#this idea has been haunting me for almost a full calendar year

[starscelly]

i’ll follow you until you love me…

or, miroharls set to paparazzi ft. harls interviews

[violetnotez]

SHE IS HERE. PART TWO. BY EXTREMELY POPULAR AND LATE DEMAND!!!!

This fic. THIS FIC RIGHT HERE. HAS BEEN FIGHTING SO HARD I AM DONE THIS HAS BEEN A STRUGGLE. If there are typos I AM SORRY- just msg me and ill fix it if its that bad im just tired!

Kirishima x reader

⤷Genre: Angst, Fluff

⤷Word Count: 9k+ (-this has the weekly prompt for the @bnhabookclub​ discord -“Im fine” :)

⤷ Warnings: slight mentions of blood, cursing, suggested spicyness at the end

⤷ Synopsis: It’s been exactly 3 months since the last time Kirishima saw you, after you had abruptly ended things with him. He’s been trying to forget you, but it’s no use-he’s still madly in love with you, and wishes he could get the truth of why you two ended. What a shocker when he gets a chance to ask his questions-and he learns the truth about your villainous life.

Song Recs: ⤷ “Breakeven”-The Script ⤷ “Lucid Dreams”- Juice WRLD ⤷ “Scars”- Lukas Graham

PART 1

Kirishima looked up at his calendar, a sad sigh escaping his lips. 

That number shouldn’t be such a big deal, that plain black “11” tiny and insignificant next to all the other digits, like little ants stationary on the page.

What it represented, though, was so much more: that day so many weeks ago was so full of heartache and misery, the feeling of being lied to eating at his core for days to come. 

Today, 3 months ago, was the day you confessed to him that you didn’t love him.��

Kirishima has never felt so betrayed and heartbroken in his whole life: you were his first real love after all, and hearing you say your love was a lie destroyed him.

He didn’t know what to do or how to even react to that news: he had felt so numb after, so incredibly empty, it was like he was a walking shell of himself once he left your room.

His friends had tried to cheer him up constantly, always putting in the effort to lift his spirits with laughter and comfort. But the warmth of their attempts of cheering him up didn’t help him at all: he always still felt so cold inside.

It also didn’t help that you had mysteriously left UA the day after the “breakup.” When Kirishima laid his tired puffy eyes on your empty desk the next day, his heart couldn’t help but beat feverishly. He knew he shouldn’t care that you were gone, but he couldn’t help it. No matter which way he spun it, He was still desperately falling for you, even if you had broken his heart. 

He had sat down, his back slumped as he eyed that empty seat with worry. 

How had everything gone so wrong? 

He couldn’t fathom what had gone stray-your love  had honestly felt so real to him. You had told him you had only dated him out of pity-but if somebody was being forced to do something, just to spare someone’s feelings, would they have given him his first kiss so perfectly, making sure to be soft and gentle? Would they have stuck with him late into the night to help study for tests? Or give him sweet kisses on his scars when he was feeling self conscious? 

It just didn’t add up-the feelings you two had were genuine and real. It couldn’t all be one sided like you had said.

He gave another look to that chair, just imagining the ghost of you sitting there, turning around and sending him that infectious smile that light up his whole day.

God, it wasn't even one whole day and he felt so incomplete without you.

Mr. Aizawa walked in, everyone scrambling to their seats and watching him intently, the room getting noticeably more quiet.

He didn’t remember much of that class-he had remembered Mr.Aizawa standing at the front of the class, his deep voice breaking his miserable thoughts when he said the class would be free of one student.

You had seemingly left in the middle of the night, your guardians notifying the school you would no longer be attending UA due to you moving. All of Class 1-A was incredibly confused, including Kirishima- you had never said you were moving, yet you somehow were just gone. As if you never existed.

It just didn’t add up to Kirishima-you would have said something about moving, or at least acted strange the weeks prior. All these events just didn’t make sense to Kirishima-the break up, your confession, you leaving-it all just didn’t add up. But he was too tired, too wrecked inside to think about it anymore. The more he tried to piece the story together the more it gnawed at him, making him feel so much more worse than he already felt. He slumped in his chair, knowing full well everyone was staring at him-you were his boyfriend after all, he should have known.

Oh wait-ex.

He slumped in his chair even more, barely the tips of his spiky red hair poking up from the desk table.

It was gonna be a long few weeks for him, he could already feel it.

Now he was past all those days of crying and breaking over you-some days he could actually forget about you and not have to worry. But on days that were permanently etched into his mind, like today, he couldn’t help but remember. 

Kirishima's phone began to ring, the vibration of the call making the phone jitter against the wood of his desk. He tore himself away from the calendar, his hands instantly swiping to take the call once he saw the Caller ID.

“Hey Fat, how's it going!” Kirishima forced a smile, his voice preppy and bright as if nothing had ever happened.

“Kirishima, thanks for taking the call,” his mentor seemed to breathe a sigh of relief hearing his bright voice on the other end.

Since Kirishima was in his 3rd year, he was required to do another work study, for an even longer period of time than before. So when he was asked by Fatgum to come join the agency once again, he couldn’t help but say no. He had loved his old mentor back from his 1st year, even if he did get pretty banged up at the end of his work study. He was more than happy to join his agency again, and wanted nothing more to learn and grow to be the best hero he could be.

“I know this is pretty late in the day for you,” Fatgum continued, “but I’m going to need your help,”

“Tamaki was supposed to be patrolling on the West side of town tonight, but he got called in to help with a robbery on the North side. I don’t have anybody else to take his place, so I was hoping you could take over his shift for the night,”

“Of course! I’ll do anything you need,” Kirishima propped his phone into the crook of his neck, already rummaging around his room for his hero suit.

“You're a lifesaver Kirishima!” Fatgum exclaimed, the toothy grin he was most likely sporting practically audible.“See ya for training tomorrow then!”

“You too, Fat,” Kirishima's cheerful tone waned, a sad smile replacing his bright grin as he stared down at his hero suit.

He had already known today was going to be a tough day for him, and the fact that he was off from any type of hero work that would make him forget about his sadness didn’t help. 

But now that Fatgum has given him a job tonight, he might be able to erase his mind of all the past heart ache for the next few hours. He gave himself a small smile, his hero suit beckoning him to put it on, the reds and blacks calling to him like ghosts from a dream.

He was gonna at least try to forget-just for the night.

It was now an hour before the end of his shift, and he was feeling practically tired.

The West side of town was relatively quiet, nowhere near the crime riddled areas of the North side of the city boulevard. He knew these streets well from patrolling them almost every night of his hero study, knowing each alleyway and path like the back of his hand. 

Tonight was silent, only a few late night joggers or the occasional fast food joint open for any customers getting the late night munchies. 

It was soft, provincial, and bitter sweet. 

He was trying his best to not remember, to not remember your face, or your smile, or the way you would laugh so warmly whenever he did something amusing. He was trying not to imagine you standing by his side, your hand grabbing his and your shoulder resting  on his, a happy sigh escaping your lips. 

Why were still haunting him, even three months later? 

why couldn’t he just forget about you? 

A crash and a yell snapped Kirishima out of his memory, an angry scream of a teen being heard from the late night restaurant. 

He shook his head to rid himself of those unwanted thoughts, noticing a black figure running across the parking lot into an alleyway at lightning speed.

“That-that Villian!” She shrieked, her friends trying to soothe her as she continued on her rampage, “She stole my wallet! My damn wallet! The hell-“

“Don’t worry ma’am, I’ll get it back for you, don’t worry!” He yelled towards the group, his voice warm and assuring as he sent her a toothy grin. His feet began pounding the pavement, disappearing into the alleyway in the direction of the criminal.

Your breath came out in painful huffs, your hand fumbling to put the wallet into the jacket of your Villian suit. 

Damn Shigaraki and his “plans.”

Shigaraki has now concocted up his next bright idea  for the League, this time relying on you stealing an ID card from a college student that looked similar to you. 

While the LOV was going off stealing a bank for some extra cash, you were told to go find someone who looked similar to you in order to pass as them. for what you had no idea, but you knew Shigaraki would be extremely mad with you if you didn’t do what he asked. You shivered at the thought of him, those cold red eyes like bloody daggers ripping into your flesh. 

You slowed to a stop, your breath coming out in pants as you pulled down the mask on your face, your breath finally free from the constricting fabric.

God you hated running.

Nobody seemed to be following you though, footsteps inaudible to your ears. You slinked into a dark corner of the alleyway, your hands rummaging inside the wallet for the ID card you desperately needed.

Cash, credit card, a picture of her and possibly her boyfriend,a shit ton of gift cards-

You breathed a sigh of relief, flicking out the desired card with a flourish. In the low light conditions you were in, it was hard to see her details, but you knew that it matched your complexion just enough to pass by.

Thank God, now Shigaraki wouldn’t be on your ass-

“Hey, it’s not cool to steal, man,” you heard a familiar voice echo throughout the concrete walls of the alleyway, making your blood run cold.

Shit, please not be him, anybody but him-

You instantly tugged your mask over your mouth and nose, praying to God it wasn’t him.

Maybe it was another hero, or somebody that just resembled him-

“Just give me back what you stole, and nothing bad will happen to ya,” Kirishima continued, his footsteps slow and solemn as he walked over to you, as if you were a wounded animal that could attack at any moment.

You shoved the wallet hastily into your jacket pocket, looking around, desperate for a way out.

Damn it-you were completely blocked from the back, a tall cement wall blocking your escape. The only way for you to get out was to somehow dodge Kirishima and make a run for it, or fight him.

God definitely had his favorites, and it obviously wasn’t you.

This boy was so quiet-all that hero training made him extremely agile, like a cat going forward it’s prey  as he continued to walk towards you cautiously. 

It was a shock to see him-he looked so much older, his handsome face making your heart squeeze painfully. He still sported his iconic red hair to match his suit, the only thing really changing was the amount of scars on his body. When you two had dated, you were so close to him you knew every valley, ditch, and scar on his body like your own.

He was getting stronger and tougher, growing to his goal while you were stuck in your life, still just a little pawn in Shigarakis decaying hands.

You didn’t feel like fighting him-you still felt guilty for the way you had ended things with him, even though it was weeks after. You knew it had to be done in order to protect him, but you also knew it had hurt him to the point of no return.

 He had to have hated you now, and honestly, you didn’t blame him-it just hurt to know you lost a love you still felt. And it was your fault.

Kirishima watched your every move, not suspecting a thing-you were just another thug, another puny Villain he had to take down. Even though it was decent fun to take a criminal down, dealing with witnesses, the police, and paperwork was quite the opposite. But it’d get his mind off of his own misery.

The Villain seemed strange though-as if they were terrified by the mere sight of him. They weren’t even trying to bad mouth him, which was a definite first for him. It was hard to see in the dark alleyway, but he could make out the outline of the thief trying to quickly dodge him, trying to break into a run to get out of the cramped dead end.

Kirishima swiftly grabbed the arm of their leather jacket, pulling your squirming body close to his.

You were screaming internally-he needed to let go, he had to let go. Your heart felt like it was ripping apart, the sudden memories flooding your body as you remembered how it felt to be so close to him, to be so intimate you could see the flecks of brown in his vermillion red eyes. You didn’t want him to realize it was you, to see you as his enemy yet again. You couldn’t bear to see the heartbreak and disappointment in his eyes, your hands clawing to get away.

“Hey-just calm down a little-“ he huffed out, the words separated as he tried to keep a hold on your body.

It was strange to him though-you weren’t even talking, not a peep was spilling out of your lips. You seemed pretty young, and by your smaller frame, you were most likely female. You seemed 

so scared, your eyes bright with desperation and fright. 

His larger hands kept you close to him, his heart pinging with hurt-

There was no way this was you. He was going crazy-those weren’t your eyes.

But God, they looked so familiar-your eyes looked exactly like that the day you two broke up. Full of fear and sadness and guilt-

This wasn’t you, this couldn’t be you, but-if it was-

With one hand firmly wrapped your waist and another shakily reaching toward your mask, your body fighting desperately to get him to stop. Even through your attempts, he pulled the material gently off your skin, The flimsy black mask falling to the ground pitifully. your face looking down at the ground with embarrassment, now knowing your cover was blown.

Kirishima's heart beat painfully-it was you, this was you.

What had happened?

“Y-y/n?” He stuttered out, his voice caught pitifully in his throat.

You swallowed thickly, trying to shove the dry ball of embarrassment down your throat.

“H-hi Kiri,” 

He quickly let go of you, his body blocking your exit as he stared at you in disbelief.

You looked so different, so unlike you-you were wearing a completely black outfit, the material shiny like wet rocks near a dark river. Your hair was pulled back painfully tight, your eyes looking down at your scuffed combat boots in despair.

You looked so defeated and so sad, as if there was no happiness left in your body.

Who even were you?

“What happened to you? Why are stealing? Where have you even been?” He bombarded you with questions, his voice getting more and more authoritative and desperate as questions flooded his mind.

You couldn’t even think to comprehend an answer to any of them-you just needed to forget this encounter ever happened. For your and Kirishima’s sanity and, most importantly, safety.

“Just let me go Kirishima,” you dodged his question, taking a step forward to push your way out of the alleyway.

Kirishima's body was bigger and stronger though, and with each shuffle you attempted he would close the gap between you two, blocking your escape solely with his body.

“No, I-I need answers y/n,” he replied. His voice sounded so hurt, so full of anguished you felt your heart break a little more. He was still hurting, and now he was confused, seeing you all dressed up and committing crimes like a low level Villian. 

“I need to know what happened to you.”

You faulted in your step, staring at Kirishima with wide, mournful eyes. You made yet another attempt to surpass him, your shoulder a mere centimeters away from his as you tried to walk past him.

“Nothing happened Kirishima, please just let me-“

If you thought you were going to leave that easily, you were crazy. 

He swiftly grabbed your arm, his calloused hands rough against the leather of your jacket. Even through the thick material you could feel how warm he was-he always radiated such heat and brightness.

“Why did you leave UA?” He was abrupt with his question, but the hint of softness faltered his harsh exterior-he was still worried for you.

A deep sigh cascaded from your lips, your brow starting to sweat. You were tired of dealing with this heavy burden, this spider web of lies you had created for your own self. You still loved Kiri, yes, but your relationship was over and done. There was really no fear of judgement anymore. Hell, he just saw you steal a wallet like a low level thug-how much more could he judge you in this moment?

“You want the truth Kiri?” Your voice was blunt, and monotone, a shield from your true emotions. 

“You want to know who I really am? I-I’m a Villian. I work for the LOV. I only went to UA because I had to listen to Shigaraki. He needed info and I was the only one to do it.”

You sneaked a peek at Kirishima's face, a slight grimace on your lips as you anticipated the look of disgust on his face. Your heart thumped painfully, waiting for him to look at you with revulsion, but-it never came. His bright vermillion eyes still stared down at you softly, his eyes coated with worry and sympathy. 

“So-you were being forced?”

“At first I wanted to do it-b-but after I while, I started to change my mind,” 

he was so warm, his body heat seeping into your cold skin like a fire on a winter's night. Even now, in this dark alley, exactly 3 months from your terrible breakup-he still could make you feel safe. He was your home in the snow storm, so warm and comforting when the rest of the world was so unforgiving and icy. You relished the feeling of his calloused palms on your body, wishing those hands were on your skin instead of your jacket so they could  slowly  warm your whole body with their wonderful  heat.

“Then why did you leave?”

You gulped, licking your lips tentatively. Did you really want to tell him the truth? Tell him how weak you truly were? You honestly didn’t, a part of you screaming to just feed him a lie that would satiate you both-but the thought of living with even more of a guilty conscience made your mouth go dry. He didn't deserve another lie-after all you did to him, Kirishima deserved the truth. 

“I-I didn’t want to get hurt. I didn’t want you to get hurt. If Shigaraki found out I was considering leaving the LOV, he would have done anything in his power to keep me.”

“You don’t know the League like I do. When I mean he would do anything-he would do anything-including killing.”

Kirishima's eyes momentarily widened, the brutal words cutting the air like a knife. It didn’t surprise him, though-he was a hero in training after all. He had been in too many dangerous run ins with villians-hell, he couldn’t even count how many times he could have died just in his first year at UA. Death was a recurring threat in Kirishima's life, and , for better or worse, it didn’t scare him as much as it used to.

“Kiri-I-I lied to you to keep you safe. You meant the world to me-You still do. I still think about you all the time, and I know you probably hate me, but I still love you. I never stopped.”

He watched your eyes turn down in shame, your head hanging low as if you were carrying a great burden. It was painstakingly obvious you were feeling guilty and remorseful, and his heart throbbed at the thought that of you being forced to continue on with this life. We all made dumb mistakes when we were younger-you shouldn’t have to keep the burden of your past decisions still. 

As much as he felt sympathy for you, he couldn't help but feel so happy that you still had feelings for him. No matter how he spun it, he still cared for you and loved you with all his heart-hearing The same thoughts come from you just made him fall for you even more.

He gingerly took your chin in his hands, his calloused digits lifting your sullen head in order for him to look at you fully. Even when you looked so downtrodden, you were absolutely beautiful to him, and he couldn’t help but smile.

“God, take the words right out of mouth, huh?”

Kirishima's heartbeat feverishly in his chest-what he was about to do was so incredibly risky, but he had to do it. Too many nights he spent dreaming and remembering you, the memories bitter sweet. Now that he had you in front of him, he was going to take any chance he could go get those sensations back in his life.

Kirishima placed his lips gently on yours, knocking the wind out of your lungs. You couldn’t breathe-it was like you were drowning on his essence-yet you couldn’t careless. Warmth filled your stomach, fueling all over your body like a hot flame. It was so comforting and surreal to be feeling this again, to have Kirishima's hot lips pressed against yours.

He parted from you, both of you buzzing with electricity. It was surprising how much truth that kiss held-it melted the cocoon you two had around your hearts, allowing you two to see how much you had truly missed each other.

“ Y/n, I miss you, I knew that night you said you didn’t love me, something wasn’t right,” he spoke, his breath fanning your lips gently. “I knew there was more than what you were letting on.”

Kirishima grabbed your arms suddenly, looking you square in the face with intense eyes.

“ Y/n, you should have left then and there! We would have protected you! I would have protected! I promise I wouldn’t have let anything happen to you-“

“Y/n, you need to leave them, please,”

You sighed, hating how quickly the air thickened with the remembrance of your current situation. 

“Kiri, I don’t want anybody to potentially get hurt because of my dumbass decisions, I’m fine, I can handle myself-“

“Y/n, no your not fine! Look at you-,”he motioned to your clothing and your sullen face, “this isn’t you at all! 

“Kiri, please, don’t give me false hope-“ you shoved him off, wrapping your arms around your body to protect yourself. If you didn’t get control of yourself, you would follow his words in a heartbeat. As much as you would love to run into the strong arms of Kirishima, for him to warm your numb body with his positive energy- you knew it was dangerous. You didn’t want anybody to get hurt over you.

“It isn’t false hope though….” He smiled sweetly at you, his hand stretched out to you, “please, just take my hand, Kay? Nothing bad will happen, I promise,”

You stared at him long and hard, your eyes wide with fear and uncertainty-he was so genuine, so warm, so forgiving. He wanted to help you, he was willing and ready. He wanted to fight the world with you by his side, to protect the people he needed to protect with his loving energy. Kirishima had a way of making you believe anything that came out of his mouth, and you were falling for his spell. You didn’t know if it was the shock from seeing him after so long, his kiss, or just from wanting to leave so badly, but you stretched out your hand, ready for him to take you away.

a cruel, scraggly voice boomed from the shadows, “He promises to keep his little love bird safe.”

“How touching.”

You two spun your heads around at the sound of the ominous voice, your blood running cold.

“Shigaraki,” you gasped out, your eyes glued onto your leader. 

He was smiling a sick grin, his expression sadistic and cruel as he stood in a few paces away from you two. He was clothed in his Villain suit, his clothes tattered and dark like the Grim Reaper himself.

 Spinner and Twice were standing close by, surveying the scene from above as Shigaraki sauntered to you two. Kirishima's expression instantly turned from softness to determination, his body instantly turning to shield yours.

“Oh no need to act so heroic hero,” he grinned, his tone sickeningly sweet life cough syrup.

“Just give us our comrade and we’ll be on our way.”

“You're not going anywhere with her!” Kirishima yelled, his quirk activating in his arm as he shielded you from Shigaraki. “She doesn’t want to be with you scumbags anymore!”

“I’d watch your tone if I were you, especially for trying to defend a spineless traitor like her.”

Kirishima's face turned red in anger, his whole body now turning as solid as a rock as he charged your former leader.

“You piece of-“ 

Shigaraki continued the sick grin plastered on his face as Spinner and Twice instantly jumped from their positions, grabbing Kirishima's arms and roughly slamming him into the nearby wall. You heard the air forces out of Kirishima's lungs, his face contorted in pain. Your heart felt as if it was getting stabbed as you watched Kirishima struggle against their holds.

“Kirishima!” You screamed, your body yelling at you to help him-but you knew you couldn’t take on those two by yourself, not even including Shigaraki.

You turned to the villainous man in front of you, your eyes pleading.

“Shigaraki, please, tell them to let him go-let him go!”

He took a step toward you, his footsteps ringing slowly like the ticks of an old clock.

“Oh, I will,” he replied, his voice low and sadistic, “-when you rejoin the League.

