part of your shitty family?”  

That was one step too far. She was half considering throwing a punch at him. She could do it if she wanted; in this nook, they were hidden from the eyes of their teachers and classmates.

“You’re an asshole,” she spat.

“Bitch.”

Allie wished she could vaporize him on the spot. How could she have been chained to such a callous jerk?  

She thought of clever retorts she could say to him, insults that would permanently puncture his inflated pride. Though Cassandra was usually in the spotlight for her intelligence, no one could beat Allie’s wit. She could trade barbs with the best.

Allie considered those rumors that she had overheard about his parents’ loveless marriage. Yes, that would be a fertile site for insults.  

She opened her mouth, prepared to escalate the argument. But she stopped herself before she could say anything.  

What good would fighting with Harry do? At the end of the day, she would still have his name written on her hip.  

Looking at him, she found that he, too, appeared to be at a loss for words. Though he still wore an angry sneer, his eyes were sad. It seemed that they both came to the same realization: they could hurl nasty words at each other for hours, but it wouldn’t fix their situation. If they wanted to overcome their bond, they’d have to work together.

“We’re stuck with each other until we die, aren’t we?” Harry let out a deep sigh. His furious mask cracked, and Allie glimpsed genuine misery and anxiety on his face.  

For a moment, neither of them said anything.  

Then, a brilliant thought struck Allie. She couldn’t believe she hadn’t thought of it before. “We don’t have to be stuck with each other. There are plenty of soulmates who reject the bond.”  

“I guess.” Harry scrutinized her. She could tell he was considering her suggestion. “But how would we make sure that we’ve rejected it permanently? I wouldn’t want you falling in love with me five years from now, Pressman.”

Allie rolled her eyes. “Harry, it’s us. There’s literally no way we’re ever going to be friends, much less…well, you know.”

He nodded. “Okay. So what are you thinking?”

In her mind, a plan started to fall into place. A simple, perfect plan. “We both have to promise that we’ll never speak of this…this bond to anyone else. Ever. We have to keep it a secret until the day we die.”

“Like a pact?” Harry asked.  

“Yes, a pact. Except a pact isn’t enough. We have to do more than that. Before we turn twenty, we both have to agree to get our marks covered up.”

Harry seemed much less certain about this suggestion. Covering up soulmate tattoos was technically illegal. Most tattoo artists outright refused to do it, and those who were caught in the act could face up to a year in jail time. Eventually, however, he conceded, “Okay, fine. I can agree to that. But you need to swear on your life that you’re going to get yours covered up, too. This is a two-way street, Pressman. If I’m going to jail, so are you.”

“I swear on my life I’ll...,” Allie paused, considering her words. “You know, I feel like we should have some official pledge or something. For example, I, Allie Pressman, swear on my life that I will never mention that my soulmate is Harry Bingham. I will do everything in my power to keep my tattoo hidden.”  

Harry snorted. “Who do you think you are? The queen? Let’s just shake on it and call it a day.”

Allie glared at him. “Just say the damn words, will you?”

“Fine. I, Harry Bingham, swear on my life that I will never mention my soulmate is Allie Pressman. I will do everything I can to keep my tattoo hidden. Yada yada yada, you get the gist. Can I go now?”

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but you were the one who pulled me behind these lockers in the first place.”

“Touché.”

Just like that, it was settled. Their soulmate marks were a secret that they alone would keep. And they would never, ever act on their bond.  

+

For two years after that, neither Harry nor Allie spoke about the curse they shared. They didn’t interact in the hallway or the classroom. They both pretended that the other didn’t exist, and they were both happy with this arrangement.  

While her classmates celebrated their budding relationships or dreamed of the day they met their other half, Allie fantasized about getting a new, large tattoo to cover up the one on her hip. She was fifteen now; there were only a few more years until she could write Harry off as a memory.

Sometimes, she heard murmurs about him in the hallway. Sometimes, it seemed all of West Ham High School wanted to know his soulmate’s identity. Between his looks and his wealth, Harry was considered an ideal match. But no one was ever able to discover whose name was on his body.

Harry was hardly a factor in her life, much less her soulmate. He was a problem that she had solved, and she was content to let him stay that way.  

+

Mid-October during her sophomore year of high school, Allie planned a trip to Manhattan. Her aunt, who lived in Virginia, was having a weekend getaway to the city, and she had invited both Allie and Cassandra to join for the last day of her vacation.  