“ I’d kill you right now for being such a selfish brat if I didn’t need you-so take it as a gift. I’ll spare your life if you just come-“

“Never,” you spat at him, fear filling your stomach with your defiance. You were surprised to hear how steady your voice was, but the slight Tremble in your fists said otherwise.

“Fine then,” he smirked, “suit yourself-“

With a wave of his decaying hands, Spinner and Twice began to use their full force on Kirishima-punching, kicking, anything to torture him. He was trying his best to block them, even with his quirk-but they were quite strong, especially once Twice used his quirk to produce more of his own body. It quickly began evident that Kirishima was having a hard time to fight off the villains, his Stance slowly becoming weaker and weaker as his face began to bruise and his arm dusted with his own blood.

You were hopeless to just watch, watching your worst fear come to life-people we’re already getting hurt over you.

Anger filled your stomach, licking up your body like hot flames as you turned to charge Shigaraki, fire in your eyes.

“Stop it you crusty ass-“ you yelled out, your fists out as you tried to land a punch on the Villian.

He seemed to know your exact movements though, his hands harshly grabbing your wrists and mouth, colliding your body with his.

“I’d watch that mouth of yours if I were you, unless you want it to disintegrate-along with the rest of you-“

Shit.

You had momentarily forgotten about Shigaraki’s dangerous quirk-one wrong move and you could be a heap on the ground, nothing more. The fingers around your mouth were delicate, knowing full well you wouldn’t try and escape. They drummed playfully against your mouth, as if taunting you to do something foolish. You felt how cold he was, the feeling of his chapped skin on yours disgusting as he toyed with your life in his hands. 

It was all a game for him-and he was winning.

“Look at him-“ Shigaraki ordered, the grip around your mouth suddenly tightening as he twisted your head to face Kirishima's misery.  

“You caused this, y/n. All this pain, all this suffering. If you leave, he will be the first we target. Well slowly go after each and every person you have ever loved, until we finally come for you.”

“Now, you don’t want that, do you?”  He asked, his face tilting in order to see your answer. You forced yourself to not look at him, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing the small tears running down your cheeks. 

All you could muster was a small shake of your head, the vibration of your movement going through Shigarakis finger tips.

Through the fists and clones he was trying to fight off, Kirishima could see you shaking your head, Shigaraki looking practically happy by your answer. A sinking feeling filled Kirishima's stomach as he saw your body language slouch in defeat. He Tried to call at you, to stop you from agreeing to whatever was coming out of Shigarakis lying lips, but at that moment one of the clones landed a solid punch to his stomach. Kirishima felt all the air leave out of his lungs , his knees wobbling and hitting the floor as his head spun from the pain.

Shigaraki still had his hold on you, watching how your face crumpled as you watched Kirishima fall and unable to help.

“Good, now, will you come and rejoin?” He asked one last time, motioning for his comrades to move away from Kirishima and back to their spot on the roof of the alleyway.

He knew now he had you under his finger, knowing the show he had just made you watched instilled enough fear for you to never leave his team again. He watched your eyes cower to give one last look at Kirishima's crumpled body, your shoulders tense with stress.

“I-I’ll rejoin the League,” you whispered out, feeling the hold Shigaraki had on you loosen. 

It was tearing you up inside to see Kirishima so bruised and hurt on the ground-you focused on the signs of him breathing, his broad chest rising and falling as he struggled to push himself back up. That small evidence gave you courage, your heart racing as you will yourself to continue with the plan you had secretly been concocting this whole time.

You grunted, a sly smirk erupting on your face.

“After I do this-“

You swiftly grabbed Shigarakis arm, twisting it in an excruciating position behind his back. He yelled out in pain, a string of curses filling the night as you rammed your fist into his chest, sending the air out of his lungs. He stumbled dramatically, dry coughs spewing out of his lungs as his knees hit the floor. 

“You no longer have power over me-none of you do,” you stood defiantly in that alleyway, watching your ex comrades stare at you in shock and awe. In all your time with the LOV, you had never defied them. Not once. You were always so obedient, which was why Shigaraki loved to have you around as a n asset to his team-you were so easy to keep around his finger. 

But now you were clearly being rebellious, your stony face telling the whole group you had changed-you didn’t give a damn about their threats and their rules anymore. You wouldn’t be coming back.

A burst of fear and extreme annoyance flooded Shigarakis' system, the pain of your kick aiding fuel to the flame. He growled, a curse directed at you dribbling from his lips as his thin legs wobbled his body weight up. His mouth opened to send you another string of curses, ready to unleash his full wrath on you for embarrassing him so much, until a characteristic siren filled the night air.

Kirishima propped himself onto his knees, a tried grin gracing his bruising lips.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you-“

His hand lifted, showing the whole group a small contraption in his hand. In the darkness of the alleyway it was hard to tell what it was, but it seemed Kirishima was holding a phone, a route to your location lighting up the screen.

“My mentor gave all us heroes-in-training a tracker, just in case we get into any trouble. While you were blabbering on about plans, I sent the heroes our location.”

Kirishima smiled triumphantly at the fearful faces of Shigaraki’s comrades, Shigarakis own fave contorted in rage. 

The sirens were slowly getting louder, the colors of blue and red dancing lightly against the stony walls of the alley way.

“So unless you wanna get caught by the heroes,” he added in, his tone surprisingly friendly, “ I suggest you go.”

Shigaraki seemed waver, trying to see if he could still get you back under the terrible circumstances. But the cops were practically here, the sounds of car doors slamming being heard. He had to admit it to himself-he lost this battle. He gave you one last scornful look, his bloody irises sending a shiver down your spine as he took off with his comrades, not leaving a trace.

You could already hear the police officers stepping out of their cars, fear flooding your stomach. Even though you had just defied the League, you were still a criminal. You had been doing illegal activities for months now-hell, you just stole a girls wallet 15 minutes ago and it was still in your damn pocket.

Even though a part of you was screaming for you to run as well, you fought off that flight response in order to help Kirishima off the floor.

His skin still feels warm, your hands making sure not to touch the tender parts of his skin from his fight. Even though he was smiling, you could tell he was in some pain. Your worst fear was already being realized-he got hurt over you. For you. You could never repay him for that, the guilt seeping into your core. 

“Kiri are you okay? Please tell me you are,” you pushed out, the tone of your voice desperate and pleading. “I’m so sorry-“

Kirishima looked up, his vermillion eyes as bright as ever as he caresses your cheek, sweeping the single tear off your face.

 “For what? You did nothing wrong y/n, you don’t have to be so sad over me-this is my job after all!” He chuckled, trying to lighten the mood as you began to help him stand up. He was slightly wobbly on his feet but seemed to be doing just fine. 

He gave you a small smile, a hint of worry in his eyes as he heard footsteps coming behind him.

“Just-let me do the talking, Kay?” He waited for you to give him a nod, his hands giving yours a gentle squeeze.

“Do you still have the wallet you stole?”

“The-? Oh, yeah, I do,” you stated quickly, the wallet resurfacing in your mind as you rummaged in your jacket, pulling it out and shoving it into his hand.

“Thanks,” he smiled at you, his cheeks warm as he faltered for the smallest second. 

It was evident he wanted to lean in and kiss you-the way he stared at your lips was quite evident and brought a blush to your cheeks. 

But Kirishima was still on duty, and couldn’t be so openly romantic when he was in his hero suit as well being approached by law enforcement. He instead opted to kiss your cheek, the smooth skin of his lips warming your whole body as he walked over to greet the police officer. 

Kirishima has spoke to the police officer for quite a while, a few others watching close behind as they surveyed you. You felt strange, standing there so alone as you watched Kirishima talk to the officer so warmly. 

You didn’t know what he was saying, or what he was doing, but you were hoping he was somehow sweet talking the officers. You watched him point to you at one point, his warm smile assuring your terrified face as the officer looked you up and down tentatively.

He motioned you to come over, as if trying to get a frightened animal to come near him. You followed his command, your steps hesitant as you approached the two men.

The officer face was hardened until he saw the look of terror on your face, his expression softening slightly.

“This is her?” He asked gruffly, turning to Kirishima.

“Yes,” he nodded his head in confirmation. “The LOV have been brainwashing her for their plans-she has intel the heroes could use to our advantage. Fat Gum’s agency needs her straight away in order to get that info from her. I promise we will get her in the system and any other information you may need on file.”

The officer gave you two a long look, sighing as he scratched his chin.

“Alright,” he complied, a huge smile erupting on Kirishimas face. “You two need a ride? You look pretty messed up.”

Kirishima gave a small chuckle, scratching the back of his head. “Uh-yeah, THAT'D be pretty nice actually-“

After the small car ride to Fat Gum’s agency, you had helped Kirishima out of the car and to Fat Gum’s office at the top floor. It seemed like someone had already alerted Fat Gum to Kirishima's arrival, because you two were instantly met by the pro hero with worried eyes once you reached his office.

“God Kirishima you had me so worried for a second!” He yelled, striding over to the bruised hero, “that receptionist really made it sound like you were in need of medical attention or something-“

“I’m fine Fat, you don’t gotta worry about me!” Kirishima said good naturedly, his perfect teeth glistening in the fluorescent lights. “I actually have some things I need your help with-“

“You definitely do if you're bringing a civilian into the office,” FatGum stared down at you with a warm smile, your heart beating guiltily. It was strange to see the hero in normal clothing in not in his larger form, his stature so much smaller it seemed from his usually large frame.

“The names Fat, but you can call me Taishiro!” He held out his hand in front of you, his bright personality radiating off of him, “and you are-“

“I-I’m y/n, sir,” you said hesitantly, taking your smaller hand in his. He was just as warm as Kirishima, like a bright ball of sun. 

No wonder Kirishima interned with Fatgum-he was just like him. Bright, fun, kind. Everything you so dearly craved for in your life, but couldn't quite grasp.

“I’m sorry, I’m not a civilian-I’m a criminal, a Villian,” you muttered sadly, your head hanging low, “well, I was-“

Fat Gum gave Kirishima a confused look, his happy exterior dropping slightly. 

“She was being forced to be a Villain by Shigaraki,” Kirishima quickly stepped forward, his tone serious as he defended you. “She wanted to leave the LOV, but they were threatening her.

“She didn’t do anything wrong-she just wanted to protect herself and the people around her.”

Fat Gum scratched the side of his cheek, his eyes lost in thought.

“Well Thats a strange situation to be in-I’m assuming you two know each other?”

You looked at Kirishima, red blossoming your cheeks just like his. 

Maybe it wasn’t the best time to tell his mentor that you had dramatically broke up with Kirishima over 3 months ago.

“We uh-“ Kirishima started, his voice wavering in uncertainty.

“We were classmates,” you chided in quickly, “I went to UA along with Kirishima, but the LOV forced me to leave the school.”

Fat Gum nodded his head, a sigh escaping his lips. “So-you’ve been working as a Villain, but against your will?”

You nodded your head, your breath caught in your throat as you awaited for the hero's reaction to this news of your true identity.

“This will get a little fuzzy legal wise, especially if people are looking for you-some may not trust what you say, even if you left the League and do everything in your power to change their minds.”

“Don’t worry though, I believe you,” the hero placed his hand in your shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “I believe Red Riot full heartedly in his perception of others and I’m pretty good at reading people too. I can tell youre not what the League tried to make you into.”

He sent you a warm grin, making you feel safe for what had felt like a long time.

“Would you be willing to answer questions about the League? about how they operate, how large they are, their plans-“

“Yes, anything to end them and help the heroes,” you answered quickly, your tone set in determination, “I’d be willing to do all of it.”

“Well that settles it!” Fat Gum said happily, the smile back on his face. “Tomorrow we’ll start talking to you about your experience with the League-but you two seem to need a well deserved nap.”

“Why don’t you keep her in your apartment Kirishima?” FatGum turned to the hero, Kirishimas dusted in pink by the proposition. “Shell feel

a little more comfortable since you're someone she knows, and she’s also close to the agency.”

Fat Gum gave you a soft smile, his eyes filled with reassurance. “Heroes will be around all day and all night, so nobody can come in and out.”

It surprised you how intuitive the hero was-he knew exactly how you were feeling. 

Even though you knew it was foolish, you still felt that somehow the League would find you and try to bring you back. You had clearly defied them, and it scared you that they be trying to get their revenge. 

But Fatgums charming smile was so reassuring and welcoming, you couldn’t give him a small smile back.

“I think I can manage that arrangement.”

“Good then,” he gave you two one last smile, ushering you two out the door, “make sure to get some rest-tomorrow will definitely be a long day. Make sure those injuries are doing well too, alright?”

You both gave the hero a curt response, turning your backs from the now closed doors.

Kirishima's heart began to beat intensely, his stomach filling with butterflies.

You had agreed to stay in his room? God, if someone had told him a few hours ago you’d be staying the night with him, he’d wouldn’t believe it for a second. But now this was happening, and he couldn’t be more ecstatic or nervous.

He stared at your profile, not missing the dusting of red on your cheeks-you were nervous too? It made him feel a little better inside, a small smile gracing his lips as he stretched out his hand.

“You ready?”

You looked down at the outstretched sha s in front of you, taking his palm in yours tentatively.

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” 

He lead you through the agency, taking an elevator a few levels down in order to get to the apartments specifically for the heroes in training.

It was a short trip, but the fatigue that wa a beginning to hit your body was making it feel so much longer. The adrenaline rush you had felt all night was wearing off, your eyes fluttering as you will yourself to stay awake.

Kirishima noticed your sleepy state, a small chuckle escaping from his chest.

“You feeling tired?”

“Just-a little,” you yawned out, wrapping your hands around your body.

“Don’t worry-were almost at my place,” he gave you a sweet smile, his hands outstretched for yours as the elevator door opened. You took it gratefully, letting him lead you to his door as he opened it with ease.

You stepped inside, adjusting from the darkness as you took in the sight in front of you.

The room smelled of him-the warm and musky scent ofhis cologne lingering in the air. It was almost teasing you with its memories, a wave of comfort washing over you as you recalled all the times you buried your nose into his neck and smelled his scent. 

His room was pretty neat, surprisingly, his desk organized and his walls decorated with a few posters. You recognized some from his old room at UA-a Crimson Riot, his favorite band, and even a calendar he used to use frequently.

Some areas of his room signaled the busy life of his work stidy, his unmade bed strewn with clothing he had hastily ripped off, a small pile of clothes in a pile and his laptop charging in a corner of the room.

Kirishima cursed himself as he looked around the room, painstakingly noticing every little detail and mess, hating how he hadn’t cleaned up his room that day.

“Sorry for the mess, I didn’t expect to have anyone,” he chuckled nervously, already going around and picking up his things.

“It’s fine-I like it,” 

You were speaking the truth when you said it-you liked how it was so him, showing a glimpse into his daily life. It was warm and comforting, even residential, to see him in his day to day life.

“You do?”

You hummed a “yes”, feeling your heart beat fast when Kirishima closed the gap between you two, his palms gently grasping your arms. He breathed in a deep sigh, holding you close.

“God, you don’t know how much I missed you,” he sighed out breathlessly.

“I missed you too Kiri,” you looked down, old guilt resurfacing inside you, “I’m still sorry for being so-so mean to you-I should have just told you the truth, I shouldn't have lied-“

Kirishima smiled softly, lifting your chin with his finger.

“Don’t worry about that! That was in the past-now it’s just you and me, kay? You don’t have to worry about any of that, now”

He gave you a long look, sorry buried in his brows as you ran his fingers along your skin, feeling the bags under your eyes. You inhaled a deep breath, loving the electricity Kirishima set into your skin just from his touch.

“You really are tired, huh?” He asked quietly, his voice husky from exhaustion himself.

“And you're not?” You gave him a quirky smile, making him blush with a chuckle.

“Well, I didn’t say that,” he gave you a small grin, his hands returning back to their spots on your arms.

“Do you wanna sleep? You can take the bed if you want-I know it’s not made, but I can sleep on the couch if you’d like-“

“I want to sleep with you,” you replied softly, your eyes widening once you realized what you had just said.

You wanted to sleep with him? God, you sounded so perverted! 

“I-I mean I want to go to bed with you-I didnt mean-I just didn’t want to make you sleep somewhere else, since this your room-“

Kirishima's face was incredibly red, but the smile was still plastered on his face.

“Oh it’s alright, I really don’t mind either way.“

He pulled himself away from you gently, as he began searching through his dresser for some clothes.

“So-bed together?”

“Yup!” You replied back, popping the p as You sat on the unmade bed, your fingers dragging against the plus fabric as Kirishima turned around, sitting in front of you as he handed you one of his shirts.

“I know you don’t have any pajamas, so you can wear one of my shirts until we get you some clothes.”

“Mm, sounds good,” you smiled tenderly, loving how close he was as you ran your hands through his hair.

He sighed into your touch as he nuzzled into your skin, his breath warm against your skin.

He sat there for a few moments, finally rising sluggish and slow.

“Gotta move-or I’ll fall asleep right there,” he chuckled, walking over to the front of his closet. He began to take off the pieces of his hero suit, the large gears on his arms hitting the floor with a thud.

You admired how broad his shoulders were, the way his muscles rippled so evidently as he moved his bones to his will. He was so perfectly built, you could t help but drool at the firmness of his skin.

“Having fun over there?,” he turned around, a shit eating grin plastered on his face as he undid the belt around his waist.

“Just a little,” you gave him a small grin, hear flooding your face as you held the shirt close to your chest.

“You can go change in the bathroom if you’d like-you don’t have to stay out here if you’re not comfortable,” 

“And what if I am?” 

You laughed at the clearly evident blush on his cheeks, his face trying to hide the rush of embarrassment.

“Your a handful,” he chuckled, his hand running through his hair nervously.

He knew you were joking, and you two had only sorta, maybe gotten back together lass than an hour ago-but damn if he wasn’t nervous and excited by you being so flirtatious-in his room. 

For the rest of the night. 

You gave him one last smile before you disappeared into the bathroom, your hands closing the door gently.

God, it felt so nice to be in his arms again, to feel safe and warm. You had missed the fluttering feeling Kirishima gave you, like you could fly away  at any moment and you could care less. You brought your nose to the cloth of the worn shirt, the powerful smell of his detergent and cologne washing over you. It was so comforting, a nostalgic feeling filling your body as you remembered how much you missed his scent. 

You quickly stripped of your clothes, happy to be free of the uncomfortable garments finally. Since Kirishima didn’t hand you any shorts to wear, you decided to only wear the shirt he had given you over your underwear. The softness of the shirt felt so relaxing against your tired skin, almost like getting a hug from the boy himself. You smiled a deep sigh, happy to see that the shirt was long enough to at least cover your underwear from plan view and you splashed your face with some cold water, rinsing away all the fears from tonight.

You would have a long day tomorrow answering questions about the League-you could at least give yourself tonight to forget and be worry free.

Kirishima was hastily changing before you came out of the bathroom, dreading the idea of you seeing him half naked as he swapped out of his hero suit. He opted to wear something comfortable, grey sweatpants and an old black tshirt, his body running frantically to clean his room. Now that he got the chance to properly clean his room, he was a mad man trying to make it to his liking. He shoved clothes into his closet, made his bed, even hiding cords under his bed. 

If you were going to be in his room, he was at least going to give off some impression of him being neat.

He was now laying on his newly made bed, his hands occupied with checking his phone as he heard the bathroom door opening, your footsteps soft on the carpet of his room.

He looked up, a question about to fall from his lips until his mind went completely blank at the sight of you.

There you were, standing in his room, looking as beautiful as ever wearing his shirt and nothing else. He couldn't help but stare at your legs, worshipping the curves as his mouth was agape from awe.

He didn’t fully prepare himself at the sight of you in his clothes, but god did you wear them so perfectly-

“You okay Kiri?” You gave a nervous laugh, striding over to the bed, settling your knees on the plush comforter.

The shirt road up from the movement t, showing more of those pretty thighs of yours that made him practically drool.

“Ne-never been better!” He tried to compose himself, his voice rising slightly.

God, he needed to get ahold of himself.

“You look pretty comfy,” he gave a small comment on your outfit, loving how bashful you look at the comment.

“Of course I am,” you replied back, crawling over to his side of the bed. He gulped at the sight of you coming so close to him, “I’m in your clothes after all.”

You sat your body next to Kirishima, your hand finding his as your other lightly rested on his stomach. 

“You know, I’ve always thought you looked good in anything,” he smiled, his eyes dark like wine, “but you wearing my clothes-you looked best in that,” 

“Really?” You gave the boy a shit eating grin, knowing full well you were playing a dangerous game now.

This night could end in two different scenarios: one could complicate things, and one could really complicate things.

You’d take the latter, if he was willing.

You shifted your body around him, straddling his waist as his shirt rode up, exposing your thighs even more.

“And what about when they're not on?”

Kirishima's heart beat at an insane pace in his chest-was this wrong to do? He didn’t know and frankly, he didn’t care at that moment.

He returned the smile, his hands traveling underneath the soft shirt.

“Even better.”