A week before the trip, Allie reminded Cassandra (who was swamped with homework as always) about their aunt’s visit. “Do you want to come?”

“What day are you going?” her sister replied.

“This Sunday.”

Cassandra frowned. “I can’t. I have to study for a math test that day. My grade is on the edge right now, and if I do poorly on the exam, I’ll get a B+ in the class. I can’t risk it. Trust me, I would go if I could.”

Allie understood. She knew her sister wanted to go to Yale, and she had seen the statistics. The admissions rate was around six percent. Even for the best of students, Yale was a reach. Allie was a bit sad—the city was always more fun with Cassandra by her side—but she wasn’t a child anymore, and she didn’t need her sister to accompany her everywhere.

“It’s no problem,” Allie reassured. “Just let me know if there’s anything that you want me to buy for you while I’m down there.”

+

Allie went to the city alone, bringing only her black purse and her cell phone with her. She arrived at Penn Station in the early morning. Aunt Carly, decked out in her characteristic prints and bold colors, was waiting for her.  

“Allie!” her aunt hollered. Her obnoxiously bright orange-red lip gloss matched the color of her handbag perfectly. “It’s been so long since I last saw you. You look taller—have you grown?”

Allie gave her aunt a tight hug and laughed. “Since August? No, I don’t think so. Same height as always.”

“Any boys?” Her aunt asked with a wink.

Allie’s chest tightened. She hated that question, truly hated it. “Nope, no one yet. But I’m happy being single.”

Luckily, Aunt Carly dropped the subject, and moved on to talking about a list of all the clothes and books and trinkets the two of them would be splurging on throughout the day. There was no budget, it seemed; Aunt Carly acted as though her pockets were bottomless.

They spent the first part of the day shopping on Fifth Avenue and hopping into trendy boutiques. Aunt Carly bought dozens of clothes with dizzyingly high prices. By the time they went to eat lunch, her aunt had seven large shopping bags in her arms. Allie was more frugal; she had bought one bag’s worth of clothes.

After lunch, they spent their time exploring Manhattan. They meandered through the streets, grabbing snacks in between people watching. Allie loved the vibrancy and anonymity of urban life.  Here, she shed the labels that followed her in West Ham.  

After ending the day with burgers and fries at the Shake Shack in Grand Central Station, her aunt prepared to board her train back to Virginia. Her tiny frame was dwarfed by the assortment of large bags and suitcases she carried with her.

“Are you sure you’ll be okay walking back to Penn Station?” Aunt Carly asked. “I wish we had arranged a train for you from here. The walk is so far.”

“I’ll be fine,” Allie promised. “You don’t need to worry about me.”

“Actually, you know what?” Aunt Carly pulled her green wallet out of her purse and grabbed a couple of twenty-dollar bills from its folds. “I just don’t feel comfortable with you walking all that way. Take this money and take a cab. Please, do it for my peace of mind. I would feel much safer if you did.”

“Okay, I will,” Allie said, knowing full well that she was lying. “Have a safe trip home!”

Allie watched as her aunt took her bags and boarded the train. As soon as Carly was out of sight, she pocketed the money for herself. That money could be useful for another day. And, she thought, there was something kind of peaceful about a solitary night walk.

She left Grand Central and pulled up the directions to Penn Station on her phone. It was dark outside, but the way was straightforward enough, so she put away the phone and let herself fully absorb the city. She was mesmerized by the myriad of people who surrounded her. It was truly electric.

Allie peered into clubs where the night was only beginning, and where men and women knocked back liquor like it was water. She walked by a row of cramped food trucks, where the heavy scent of spices soaked in through her lungs and warmed her to the core. Compared to West Ham, New York City might as well have been another planet—a wondrous, delightful alien world.  

She must have taken a wrong turn, because she realized she had walked halfway down an alleyway she didn’t recognize. The near-omnipresent city crowd had disappeared. The only sounds were the quiet hum of cars on busy streets and the plinking sound of water dripping from a drainpipe onto the street.  

Allie suddenly felt very, very small.

She couldn’t have gone too far from a main street. So she told herself that she shouldn’t be worrying, really. All she had to do was walk through to the other end of the alley. Once she was back on a major road, she could pull out her phone again and check for directions.

Allie walked down the narrow street, thinking, for the first time, that maybe she should have taken that cab after all. In polluted Manhattan, there were no stars to light her way. The drainpipe’s dripping water drummed an eerie rhythm—plink, plink, plink.

Behind her, slow footsteps made squishing sounds on the wet pavement. She glanced over her shoulder quickly. It was a man, tall and blonde, strolling nonchalantly toward her. He seemed to have emerged fully formed from shadow. His eyes traced over her with feigned disinterest, only to light up when he set his sights on her purse and shopping bag.  

She picked up her pace. The footsteps behind her sped up to match her strides.  

That couldn’t be a coincidence. A host of horrible nightmares burst into her head. Assault, murder, robbery...

She needed to walk faster.

Allie started scurrying down the street.  

So did he.  

When Allie glanced over her shoulder again, she could see the man closing in on her. Terrified, she broke into a sprint. But just as before, he mirrored her actions, and from the sound of it, he was a faster runner than she.  

A cold hand wrapped around her wrist and yanked her back mid-run. Allie tripped and went tumbling to the ground. The palm of her left hand scraped across gritty gravel, tearing her skin open. Blood oozed out from the cut and dribbled onto the street.

Allie stared up at the man with wide, stunned eyes. He whipped out a black glock from the pocket of his oversized jacket. His hands shook as if he had never pointed a killing weapon at another person before. Up close, he looked young, perhaps only one or two years older than her.  

Adrenaline jolted through her body, waking her up from her dreamy wandering. The pain of her injury receded as she focused on the weapon in front of her. This could be life or death, she realized. She had taken one wrong turn and ended up against the barrel of a gun.

“Give me your bags,” the man demanded.  

“What?”

“Did I fucking stutter?” And indeed, though his hands shook, his voice was calm.

The man jerked his gun in the direction of her purse and shopping bag as if his threat hadn’t been clear enough.  

“Okay, okay,” Allie said in rushed breaths.  

She took off her bags with her wounded hand and held them out to him. She stifled a cry as her purse’s handle bit into her skin. Her blood smeared over the metal, streaking it with red.

In a swift move, he snatched her belongings from her fingers. It amazed her how deftly he could move while still managing to point his gun at her.  

He quickly pulled her wallet out of her purse and rifled through paper bills quickly, including the money that her aunt had given her for a taxi. In the dim light of the alley, she could see her blood glistening on his fingertips, marking up every paper bill he touched.

He shut the wallet with a snap. His eyes darted nervously to each side of the alleyway, presumably checking to ensure no one had seen him rob her.  

“Now, close your eyes and count to thirty,” he ordered. For added intimidation, he waved his gun at her again. “And count slowly.”

Allie nearly whimpered with fear, but did as he said. She let her vision go dark. Without her sight, she couldn’t help but imagine his finger on the trigger, ready to kill her. She wasn’t putting up a fight. It would be an easy crime.  

“One. Two. Three…” she counted.  

But the shot never came. She heard the muffled thunk of fabric meeting heavy plastic, and then the squish of his feet as he sprinted down the alleyway. In seconds, she could no longer hear him at all. The city had swallowed him up. She was alone again.  

Allie opened her eyes and slowly rose from the ground. She winced as she plucked jagged pieces of gravel from her hands. She could still feel cold fear curling in her chest, although that emotion was quickly being replaced by the panicked realization that she had just lost her money and her ticket back home.

She was lucky about one thing: he hadn’t asked her to empty her pockets. Her phone was still tucked snuggly in the back pocket of her jeans.

+

Allie dialed Cassandra’s number. It was past midnight, so there was a high likelihood that her sister would already be asleep, especially since she had a test the next day. Her parents, notorious for going to bed early, would certainly already have dozed off.  

The line rang and rang, but Cassandra didn’t pick up. Then: Hi, you’ve reached Cassandra Pressman. Leave a message and I’ll call you back as soon as I can.

Since her sister’s phone had gone straight to voicemail, she would have to rely on someone else. She went through her contact list one by one, praying that at least one of her friends would pick up. Will, Becca, Gordie, Bean: none of them answered her calls.

The blood on her left hand had started to clot. Her cell was rapidly running out of battery. She needed someone to pick up.  

She scrolled through her contacts again, calling people she barely knew. She even called Elle Tomkins, who she had spoken maybe a total of three words to. Over and over, she was met with disappointment when no one picked up.