Tagging (anyone who commented or asked for a part 2- I tried to get everyone!):

@cellotonin​ @bakugous-forehead​ @lgbtonystarks​ @marrypuffsstuff​ @lady-bakuhoe​ @kurinhimenezu​ @hipster-merchant-of-death​ @hot-pocket01​ @bubblegum-bee-otch​ @kai-charm​

[mhdiaries]

Frights, Camera, Action! – Hauntlywood Honey Swamp Diary

2 April

Mama Swamp has always said that navigating the waters of New Goreleans gentility is tougher than a cypress stump, but looking at what’s waiting for me this year, I’ll swear high society has nothing on high school! What with advanced film studies, the school newspaper, Fearbook photography, and all those lil’ social engagements a lady must keep, my calendar is filling up faster than a cistern in a hurricane. Nothing to fret about though, as I’ve formulated a ghoul-proof plan to make this year a success;

Create a student film that simply overflows with passion and originality

Impress Mr. Rougarou, my film teacher, so very much that he enters it into the annual Bayou Boovie Fest

Win accolades galore from the judges for my breakout cinema-togre-phy

Get discovered by Hauntlywood and move out west to work with the  monstrously talented SoFeara Gorepola. We'll make a divine boovie-making scream team!

My student flick last year—"Lurking on the Levees"—scared a major coup thanks to my expert eye for film decomposition, but the script was... well, just a teensy bit lacking, I must confess. Visually I'm always top of my class, but I'll be honest; cryptwriting is not my forte. That's why this time I'm going with a much more "cinéma scarité" approach—my neck of the woods is fairly alive with true stories to tell! Now I just have to find a subject that screeches "Hauntlywood", and I'll be all set.

10 April

Creeping kudzu, I do wish my hair would behave! I've been so busy dealing with the humidity I've hardly had time to think about anything else. Monsters outside this little soggy neck of the world don't know how lucky they have it with the weather; I may have been born here, but my lovely locks have not adapted. Lately they've been either limp as a wet noodle or more ornery than an itchy gator. I should whip up a batch of my famous smoothing marsh mud and see if that helps. A ghoul has to look her best, even if I'm more comfortable spending time behind the camera than in front of it.

19 April

My mama has, at least to my mind, a particularly unusual fascination with vampire royalty. She can tell you all the queens and their names and who their families were down to their 20th generation. She also has a whole bookshelf just stuffed full of stories about the "missing vampire queen" and who she is and where she may be hiding, and if the current jewel they use to detect who the true queen should be is real or a fake. There have been supposed sightings of her all over the world. One ghoul even wrote a whole book that says the missing queen has actually been unliving her life as a high school student. Now I know some drop dead debutante divas in my class that would give any royal highness a run for her money when it comes to acting like a queen but none with the pedigree for it. So, although I don't pay much mind to it, I have to say it has been rather interesting here lately, especially since now the news is saying that the new vampire queen has been found at... a high school. Now there's something you might be able to turn into a film or a book.

25 April

Today in film studies we had to give a presentation about our industry scream job. Most of my ghoulmates talked about being cryptwriters, directors, and boovie stars, of course; I was the only cinema-togre-pher in the class. Not that I'm all that surprised, mind. Most monsters get into booviemaking to see their names in lights, but cinema-togre-phy is a lot of responsibility without nearly as much recognition. A cineme-togre-pher defines the "look" of a boovie; she's a director's right-hand-monster for everything that you see on screen. The lighting, the camera movement, the special effects—everything has to look its beast if she wants an audience to lose themselves in the film. If she does it right, it's almost undetectable—but if she does it wrong, it's all anymonster will be able to see! I must have made a convincing case, because when I'd finished my presentation, half the class wanted to change their focus. Mr. Rougarou was impressed (all according to plan!) and said he'd be "very interested" to see my finished film, which makes me as nervous as a long-tailed werecat in a room full of rocking chairs! I gotta find a subject, and soon.

2 May

Still lurking for the perfect subject for my documentary. So far I've rejected half a dozen concepts, from an exposé on Mardi Claw (too cliché) to a search for the perfect gum-boo recipe (mine, of course, so it'd be a hideously short film). So far, nothing quite has that spark of inspiration I crave. My friends, bless their scary-sweet hearts, call me a perfectionist. Which I absolutely am! But unlike them I don't think of it as a weakness. After all, being a perfectionist doesn't mean you do it right the first time, every time—it just means never giving up until you're satisfied, even if that means you have to do it a hundreds times. That's how truly great art is made. Rotten Scaresese or Alfeared Hitchshock never would have given up after trying just one measly lil' time, and neither will I. Besides, I still have a hundred other ideas I have yet to give a fair shake—a little more time and screesearch should have me in the pink.

5 May

It was club picture day; always a busy one for the Fearbook team. I'm still learning about film, but photography will always be my first and dearest love—even when it's just snapping shots of my ghoulmates making freaky faces. The only fangup was a couple of vampires sneaking into every photo—of course, their faces didn't show up, but the out-there accessories they were wearing sure did! It was so funny I about fell out laughing... and then I realized we'd have to do all the shots again. Sigh... so not scare.

10 May

I took some time this weekend to haunt around Jackson Scare, looking for inspiration for my boovie. The deadline is still far off, but time is flying by and I have to admit I'm getting a lil' bit nervous—what if inspiration doesn't strike in time? I've got a half-dozen half-shot films, but nothing I can really call a boovie yet. And I want it to be good enough to blow away not just Mr. Rougarou, but all the judges at the Bayou Boovie Fest. I had some coffee and boue-uiets at the Cafe du Moau, watching the tourists stroll by, but still nothing came to me. If fangtastic southern cooking can't make your brain give up the ghost, what can? I clearly need to shake the ol' idea tree a little harder and see if something else falls out.

14 May

Last night, Mama hosted a dinner for some visiting digniscaries and asked me to lend a claw with the cooking. Entertaining is a big part of a Southern gentleghoul's repertoire, and you gotta be good at it. Photography isn't my only skill! I come from a long line of excellent cooks on both sides—Mama's always said one of the reasons she married my daddy was for his dead beans and rice! It's hard work, but between the two of us Mama and I kept the ladies and gents grinning all evening. Eventually talk turned to famous New Goreleans legends. It's an old town, and hauntings and happenings are all around. Our frights are famous and our mausoleums are second-to-none! One of the monsters in attendance mentioned the legend of the Bayou Bijou, and I sat right up. I'd heard of her, of course, but had no idea she was still floating. I should mention, "she's" a ghost ship, rising from the waters and floating across the bogs in the dead of night, with the famous plays and performers that appeared there still echoing on her stage. I asked the gentlemonster why this information wasn't better-known, and he said it was because the Bijou is so deep in the swamp that sightings are rare, and information rarer still. But nowhere in the bayou is unreachable for a Honey Swamp. Finally, an idea with bite!

15 May

There are advantages to being born and raised in the bayou—you get to know the lay of the land like your own scales. It was the work of just a few hours tracking through the swamp to find where the ghost ship rises. Seems she only appears on the full moon—so I had to lie in wait for a bit, but patience is one of my many, many virtues. Pretty soon I had the first-ever footage of the Bayou Bijou in all her beauty! It'll take a few more stakeouts, but I think I can finish my boovie in time for the festival—and with a subject so unique and fabulous, it won't be hard at all to make a film worthy of recognition. Just wait, Hauntlywood... Honey's comin'!

[yourcoolfriendwithallthecandy]

Why So Jaded Chapter 11

Oh it’s getting to be a family affair now. AO3, FFN. The chapter is called The Give For The Take for a very good reason. Enjoy. 

Why So Jaded?

Chapter 11

“So were you good for Vi?” Helen asked Jack when Violet dropped him off at home on Sunday night.

“Yeah! We had a great time. We got to hang out with Barret the whole time.” Jack gleefully informed her.

“B..who?” Helen asked.

“His full name is Bartholomew Maximillian Pine, Mr. Pine, my other asset at work? We call him Barret for short.” Violet tried to honestly yet vaguely answer.

“Oh, but I thought he was on house arrest at SEB for the bet he made?” Helen asked.

“He is, so we hung out with him. He helped Jack with his school project about radio waves because the Lord knows I couldn’t.” Violet informed her mother.

“And he’s friends with Evan’s mom! You know Evan- he usually goes to Milham park with his little brother Alex and his little sister Kaely? Tammy has short bobbed hair cut, brown hair.” Jack tried to jog his mom’s memory.

“Oh yeah! Tammy. She’s really nice.” Helen recalled.

“Well I got invited to Evan’s birthday party in a couple of weeks, can I go? It’s on the 18th. They’re having it at Scene It.” Jack pleaded.

“I could take him if you already had plans.” Violet offered as Helen looked at her calendar on her fridge.

“Yeah, that would be nice.” Helen appraised.

“We’re supposed to be taking Jr and Dillion that weekend.” Bob said as he came over and looked at the calendar.

“Yeah who did Dash spend his weekend with anyway?” Violet asked as both of her parents just shook their heads with a defeated sigh.  

“Who knows.” Bob grumbled as he got a beer from the fridge.

“So tell me about Barret, Jack.” Bob invited.

“He’s awesome! He cooks so good, like Bobby Flay, like he made us all these amazing dishes from scratch and he showed me how to make a risotto, he’s a genius and an inventor and he explained radio waves to me and I should be getting an A on this project. And he’s actually really nice and sucks at cards. I demolished him at rummy but he was a really gracious loser and a good sportsman, he has no ego and he’s not the most handsome guy but his personality is awesome, just a really nice, easy going guy.” Jack appraised honestly.

“And that’s why we’re friends.” Violet added.

“Aww, that’s sweet.” Helen cooed as she got dinner ready as Bob simply nodded and retreated to the living room with his can of beer as Jack followed his dad and continued to sing Barret's praises, in an effort to get his dad to at least like the idea of Barret.

“Can you stay for dinner Vi?” Helen asked hopefully.

“I’d love to. Here, let me help.” Violet offered as she grabbed some potatoes and started to help peel them.

“So what’s Barret really like?” Helen asked as they stood side by side over the trashcan peeling potatoes.

“He’s genuine. And a gentleman. We ended up staying really late Friday because we just got caught up talking and getting to know each other, and by each other, his company and myself. Jack obviously knew Barret’s company and played nice with the other kids and it was just a nice dinner that I got to stay for and it was just...hanging out with friends. They’re just normal people. Like normal normal, with kids and mortgages and student loan debt. Anyway, Barret didn’t want me to drive home exhausted so he let Jack and I take his bed while he took his own couch. He was just..really nice. He never pushes for closeness or intimacy of any kind, he's down to earth whereas with Phil it’s just one head game after another when his head isn't crammed so far up his own ass it comes back out the other end again or when his head gets so big, it can't be contained inside Madison Square Gardens because it's a freaking blimp and his ego is as fragile as a hanging nut sack, it's a very nice and welcome change of pace. It was actually almost fun to just be casual and hang out and not watch the clock to count down the minutes until I’m free. And not having to always watch my back and watch the exits and think of exit strategies or expecting attacks every other second or worrying about doing or saying the wrong thing that’ll bite me in the ass later, like turning off for once instead of always being on you know?” Violet  answered honestly.

“Well I’m glad you had a good weekend and it sounded like you spent it with a friend. You need more of those.” Helen noted as she smiled at her daughter.

“Thanks, so. How was your weekend?” Violet returned.

“It was so fun. We ended up doing a gig upstate and after we got a cabin and just got to relax after, it was great.” Helen sighed happily as Violet simply smiled, albeit a little sadly. Because she doubted she would ever get to enjoy the wedded bliss her parents enjoyed. If she lived long enough to get married that is.

Just then Dash came into the house.

“Oh good, I didn’t miss dinner.” Dash smiled happily as his stomach started to growl.

“If you’re gonna help eat it, you should help make it.” Violet urged.

“But you two do it so well, I would only be in the way.” Dash excused himself as he grabbed beer from the fridge and started chugging it.

“You look really nice by the way Violet, green is definitely your color.” Dash praised as she squeezed by them to get to the box of cookies on the counter.

“I’m not giving you any more money, you still haven’t paid me back from the last three times I gave you money.” Violet immediately insisted when Dash tried hugging her from behind.

“Who said anything about money?” Dash pretended to be appalled that Violet would insinuate that.

“No one, and it will not be brought up again.” Violet insisted and she could only smirk smugly when he huffed and pulled away from her sullenly.

“So which underwear catalog model were you with this weekend Dash?” Violet asked.

“Victoria’s Secret, with Bianca.” Dash grinned cheekily with a click of his teeth as Violet visibly gagged.

“For the love of God and all that holy, please tell me you wore a condom.” Helen urged.

“Uh I think we should be asking Violet if she’s been wearing condoms when she was with Phillip in Vegas of all places, I’m surprised she didn’t come back married as Mrs. Sebastian.” Dash snidely returned as he began to walk away and Violet’s eyes glowed ultraviolet for a moment as her anger started to build.

“First of all, that’s none of your business, second, that was work and well within the parameters of my contract, third, considering my track record, as opposed to yours, who has not one, but two children already by two different women? And they’re only six months apart? And don’t you pay enough in child support already? You really want to add a third payment?” Violet spat back.

“Well some of us don’t roll around in money Violet! Besides, aren’t you paying enough in rent at Sky Way?” Dash sneered condescendingly.

“Oh for fuck’s sake, you know if you could keep it in your pants for more than five minutes, you’d be able to afford to live there too, don’t you get enough in endorsements between Nike, Body Armor and all your White Lightning merch and endorsements? Just up your appearance fees or better yet, if you- you know, invested some of that money instead of spending it faster than you’re making it, you’d be able to live wherever you wanted to.” Violet returned defensively.

“I do invest it, it’s just not getting the same returns your money makes apparently.” Dash returned.

“Oh my God, will you two stop it! Ugh, aren’t your kids supposed to get along once they leave home?” Helen complained.

“Dash, just go to the living room, dinner will be ready in a bit.” Helen decided.

“Stuck up.” Dash muttered under his breath.

“Leech.” Violet spat back.

“If he moves back in you better be charging him rent.” Violet insisted to her mother.

“Oh trust me, he’ll never move back in because I would never let him bring home another woman other than the two he's already impregnanted and when he wasn’t working, he’d be watching his own kids.” Helen reassured her.

“And heaven forbid he not have a revolving door on his bedroom.” Violet spat.

“I’m still holding out hope that he’ll find the right girl and settle down.” Helen confessed.

“Yeah, somehow, I get the distinct impression that will happen to Jack before that ever happens with Dash.” Violet ventured as she took her now peeled potatoes and rinsed them off in the sink before she got a cutting board out and started cutting up the now peeled potatoes into bite sized chunks.

“Well it just might happen with you before it could happen with Jack.” Helen teased as she bumped Violet’s hip with her own as she put her own peeled and rinsed off potatoes next to the cutting board.

“Ha! No.” Violet returned.

“Well I mean Barret sounds promising.” Helen shrugged and all Violet could do was laugh even harder.

“Yeah, no, I sincerely doubt that’s ever going to be a possibility.” Violet shook her head no.

“Why not?” Helen asked.

“Uh, well, he has quite the storied past. Granted, he isn’t the same guy he was, say, a decade ago, but uh, there’s too much history there.” Violet hinted.

“Like what kind of history?” Helen prodded.

“The kind that got him...really really hurt. In every conceivable sense. He made some really bad decisions in early youth, youth, teens and early adulthood and granted he pays for them, just about every day. But…it’s very complicated.” Violet tried to choose her words carefully.

“Everyone has history Violet. Doesn’t mean it has to haunt us the rest of our lives.” Helen insisted but Violet just huffed a mirthless laugh again. If that were the case, she wouldn't have such a hard time sleeping in the first place, or wake up in a cold sweat screaming her head off half the time.

“How old is he again?” Helen asked.

“He’s 31, seven years my senior.” Violet answered.

“Well that’s not that big of an age difference, especially once you pass your early 20’s, now if he was like 15 or even 20 years older than you, then yeah, that would be an eyebrow raiser of a difference.” Helen figured as she went into her fridge and got a wine cooler and offered Violet one who gladly took it and opened it and started drinking it.

“So what makes it so complicated?” Helen posed.

“Uh, well besides the history. Just our...positions. Phillip keeps me on a short leash and it’s only because I’ve “mixed business with pleasure” that I have any breathing room now. Phillip is jealous and possessive enough that...to pursue anything with anyone while I’m still under contract is a very bad idea and too dangerous. Phillip has a way of reaching out and touching people, and not in any kind of good way. And Barret is also under contract and his contract is even longer and more severe than mine. But we are…” Violet paused as she tried to decide on the best words to use.

“We’ve grown close to being friends because we’re just...two birds, in side by side gilded cages.” Violet finally murmured lowly as she finely diced the potatoes as she realized they should boil these and make mashed potatoes.

“So what has he done to incite you to view him like that?” Helen posed as she rinsed off some asparagus in the sink as another vegetable for dinner.

“He’s healing me.” Violet answered honestly.

“Like emotionally or physically?” Helen asked.

“The latter, the former is probably impossible.” Violet specified.

“Like with your central cortex?” Helen posed.

“Yep, he used his genius and formulated my current medication, he got me in front of the curve instead of always chasing behind it. It’s like I’m a teenager again, before any of it ever hurt and I can use my powers for hours instead of mere minutes before the pain sets in and the longer I'm on it, the better. I’m actually sleeping at night because of the sleep aids he’s made for me, granted for anyone else, they’d put them into a permanent coma but for me, they’re just right. I’ve shared them with Tali and they’re curing her too and even all the other Supers at The Agency with the same problem. Grated Phillip makes The Agency pay through the nose for theirs but for now they’re free for me and Barret is risking everything to get me my own protected supply that Phillip can’t touch or better yet, control, just in case Phillip tries to hold them over my head to keep me in line, which I wouldn’t push past him. Barret even made a suit that should protect me and everyone I protect that has features that every Super will want and every Super who is a handler will need. And he gives without any thought or want or need to be paid back. Even when he has so little, he’d give it all before ever being asked. He’s helping me with Dragon Eye, he’s...he’s an unlikely ally and an even unlikelier friend.” Violet explained as Helen’s eyebrows rose in surprise to hear of these developments. Granted, she didn’t like Phillip as far as she could punt him either. Something about Phillip put her on edge and had her own intuition telling her something was wrong with him and that he was much more dangerous than he looked but she couldn’t put her finger on it or explain it. She got the sense he was a sleezeball and Helen would have never forgiven Violet if Violet had come home from Vegas as Mrs. Sebastian.

“Sounds like a pretty awesome guy to me Vi.” Helen shrugged with a knowing grin.

“He is. He just...has an unfortunate past.” Violet answered.

“Was he in the mob or something?” Helen guessed lowly.

“Uh, no, not that I’m aware of.” Violet shook her head.

“Is he a serial killer?” Helen teased as Violet huffed a mirthless laugh again.  

“Technically I’m a serial killer Mom.” Violet answered in all seriousness and honesty.

“Oh no you’re not. You’re a Super, no Super has clean hands, on either side but you're on the good side. Guilty blood saves innocent blood, and it's because of that guilty blood that you've saved countless innocents which more than makes up for it.” Helen assured her daughter.

“Even if my hands have the blood of other Supers on them?” Violet posed.

“Yes.” Helen insisted.

“Not all Supers are good people, and not all Supers are heroes. You’ve gotten your hands dirty trying to keep the world safe and everyone else clean, you’ve had to make the tough decisions and the hard choices. But they were the right ones. If it was easy, everyone could do it. But you’re special and you’re one of the good guys, if not one of the best. You’re the best kind of hero, one that doesn’t need to constantly be in the spotlight and have every good deed praised by the masses, unlike others we know.” Helen reassured her as Helen gave the living room a dismissive glance. 

“I doubt you’d give Barret the same speech because his hands have just as much Super blood on them that mind do.” Violet posed with a disbelieving look as Helen was taken aback.  

“Ok, now you’re scaring me. Who is Barret?” Helen asked in all seriousness.

“Google him, Google- Bartholomew Maximillian Pine, just don’t scream or yell when you find out and don’t tell Dad, the last thing I need is for Dad to go Papa Bear and kill him before I can get Dragon Eye off my plate.” Violet answered before Helen got her phone out of her back pocket and googled it.

“Why does he look familiar?” Helen asked as she looked at the images of him that came up.

“Cross reference Buddy Pine, aka Syndrome.” Violet said before Helen sharply inhaled through her nose as her eyes got impossibly wide.

“See? Do you see why I didn’t want tell you? Because of this reaction right here.” Violet insisted.

“I...I thought he was in a wheelchair? After the accident with the jet turbine.” Helen finally spoke.

“He was in a wheelchair, he was in one for a few years after that accident and had to be put together and get surgery after surgery to be made somewhat whole again, it was why he didn’t go to prison after Syntech crashed and burned as did Syndrome. But Barret has assured me that Syndrome died in that jet turbine and it’s beyond clear to me that he is telling me the truth and he shows me that that's the truth by his actions that he is nothing like what he once was, except for the genius inventor thing, that never changed but everything else did, you'd barely recognize him now but hearing him talk might jog your memory. Or even Dad's especially. Barret has suffered enough from all of that and especially how Tali helped tear apart and break down the very empire she helped him build and left him with nothing where he had to start from an all new low. Not only did he barely have a dollar to his name, he was left in literal pieces that had to be sewn together and be ripped apart piece by piece in every way before he put himself back together again. It’s actually impressive how he’s managed to make it this far despite all that. And even with all that history. He’s...he’s surprisingly not bitter or holding any grudges, even against Tali, because he got his ass into some much needed therapy. Here, watch this with your headphones.” Violet urged as she handed her phone to her mother and had her watch the video that she had saved to her phone as Helen put her headphones in her ear and watched the video as Violet watched her mother carefully, watching how she started off wearily then gradually went from weary to understanding then sympathetic as the video progressed.