Allie was quickly running out of options when she came across a person she had tried to push to the corners of her mind. Her finger hovered over his name in her contact list. 

Harry Bingham.  

It seemed wrong to call him. Wrong, when he was constantly at Cassandra’s throat. Wrong, when they had done everything possible to ignore each other since she turned thirteen.  

You know what? Allie thought to herself. Fuck it.  

Before she could stop herself, she called him.  

He picked up on the second ring. “Hello?” His voice was thick with sleep.

“Hey. It’s Allie.”

“Yeah, I know. It’s the twenty-first century. I have caller I.D. What do you want?”

Ugh. Though his rudeness was no surprise, it still irked her. But at this point, it seemed like he was her only hope, so she tried to suppress her irritation. “Can I ask you a favor? I know it’s a lot to ask, but I have no one else to turn to and I’m scared and I don’t know what else to do.”

“Shit, Allie. Just spit it out.”

“I’m stuck in New York City. A man mugged me and took all my money and my ticket back home. I wouldn’t have called you, except I’ve already tried my family and all my friends. Can you come get me?”

There was a long pause on the other end of the line. In her head, she pictured him lying in bed, half-asleep and sneering at her. She imagined that he was hovering his finger over the red button on his phone, ready to end the call at any moment. Knowing Harry, he would probably hang up on her and go right back to sleep, and in the morning he’d forget that she’d ever called him.  

“Hello?” she said, breaking the silence. “Harry? Are you still there?”

“Yeah, I’m still here.” He sighed. “You’re going to owe me for this, Pressman.”

Relief rushed over her. “So you’ll do it?”

“Yeah, I will. Might be a couple of hours before I can get to you, though. I’m going to have to take an Amtrak or something, because my dad will get pissed if I start racking up miles on my car.” The trains from West Ham to Penn Station took an hour and a half minimum, and since fewer trains ran at night, the next train to the city probably wouldn’t be for a while. “Do you have somewhere safe to stay until then?”

“Um, I was just planning on waiting around at the train station.”

“Jesus Christ.” He cursed under his breath. “You so owe me for this. Alright, walk to the Waterwhite Hotel. It’s only two blocks from the station. Tell the person at the front desk that you’re a friend of the Bingham family. They’ll let you wait in the lobby until I show up.”

A cool rush of relief flooded her. “Harry? Thank you so much.”

“Don’t mention it. Like, seriously. Don’t mention this to anyone.”  

+

Harry arrived at the Waterwhite a little over two hours later. His shirt was rumpled and he looked like he desperately needed two shots of espresso. Allie had never seen him look so disheveled. He must have come immediately after she called him.  

Allie was waiting for him on a modern, dark blue couch in the hotel lobby. She watched as he walked over to the tall brunette working the reception desk. He smiled and said something to the woman. Her previously bored expression turned happy, and she pointed to where Allie was sitting. Allie could see him thanking her with one of his classic Bingham smiles before walking over to where she was waiting. Even bedraggled, he still somehow managed to charm.

“Let’s get out of here,” he said. If he noticed her state of distress—her grimy shoes, her still-bloody hand, her tired red eyes—he did not comment on it.  

She nodded. “Thank you, again, Harry. I don’t know what I’d do if you weren’t here.”  

He didn’t respond. They walked to the train station in near silence. The clacking of her shoes on the pavement was the only sound either of them made on the way there.

When they reached Penn Station, Harry paid for her Amtrak ticket back to West Ham in cash. This, too, was a near-wordless exchange. She thanked him. He merely grunted in response.

After waiting for thirty minutes, their train arrived. Unlike most trains out of the city, this one was near empty, occupied only by sleep-deprived workers commuting to their morning shift and a few odd stragglers.

Allie slid into a seat near the front of a car. Rather than sliding into the seat next to her, Harry spread himself out on the row of seats across from her. He rested his back against the window, stretched his legs across the seats, and let his feet dangle into the aisle.

Allie pulled out her phone to check the time. 3:23 a.m. was etched in glowing lights.  

The train rolled to a start. Harry closed his eyes and slouched in his seat as if he hoped to resume the sleep he had been enjoying before she had called. When he stretched his arms behind his head, his shirt rose to expose a sliver of skin by his hip.  

She could see the start of her name, inked on him in her penmanship. Allie Pressman. She had never seen it before. It pained her to look at it, although there was an almost beautiful quality to the tattoo. Unlike tattoos done by hand, a soulmate mark would never fade or need touch-ups.

He dropped his arms. The tattoo vanished under a cascade of black fabric.  

“Show me yours and I’ll show you mine.” He was looking at her with half-shut eyes. So, he’d caught her staring after all.

Maybe it was sheer curiosity, or maybe her tiredness had made her weak, but she wanted to see those words on his skin.  

Without responding, Allie lifted the edge of her top and nudged down one side of her jeans so that his name was fully revealed. The tattoo was the same as always, stark black ink against pale skin. It felt strange to have her mark exposed to the world. No one had ever seen it but her.  

Harry followed her lead. He lifted the edge of his shirt, showing his tattoo to her once more. This time, she could see the entirety of her signature, like a claiming brand on a boy who despised her.  

They sat in silence, examining each other’s inked skin with fascination.  

“It’s weird, isn’t it? Seeing your name on someone else’s body,” she said.

“Yeah, very weird.” Harry tore his eyes away from her skin. Then, with a wry smirk, he said, “Almost as weird as having to cross state lines at three in the morning to pick up your enemy’s little sister.”

“Why did you help me?” she asked, genuinely curious.  

He looked surprised at her question. “Allie, I know what you and your sister think of me, but I’m not a bad person. I wasn’t going to leave you stranded in New York.”

Allie didn’t quite know what to say to that. Harry was right—she and Cassandra thought he was all West Ham’s worst traits distilled into one human being. Could it really be that after years of hating him, he was worth redeeming?

The train swayed hypnotically on the tracks. The cabin was quiet except for a man snoring three rows away from them. She and Harry stared at each other silently, truly seeing each other for the first time.  

He seemed different in this setting, she noticed. Away from his callous friends and his detached parents, he seemed lost and sad and beautiful and kind.

“I don’t think you’re a bad person,” she finally said.

He raised an eyebrow. “Really? And what exactly do you think of me? I know you don’t like me, so don’t even try to deny it.”

Allie rolled her eyes at him. “I don’t know, Harry. I think you’re richer than I’ll ever be. I think you’re smart but overconfident. If I’m being completely honest, I don’t think about you much at all.”

Harry smiled at her. Had she ever gotten a genuine smile from him before? She didn’t think so. She was used to his cold glares and bitter frowns, so this unfamiliar expression sent a shock of warmth through her.  

“Don’t think about me at all, huh?” he said. “I’m hurt. Here I was, thinking I’d been in your dreams since thirteen.”

“Haunting my nightmares, maybe,” she retorted.  

“Ouch.” He turned away from her to look out the window.  

Guilt flared up in Allie, although she wasn’t quite sure why. “As if you care what I think of you.”

He turned back to face her. He wasn’t smiling anymore. “Why would you think I don’t care?” He sounded surprisingly genuine, completely dropping the teasing tone he’d previously used with her.  

Allie suddenly felt anxious. She was trapped on a train with Harry Bingham, and he kept subverting her expectations. Without the judgment of West Ham hanging over her head, she didn’t know how to behave around him.  

“Oh, I don’t know,” she said. “Maybe I think that because of a conversation from many years ago, when we both agreed to pretend that there was nothing between us.”

The train’s fluorescent lights flickered out above them. For a moment, they were plunged into the dark. The only light was the blue glow of the city outside, which bounced brilliantly off Allie’s white sneakers.  

Across from her, Harry’s eyes glittered dangerously. He looked tired but wild, like there was something lurking under his skin that only revealed itself in the dark.  

It was at that moment that she realized how little she knew him.  

“I remember waking up on that day, the day of your birthday,” Harry said, still cast in darkness. “I remember seeing the tattoo for the first time. I was terrified and angry, but I wondered…what if? What if we didn’t deny the bond?”

Allie could feel her whole body tense up with renewed stress. She was grateful that the lights had gone out—hopefully, he couldn’t see her blushing.  

Why was he divulging this to her?

Harry laughed. The sound was sharp. When he spoke again, his voice was newly guarded. “I never wanted to be bonded with you. I still don’t. But when I look at the ink on my skin, I think of you. Always. So yes, Pressman, I do care what you think of me.”