“So, you ready to take all that back?” Violet questioned when Helen finished and handed the phone back.

“Nope. Who else has seen that?” Helen asked.

“Tali, she cried when she watched it. She said that if he had been like that a decade ago, she never would have left him, or betrayed him and has asked me to help Barret and take care of him to the best of my ability, which I have happily agreed to and Barret makes it easy for me to do so. I don't do so strictly out of obligation or because it's owed or expected. I do it because I want to. Which is a first for me, especially in this job.” Violet answered.

“Well, it’ll take some time for everyone to come around to the idea of just you being friends. I think it should only matter what people are in the present. Obviously, he’s suffered the consequences of his actions.” Helen appraised.

“He has suffered, more than enough.” Violet insisted.

“Then I trust your opinion of what he is now.” Helen insisted.

“Really?” Violet posed disbelievingly.

“Like I said, the past shouldn’t haunt us forever. And if you said Syndrome died all those years ago. And he’s a changed man, then I will trust you on that. You aren’t one to trust anyone easily. And every ounce of your trust is hard earned and if he’s earned it, and if you trusted him enough to let Jack hang out with him, because it's no secret he's your favorite, much less yourself, then that’s enough.” Helen insisted.

“So you’re not pissed that I let Jack hang out with him?” Violet asked.

“You let Jack hang out with Barret. And Barret is a good guy. That’s all that matters.” Helen insisted before Violet quickly enveloped her mom in a tight hug.

“Thank you Mom.” Violet thanked her, not realizing how much her mother's approval would mean to her or how assuring, reassuring, validating and vindicating it was to have it.

“You’re welcome.” Helen reassured her. Ever so thankful and grateful that Violet let her in on even this much.

Truth be told, Helen was resentful to The Agency for turning her daughter from a good but shy teen to a stone cold killer. When Violet had come home from a stint that took almost a year, Violet just came home and held Jack and didn’t let him go for weeks. And often took him to bed with her and cried herself to sleep holding him. Violet wouldn’t breathe a word of what really happened and what she had been doing was top secret and only the highest of higher ups even knew about it, but after that, Violet was never the same and she was fiercely protective of Jack who was only 3 at the time and she was only 17, almost 18 herself at the time as well. Thus why the two shared their current super close bond. All Helen could think of is that involved children. Maybe the target had little children that Violet left orphaned, that was the only thing that made sense to Helen and to Bob. But after that, Violet just did mission after mission, back to back to back and started earning more than her parents ever did combined. And each time she came home, less and less of herself came home with her and when Violet moved out at 18, Helen feared she would lose all contact with her, and Helen had never been more devastated when her fears proved true.

When Violet was 21, she did another really, really long mission that took over a year and Helen didn’t hear from Violet that whole time and all The Agency could tell her was that she was on mission and undercover, wouldn’t say where or with who. But whatever it was, it didn’t end well. Helen and Bob had been watching the news and three major catastrophes seemed to happen at the same time, complete with natural disasters on top of political upheaval. And then they had gotten a call from Violet from a burner phone, saying that she was done. And she was disappearing for good and that she was just calling to say goodbye.

That had been the worst of it.

To beg and plead with your only daughter to just come home, where it was safe, where she would be protected. And to have that same, oh so precious daughter inform you that she would put them in too much danger if she did that. That she couldn’t protect them. She couldn’t even protect herself. And that the danger was bigger and stronger than anything they had ever known. And that if they only knew what had really happened, they would never welcome her home anyway. And that this was for the best. And it was going to be better this way.

Then silence.

And it didn’t matter how many times Helen and Bob went back to The Agency and rallied the troops and threatened to bring hellfire down on all of them if they didn’t give them their daughter back or at least tell them where she was. They were going to hang every last person at the agency on their own bullshit lies tied into a noose around their necks. No one would tell them anything, mostly because the people there didn’t know and everyone who did was unreachable and "conveniently" overseas and completely unreachable. Bob and herself had even officially quit and retired. And had even tried looking for her on their own but never did find her because Violet had been trained to never leave a trace. And Violet was always- successful.

It wasn’t until Phillip and The Agency found her and brought her home a little over a year later that they got to see her in the flesh. And while it was a blessing having Violet back home, working a ‘normal’-ish job that was mostly 9-5 through the week with the occasional overseas trip, it still kept her here in Metroville, and kept her close and brought her back into the fold so to speak. But the real Violet, Helen feared, never did come back. Or at least the Violet that Helen could remember or recognize.

But then, about a couple of months ago, Helen noticed she started seeing glimmers and glimpses of the real Violet again, like Violet's spirit was slowly returning to her body. She was still incredibly guarded, and secretive. But she was easing up, Helen supposed, at least smiling more, and being more accessible, at least physically, emotionally though, that was another matter entirely.

But Violet did take to Dash’s kids really well when she first came back. Feeling sorry and sad that she missed out on them. It wasn’t unusual for when Helen and Bob had them for the weekend- Violet would ‘drop by’ for the weekend too, with clothes and toys in tow and doted on them the way she doted on Jack when Jack was that age since Dash Jr. was three and Dillon was two and a half at the time and now Dash Jr. was four and in preschool and Dillon was now three and a half and she got along remarkably well with Ashley, Dash Jr's mom who was Dash's high school sweetheart, and Amy, Dillon's mom, Dash's first college love. But Violet got a lot harder on Dash, making sure he always paid his child support and spent quality time with his kids and even chipped in financially with their mothers, making sure that Jr got into an amazing preschool and made sure that Dillon would too, and helping them as much as she reasonably could. And with Jack, she usually bought the bulk of his school clothes and fabrics and trim which she happily took him to the garment district and let him go nuts in the fabric warehouses, bringing home yards and yards of fabrics for his ‘creations’ and even paid for her parents to put on an addition to their house so Jack had his own studio to create in and was super encouraging to Jack with his interests, and often did all she could to help them out, either physically or especially financially and made sure to give them heads up on her schedules of when she was going to be in town or out of town so if they needed to, they could depend on her, or invite her to their own social things that they had going on.

But right now, it was Helen’s intuition telling her that the reason she was seeing more of the real Violet, was because it was Barret of all people bringing it out in her, and for that she was grateful and it was because of that, she could learn to forgive him for the past.

Monday morning Violet came into work and was surprised to see a woman in Phillip’s office already, and it was someone she didn’t recognize as she was sitting in his lap as he showed her something on his computer as her giggle got on every nerve Violet had.

“Mr. Sebastian?” Violet posed politely.

“Oh, Ms. Parr, good morning.”

“Good morning. Do we have anything new for Mr. Pine today?” Violet asked formally, since he was obviously otherwise engaged as Violet’s glasses revealed to her exactly who was sitting in his lap and so intimately embraced in it. Another ballerina. Cheseray Wilkenson, prima dancer for Villefort Dance Company.

“Yes, actually.” Phillip said as he picked up his tablet and did a swiping motion from his own tablet to hers before her tablet got the new data and Violet froze when she saw it as she blinked in surprise from her tablet then back up to Phillip.

“By the way, how is the new suit?” Phillip asked and Violet actually did well keeping the dread and fear from her eyes and her face.

“Good, so far.” Violet answered.

“Excellent. I’m happy it’s working out for you.” Phillip offered and Violet simply smiled politely in view of his ‘company’.

“Is there a problem Ms. Parr?” Phillip baited.

“No, no problem at all, will that be all Mr. Sebastian?” Violet asked.

“Yes.” Phillip nodded.

“Very well,” Violet nodded as she then went to her own office and opened her own computer case from The Agency and accessed her files before pulling up Dragon Eye and did a search for when the last time someone accessed it and her heart dropped when she saw that Phillip was the last one to look at it, Saturday night. After herself, Barret and Jack had been working it as she remembered the wave pattern from the cameras. She had been in the apartment side of the space most of the time where the cameras had only come on in a wave a few times but she had thought nothing of it, since it was going to be Nelson, Pike, Leland and Smith in the security booth but there was no way for Jack and Barret to know that they were on a wave pattern and it obviously happened way more frequently for them to figure out what they were up to. That’s how Phillip knew that they had made progress.

He knew. But she was sure she’d be forced into trying to slit her own wrists if he knew that Dragon Eye was really him.

She closed it out and looked more closely at what her tablet had received as she tried to see what was really there. Was this a test? A trick? A trap? Or just Phillip keeping up with her? Her gut was telling her something was off and something was wrong. She needed Tali’s advice and she called her on her phone.

“Yes?” Tali answered.

“Hey, can you meet me for lunch today? Please?” Violet proposed.

“Uh, yeah, sure, where did you want to go?” Tali answered.

“Don’t care, somewhere uh, private and spider free.” Violet proposed.

“Luigiano’s.” Tali suggested.

“Yup, see you at say...11:30?” Violet proposed.

“Yes, of course Dear, see you then.” Tali answered.

“Thanks.” Violet said before she hung up and quickly went to Barret’s floor.

“Good morning Ms. Parr,” Barret greeted.

“Good morning Mr. Pine, uh, you have a few new items for your agenda this week.” Violet informed him as she couldn’t wipe the confused frown off her face or the fear from her eyes to save her life as she did a wiping motion from her tablet to his and then looked at him pointedly to make sure he actually saw what was in front of him.

“Oh, huh.” Barret finally murmured as he looked it over himself, and also frowned in confusion before he looked back over to Violet before they had a silent conversation with just their subtle facial expressions before he finally reached over and tapped her hand with his knuckle three times but tried to make it look like some random twitch.

“If you don’t have any questions, I’ll leave you to it then. See you this evening Mr. Pine.” Violet formally said before she left and went back to her office before she went into her bathroom and became invisible, her clothes she had been wearing, transforming into her suit before she marched from her bathroom to Phillip’s office, only to walk in to seeing Phillip balls deep in his new ‘pet’ on his desk before she sarcastically gagged then marched straight to Barret’s floor and tapped him again, three times, in rapid succession on the shoulder when she had made it back before he ‘casually’ decided to go to the bathroom himself and once in it, he blew out a breath of relief when a forcefield suddenly enveloped them both as she reappeared before him.

“So what’s going on?” Barret asked.

“He knows we were working on Dragon Eye. I was able to see who saw Dragon Eye last. And it was him. He saw it very late Saturday night. He’s out to exploit you even more than he already is.” Violet answered anxiously as she started pace inside the bubble of the forcefield.

“Yeah but a Super would need your powers to make them invisible too. The suit is meant to work as an extension of yourself and it takes machines that take up most rooms to turn it invisible without your powers. To put the same suit on any other Super, it’s not gonna work. And even if it did, unleashing a small army of completely invisible Supers who don’t have the same moral compass you do- is dangerous, like Supervillain level of dangerous. No offense.” Barret offered.

“Oh none taken, I completely agree. Just having one of me is already too dangerous. I mean it would be nice for The Agency to have someone else for my kind of work but even I would have no way of seeing them.” Violet worried.

“Well...not...not necessarily, when you’re in the suit, when you’re invisible, if you’re wearing the hood, you could see them, you could see, in theory anything you wanted to see. If I make your suit for anyone else. There’s ways I can make them that even you can see them, all I need is to reconfigure the visor section of your suit and even reconfigure your glasses when you don’t wear the suit over your head or give you special contacts or make it so that the the nanos always recognize each other, even from a distance, even from each other’s invisibility. Like x-ray vision but I guess...not. It can be done. It’ll be tricky, but it can be done.” Barret realized as his spark was working into overdrive figuring it out.

“Here’s my other request. While you’re doing that- make my suit EMP proof. Because one of my powers is to mimic an EMP signal, it’s one of the ways I can “burn” the cameras and listening devices and other electronics. But if you could make it so that the EMP signal, knocks out other’s invisibility but keep mine intact. But I also need a way for my own SOS signal to be EMP proof. Like I want to be a thousand feet underground in a copper mine or a lead mine and the right people would still be able to find me and rescue me.” Violet proposed.

“You got it.” Barret immediately agreed.

“Thank you.” Violet thanked him as she stopped her pacing to hug him tightly.

“I think it’s a trap.” Barret confessed.

“Oh I know it’s a trap. But at this point, I need to put my bloody feet in the water to attract the shark and I need a way to set my own trap for it and to spring it at the right time. Springing it too soon and we’ll never catch him. We need a trap of our own.” Violet answered as she just clung to him as he did the same to her.

“But the thing is, if he knew Saturday night, at the time he checked, that was the time Pike was getting off and Leland was getting on, Nelson got Friday night and he made sure to destroy the evidence of the uh, incident. And all he wants is when and if you ever get to leave here alive, to take him with you.” Violet conveyed.

“Oh, yeah, that totally works, it was Nelson that got you the necklace.” Barret immediately agreed.

“Figures. But that leaves Pike or Leland to spill the beans. Pike was in the same boat that Nelson was in when I talked to them Saturday morning and according to everyone, everyone in the security detail is ready to follow you out of here. But I don’t know if Pike was just saying that to curry favor with me or if he was genuine. Nelson I believe is genuine. Pike and Leland, I wouldn’t put it past them to be two faced. So we’re just going to have to be extra careful from here on out and choose our steps carefully. And anyone’s loyalty who can be bought isn’t worth having.” Violet murmured to the crux of Buddy’s neck and shoulder as they just hung onto each other, Barret refusing to let go before Violet would and was perfectly content to just enjoy this, plus he couldn’t chance endangering her by engaging her romantically or at least emotionally when she had so much to lose before Violet finally reluctantly let him go.

“I better get out of here, just in case I’ve been gone too long.” Violet excused herself.

“Thank you.” Violet whispered as she stood on her tip toes and kissed his cheek just as she vanished and just as Barret was about to go ‘fuck it’ and reach out and really kiss her back, she was gone, phased through the walls and he even reached out and tried to feel for her but she was already gone.

“You’re welcome.” Barret finally breathed as he reached up and rubbed the back of his neck anxiously before he sat down and actually used the bathroom as he held his head in his hands and thought of all the ways to give her what she asked for. Electronics that were EMP proof. Ways of seeing the invisible that he had worked so hard to make invisible in the first place. But at the same time, make her own SOS beacon a lighthouse among flashlights all while doing it under Phillip’s nose and off his radar, and off The Agency’s radar.

Meanwhile Violet came back into her office’s bathroom just in time to hear Phillip calling for her once he came into her office, “redressed” in her original clothes she had been wearing before.

“Yes Phillip?” Violet asked as she held her lower belly, pretending to have just had a huge bowel movement.

“Oh, there you are. I apologize for having company earlier and not letting you have freedom of speech in front of her.” Phillip began.

“Thank you.” Violet said simply as she took her seat behind her desk.

“But now that you’re here, I take it I’m free to speak to you now?” Violet posed.

“Yes of course.” Phillip agreed as he took a seat on the other side of her desk.

“About the new suit's possible release for The Agency. I will insist that we bring Edna Mode on onboard, otherwise no Super will have anything to do with it for fear of offending her and Edna Mode is a dangerous enemy. I will take on a thousand Dragon Eyes before I piss her off and you should have the same fearful respect for her that I do, to do otherwise is to court death and social suicide in this business. Edna has been designing super-suits since supers became a phenomenon and into popularity for the last 40 years, every Super, hero and villain alike has always used Edna. She is one of a kind and she’s neutral. This will feel like a betrayal and it will feel like we’re “stealing” this from her. And if The Agency pushes this on their Supers, that will mean that the only Supers to use her will be villains and that’s a recipe for disaster. Also my suit that Mr. Pine designed, was designed with me specifically in mind, specifically for dealing with Dragon Eye. The suit's capabilities will not be available should anyone else try to put it on. So unless you plan on cloning me, which I will never agree to, it won’t work. However, let’s say Mr. Pine does devise a way to get other suits to mimic what mine can do. Do you really think that’s a good idea to hand over truly invisible suits to an Agency that could hold the entire world hostage? The Agency already controls every Hero practically world wide. Or worse yet, if just one suit falls into the wrong hands and gets replicated, every enemy now has a way to waltz into any building, into any place they wanted to and kill you or me or anyone else without a trace. One of me in the world is dangerous enough. Imagine ten of me, a hundred of me, an army of me but without my moral compass and without my ethics. There could be thousands, millions even. All invisible, all uncontrollable and pure chaos and disaster. And all of it would have your fingerprints. Can you imagine the already delicate stock market crashing and sending the whole world into a recession that we’ve never seen before? Is making a few million off of new suits for The Agency worth all your billions that you already have?” Violet posed skeptically.

“Well, when you put it like that, no.” Phillip realized.

“Now I do agree that Mr. Pine’s new suit does have certain features that would be helpful for every Super that are non power specific. Instead of selling invisible suits. Sell the features that are non power specific, sell them individually and let the Supers and The Agency pick and choose and custom build their own- with of course- Edna’s approval, and Edna's control if she would agree on redesigning anyone’s suit. Also, Edna is used to having 100% of the profits of all super-suits and working all on her own before Jack was born. Mr. Pine made mine for free as a favor to Jack and myself because he’s a good person and because we asked nicely. Well, begged and pleaded because Jack and I are desperate to get Dragon Eye because he’s been on my roster for forever but because of his own powers, no other Super but me will touch him and I would prefer to keep it that way. Dragon Eye has the ability to make people commit suicide, imagine his own army equipped with my suit. Me and every single Super at the Agency would be in danger, including you because you have clearance at The Agency, you’d be just as big of a target that I am. Do you really want to risk it?” Violet posed skeptically as she leaned back into her chair and folded her arms over her chest and crossed her legs and fixed him with a look.

“No.” Phillip decided.

“Then change this in the roster.” Violet said as she handed him her tablet.

“Also you do realize that he would have to go to The Agency and to Edna Mode’s house to work on those super suits and every moment he’s off doing that- he won’t be here working on SEB stuff so his own output for SEB will wane to a degree as will his focus since it will be divided too. However it will prove fruitful in the long run because you’ll have an in with every other Super and you’ll be even father on The Agency’s good side and an even closer bedfellow and the chances of getting premium contracts will grow. It’s just a matter of do you want the money that would usually go straight to your pocket to change hands a few times before it does?” Violet posed.

“I think it's worth it for any profits made with any endeavor with The Agency to change hands and have a chance to multiply before it comes back to me will be sizable.” Phillip answered.

“Fair. But know that you will only have a limited time for that to occur. Because once Mr. Pine is no longer under contract with you, he’ll have his own in with The Agency because of this. He used to be the most powerful and influential non Super before his fall from grace and you effectively took his place. Once he leaves, he may want a bigger piece of their pie. Be prepared to share.” Violet warned.

“Well there’s a lot of time between now and then, and accidents happen, besides you’re his heir apparent, I wouldn’t mind sharing all the pie you wanted with you.” Phillip offered and all Violet could do was huff a laugh and grin crookedly as she just shook her head. Violet would sooner slit his throat before she would slit Barret’s as Phillip mistook the roguish curve of her grin as her delight at the prospect which only made him happy that Violet was still on the ‘murder’ side of things as far as Mr. Pine was concerned. Which meant that if she did get closer to Mr. Pine, it would be purely to undo him and further devastate him in the end. Which meant he could fully trust her with him.

“Also, I noticed that you loosened up the safety protocols for Mr. Pine’s outings. Why?” Violet asked since she had him right there.

“Uh, it was a Raid Day thing. I thought you’d feel better knowing he wasn’t “crawling with spiders” too, besides, I completely trust you with him and I know your specialties, the less “evidence” of any kind of friendly relationship, the less can be used against you, in the case you have to do the deed. However, if you are seen by his friends being with him all the time and getting cozy, that will place you well outside the realm of suspicion to them. Especially since you have more than one connection to them.” Phillip answered and Violet realized Phillip’s trap. He was trying to trap Barret, using herself as bait.

“Ok. Well thank you, that’s very sweet and thoughtful of you, I really appreciate it.” Violet thanked him before a thought occurred to her.

“By any chance, is that why you are hanging onto Miss Cheseray Wilkinson for longer than a weekend? Because if you’re “engaged” with her, that may seem to appear to free me up to get “cozy” with Mr. Pine?” Violet asked as she uncrossed her arms and simply let her arms rest on the armrests of her chair.

“You always were so clever Violet.” Phillip beamed proudly as Violet simply leaned forward on her elbows of her desk as Phillip did the same.

“God you’re despicable.” Violet praised, despite her grin, she wanted to throw up when he leaned across the desk and kissed her. But she swallowed it down, along with her disgust for him. Barret’s life and survival hung in the balance, she needed to protect him. The money- she could care less about, she had more than enough just from The Agency, any money from Phillip was always extra. But for Barret's sake, it would be worth it. But for now, she needed to get Phillip right where she needed him and keep herself above suspicion in order to keep her own head from rolling. She couldn’t protect Barret, let alone anyone else if she was dead. And Phillip still held the power to pull the trigger so to speak. She still needed to finesse the gun from his grasp. And she still needed to figure out a proper trap for him too. One that he would be willing to release Barret from his if it meant his own freedom, much less his own life to be exchanged.

“Well Mr. Pine and myself are barely now only friends, for anything romantic is to happen, it is going to take some serious time and some very convincing measures and greater freedoms for both of us and he will not only have to be enticed, but feel free to pursue me without the fear of any backlash or danger of any kind. And I’ll need it in my contract that no retaliation or counter measures will be taken for any romantic entanglements for either of us because his fear of you may always outweigh any desire he has for me and it is that fear that keeps him in line and behaving for us so we need to balance it. And of course the occasional, if not quite frequent unsupervised time spent while in contract would be most helpful and if any of my enemies become his by association, I can’t be held responsible for that. But at the same time, if anyone is going to take him out, it will be me and me alone that will do it. No one else is to ever interfere and whether he lives or dies, will be a matter that me and only me will ever decide one way or another and who knows, he may prove to be useful to me for many years to come, decades probably, why should we prune a bush just as it begins to flower? Why not let it bloom it’s heart out and enjoy it’s fruits for the long run? Granted you get to enjoy the fruits of his labor for the next two years. I would hate to kill the golden goose before it gets a chance to lay it’s best golden eggs a few years from now? Because while I will inherit everything he has, why not let that bush flower and fruit to its absolute fullest and ripest before it’s harvested?” Violet specified with a flourish of her hands.  

“Oh of course. I absolutely agree with you on that.”

“But again, all of that will take time. Are you patient enough for all of that?” Violet posed.

“Oh don’t worry about me. I won’t grow bored if that’s what you’re worried about. Cheseray will do quite nicely as a good distraction.”

“Well if that distraction ever gets serious, I wouldn't hold that against you Phillip.” Violet cooed, because honestly, Cheseray and the rest of her dance company could take their turns with him, she didn’t give a fuck.

“Oh I wouldn’t worry about that if I were you.” Phillip reassured her.

“Well, if my hands are going to be full with Mr. Pine for the foreseeable future. I may need help with the position of your handler. And I fear for bigger trips like the ones to Tokyo and Hong Kong and the like, you're going to need an official handler since I’m going to be Mr. Pine’s for those engagements and well every engagement and outing from now on, because closeness does breed fondness after all.” Violet proposed and subtly consciously nodded which got Phillip to nod subconsciously as well.

“Of course, consider this your reassignment to him then. I believe I can enlist others to stand in for your post for the time being while you are otherwise engaged.” Phillip offered.

“Would you like me to arrange for that or did you have someone in mind?” Violet posed curiously.

“Oh I have a few in mind. I’ll take care of it myself. Your hands are already so full from handling Mr. Pine for me. I couldn’t possibly ask for you to find your stand in too.”

“Well if I may make a suggestion?” Violet offered.

“Oh I’m all ears.” Phillip grinned giddily.

“Don’t get Veronica Andrews. She’s a little too strictly business for your tastes and you will lose ground with her for the same things that gained ground with me. May I suggest perhaps a man, who is perhaps- familiar, accepting and incredibly accommodating for all of your needs who will use the same foresight and thoughtfulness I possess and will pleasantly surprise you?” Violet offered.

“Oh do go on.” Phillip urged her.

“He has a bit of a wild reputation and may have been in a scandal or two himself. But, he should be a good fit for you. His name is Leopold Traeger. Also known as Mysterio.” Violet recommended.

“Really? Mysterio?” Phillip posed.

“Most think he’s just a second rate Super, but those in the know- know differently. He’ll be perfect for what you need him for.” Violet cooed.

“Then I will take your recommendation.” Phillip grinned which got Violet to smile victoriously.

“Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a lunch date with Mirage. I’ll need all the insights and tidbits I can possibly harvest from her.” Violet excused herself as she got up and smoothed out her skirt.

“Oh of course, please do send her my best.” Phillip offered as he mirrored her.

“One last kiss then, besides, I would hate to be the reason you and Cheseray were to ever have a disagreement, let alone an argument or for her to feel any kind of jealousy towards me or feel threatened by me and our closeness. I can’t go ruining your relationships can I?” Violet cooed as she gave him one last kiss. Kissing the last of any emotional attachment with him goodbye with it.

“Goodbye Phillip, or should I say, Mr. Sebastian?” Violet slipped back into her handler voice as she sauntered away.

“Goodbye Ms. Parr.” Phillip called after her wistfully.

Violet went to Luigiano’s for lunch early and happily realized that Tali had already made a reservation under Octavia for a private booth. The restaurant was owned by The Seven Kings Mafia, so there was absolutely no cameras or listening devices and there were completely enclosed private booths in one of the private dining rooms that were bulletproof and sound proof and if you needed to discuss any kind of business, Luigiano’s is where you went. Plus they had one of Metroville’s best wine selections and the staff that worked in the kitchens turned out some of the best Italian food in the area that was on par with any Italian grandmother's cooking mostly because the kitchen was full of real grandmothers from all over Italy that were brought over by the seven families that made up the Seven Kings of the Seven King's Mafia and you had to be an important somebody to even be on the list of guests allowed to make reservations and thankfully both Violet and Natalia were on that list. Violet sat down and ordered her favorite wine and some antipastos before Natalia came a few moments later, turning heads like she always did, because even after being a mother of two, her figure had morphed from slim and trim to dangerously curvy but still undeniably sexy and Natalia was still a head turner wherever she went, wearing one of her more couture outfits and looking more like a mob boss’ wife more than anything before she was shown to her booth before her own order was taken then the doors of the booth were closed and secured as Violet and her happily dug into the antipastos that had been delivered already.

“Violet Darling, I was surprised to get a call from you, what’s going on?” Tali asked.

“What do you make of this?” Violet asked as she handed Tali her tablet as Tali took it and read through what was on it before she let it set on the table and got her glass of wine and began to drink it before she looked back down at it, holding the chilled glass of wine to her cheek as he cheeks flushed as she stared down at it as she did her best to school her features to stay composed as Violet could still see the real fear behind her gorgeous green eyes.

“It’s one hell of a trap.” Tali noted.

“I know. It’s a trap for Mr. Pine, I’m the bait.” Violet offered before Tali shook her head no.

“No, you have that backwards Dear. Mr. Pine is the bait, you’re the prey. This is a give. The real question is- what is Phillip taking?” Tali asked.

“Phillip still thinks I’ll kill Mr. Pine at my earliest convenience.” Violet answered.

“Nope, that’s not it. That was a term already agreed upon and understood under the previous terms. These are new terms. Which means new stakes. This is the give, what is the take?” Tali repeated emphatically.

“My sanity?” Violet guessed. “I told him about the creepy crawly spiders. He agreed to kill them for me and that Mr. Pine is like a big can of Raid to me. Phillip hasn’t killed them yet, but he put them to sleep for now.” Violet revealed.

“No. That’s not it. Did Phillip propose? And more importantly did you accept because this is a big “leap of faith and trust” there’s no way Phillip would take this leap, without either knowing for certain that you will catch him, or, more importantly, know for certain that his leverage against you outweighs this, it’s like gambling, and he’s the house, the house is always going to win and this is your first pay out. But there’s no way you get to leave the casino. It’s way too early and the night is way too young, again, what are the stakes, what is the take? The real take? Are you going to be Mrs. Sebastian?” Tali asked plainly.

“No, uh, in fact he has a new squeeze in order to free me up for Mr. Pine.” Violet answered.

“Well it’s clear he’s “loaning you out” like a pimp trading hoes or an exhibit at a museum. What is Phillip taking to keep you loyal to him? To keep you obedient and in line? What is more precious to you than your heart that Phillip knows you'd give up everything to keep safe?” Tali urged her.

“Jack.” Violet breathed in horror as that realization hit her like a brick to the face.

“It was Jack who came to SEB to redesign the suit. It’s Jack who has been working with Edna on Dragon Eye. But Jack is at home, Jack would know if there’s spiders at home or at school and Jack is so far- immune. Unless... Phillip found a way to make himself more potent. Oh God. I told Phillip he needed a new handler while I was “reassigned”. I suggested Mysterio because Mysterio would be able to give Phillip all the freedoms he wants, without too many constrictions of ethics or morals, much less codes or laws. Mysterio has had issues with drugs in the past. If Phillip gets ahold of...any number of things he’ll be too strong. Even for me. Maybe even for Jack or my parents, or anyone.” Violet realized.

“I gotta go.” Violet realized as she took the tablet back and got her things together.

“Thank you for lunch, sorry to eat and run, I gotta…”

“Just go.” Tali waived her off as Violet quickly walked out of the restaurant, doing everything in her power not to cry in public as panic whirled in her chest and she went straight to Jack’s school and had him come to the office while she did her best to wait patiently for him to come before Jack came into the office in confusion before he looked into the office to see Violet before his eyes got wide to see her expression.

“What’s wrong?” Jack asked.

“Oh, uh, you have an appointment with Dr. Pine today that Mom forgot to call the school and let them know you had.” Violet offered.

“Oh yeah, uh, let me go get my backpack.” Jack said as Violet went with him and ordered her secret bike to meet her at a doctor’s office where she managed to find- a Dr. Pine on staff. He was an orthopedic surgeon, who specialized in pediatrics. Perfect. 

“What’s going on?” Jack whispered.

“Phillip changed the stakes. We need to strategize with Barret.” Violet urged him.

“Shit.” Jack cursed under his breath.

“That was fast. We were just there for the weekend, we left Sunday afternoon, it hasn't been 24 hours since we last left. How did he change it so fast?” Jack asked in a hushed whisper as he got back to his locker and got his stuff along with work from his teacher before he followed Violet out of his school.

“Read this.” Violet said as she handed Jack her tablet as she drove like the wind to the doctor’s office as she checked her phone to see where her bike was en-route to her.

“I just got done with lunch with Tali, she said that since I’m not officially engaged to Phillip, that that is the give and asked what the take is. I think because you were at SEB, that Phil plans on taking you as leverage against me. I don’t know when or how, but you need to make sure that at school and especially at home, that it’s spider free. But since I officially got reassigned, I suggested Mysterio as my replacement. Mysterio has a history with drugs, more-so with weed than coke but I wouldn’t put it past him. If Phillip gets back on coke- he’ll get too strong, even for me and I’m afraid even for you.” Violet insisted.

“Yup, that tracks.” Jack nodded in agreement before she parked her car and hit a remote on her keys before an enclosed motorcycle slid it’s enclosure back as Violet quickly changed into a pant suit so she could ride the bike astride as Jack got on it with her and got the second helmet and put it on before he hung onto his sister tightly from behind her on the bike and rode with Violet back to SEB in the cloaked bike, weaving through all the traffic, like a thread through a tapestry and once in the SEB parking lot, Violet enveloped through her forcefield as she ran into the building, phasing though the walls and such to get to Barret’s lab before she got Jack safely into Barret’s bathroom before she went up to Barret and tapped his arm three times before he lifted his head and took the cue and went into the bathroom and blinked in surprise to see Jack in there before the three of them were enveloped into Violet’s forcefield.

“Ok, now what’s going on?” Barret asked before Violet repeated what had happened with Phillip and then again with Tali as both Barret and Jack had to sit on the floor as Violet sat with them as all three of them simply held their heads in their hands as they sat cross legged on the floor in a triangle.

“How do we get out of this?” Jack asked.

“Other than in a casket.” Barret specified.

“Or me in a wedding dress answering to Mrs. Sebastian for the rest of my life, however long or short that may be.” Violet groaned as she raked her nails over her scalp.

“Wait.” Jack breathed in softly as an idea bloomed in his head.

“Is there a way to measure someone’s individual brain wavelengths, like a taking a stamp of a fingerprint. And is there a way we can inject, something like a dye, like the kind of dye they inject you with when you have an MRI, but it can stick to foreign wavelengths, like dusting for fingerprints, but on the brain, to see if Phillip has had his “fingerprints” on other brains. Like I know Violet’s brain is going to look like a joint passed around at a party.” Jack began which got Violet and Barret to snort a laugh at his allegory. But he had a great idea.

“But if we can find actual evidence of this suicide seed. It should show up right? And even if it got removed, there might be evidence, like the water stains left behind in a flower vase. It’s worth a shot right?” Jack offered.

“Definitely.” Barret readily agreed.

“And if we can make it so that once it’s found, the dye can act like nonstick spray on a pan, to keep any further ‘fingerprinting’ from happening to the brain itself but make his efforts still show up?” Violet ventured as Jack and Violet looked to Barret hopefully.

“In theory yeah, but it would take images and I need Phillip’s biometric data. And that’s not going to be easy to get.” Barret began.

“Well, we’ve used Dragon Eye as our cover so far, I’d have offed myself already if Phillip knew he was really Dragon Eye. We can use that as our in. We can use the Agency and I can get you set up with passcodes and ways to use The Agency’s databases and super computers so that you can work on stuff that even Phillip can’t see and we can hide it in plain sight because anything secret or top secret or whatever Phillip always likes to poke his nose into. We can even use your cipher to code it. Make it so that IRize and your other companies can get read into it and at least they can keep a second copy of it as a back up and Jack, I hate to do this to you so but get you another back up, keep it with Edna, no one in their right mind would go after her or invade her space, they’d be making an enemy with every Super world wide on both sides.” Violet mused.

“Yeah, that works.” Jack said before Violet got a nosebleed.

“Fuck, I’ve used too much of my powers today, we gotta cut this short. Jack I gotta get you back and get you off at home.” Violet realized as she grabbed some toilet paper to stuff it into her nose to stop the bleeding as Buddy noticed that the blood itself seemed to pulse in and out of invisibility within the tissue, like a cuttlefish strobing it’s lights and colors which he thought was peculiar.  

“Ok,” Jack readily agreed before Violet got Jack back and managed to hack into the real Dr. Pine’s medical computers to fake a note for Jack before her bike drove itself back to her secret hideout apartment before Violet took Jack home and lied to her parents about how she had made the doctor���s appointment for Jack because he was complaining of pain in his feet because the real Dr. Pine was an orthopedic surgeon and they were getting a consultation.

Then Violet returned to work as usual and went to check in with Phillip for the evening check in and stopped dead in her tracks when she saw someone with Mysterio in Phillip’s office.

White Lightning- none other than her brother, one Dash Parr.

Fuck. Wrong brother. It wasn’t necessarily Jack that was the take. It was Dash.

[tessatechaitea]

Team Titans #21

Team Titans is an anagram for a tit stamen.

In this modern era, anything you say online can eventually come back to haunt you. But back before the Internet existed (or was mostly just drunk assholes and minors in AOL chat rooms), the main thing that could come back to haunt a person was writing into a comic book and asking for a pin-up issue. Sure, I had young person crushes on a few comic book characters. But I never wrote to Mike W. Barr and asked him to write a story where Halo spends most of the issue in her underwear. No, I wrote that letter to Jim Aparo. "Come on, Jim! Just have her coming out of the shower in some scene! I can't prove this yet because it's 1984 but it'll probably become common practice to draw characters in towels getting out of showers when artists like David Finch and Tony S. Daniel become popular! And their renditions of adult women will look even younger than your rendition of Halo!" I find the amount of "Ooh la la"s and "Ha cha cha cha"s I've had to read in the letters pages of The New Titans since they published a swimsuit shot of the women of the Titans incomprehensible. And I'd find it incomprehensible even if that amount were just one. Which it was not. I wouldn't be too flabbergasted if I didn't think mostly grown ass men wrote to comic books. I know kids did too! Take Roy Thomas as an example. But no way are young people the majority of letter writers. Speaking of comic books, I just read Terry Moore's "Five Years" and it pissed me off. Mostly because eight out of the twenty pages were blank. After the first blank page, I thought, "That was a weird choice." But it kind of fit because it was squarely at the point in the narrative where the phi bomb goes off in Katchoo's dream. But then a few pages later, it was a double spread of blank pages. Being a Master Comic Book Reader, I thought, "This can't be right." And it wasn't right! Not at all! Now I have to purchase a new copy so I can see what I missed. And, no, I won't be taking this copy back to the comic book store. It has my greasy fingerprints all over that stupid glossy black cover that Terry Moore insists on doing! Not that I think the store would resell it. But I do know they'd have a great set of my fingerprints to use for nefarious purposes. Or possibly legal purposes that would just get me in trouble. At least "Five Years #1" had blank pages so I knew something was missing. It took me 20 years to finish reading Neil Gaiman's Sandman because I didn't realize there were something like eighteen pages missing from The Kindly Ones trade paperback I own. This issue begins with the U.S. military surveying the damage from the Team Titans battle with Lazarium.

Being that Lazarium was only killing Titans, this means the Team Titans have killed 36 more civilians than Lazarium. Way to go, heroes!

Writer Jeff Jensen didn't have the balls to kill all of the extra Titans in the black hole so he decides to have most of the survivors attack Battalion and the other Titans. Enough comic book readers accept the premise that at least half of the battles in comic books have to be good guy against good guy, no matter how stupid the reason. And the reason doesn't get any stupider than having a bunch of Titans that were just battling alongside Battlion to suddenly decide the only sane reaction to Battalion suggesting they clean up the mess is to shoot Donna Troy in the face. At the very least, it gives Mirage a chance to mention that 500 Titans just died. After coming up with Wonder Boy and Two Gallon Hat and Liquid Joe, Jensen realized he was out of ideas so he just killed most of the others. And yet he seemed so excited to build a new Titans universe with hundreds of new characters! I wonder if he did come up with five hundred characters whose names were even worse than Liquid Joe and Two Gallon Hat, so the editors told him he was fucking crazy if he thought DC was going to use any of them. The Titans seek refuges at the Justice League Embassy in New York. I forgot there was a time when the Justice League forwent their headquarters to run embassies all over the world. Giffen and DeMatteis must have thought there'd be big bureaucratic Marx Brothers type laughs in trying to run an embassy. And I suppose there could have been! Did they ever do a story with some Assange-like villain like Calendar Man or The Riddler seeking asylum from Batman's fists? At the embassy, Donna Troy works out a sweet deal with the government to allow the Titans a life free from being blamed for every little problem that crops up in New York.

Great negotiating, Donna! "Do whatever the government wants or be hunted like vermin!" She's the fucking Trump of the Titans.

The government's deal amounts to the same deal the Team Titans had already accepted in their future life. The government will provide them with basic necessities and education in exchange for working in small military groups united under some mysterious leader. They all jump at the chance to not do anything different with their lives, especially considering that the other option was to be shot on sight whenever they mentioned their stupid names. The government, with the help of gossip reporter Cokie Roberts, concoct a story to cover up the Titans murder of two hundred people. I know it was reported earlier by me that they only killed three dozen non-Titans. But it turns out, according to Cokie and the government, two hundred non-Titans were killed by the black hole. I suppose they're including all of Lazarium's henchmen and also all the people the government killed when they realized they had the perfect excuse to disappear them with the Titans' black hole. It's interesting that nobody worries about all the people killed in the black hole because that was an "accident" and yet everybody loses their minds when they think about Nightrider killing the guy ultimately responsible for it all. Maybe they're all just grossed out that he drank blood.

I'm just going to assume the Wonder Woman look-a-like's name is Frottage Girl.

Mirage feels badly about deceiving the public since she pretended to be Lazarium so that the world wouldn't know the Team Titans killed him. But Cokie Walters is all, "Don't fucking worry about it, slut! The news lies all the time!" I guess when you're a celebrity gossip reporter, you don't really worry too much about journalistic ethics. A proper reporter wouldn't have lied about this story. They would have just interviewed some government agent who would lie about the story and then they'd shrug their shoulders and go, "Well, I guess that's one side of the issue! If only there were somebody who could investigate the story to find out how true it is. I don't know who that would be though. A doctor? Or an astronaut? It's a mystery!" While the Team Titans film another puff piece with Cokie Walters, Donna Troy approaches Wonder Woman with a problem: she wants her powers back.

If the graph of an argument doesn't look like an ouroboros, Donna Troy wants no part of that argument.

Donna wants to petition the Greek Gods to get her powers back and she needs Diana to be her arbiter. Diana says, "You have my support in everything you do," and now I don't know why I'm so aroused.

Maybe it's due to panels like these that I can't help reading out of context.

Donna confronts the Titans, pleading with them to return her powers. But the Gods have a law: "No take backs. Too bad, so sad." So they send her back to Earth where she lands in the yard of Terry Long's ex-wife. She looks in the window and sees a happy family scene starring Terry and his ex-wife and Terry's daughter and their son. She lets her low self-esteem get the better of her and runs away thinking her marriage is probably over before she can hear Terry yell at his ex-wife for being a snarky jerk. So a happy ending for once! Team Titans #21 Rating:: C-. My main question for Marv Wolfman and Jeff Jensen is this: how the fuck did you manage to make a comic book with this much potential so fucking tedious?! Maybe you need to have a teenager's sense of drama to find any enjoyment out of this comic book at all. Killowat loves Mirage but he's a racist and she's all, "No way! Probably! We'll talk!" And Nightrider needs to eat people but he won't so he almost dies but then he eats a person! Donna Troy was happily married until she saw Terry and his ex-wife getting along for five seconds and now their marriage might be over! Battalion constantly calls people cheeseheads and their heads aren't even really made out of cheese! Terra loves Gar but Gar is all, "The boner you give me makes me feel guilty! Go away!" Redwing is all, "Prester Jon, my brother! We can finally hug!" But Prester Jon is all, "Ew! You're gross with the pointy ears and talons and veiny wings! Get away!" Also, what happened to Deathwing? I really hope Mirage dismembered him. Hopefully Jensen will devote a full issue for a flashback of that scene.