The train’s lights startled back on. In the full light, Harry studied her for one more moment. His gaze was so intense it felt like it was burning her. She searched for the words to respond to him, but they kept getting stuck on the way to her tongue.  

Before she could come up with anything, he pulled a pair of earbuds from his pocket and shoved them in his ears. He closed his eyes, too, blocking out the sight of her. And just like that, he was back to ignoring her.

+

They arrived at the West Ham train station at five in the morning. The sun had not yet risen, and the dark sky was speckled with tiny stars. Just a short train ride had separated her from the everlasting citylight of New York. Her shopping spree and mugging almost felt as if they were figments of her imagination, although her scraped hands and the missing weight of her purse were painful reminders that the past twenty-four hours had been real.  

“Need a ride home?” Harry asked.  

“If you don’t mind.” She felt guilty for asking so much of him. She hadn’t even expected him to answer her call, and he had ended up coming all the way to New York to get her.  

“It’s whatever,” he said. He rubbed his tired eyes and took out the keys to his Maserati.  

Harry had parked next to the station. They got into the car like phantoms, sucked of all their energy.

Five minutes later, they turned onto Allie’s street. Harry made sure to pull over three houses before hers. That way, her family wouldn’t hear the purr of his engine or see her coming from his car.

“This is just between you and me, right?” Allie asked. “Just like before?”

Harry jerked his chin in response—a drowsy, clumsy attempt at a nod, she assumed. After a beat, he said, “Right. Just like before.”

There was nothing left for her to say to him. So she just said thanks, and then she exited the car.  

He zoomed off the second her door shut behind her. As she watched the silhouette of his Maserati drive out of sight, she was struck once more by what a wild night it had been. She had been saved by her worst enemy. She had sat by him on an old train and in a luxury vehicle. She had shown her mark to him. How out of character—perhaps she had been seized by a bout of insanity after she was mugged.  

She was thankful for his help. She was also ready to go back to forgetting that Harry even existed. With any luck, their relationship would return to the exact state it had been in before: nonexistent.  

[itzagothamcitysiren]

Welcome to the Family

I’m going to do the same as last time and post two chapters in a row because I suck and waited so long to update again. I’m not sure what it is about this particular story that has been dragging my feet with writing it lol. I only have the last chapter to write out so I’m going to try to finish it tonight. It won’t be long like my usual chapters, but be more like a epilogue of sorts. 

Love Is a Burning Thing and It Makes a Fiery Ring pt.4

           The first thing that had come to Halley’s senses when Bruce found her was the cold; her body left in the warehouse, laying on the concrete floor below her. The second thing that came to her senses had been a voice; Bruce’s voice. It was gruff but showing concern. Where is Robin, he asked her as he finished administering the antidote to the Joker venom into her system. Where was Jason, she questioned, her mind blurry as she felt the needle leaving her arm. The last thing that came to her senses was the pure adrenaline and dread that snapped her back to her senses completely as she and Batman raced to his bike.

           The wind whipped Halley’s hair across her face, the cold night air making her come out of her foggy state as the seconds dragged. Her grip on Batman’s waist tightened as he took another sharp turn, the beeping of the tracking system on his bike echoing in her head. She closed her eyes just to open them again as if trying to blink away the rippling anxiety pounding within her. She winced as she was once again jerked from another harsh turn, her muscles still sore from all the laughing.

           She looked at the buildings as they passed by, almost counting them to distract her mind from the fear of what was happening beyond their eyes. She barely remembered Jason being so foolish and offering himself off to the Joker. Who knew what the clown was doing to him? She tried not to think about it as they rounded another snowy street corner. But she couldn’t stop thinking about it. She knew that they wouldn’t just find Jason tied up to some chair waiting for them. No, the Joker would want to put on a show; he would want to give them something to see. Something to provoke Batman. She knew Jason was going to be in rough shape and she couldn’t wait until he healed already just so she could slap some sense into him. She had healing powers for crying out loud, she would’ve been the logical choice for Joker to take.

           They had just reached the building where Jason’s tracker led them when she jumped off the bike. As she flung her leg over the other side, she wasn’t expecting for the next couple of moments to pass her in slow motion but appear to end in a flash at the same time. The instinct to wait for Bruce before proceeding long abandoned as relief and urgency bubbled in her chest; those feelings were short lived though. In a matter of seconds she was torn backwards and away from the building, letting out a huff as her body roughly hit the rocky and uneven ground. She hadn’t even had time to learn the reason why she was thrown away from Jason and instead found herself being shielded by Bruce, heat overcoming her and not just from the body hovering over hers.