[kanisrussell]

Salted earth part 2

Title: Salted Earth

Word count: 2873

Relationship: F!Deputy and John Seed, Jacob Seed and F!OC

Rating: T

Summary: The collapse happens sooner than expected, and leaves Junior Deputy with John Seed in his bunker. How will the next 7 years play out?

A week later.

John’s gate.        

A slight knock of the metal wall brought John back from his day dreaming. He was currently in the control room for his gate. On the monitors, he could see everything that went on in the bunker at all times. Including the live feed from Olivia’s cell. John turned his attention from the live feed to see who had come to visit him.

It was Joseph. He stood there, dressed in his white shirt and dark vest. “John.” Joseph greeted, in his usual calm and patient voice.

“Joseph.” John’s eyes met Joseph’s graze, still hidden behind the yellow aviators. ”How lovely to see you.” John replied with a smile, but he was kind of nervous. He hadn’t expected the Father, not at this hour at least.

“You have done well, brother.” Joseph brought John in for his signature forehead touch. “I wanted to thank you for bringing the deputy to our gate. They will find salvation.” Joseph praised.

“Thank you, Joseph.” John smiled.

“I was afraid of what might happen if you allowed your sin to consume your soul, but you did the right thing. We shall enter the gates of Eden together, as a family.” Joseph explained. John was overjoyed, the love he got from his brother was something he had sought after all his life. His life with the Duncan's had been devoid of everything even remotely similar to love. The concept was sometimes even foreign to him.

“I look forward to it, Joseph. But...-” John took a deep breath. “-There is a slight problem.” John underplayed the issue he had in his mind as much as he could.

“And what would that be?” Joseph asked, his voice still calm.

“Well, the deputy atoned and confessed… But… She hasn’t spoken a word since her atonement. I struggle to get her to talk.” John confessed. Joseph studied John’s face in a very intense manner, but remained silent as John tried to interpret what Joseph was thinking.

“Bring me to her.” Joseph finally ordered, and John nodded slowly. The walk to Olivia’s cell was silent, and it haunted John to no end. He hated when his brother refused to speak. John couldn’t help but feel a bit afraid; he feared what Joseph would do if something went wrong. He had always stressed that the deputy should be brought in to their folds with love.

The cell down was opened with a swing of his personal key. Joseph nodded to him, and gave John a look that could only be described as: Please leave us alone to talk. John obliged, slowly backing away from the cell door and taking a deep breath. Joseph would know what to do, he always did.

Olivia had been stationary for close to 2 days now. Not moving an inch from her position in the corner, her head buried in her knees. Her head simply couldn’t comprehend what had happened. She refused to believe Joseph was right; there was simply no way in hell. She hoped that she would wake up any moment, wake up and hear her friends call for her. But it never came, and soon she knew that it would never come.

The door opened, and she suspected that it was just another peggie that had been ordered to give her food. But no, this was different. The air had a sickening sweet taste to it, and when she looked up a bit, and cleared her eye sight of the remains of the tears, she could see a figure in a white shirt and a black vest looking at her.

It didn’t take long for her to piece together that it was indeed Joseph, but how could he be here? He was in Faith’s bunker… Wasn’t he? Her mind hurt as it raced to gain answers that might never be revealed to her.

“May I sit here, my child?” He voice was like silk, so sweet and calming. She hated it.

She didn’t answer him, she didn’t want to. But, she had to admit, she was torn between telling him to fuck off, and demanding that he explain himself. But, the words refused to roll of her tongue either way.

“I see that you are confused, you are wondering how I am here?” Joseph asked. He had to ability to read her like an open book, and she was always terrified by it.

“In the days that these bunkers were built, they connected them with tunnels to ensure maximum capacity. Nuclear war was always on the edge during those days, and it wasn’t until now it came.” Joseph explained, he shifted on the prison bed, and continued to stare her down.

She creeped as far as she could in to the corner, and covered herself as much as possible.

“Do not fear, you too will become worthy of seeing the new world. If you believe in me, and cast away your fears, your doubts and look into your heart. You are part of this family.” Joseph’s voice still sounded sweet like honey. He offered a promise, and in that very moment, she considered taking his hand. To finally listen to what he said.

But, the images of Hudson flooded her mind, of her crying her make up off, of John terrifying her. Then came the images of Pratt, all beaten to a bloody pulp. The sight of The Marshall, Burke, walking through a bliss field, forever doomed to be there. She bit the bullet, she would endure.

“Go fuck yourself.” She said, it was not more than a small whisper, but he heard it none-the-less.

“I am quite disappointing in you, deputy. But, God’s forgiving nature allows me to keep the door open for you, even after all you have done.” Joseph remarked, as he stood up.

“My family still has trials for you, but I am sure that you will see the light.” Joseph finished as he left his book on the bed table. “Please, read it, and enlighten yourself.” He requested, before leaving.

She didn’t want to, but with nothing better to do, she finally exited her corner. She sat down on the bed,, and found that it was much more comfortable than the concrete floor. Her mind picked up the hard cover book, and slowly felt the texture of the book. She sighed as she looked around the small cell. She had no idea how long it had been since the collapse happened. Joseph had probably banned all forms for time measurement and calendars. She opened the first page of the book, and read the first passage.

”If you are reading these words, then there is hope.

Hope is the rock on which we build our future.

Know that you are not alone.

Know that you are loved.”

4 days later

Time flew by, but in the bunker it was often hard to keep track away way. The father had gone back to Faith’s gate, and had been visiting Jacob’s armory every now and then. Olivia had been invested in the book she had been given by Joseph. John studied her on the live feed, taking notes for their nest session together.

Joseph’s sermon came on. It was playing quietly on the voice announcement system, but John mostly tuned out. He felt like it was his personal mission to make the deputy submit to the project full heartedly. In this train of thoughts, he realized something. He didn’t know that much about the junior deputy. Only her first name, Olivia.

Since the collapse was already here, information gathering was hard to come by, so he saw an opportunity. He was never one to pass up on an opportunity when one came knocking. Hudson had been kept on ice since the collapse happened, he didn’t have much interest in her anyway. But, he might learn more if the two believed that they were given time together without supervision.

He would pad himself on the shoulder if pride wasn’t a sin. But, he feared that the father wouldn’t approve of it, so he kept it a secret. In John’s mind, it was sometimes easier to ask for forgiveness than permission to pull these stunts. He smiled as he prepared himself for yet another meeting with the stubborn deputy.

When John wanted something done in his gate, it would always be done. No one dared ask questions, lest they be sentenced to another confession. So no one looked twice as he went down and opened the door to the cell. Olivia shocked, and in a panic threw the book underneath the sheets.

“Deputy.” John greeted with a wide, teeth showing, grin. “How are you feeling today?” He asked as he stepped further in to the room.

“Just peachy-” She said, her voice was thick with sarcasm. “- Being stuck in a bunker with you is one of my dreams come true.” Olivia elaborated.

“That’s great to hear, because I think you deserve a little reward.” John replied, and instantly saw her eyes turn from bored to curious. “You see, Deputy Hudson is really missing some company, and I think you might be the perfect playmate.” John watched her eyes light up at the mention of Hudson. She nodded, and almost began begging to see Hudson. John wanted to smile, but kept his ulterior motive hidden.

There was no way the deputy didn’t smell something rotten about it, but she simply wanted to see Hudson more. Any chance she could get, she would gladly take. John happily took her the shoulder and began leading her out of the cell, and down the narrow corridors. The followers had begun to complain about some of the conditions of the bunker, how they felt the walls were closing in and how they couldn’t see the sun anymore. He had assured them that there was nothing to worry about, but he couldn’t dismiss that he felt that way sometimes as well.

Finally, they came to the cell where Hudson was being kept. Her cell was a mess; she had been throwing everything that was throwable around. John tsked as he watched it in person. “Guess she really wants some company.” John joked as he took his key and opened the lock.

Hudson turned her attention from the broken objects to the newly opened door. She was already in attack mode, ready to fight. She had already bit the ear of the servant who served her some food. “Hudson.” John greeted. “Breaking stuff is not good manners. I would suggest keeping that wrath in check, lest we will stop serving your food again.” John threatened in the most annoying voice that only he was capable of.

“Olivia here-” John slowly padded her on the back. “-Wanted to have a play date, think we can manage that?” John asked.

Hudson nodded slowly, and John smiled. He let Olivia in to the cell. And promptly left and locked the door behind him. “Have fun.” He said as the door locked.

Olivia and Hudson stared at each other for a good long minute, before they threw each other in their arms. Olivia was not ashamed to admit that a small tear escaped down her cheek as she hugged Hudson still her was certain it was hurting her breathing.

“I thought you were dead!” Hudson proclaimed, her voice was weak and hoarse. Probably from not talking in a long time.

“I wanted to get you out...-” Olivia looked down into the concrete floor in shame. “-But I failed you, I failed everyone.” Olivia allowed the tears to flow.

“Look, Olivia-” Hudson shook her until she stopped looking away. “-We will get out of here… Somehow.” Hudson promised.

“But how? The Father said that-” Olivia was quickly interrupted by a slap.

“Don’t tell me you bought in to the bullshit of him.” Hudson was dead serious as she asked the question.

“But-But… The collapse-” Olivia began, but once again, she was overridden by Hudson’s voice.

“I don’t care if the psychopath guessed right, all I care about is getting out of here, with you preferably.” Hudson explained.

“I want to get out, but what about Pratt? And Burke?” Olivia asked concerned.

“We’ll get Pratt out as well, hopefully Burke too. Where is the Sheriff?” Hudson asked back.

“Last I heard, he was still at the prison.” Olivia answered, but she didn’t know what happened. She hoped that he was still okay. He had always believed in her, he had been the father figure in her life after her own father died.

“We’ll go look for him as well. But, we need to smart about this. How do we get out of here?” Hudson asked.

Olivia thought about it, scratching the back of her head in the search of an answer. Then, she remembered. “John’s key! It’s around his neck.” Olivia snapped her fingers and replied.

“But, how do we get it?” Hudson asked with worry.

“I have an idea, but I don’t think you will like it...-”

“John.” A voice greeted, it was at the door way. John almost fell back over his chair when he heard the voice. He had been watching Hudson and Olivia talking for the last 10 minutes, while his record player was busy giving him the sweet classical tunes of Mozart.

John quickly gathered himself and was back in his usual self. It was his older brother Jacob standing in the doorway this time, and John was more relieved. Jacob and John had both made an effort to get closer. But when they were separated, it was at a young age, and the age gap between them was quite big.

“Jacob.” John smiled. “Why haven’t you visited before?” John asked, hoping to distract him from the live feed of Olivia and Hudson.

“Things needed sorting in the armory. People need my supervision to get things done.” Jacob replied, his voice still calm and collected. That was what Jacob was known for these days, he nearly bursted into anger, he always stayed calm.

“Ah, but I missed you here! So, are things going okay now?” John asked further.

“It better be. But, I came here for something else.” Jacob admitted.

“And what might that be? I’m here if you need me, brother.” John reassured his brother.

“It’s… It’s Abigail, and Matilda” Jacob almost whispered it. He had been very secretive about the two. Few people in the project knew about it, Jacob had been very keen on keeping it that way. It was his wife and daughter respectively.

“What about them?” John asked concerned. He loved his niece and his sister in law, very much in fact.

“It’s just that… I think I have spent too much time training our forces, and not enough time with my daughter… She has grown-” Jacob gestured with his hand as he searched for the word. “-Rebellious.” He finally confessed.

“Well… She is thirteen years old. But, I don’t see the problem. You seem to know how to deal with...” John held an intentional long pause. “- Rebellious types” John smirked as he said it.

Jacob shifted a bit on his feet, and bit his under lip. “Abigail wouldn’t approve of that.” He whispered, almost non audible.

“Sorry, what was that? I couldn’t hear it.” John was overjoyed in that moment. He was a little brat of a brother.

“Abigail wouldn’t approve.” Jacob repeated, this time loud and clear.

“I see.” John was close to laughing at this point. “-So, Mr. Control doesn’t have control over his own daughter?” John asked.

“I may be your brother, but if you want to keep that baby face in good shape, I would suggest you cut it out.” Jacob threatened, and John obliged, but that didn’t stop him from laughing a bit more.

“Have you asked Joseph about it?” John then asked.

“Yes, he suggested that I give her lots of love, and accept her of the woman she will grow in to. But, I don’t know.” Jacob was actually admitting defeat. John couldn’t believe it.

“I’m sure it will blow over. All teenagers act like that. It’s just the puberty doing its things. Try and be there for her, but don’t push her.” John advised.

“Faith said the same thing.” Jacob replied.

“You came to Faith before me?!! I’m hurt.” John put on his sad puppy eyes.

“You don’t have any track record.” Jacob swiftly added.

“Then why did you come to me at all?” John asked.

“Because I wanted your input as well.” Jacob confessed. “I need time to think about it. Thank you, truly.” Jacob said, and gave John a hug. John hadn’t received a hug from Jacob in a long time, and was quite touched to get one. With that, Jacob left again.

As John watched him disappear in to the corridor, he turned his attention from the back of Jacob’s camo jacket and onto the screen before him. He heard the last words of the conversation going on.

“Then that’s the plan. Remember what I said.” It was Olivia, and John was beginning to be pissed that he had missed the conversation. But, he stayed relatively calm. He knew he had everything under control. There was no need to worry.

[let-it-raines]

Second in Command: Ch. 7

Summary: Life as the "spare to the heir" isn't all that it's cracked up to be when you're the supposed screw-up of the family, but people don't know what really happens behind closed doors.

Rating: M

A/N: If anyone isn’t a big Halloween movie watcher, you can find the clip of a line Emma says here. I also highly recommend the movie. It’s a personal favorite. 

And as always, this chapter and the rest of the story can be found on ao3

|  here  |

The world has known about Emma for three months now, summer slowly drifting into autumn. The longer the month of September goes on, the more the heat begins to subside and the leaves begin to prematurely fall to the ground, a myriad of colors scattering the sidewalks.

 Autumn has always been his favorite season. The humidity seems to fade away, and the streets tend to smell less like hoards of sweaty, hurried people and more like the occasional clear air that will waft through England when the stars align to create a day where the air is neither filled with smoke nor rain. September is a fine month, his birthday always falling toward the tail end of it, but he tends to favor October.

It’s a month most people pass by without much thought, directly between the thrill of summer vacation and the merriness of the winter holiday season, but to some, often those with small children or adults who have a sense of imagination and adventure (and often those wanting the opportunity to imbibe in a few libations), it’s the month that marks its end with ghouls and goblins and witches oh my.

 He’s never been one to celebrate Halloween as an adult. He’d been to one or two parties while at university, sure, always throwing together a last minute costume that more often than not resulted in him throwing on a tux that he already owned and going as James Bond. If he got really creative, he’d shave his beard, throw on a pair of spectacles and go as Clark Kent.

 So he likes Halloween, enjoys the sweets and the horror films and the way the store fronts fill their windows with intricately carved pumpkins, yellow candles flickering inside as the sun sets into darkness.

 He likes it, but Emma loves it. She loves everything about it. As soon as the calendar flips from September to October, she pulls a chest out from under her bed that’s full of DVDs (We can just watching them online, darling, he’ll say. It’s not the same, she’ll say) to watch at least one a day until the clock strikes midnight on Halloween and the pumpkins turn into Christmas trees (or turkeys for those living in America). In her closet there’s a box of every Halloween costume she’s ever worn that somehow managed to make the trip from America to London.

 He once found a princess costume that was made for a girl no older than five, and when he teased her about how she’s obviously had a thing for him for her entire life, she told him that it was really Liam she had a thing for, her lips curling up into a smirk as mirth danced in her eyes. He was left speechless holding a sparkly blue dress as he watched her proudly bask in the glory of her joke. Later she told him, whispered in the darkness of her room after she had physically reaffirmed that he was the only man for her, that she could have dressed as a princess every day of her life and still never have been prepared for him and every way he’s surpassed any dream she ever had of a prince sweeping her off her feet just by being Killian.

 He could have never prepared for her.

 Emma carves pumpkins and buys candy ahead of time only to eat it all and have to purchase more before the holiday passes (and then buying the discount candy on November first so that she has enough to last her until the Valentine’s Day sales). She researches ghost stories online and then retells them with the enthusiasm of someone who likes being scared shitless at the possibility that the dead haunt her movements.

 So his girlfriend loves Halloween, and he knew that going into their relationship, part of the basic getting to know you process that happened over late nights and glasses of rum she eventually didn’t charge him for. However, he didn’t get to experience Halloween with her until they’d been dating for over two years. The first year he’d had to miss it because he rearranged his schedule so that he’d be around for her twenty-first birthday the week before. She’d told him she loved him for the first time that night, and he would trade all of his Halloweens for the rest of his life just to keep that day the same. The next year he’d been on his two-month North American tour that had resulted in them not speaking for a few weeks, so he hadn’t even gotten to listen to her enthusiasm about the holiday (She was a bar wench he later found out. An appropriate costume that ended up looking very inappropriate on her).

 When he realizes that he can finally celebrate with her on his third try, the smile that crosses his face may rival Emma’s when she’s watching Hocus Pocus.

 “So you’re sure about this?” she questions as she pushes her box of movies back underneath her bed, settling on the creepy and the kooky Addams Family.

 They both had the day off, and Emma had begged, not that she needed to, for the two of them to spend the day watching movies and eating candy out the bowl she’d already depleted at least once – he would know, he had to stop and buy her a mixed bag of candy on his way here. If she pulled a pumpkin primed for carving out of her closet, no part of him would be surprised.

 “I am positive,” he tells her as she crawls into bed next him, moving his arm so that it wraps around her shoulder, his fingers instinctively going to find the skin just below her shirt. “I have purposely arranged my entire autumn schedule so that I will be free to spend Halloween night with you.”

 “You know what this means, though, right?”

 “That I’m going to have to schedule an extra dental appointment because you’re going to force feed me candy until my teeth rot?”

 “I mean, obviously,” she teases, kissing the underside of his jaw from her vantage point below him. “But it means you have to wear a costume. Like, a real costume that you buy ahead of time because we have a costume party every year downstairs. And, like, not to be like the clichés of all the movies about royalty going out into disguise on Halloween, but if you could wear something that partially covers your face or alters your identity, that would be great because then I can kiss you downstairs and no one will even question it.”

 “Are there really movies like that?”

 “You have no idea.” She kisses his jaw again, the sensation running all the way through him. He is so crazy in love with her that sometimes he doesn’t know what to do with himself.  “One day I’m going to teach you about all of the clichés that you fall under.”

 He can’t help but laugh, pulling her closer to his side as the theme of The Addams Family finally begins to play on the television. They spend the rest of their day watching movies that have him ranging from laughing to sweating to being incredibly turned on. He eats more kit kat bars than he’s proud to admit, his stomach rounding where it’s usually more defined, and by the time he’s leaving to make his way home, he feels more like one of those pumpkins he thinks Emma has hidden in her closet than anything else.

 Emma’s just kissed him goodbye, a little more enthusiasm than usual, when he realizes something he missed out on earlier.

 “Wait,” he pulls back from her lips to look her in the eyes, “if I’m dressing up, that means you’re dressing up. What the devil are you wearing?”

 “Be patient,” she begins, lifting up on her toes to give him another kiss, slow and sensual and something he very much wants to continue, before pushing him out the door, “because that is a surprise that you’re just going have to show up to see. It’s kooky.”

 Damn. That’s something he can’t wait to see.

 Finding a costume that won’t make him feel ridiculous ends up being more difficult than he thinks. He considers several that require him to wear a mask that completely covers his face, but those seem to be farcical more than anything else. He thinks of going as a pirate, but that just didn’t seem to call to him, the leather and eyeliner unappealing. When he comes across an entire section that’s full of prince costumes, one even entitled Prince Killian, he almost buys it just for the look on Emma’s face. Eventually after all of the sailors and clowns and police officers are eliminated, and he settles on being Tom Cruise in Top Gun. It’s a happy medium between what he’s comfortable with and what really getting into the spirit (pun intended) of Halloween means. Plus, he can mostly be himself with dark shades used to cover his eyes. It’s surprising how many people don’t recognize him simply because he has on a pair on sunglasses.

 It’s Halloween, and Emma’s been suspiciously silent, only texting him short little nothings when he texts her first. It’s not totally abnormal, but for this to be one of her favorite days of the year, she doesn’t seem to be too excited. It unnerves him, and even though he was supposed to wait until the pub’s patrons are pleasantly buzzed, he ends up sauntering through the door at a quarter after ten to find Mary Margaret and David, dressed as a cat and a dog in the way that only two people in their late forties can, but with no sign of Emma anywhere.

 The place is unusually busy, the younger patrons outweighing the older crowd that usually frequents the place, making the space feel smaller than usual. It doesn’t help that the Nolans have stretched fake cobweb across the pillars and between booths, causing people to duck around them if they don’t want to end up with whatever artificial material is used to make the decorations. On all of the tables are carved pumpkins he knows the three of them worked on two days ago. He spies the one he did a week ago, crooked smile from where the knife slipped in his hand. It’s on the table of the booth in the back – their booth, he likes to think, the one where they met – and he can’t help but think that Emma Nolan can be sentimental sometimes, too.

 Right now, though, he’d really like to find Emma Nolan and whatever costume she’s hidden from him.

 It’s then that he sees her, short black dress with a white peter pan collar, the sexiest thigh high boots he’s ever seen, and a black wig parted down the middle into two braids, her lips painted in a black lipstick the he imagines she won’t let him kiss her with. She’s Wednesday Addams. She gave him a clue by the movie they watched last time he was here, and no part of him even thought about it. He spent a hell of a lot of time thinking about it. Of course, knowing her, she very well could have come up with her costume idea while they were watching the movie.

 He makes his way over to where she’s refilling a few glasses of ale, grabbing her wrist and pulling her to him so that he can kiss her cheek and squeeze her hip just because he can.

 “Where’s your costume, darling?” he teases when he pulls back from her skin, knowing exactly what her answer is going to be, the Halloween-loving woman.

 He can tell she has to hold back a smile before she deadpans, “this is my costume. I’m a homicidal maniac. They look just like everyone else.”

 She delivers the line exactly as she should, identical to Wednesday Addams, not even throwing him a wink like she so often will when she tells a joke, the lines on her face as straight and narrow as possible.

 It’s only when she seems to take his costume in, her eyes perusing the jumpsuit and the dark aviator sunglasses in a way that makes him feel like there’s no air circulation in the pub. He tries to reign in his nerves, leaning down to whisper in her ear. “Do you like it?”

 Emma pulls back so that he can see her, the corner of her lips lifting up on one side. “Eh, I prefer how Maverick looks on the beach, but this’ll do.” And then she’s walking away, flipping the pigtails of her wig behind her, finally giving him the wink he expected earlier. The little minx.

 It ends up being such a busy night that he doesn’t get to see much of Emma. She’s always refilling drinks or wiping down tables when people leave. He doesn’t mind, though. Just watching her, he can see that she’s having a blast with all of the people who dressed up tonight. When a group of girls all dressed as the Addams Family women walk in, Emma practically squeals, a very un-Wednesday like thing to do.

She convinces them to take a picture with her, telling them that it’s going to go up on the wall where her family keeps pictures of big events that happen here.

 Seeing her this happy keeps a smile on his face throughout the night, even when he’s had one too may rums and realizes he has to take off the jumpsuit to relieve himself. It’s annoying and inconvenient, and when he comes out of the restroom cursing under his breath about bloody fucking Halloween (though no blood was involved in this Halloween), it’s to Emma leaning against the wall with her arms crossed waiting on him, right eyebrow perched high on her forehead.

 “You know, Nolan, that’s a little creepy you waiting out here for me.”

 “I wanted to get another picture of us to put up on the wall.”

 “Won’t that be suspicious?”

 “Nah, I’m just going to say it was a really hot guy who came by on Halloween, and I needed an excuse to get close to him. Who knows? Maybe later I’ll even get his number.”

 She’s…happy. She’s happy and flirtatious, two things he’s seen her be so many times before, but it’s like it’s contagious tonight, a disease which he’d very much like to catch.

 So they take the picture for her to hang up on the wall. He’s smiling in it, wide toothy grin as he wraps his arms around her shoulder. She’s not smiling. Instead, her body is stiff and her hands are placed at her sides, unhappy look on her face that has him in stitches when he looks at it later. It’s a picture he’d like to keep just for the look on Emma’s face.

 His favorite picture of the night, though, happens later when everything is closed down, and he’s starting to get tired, the only thing keeping him awake is the way that Emma’s mouth is moving against his, lazy and sloppy but all together delicious. He thinks that they’re on their way to other activities, his jumpsuit suddenly even more restricting, but then Emma starts hysterically laughing, tears rolling down her eyes as her hair, wig removed, falls in her face.

 It’s not often that a woman laughs at how he kisses, so he can’t help but feel a tad bit insulted.

 “Emma, love, what the bloody hell are you laughing at?”

 She just leans over to her bedside table to grab her phone, snapping a picture of him without him knowing what’s happening.

 “What are you doing? Why are you taking a picture of me?”

 “Just hold on a minute, and I’ll tell you.”

 It’s then that she twists in his lap so that she can take a picture of the two of them together, her head leaning on his shoulder. He thinks that maybe she just felt the overwhelming need to document the night, but then she’s thrusting her phone in his face and he sees why she’s laughing.

 It’s a wonderful picture of the two of them. They look happy and vibrant despite the late hour. It would be just like every other photograph except for the fact that the black lipstick she had on with her costume is now smeared all over his lips and his chin, even a bit of his nose. He looks bloody ridiculous, and when he looks over to Emma she’s covering her mouth to hide her laugh.

 “That’s really not your color, babe.”

 It’s a night that he remembers fondly, the picture saved on his phone and the lipstick tube tucked away in a box of things that he’s collected from Emma over the years.

 It’s not yet October, though, and Killian knows that a Halloween like that will most likely be a thing of the past for the two of them. They’ll have different kinds of holiday celebrations now, and while that does make him feel a tinge of longing for the ways of the past, he’s excited for the future.

Killian turns twenty-nine this week, and he’s having a quiet – by his family’s standards – celebration with just his family – his entire family, extending beyond just the immediate – as well as Emma and her parents. It is a bit of a combination event, both a celebration of his birth and an introduction of his girlfriend to the extended family she hasn’t met and vice versa, an introduction of her small family to the largeness of his.

 “Are you nervous?” Killian questions, moving to zip Emma’s dress, one hand caressing her hip as the other guides the zipper up its path.

 “Honestly,” she sighs out as she moves her hair off of her back and over one shoulder, exposing her neck to him, which he gives a soft kiss to when he finishes zipping her into the dress. It’s this little black thing she got from Abigail that’s long enough to be acceptable in the new dress code she’s trying to adhere to when she goes places with him that are a step up from the supermarket, but it still shows off all of her glorious curves. She looks beautiful, radiant even, and it doesn’t matter that he’s the slightest bit biased. “I don’t think I can really be nervous around your family anymore. It’s more this feeling I can’t describe, kind of like I’m walking on eggshells but only sometimes, I guess. It’s fine tonight, though, babe. It’s your night. I think I’ve officially grown a tough skin. I’m immune to all of the new bites from the Windsor clan.”

 She’s ghosting over things, he can tell. He caught some of the flashing “it’s fine” signs in her little spiel, but he goes against his better judgment and ignores it for tonight. He ignores his own signs, too.

 “They’re not piranhas, love.”

 “No,” she says, turning around and placing her hands on his shoulders, straightening his shirt collar, “they’re not. I’ve already faced those.”

 “And you did it swimmingly.” He leans down to quickly meet her lips with his.

 “Was that a pun?”

 “Always. I’m just naturally witty like that.”

 “I think you’re fishing for compliments.”

 He laughs, leaning down again to peck her cheek so as to not mess up her lipstick anymore. “You, my love, are the only fish in the sea for me.”

 “Okay, I’m done with the bad puns. We’ve got a party to go to, old man.”

 “What a kind, loving birthday wish from my girlfriend.”

 “That’s what I’m here for, babe.”

 And at that she walks away, hips swaying enticingly in that little black dress. When she gets to the doorway, she turns her head and fucking winks at him, and he’s got to make it through the entire night with her looking like that.

 He catches up to her, jogging just a little down the hallway as they walk to his car on their way to Windsor Palace. It’s where his parents have been staying recently, as it’s much more low key than the busyness of London, even if it’s a bit of a drive from Kensington.

 When they get there, it’s still about an hour before most of his family is supposed to arrive, but he wanted to spend some time with just his parents and Emma’s parents before all of the others arrive. The Nolans met his family two weeks ago, and they’ve all gotten on surprisingly well despite the rocky start this whole thing had. It probably helps that he and Emma decided to keep some of the nastier details of her introduction to his family to themselves.

 Mary Margaret and Allison have become fast friends and have discovered that they share many of the same interests, having even gone to a few of the same schools growing up, though Killian’s mother is several years older than Mary Margaret. David and Brennan get on fine. They don’t have a lot in common, but they don’t have to. As long as they have Killian and Emma in common, they’ll always have things to talk about.

 Emma’s never been to Windsor before, so he decides to giver her a small tour before joining his family in one of the dining halls. She did tell him the first time he brought her home that she’s fascinated by being able to see buildings she studied in primary school in real life. She’s brilliant, his love, with a mind most people can only hope to have half of, and though he knows that she’s happy with her decision not to attend university in exchange for helping her parents, he finds himself wondering what it would be like for her to take history classes. Would her face light up as she delved into research for papers? Would she hate having to stick her nose in a book to learn about history instead of getting to explore it for herself?

 They’ve broached the subject, her going back to school before, but she always says that she’s happy. She likes her job, and she likes spending time with her parents and her regular patrons. So he doesn’t push it. He doesn’t need her to have a degree. He has one in Philosophy that he’s never once used before. He just wants to make sure that if she has the opportunity to do something she wants to do, she can.

 “Babe,” she calls out from her spot a few feet ahead of him, and he already knows what she’s looking at before he catches up to her. “How old are you here?”

 She’s staring at a portrait that’s far too large, something he protested with his mum for what felt like hours on end, and he can tell she wants to reach out and touch it, run her fingers along the lines of his face.

 “I was fourteen, and before you say anything else, yes, I had to pose for it. It was bloody awful.”

 “Can we get one of these at our house?”

 She’s teasing him, playful smile on her lips, but all he can focus on is that she just said “our house.” They’ve been living together for a few weeks now. He’s sure she’s said something similar before, but it hasn’t hit him until then.

 “Hey,” she says when he doesn’t speak for a moment too long, turning to caress his cheek, her face level to his with the heels she has on, “I was just teasing. I think this is amazing. I love getting to see more of you when you were young.”

 Killian moves to wrap his arms around her waist, pulling her into his side so that he can rest the side of his forehead against the top of her head. “Aye, I know. We can have anything you want, Emma.”

 She tilts her head back as much as she can, his grip on her waist more snug than usual. “Are you okay?”

 “I’m fine, my love. I was just thinking about how if we get one of these for home, we also have to hang up that photograph of you from the time you dyed your hair brown and it ended up as some kind of purple.”

 She scrunches her nose, mouth twisting in disgust. “Mom never should have documented some things. But fine. No giant portrait of teenage Killian. Though, I thought it might look really good over the bed.”

 He can’t help put laugh, kissing the crown of her head before releasing her from his side and grabbing her hand so that they can finish their tour and show up to the dinner.

 When they walk in the door to the dining hall, they don’t even have a chance to breathe before they’re ambushed.

 “Mummy,” Alex squeals, squirming away from where he was sitting with Abigail and Liam on a couch so that he can make his way over to them, pointing at Emma as he waddles over to them, “it’s Emmy.”

 Emma just hurries her steps up, swooping Alex up into her arms and covering his face in kisses, leaving red marks from her lipstick all over him that he always finds hilarious when he looks into a mirror later (Killian likes to think he wears Emma’s lipstick marks better than Alexander, but who is he to compare himself to a toddler?). She’s his new best friend, and Killian’s not saying that he’s upset that a soon-to-be-two-year-old is ignoring him for his girlfriend, but he’s worked hard for that favorite relative position just to be usurped by Emma in a matter of months.

 Forget all of the murders and strategic arranged marriages of the past for people trying to overtake the thrown. Emma usurping Killian as Alex’s favorite person outside of his parents is the real royal scandal.

 “Emmy,” Alex giggles, squirming in her arms as she’s moved on from kissing him to tickling his stomach. “Mummy has baby in belly.”

 “Really?” Emma gasps, over-exaggerated voice that she’ll use sometimes when talking to him. “Mommy has a baby in her belly! That’s so exciting, Alex! Are you excited to have a new brother or sister?”

 “Yay, baby,” Alex shrieks, raising his hands in the air and clapping, something his parents have obviously taught him to do with the mention of the new baby.

 “Yay baby, indeed,” Abigail says, walking over to Killian, Emma, and her son, slight but obvious stomach reaching them before she does.

 “Alex, darling,” Abigail coos, reaching to take him from Emma and transfer him to Killian, “what did daddy teach you to say to Uncle Killian today?”

 Alex just stares at Abigail, like he has no idea what she’s talking about, his little face all scrunched up in confusion as he thinks.

 “Does Happy Birthday ring a bell, Alexander?” Liam asks, making his way over to them from his spot on the sofa, clapping Killian on the back and resting his hand there. Killian’s flinch is barely noticeable.

 The two of them are not best mates or anything now, as that would be hoping for miracles in a land where those are scarce, but there’s definitely less hostility between the two brothers – at least, on the surface. Killian knows that on top of the talks (talks, yelling matches, hushed conversations with Emma and Abigail in the other room) the two of them have had over the past few weeks, their father also sat down with Liam and talked about some of the changes they’re making and how they’re attempting to be more of a family in private, rather than just being kind in public. Killian hopes that with some work, it’ll be something that actually works out. He hopes that he can have the heart to let it work out because his feelings on the situation are about as messy and as convoluted as one’s thoughts can become.

 Emma still tenses when Liam’s near, however, and obviously he does as well. She doesn’t make it obvious, but he can see how she squares her shoulders the slightest bit, the way her smile fades at the corners. He can’t blame her. He does the same. But the sacrifices she’s making for him are evident in the way her smile fades from brilliant to polite.

 Alex gets it now, eyes lighting up as he stares at Killian. “Happy Birfday!” he shouts, just a little too loud, but it’s cute and he truly appreciates the fact that Liam took the time to teach Alex how to wish him happy birthday.

 Everyone in the room bursts into laughs, clapping for Alex and he just grins, showing off his little toddler teeth in pride.

 “Happy birthday, brother,” Liam wishes, clapping Killian on the back again, and this feels like the most normal interaction they’ve had in years. “You’re getting on up there in the years.”

 “Says the man who’s closer to forty than thirty now.”

 “Daddy old,” Alex adds in, and Emma lets out a series of loud giggles, having to cover her mouth with her hands to contain her laughter. Killian raises his eyebrow at her, silently asking now where did the little lad learn that? She just shrugs her shoulders, mouthing it wasn’t me at him.

 After all of the happy birthdays are exchanged and Killian’s aunts and uncles and cousins (and second cousins and third cousins he’s not really sure he’s related to) show up at the allotted time, they have dinner, table full of conversation and laughter. He’s not quite sure when the last time he felt this comfortable at a family event was. Maybe he’s never felt this comfortable – and comfortable may be the wrong word, but he’s not dreading every move his family makes, knowing that they’re on their best behavior. But he just looks over at Emma next to him, hands wildly moving around as she tells a story to his aunt Carolyn about what it was like to grow up in America, and he can’t help the grin that blooms on his face. It won’t always be like this, but at least he has tonight to push down all of the dark thoughts that threaten to emerge.

 It’s then that his father stands from his seat at the head of the table, wine glass in hand.

 “Good evening, everyone,” Brennan greets, his lips forming a small smile. “Allison and I would just like to thank everyone for making the trip up here. I know it’s a little too rural for some of you.” The room laughs at that, and Emma turns to him to mouth how in the hell anyone could consider this rural. “But nevertheless, I’d like to make a birthday toast to my youngest, Allison’s baby as she still calls him despite Killian’s protests. Killian, my boy, you’re twenty-nine now. At your age I was this unrefined, unmarried man whose mother had to remind him to get his clothes washed before he went on to an event as a representation for Britain. You, on the other hand, are this intelligent, well-composed, brave young man who understands more about life and love than I think I ever have. To see you come into your own, find a love of your own, especially in the last few months, brings me a joy that I didn’t know was possible. So may you continue to be as happy and as vibrant as you are tonight for the rest of your days! Happy birthday, Killian!”

 The room echoes with happy birthday, Killian, smiles gracing the faces of people who usually look so stern when all gathered together. His parents are beaming at him, Brennan kissing Allison’s cheek as she wipes away a tear that’s fallen to her cheek.

 “Happy birthday, Killian,” Mary Margaret echoes, reaching over Emma to pat his arm. “Now not to be nosy, but has Emma given you her gift yet?”

 “Mom,” Emma hisses, lightly smacking Mary Margaret’s arm, her lips slightly parted in surprise.

 “What? I wanted to know if he liked it!”

 “I wasn’t going to give it to him until later.”

 Emma looks so frustrated with her mother, like Mary Margaret actually gave away whatever this secret present is. She didn’t, and while he’s bloody curious, he can wait until later since Emma obviously wants to give it to him alone.

 “Oh,” Mary Margaret squeaks, placing her hands on her lap as David tries to hide his laughter next to them. “Well you’ll have to call me and tell me in the morning.”

 Emma leans her head to her left so that she can rest it on her mother’s shoulder, the two women interlacing their fingers. “I will, Mom. I promise.”

 The rest of their time there goes well, everyone in that blissful state of being just buzzed enough to let their inhibitions down. He and Emma somehow get roped into having dinner with his parents next week, and Emma’s grip on his hand tightens the slightest bit. The four of them have been trying to spend more time together, them getting to know Emma for the first time and Killian for the second time around – possibly the first if he truly considers it. Despite that, or possibly because of it, Emma’s still tense around them, for more reasons than one. But she handles it as best as she can, and he couldn’t be more proud. She handles it with more grace than he ever has.

 Later that night he’s lying in bed, reading his book like the old man he now is, and Emma saunters out of the bathroom, clad in nothing but the lacy black bra and underwear she had on under her dress. He doesn’t pay her much attention, trying to finish the chapter he’s on, but then she’s crawling over the covers and onto his lap, knees on either side of his thighs.

 “Babe?” she prods, nestling further into his lap, and honestly it’s killing him not to buck his hips up into hers, the early friction already enough to send a buzz down his spine. But this is the path he’s chosen to go on tonight for some insane reason. The old age must be making him delusional.

 “Mhmm,” he answers back, flipping his page.

 She starts kissing the side of his neck, working at the skin between his neck and his collarbone, worrying a faint bruise there that won’t show in the suit he has to wear at his events tomorrow. Crafty lass she is.

 He’s got no idea what’s going on in his book anymore. It’s like he’s never read before in his life, pleasure coursing through his veins distracting him. She’s working her way back up his throat, slowly running her tongue across his jaw before she starts nibbling on his ear. He’s just about to give in, to pull her lips to his and her body so close they’re basically one, when she pulls back, propping her hands up on his shoulders and adjusting herself so that her hips are no longer aligned with his.

 He could groan at the lack of contact. He does groan at the lack of contact.

 “What are you doing, love?”

 “Well I was trying to seduce you for your birthday.”

 “Is this my present?” he questions, fingering the cup of her bra, lifting it so that the top of her nipple is exposed as his other hand runs down her side, cupping her waist. “As much as I appreciate this, and I do plan on appreciating it later, I can’t help but think that this is quite the odd present to have told your mum about. And for her to be excited about it on top of that. I didn’t know you shared about our sex life with your mother.”

 Her face twists, lips pursing into a scowl. “The only person who gets details on our sex life is you, despite Ruby’s protests now that she knows about you. And this is definitely part of your present, but I do have something else if you want it.”

 “Of course I do, darling.”

 “Okay,” Emma tells him, extracting herself from his lap and making her way to the closet. The cut of her panties makes her ass look particularly firm, and he’s really beginning to regret not immediately devouring her when she came out of the bathroom.

 She’s wrapped herself in her dressing gown by the time she comes out of the closet (he has to hold back a groan at that because damn) holding two wrapped presents that have bows that he’s come to know as Mary Margaret’s specialty.

 “So Mom doesn’t know about the first gift,” she motions between the two of them before settling beside him on the bed, her feet tucked under her as she faces him, “but she did help me pick out this other stuff. I know we go over this every time we have a holiday or anniversary or whatever, so you know the drill. It’s not super expensive or nice or –”

 “Hey,” Killian reaches forward to press his thumb against her chin, running it back and forth as he smiles down at her, “and you know that I don’t care about any of that stuff. We do the same routine every year. I think we should probably stop doing it.”

 She leans down to kiss his thumb, nuzzling the finger further into the dent of her chin as her eyes flutter shut.

 He loves her so much it’s ridiculous.

 Emma hands him the larger package. It’s light to the touch, and he puts it next to his ear, shaking it slightly to see if it makes a sound. His father used to do that to presents when Killian was younger, and it’s one of his traits that he got from his father without ever realizing it. Emma hates it, and once she realized he did it, she’s always made sure to never wrap anything fragile.

 “You can open that one first because it’s the more casual one.”

 When he opens the box it’s to several new dress shirts, all different shades of blue and white, some with stripes or small dots. He just smiles at her, folding each shirt back into the box before she shoves the smaller box into his hands. Inside are several different sets of cufflinks, ranging from normal black and gold circles to ones in the shape of pizza and martini glasses.

 “These are fantastic,” he laughs, admiring a pair that are in the shape of umbrellas. She looks nervous, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth, and he can’t help but wonder why she’s so nervous over cufflinks. “Though I do have to ask what went into the decision making for buying these because I feel like you had a purpose behind them.”

 She bounces a little from her position on the bed, the mattress squeaking with the movement. “So,” she begins, taking the pair of umbrella cufflinks out of his hand and running them between her fingers, “I pulled a you and decided to be kind of sentimental.” He leans toward her with the intention of pinching her side, but she moves away from him at the last minute. “The umbrellas are because it was raining on the night we met. The beer mugs and the martini glasses are because we’ve spent most of our relationship in a pub, obviously. The pizza is because that’s what we had to eat on our first date. Um, it was kind of hard to find other things because I don’t think cufflinks are really made to showcase relationship progress, so I just got the other ones, like the anchor and the initial ones, just because I thought you’d like them.”