           It clicked together as Bruce’s hold on her grew tighter and she found herself clutching just as tight onto his shoulder.  She didn’t realize the scream she let out and felt no comfort as she felt Bruce pulling her closer into his chest protectively. The breath was taken from her as the air got hotter, flames sparking and cement and ruble crashing felt and heard from behind the dark knight's cape. The cape was the only thing keeping them safe, the fibers strong and heat retardant but Halley could care less about their safety right now. She pushed against the older man when everything seemed to settle or settle as much as it could.

           She heard Bruce’s harsh voice ordering her to stay down as he began to rise but she didn’t listen. She heard him tell her a second time but she still didn’t listen. Her breath was shaky as she stood up with him. Bruce looked away from her now just as silent as her. He looked up and around, trying to get a grasp on what just happened. Just like her he was speechless. He knew what happened, the evidence around him was clear enough but he just couldn’t believe it. But how could he not? Did he really think the Joker wouldn’t go this far? The burning remains of the building surrounded them telling him that yes, the Joker would go this far.

           “Stay here.” He said for a third time as he moved forward, his voice trying to keep its sternest but for once failed.

           All she heard was a buzzing in her ear from the explosion. Her breathe stopped shaking as she sharply inhaled, only to cough from the smoke around them. Her eyes were wide as Bruce began to make his way through the wreckage, the depth of the damage now fully hitting her. Halley could feel the walls starting to close in as she felt her right foot stumble forward into a step.

           Jason, she thought feeling a lump grow in her throat.

           She watched, unable to move a step further as Bruce began to move different chunks of debris away as if he was searching for something. She knew she should help, but Bruce did tell her to stay put. She was good at following orders; she always followed orders but she found herself incapable of as he moved another piece. She moved forward, suddenly in denial because there was no way he was looking for Jason underneath all of that. No one would have survived the blast from inside and there was no way Jason was gone.

           Gone.

           The word repeated in Halley’s mind like a plague: it was like a death sentence. No, Jason wasn’t dead, she repeated, he just wasn’t. It was a joke being played by the Joker. He wanted them weak, he wanted them vulnerable and what better way to do that by making them think one of theirs was dead. They were wasting time here, they had to go; they had to go find where Jason really was. This was a huge waste of time, she thought, her mind racing as her eyes grew wide.  

           “Bruce?” She pipped up, finding somewhat of a voice. “We need to go. We need to find Jason- Joker-,” she couldn’t finish speaking, feeling her throat clog up with fake optimism. “Joker must still have Jason. This isn’t real. It’s a trick.” She muttered, now talking to herself more than to Bruce.

           The man looked at her sadly, taking in the look on her face. It was the same look he wore the night his parents were killed in front of him. He gave her the same look he wore when he witnessed Dick’s parent die. He felt his own mind start to go afire with what ifs but he knew this was no joke. He knew the outcome of this situation. He knew he was too late. He kept pressing forward knowing that he had to ignore the girl’s desperate pleads to leave. He had to find his son.

           He found himself successful and couldn’t help but feel bitter as being so. His blank face showed emotion as he regrettably looked down at the boy now thrown down messily below him. Once the wall fragment was out of the way he knelt down,

           “Jason,” he whispered, unable to hide the pain he was usually so good at keeping hidden. Capturing the sight of the broken boy that had been caught underneath the rubble, Bruce reached down. He carefully lifted him into his arms, staring down at Jason’s empty face. “No.”  

           “Bruce?” Halley’s voice approached him.

           Bruce rushed to try to shield her view but failed; she was too quick. The moment she saw him drop to his knees she found it in herself to rush forward, knowing that Bruce was surely mistaken. It was a decoy and she’d prove that to him, she decided as she pushed to look over his shoulders. But even she had to begin pulling herself out of the forced doubt the moment she caught site of Jason’s form. Her body kicked into action with a strangled cry escaping her lips. She rushed to sit in front of Bruce as she still clasped onto the thought of it being some twisted joker desperately.

           “Jason!” She shouted, her hands grasping at his face before practically tearing the boy out of Bruce’s grip the moment he didn’t stir awake. Her eyes traced over the countless cuts and burns scattered on his face. “No, no, no, no-,” she kept saying in a seemingly never ending cycle.

           Bruce reached a hand to pull her away; she didn’t need to see this. He gently called out her name, placing a hand on her back when she wouldn’t budge. She only responded by swatting his hand away from her. She let out a chocked out sob before giving Jason another look, the walls fully closed in. The tears fell down freely as she collapsed onto Jason’s chest. Hearing no breaths of air escaping him from the impact rocked her body even harder as she now gripped onto the tattered uniform for some form of comfort.

           She begged for him to wake up, her words starting to fade into madness as they twisted to make no sense and became barely coherent. Bruce looked down at the two teenagers for a moment, his own heart begging for the situation to be staged. His mind drifted to vengeance, thinking to the Joker and how he was long gone by now and Bruce once again let him get away with murder. He brought down his hand again, placing it back onto Halley’s back as the other rested underneath’s Jason’s head.  

           Halley hadn’t known how long they stood there like that. She was huddled against Jason, clinging onto him as if it would bring him back to life as Bruce simply let her. But Bruce knew that they couldn’t stay like this forever. He had to get them out of here; he had to think of how he was going to explain this. Oh god, he found himself full of dread, Alfred, how was he going to tell Alfred?           He struggled to bring the pair of them to the Batplane, the girl stuck in a haze and Jason’s body weighting heavily on his mind instead of his arms. Once he placed the boy’s body down on the plane, he found the strength to call Alfred.

           Halley started to feel as if the Joker venom was still surging through her veins and if the antidote had no affect after all. She watched as Bruce took his cowl off after placing Jason down, seeing how truly lifeless he was. She sat across the way, plopped against the wall unable to move or think straight. She simply couldn’t believe what she was seeing, long stopping her tears but eyes still burning from them. She covered her mouth with her hand, completely ignoring the blood that she still had on it. Jason’s blood, she noted as she felt it rub onto her skin. She let out a laugh; this wasn’t real.

           Her body felt numb as it did for the days that followed. She and Bruce barely spoke, both unsure what to say or how to comfort the other. She even ignored Alfred’s attempts. The old man was having a hard time coping himself which only made her feel even worse. He tried, he truly did, knowing that Bruce was in the same boat as her. Sure, Bruce had helped Dick cope with his parent’s death but this, this was different. This was Jason; this was his son that was now dead.

           She vaguely remembered Bruce telling he put the Joker was back in Arkham but she didn’t care. Bruce was a fool if he thought telling her that would make her feel any better when he should know it would only make her feel worse. The damage was already done and that monster would just break out again anyways. She just glared at him after he told her, asking if that was supposed to make her feel any better. He stood silent, knowing that of course it wouldn’t; of course he knew that.

           She barely acknowledged as Dick arrived at the manor upon hearing the news and tried to comfort her. She wasn’t in the mood to talk about it or even begin to find the words to describe how she was feeling. Dick understood though and let her quite literally use him as a punching bag one night when he found her over exerting herself in the cave. Bruce had refused to let her go out on patrol and she was furious. If he was ready to go out so soon than she should be too.

           Her body ached as she delivered one last punch towards Dick’s chest, finally realizing what she was doing to him. Her fist stood pressed against his firm chest, the punch being the weakest she’d ever delivered.   Her face was contorted and scrunched upwards as she found herself trying to hold back tears. Dick saw past her wall and pulled her fist away, using her extended arm to pull her forward into a tight embrace. When her face was buried against him she let down the walls that she enclosed herself in for days crumble. Crying, she allowed Dick to carry her up and out of the cave, bringing her to his room and settling her into his bed and allowing her to cry herself to sleep against him.

           The funeral was excruciating to say the least. It was private, allowing the family to properly mourn without putting on some guise over what happened. To Gotham and the world, Jason Todd died in a skiing accident during their vacation in Bosnia. Who the fuck even vacations in Bosnia, she swore as Dick and Bruce informed her of the insulting cover story they made up. Jason didn’t die in a pathetic skiing accident. That was almost disrespectful; Jason died at the hands of some mad man.

           A mad man who was still breathing, she thought as Jason’s coffin lowered deeper into the ground. She felt something flash within her, as she thought about it.

           He was still breathing for now.