 “I love them, Emma. I love you.” He leans forward to quickly press his lips against hers. “Thank you. I’m going to wear the umbrella ones tomorrow.”

 “I love you, too. And you are, really?”

 “Most definitely. Though, if I’d had an umbrella that night we might not have met.”

 Her face changes then, the nervous smile fading into a frown. “I can’t even imagine, Killian. I mean, can you? What would our lives be like? It’s just insane to think about. It honestly freaks me out a bit.”

 “I know, love, but we don’t have to think about it. It happened, and now we’re here.”

 Emma moves to take the boxes out of his hand, placing them on her bedside table (she has a bedside table) before curling up into his side, her head on his shoulder and her hands wrapped around his middle.

 She’s quiet for a moment, nuzzling her nose into his bicep.

 “How did you deal with today? With all the family? I thought everyone was good today, but I always just feel so edgy around your dad and Liam. I could tell that you do, too, even if today was a better day.”

 A sigh passes through his lips before he reaches to pinch his nose, his other hand rubbing soothing circles on Emma’s back. He doesn’t want to talk about this right now.

 “I’m confused, to be honest,” Killian admits. “It’s like I don’t know how to feel. Father is fine, I guess. He’s really turned things around in the effort he makes to be kind to me and to you, which is what I find to be the most important. He works with me on things, listening to my side instead of just going with his. I appreciate it, truly. But I just don’t know how to feel about Liam. He’s…he’s trying. But sometimes it’s like he doesn’t understand the gravity of everything we’ve been through. It doesn’t matter how many talks we have, how much I say. I think he knows he’s wrong and understands that, but I think he has a difficult time owning up to it, if that makes sense? It’s like he wants to say sorry and just move on without acknowledging things. And sometimes I just become frustrated to such a degree that I need a physical way to express that. I think it’s why I’m running even more now.”

 Emma turns to nuzzle her head into his chest, kissing the skin there, soft little butterfly kisses that he can barely feel. “Killian, I’m so sorry. I wish I could help in some way. Make things better besides us just talking.”

 “You already do, love.”

 “That’s sweet, babe, but a lot of this is because of me. At least the recent stuff. You can’t ignore that.”

 “Hey,” he reaches to squeeze her side before continuing to rub her back, something that’s probably more for him than for her, “you’ve done not a thing wrong, my love. It’s not because of you. He reacted to you because of the way he is. It’s from a lifetime of living on a high horse and never being knocked down until recently.”

 “What would make the whole thing better for you? Do you think it’s better to just drop this whole trying to be better toward each other thing and live as you were before? Do you think it’s worth it? I mean, really think it’s worth it to try to be on friendly terms instead of just faking it when you have to? Is that something you actually want, or is it something you’re doing just because you feel like it’s what you should do?”

 He doesn’t want to talk about this. He’s so tired of talking about this.

 “I don’t know. I do think it’s better, that what we’re doing is better, and sometimes he and I will be having a conversation and it’s like all of the shit fades away and we’re just normal, you know? But then my brain reminds me that we’re not. It’s almost like, before I didn’t care how bad our relationship was. I had just resigned myself to it being messed up. But now, now it’s like I’m so desperately searching for something that’s just out of my grasp, and it hurts that every time I reach for it, it moves just a little bit further away.”

 She hugs him a bit tighter, a sure sign that she doesn’t have any words to comfort him, left with just the physical touch that he relies on almost as much.

 “Do you still think it’s possible to forgive him? Do you even want to? Not for him but for yourself?”

 “Is it possible to not forgive and still try to move on with him as someone who has to be a part of my life?”

 “Killian, I’m not sure. That has to be something you decide for yourself.”

 He means his next words, but he doesn’t intend for them to come out as gruffly as they did, harsh and disparaging, and he knows this isn’t how tonight should have gone at all.

 “I’m damn tired of thinking and talking about this. It’s like it’s been my entire life lately. As much as I appreciate you trying to help, I’d really rather not talk anymore tonight, Emma. I’d just like to go to bed.”

 She’s silent at his side.

 At least she’s still at his side.

[ladyhawk-s]

“What a Halloween”

Summary: Tamaki Amajiki has always been a fearful person, even at the smallest of ages. However, making friends with Mirio has pushed him in ways that he maybe doesn’t want to know if he should be pushed in. Especially when it comes time for Halloween. Despite wanting to avoid all mentions of Halloween, Mirio decides that it’s time to celebrate his first Halloween and it’s one Tamaki won’t forget. 

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A/N: Hello hello! So obviously, it's not Halloween, it's actually....28 days after that (29 depending on your time zone) and I really have no words to explain. Rather, I just want to apologize heavily for the....month delay on this. I actually have been going through a writing rut since I'm graduating this semester and doing a lot of things that have been stressing me out so, despite me wanting to write this, it almost turned into a stressor. It's been rough and I have another 3 weeks of it being rough but I'm so happy to have this done! It was for the @bnha-halloween-bb and Im sure I will be shot by the mods with how late I am but it's at least here! By no means am I proud of it but it's done and I'm so happy to be able to share it with you guys despite me not being the most pleased with it. 

Rather, please support my LOVELY artist @nekosisterart who drew the piece for this fic:. They did such a phenomenal job with it and I'm literally shook. Not only are they amazingly talented but they are also super kind and sweet and just a wonderful bean and I was so honored to be working with them again. Really, go send all the love to them since they are super great <3 They put up with me during this whole thing and they are incredibly patient so I want to just WILL SMITH SHOW THEM OFF because they are wonderful !!! ----------------- Halloween was a strange time. In the past, it was a time where quirkless humans could pretend that they were beasts or have magical powers that sprouted from the palms of their hands. They were able to get candy by pretending to scare people with their fake powers and teeth and it was a day where the imaginable became reality.

But then quirks emerged and it threw off the balance that Halloween used to have. The fake accessories became real and people really developed features that originally were used for fear. Confusion swirled around people for a while on what to do for the holiday, wondering what to do next since there wasn’t much to fear anymore.

However, creativity burst in the people and Halloween was back in full swing, this time with an even higher intensity. People used their quirks to impress enough for candies and costumes became more elaborate. The horror cranked up to new levels and scary movies took on a different form that would have been eye wrenching in the past.

Even the little kids also took onto this new level. Before the age of four, they dressed up in whatever might have been cute or what their parents might have wanted them to wear. Then, when the quirks came in, that’s when the intensity started. Quirks shaped their halloween experiences and there was almost a competition on who could pull the scariest identities. School got involved in these activities and the school where Tamaki Amajiki and Mirio Togata went to was no different. The school encouraged students to go all out in their costumes provided that damages were kept to a fixable minimum.

But, while every classmate was discussing the plans of their costumes and how best to scare their parents day of, Tamaki wasn’t exactly in the same mood as them. Or rather, to put it into more simpler terms, he was absolutely terrified of Halloween and the horrors that came with it. Despite having the ability to transform his limbs into monstrous animals that he ingested earlier and possibly becoming more terrified than any recreations out there, something about the way tissue paper folded into itself and cheap fabric rippled on human skin just seemed to frighten Tamaki from where he was standing.  Even though his mother constantly coaxed him through the day, he still ended up shivering at the mythical creatures that haunted his nightmares with their bloodsucking and howls at the moon. Sometimes he could feel little bit marks on the base of his neck that his mother said was from his imagination but Tamaki knew better.

So when the topic of the Halloween festival came up, Tamaki was on the top of the list on not attending. The teachers brought their hands and wiggled their fingers when discussing the horrors they would experience. There would be a haunted mansion maze that was made to send a soul out of the body and there would be enough candy to have a stomach ache for a week after. Everyone bounced in their seats the more was revealed but Tamaki could only ball up his fists and hide his head beneath the comfort of his arms. Images of fright conjured up in his mind, though they might have been more exaggerated to him than probably the other students. Not even his mother offering to volunteer or accompanying him to the event was enough to make Tamaki go.

But a certain blonde child had that effect on him.

In other schools, Tamaki never really had friends. His social anxiety made him quiver in front of other students and teachers usually went easier on him due to it, though others couldn’t understand the turmoil that went through his mind and usually left him alone, saying he could go play with the teachers. Friends were never something he had the chance to experience and there was always that little voice that desperately wailed for that chance.

And that chance happened this year.

This year he transferred to a new school and had to be immersed with new faces. While moving schools was already daunting enough, the fact that these would be new faces that would judge him the same way others did only made this more anxiety filled. He could remember walking down the halls, holding the strips of his backpack with tight hands that paled from the strong grip he had. His introduction didn’t even last that long because he couldn’t express the words he wanted to and ended up sitting down earlier than expected. Tears budded up on the water line of his eyes and he couldn’t focus for the rest of the class.

Until a boy called out to him and finished the sentence Tamaki couldn’t. “You want to be a hero, right?” the boy asked back, reading the mind of the scared one. Instantly, within a manner of 10 minutes, he found out that the blonde child was called Mirio Togata, he had a permutation quirk that could only work if he held his breath (which he was still having trouble perfecting and constantly hit walls and other foreign objects that left little scars on the top of his head), and that he was a curious kid that spammed Tamaki with questions about his quirk and what kind of animals he could recreate along with the feeling he got when his limbs were changed to chicken legs. Somehow Mirio ended up finding out more about Tamaki than anyone except his parents had in his entire life and Tamaki wasn’t so sure what to do with that. He knew he should have been cautious and wary and making sure that there was some distance but….Mirio had that cheerful smile that was infectious and Tamaki tunneled into it. Which turned out to be the right action since he began to be Tamaki’s first friend and he would never regret ever allowing Mirio to be open with him.

Until now. Now Tamaki was really beginning to question his friendship with Mirio.

Unlike Tamaki, Mirio happened to be the head of the excitement club for this school event. Everyday he would giddly explain the preparations his father making to his costume and he didn’t give anyone any hints as to what he was going to be (although Tamaki knew him well at this point and this year he was going to be a werewolf with fluffy ears and a bushed out tail. To be fair Mirio did invite him to his house and he saw those pieces laying around that Mirio would bashfully brush off whenever Tamaki asked him if those were parts of his costume). Many times throughout the day, he would go up to Tamaki’s desk and tell him how excited he was for it and that he was looking forward being able to go this year since last year was a year of flu but this time, he stocked up on his vitamins and enough of cold medicine to defeat the toughest of runny noses. And he would always check up on Tamaki to make sure he was still coming.

Yes, Tamaki told Mirio he would go. It wasn’t a very smart decision at all, it actually had a lot of flaws attached to it but seeing Mirio’s bright smile made him cave in and go to the festival. Besides it was a bit more complicated than that. Mirio was Tamaki’s first friend. Never did Tamaki have someone who would go out of their way to invite him to their house for dinner or to a party or even to spend just a bit of time with. While Tamaki knew in the bottom of his heart that Mirio wouldn’t judge him or leave him alone if he said no to coming, there was still this pressurized feeling that he had to go. At least to go for the sake of his friend. It was a weird sense of paying him back for all the kindness he’s given Tamaki. Possibly making it up to him might have had better connotations. Whatever it might have been, Tamaki was now stuck with date filled of events that were only going to be frightening and enough to haunt his dreams for the rest of the year.

Since Tamaki vowed to eliminate Halloween from his calendar, he never had to worry about making or even purchasing a costume. It was something that never crossed his mind and something that didn’t seem like it would be used anytime soon. Except for the fact that his initial plans to sit at home and watch cute shows were now tainted with going to a festival where the dress codes skewed to fit varieties of costumes. He initially tried to think of casual costumes that he could make using the items in his closet. However, when Tamaki brought these ideas up with Mirio, his friend cried nonsense and the next day came with an old vampire suit that was only worn once by its owner.

Every day, it was a reminder that Halloween was soon approaching and every day, Tamaki wished time would slow to prevent it from coming. But before anyone could stop it, it turned into the night of Halloween.

With a small bucket in the shape of a pumpkin, little Mirio Togata waddled through the sidewalk in his super secret and special costume of a werewolf. It was more uncomfortable than he had originally expected, especially with the tail bunching up near the gap between his legs, however he worked hard for this costume and nothing was going to stop him. He could endure it for a small bit.

After receiving looks and grins, he finally made it to Tamaki Amajiki’s house. In retrospect, they didn’t actually live too far from each other. They only lived a couple of blocks away and those blocks were covered with enough sidewalk and light that his father felt confident he could walk there by himself without being hurt. It also very much helped that Mirio had a quirk that allowed him to sink away in case so Mirio could only grin and be excited. His hands produced a small but mighty knock on the door, creating little pounds of noise that echoed within the house. At first nobody answered. But that didn’t stop Mirio from producing another round of knocks until the door opened to reveal a tired looking woman with bags ringing around her eyes.

“Oh hello, Togata. How are you?” She asked with a strain that was attempted to be covered in smiles but failing at every turn with that. Small wailes waved from behind her and the crinkles of her eyes pierced inwards. There was a tired and exhausted look seeped into her eyes that made Mirio feel bad for Tamaki’s mother.

“I’m doing well, Ms. Amajiki. Is Tamaki home?” Mirio asked, though he already knew the answer. Even at his young age, he still knew the fine motors of manners.

“Yes he is. Tamaki!” She called from the door. Silence. “Tamaki, your friend is here!” She yelled once more. Even more silence. Suddenly, the wails from earlier resurfaced and his mother’s eyes winced at the emergence. “It seems as if he’s huddled in his room, you can go in,” she said while giving room to the blonde boy. The second his body entered through the frame, she shut the door and quickly ran over to the screams, leaving Mirio by himself in the vast house.

With the layout of the house engraved in his mind from his countless visits, Mirio traversed through the halls to reach Tamaki’s room. It was hidden in a corner of the house that had shadows covering the darkness of the door, perfect for a person who couldn’t handle much of the sun beaming on them. Coming to the door, Mirio pressed his ear against the wood to hear any remnants of life. Silence. Tamaki sure knew when to be quiet when he wanted. Mirio’s hand went towards the knob and he cracked it open to find the room shrouded in darkness. “Amajiki? Are you here?” He asked softly, stepping onto the carpeted floor. There weren’t any visible signs of his friend but little whimpers came from the under the desk that stationed against the opposite wall. Mirio took careful steps before he crouched to see Tamaki’s directly. “Amajiki? What are you doing? Are you ok?”

Hearing Mirio’s voice snapped Tamaki out of the tunnel he found himself immersed in. Since putting on his costume, he found himself jumping at even the small sounds of wood shifting or the steps coming from his parents. He didn’t much remember how he exactly ended up in this position and what crossed his mind to end up underneath the desk but he wouldn’t lie, he didn’t exactly want to leave his spot. “It’s….nothing…..” Tamaki said softly as he crouched further into himself.

Until he felt his arm being pulled away from his hair so he could see the concern on Mirio’s face directly. “Then why are you under here?” His friend asked softly, his head slightly tilting to show his confusion.

Seeing that look made Tamaki’s eyes wander around as he thought of what to say next. It wasn’t necessarily that he was avoiding his look but rather, it was his way of trying to formulate all the thoughts that floated around in his mind. He didn’t want to go but he wanted to make Mirio happy but would this really make Mirio happy? So many thoughts ran through his brain and they could only come out as little stutters from the tip of his tongue. “I’m….I’m….sc-scar-re-d….” He managed to speak out, albeit in chopped syllables. His eyes closed once more to go back into that fantastical hole that he created in his mind.

“Why are you scared, Amajiki?” A tiny voice spoke out, making Tamaki reopen his eyes once more. Mirio’s beady eyes crinkled in worry and his mouth gave a small pout that contained a small frown in it.

Once more, Tamaki’s eyes diverted away from his and he could feel small tremors coursing through his body. He took a deep breath in. “I...don’t like the monsters...I don’t want to be hurt….There’s scary sounds and scary people and…I don’t...like those things…” he rambled on, trying to make sense of a situation that had no sense to it.

Tamaki then felt Mirio place his hands into his own and squeeze them tight in the darkness. It was hard to fully make out the emotion that was seen but it almost had a brotherly love attached to it. “There’s no reason to be scared Amajiki. All of it is fake. No one will hurt you.”

“B-but...how do you know?? They could jump out and...and….”

“Amajiki, I won’t let anyone or anything hurt you. I promise. Just trust me, ok?”

Tamaki wasn’t sure if it was that or the exchanges that happened back and forth but soon, having Mirio be someone to lean on, he managed to emerge from under the desk. Things turned into a blur and he didn’t exactly remember how things turned out. His mind went back and forth and switched off reality in moments. One minute, he remembered being in his house and the next, he was outside, walking alongside Mirio. He could hear Mirio speaking talking about different subjects but none of it truly registered in his head. The only thing that went through to him was the calling of his name and his cape fluttering around his feet. There wasn’t a measure on how long they were walking but the quiet winds of the streets gave a sign that they were heading to their destination but not quite there.

Unfortunately, soon enough, the sounds of goblins and ghouls began to mix itself into the winds. The duo reached the school that had been transformed from a clean, pristine building into one with cobwebs stringing from side to side and splotches of black smearing down the side. Animatronic screeches loomed from the interiors of bushes that came with cackles of lightning rotating in.

The closer they reached, the more Tamaki’s teeth chattered with little clicks that echoed from his mouth. His arm gripped tighter onto Mirio’s, holding onto him super tight in this special type of fear that came straight from horror films.

Yet, funnily enough, Mirio looked complete opposite from his friend. His beady black eyes shone with little stars twinkling in his pupils and his mouth formed a perfect amazed gap that was filled with wonder and excitement. If his tail had any form of reality behind it, it would have wagged ridiculously back and forth in this childish excitement that fit for his age. “Woah, that’s so awesome!” Mirio exclaimed, his feet bouncing up and down that made both him and Tamaki bob in unison. “C’mon, we gotta hurry!” And with that last push of pressure, Mirio took their still steps into a run that skidded through the dirt and landed them within the depths of the festival.

[They see a bunch of different costumes and there are some people trying to scare them which works for Tamaki but Mirio is chilling and such]

It was corny to say but it was something of another realm. The school was known to have proper clothing that seemed to be ironed onto skin with serious expressions that could make anyone be stiff. But this, this was something else. Baggy costumes of all kinds floated around with buckets in the shape of pumpkins being swung around. Teachers that only knew how to wear suits wore elaborate costumes with fancy trims and delicate lace that showed their own pleasure into the spirit of the holiday. Even parents took the occasion to wear outfits that uniformed themselves to their children and little cheers and claps came from them as their little monsters performed in excellent ways.

While Mirio took in all the sights and engaged himself at all the beauty surrounding him, Tamaki, on the other hand, began to tremble even harder. If it wasn’t for his ill formed pants, one could be able to easily see his knees buckling within themselves, his kneecaps bruising from the small bangs they were doing. His arms latched even harder to Mirio’s werewolf costume and, if no one knew who he was, they would think that he was actually the wimpiest vampire to ever exist, even more than the ones from the popular series, Twilight.

“Boo!” A voice ringed from behind, echoing within Tamaki’s ear. Fright surged up his spine and he collapsed into Mirio, sending them both soaring into the ground. Tamaki could hear some exchanges happening before a hand shook his clothed shoulder. “Hey are you alright??” Moving in whimpers, Tamaki took in the sights in front of him. The hand that shook him out belonged to Mirio while the adult removed the mask that covered his face to reveal a scared and worried face. Still in a form of shock, Tamaki could only manage a nod before having help from Mirio to stand up. “Oh goodness, I’m so sorry. I didn’t expect this type of reaction. Are you hurt? I can run to go get some stuff,” the adult said, his hands raised to offer any assistance that was needed.

Tamaki only could shake his head while Mirio grabbed onto the sides of his body to keep him steady. “Don’t worry sir, he seems alright!” Mirio responded for Tamaki, coaxing the situation to a calmer state. While Mirio and the man exchanged reassurances, Tamaki looked himself over. To his surprise, there was only a bit of dirt that caught onto his cape from the fall he made that easily was brushed off with a few swipes. When he focused back onto Mirio, the other two exchanged final words before Mirio looked back at his friend with upturned eyebrows. “Are you ok, Amajiki? You didn’t get hurt or anything?” Tamaki shook his head once more, leaving Mirio to check him more thoroughly. After a few swipes of his own, he focused back on his friend and smiled. “Well, why don’t we play some games for a bit? There’s a lot of activities that I am sure we can fun with. C’mon Amajiki,” and hand in hand, they walked into the fairgrounds.

Although it was covered in more halloween decorations and spooky accessories, the games all inherently had the same themes that were present in a regular festival. Ranging from shooting games to activities that involved heavy amounts of bobbing objects, there were children covering each inch of the booths. Little shouts came from the games that signaled activity and beckoned the two boys to join in.

At first, it was a bit difficult for the boys to get into the fun of the games. Costumed kids pushed each other to get to the front, even ignoring the cries from adults that tried to have a semblance of a line. Mirio managed to dodge the hits from the other kids but that didn’t exactly work out for the other boy. Bruises started to form on the top of his skin and multiple times he had to reach out for Mirio when he felt himself being separated from Mirio. At first, Mirio didn’t realize what was happening but when he almost got upset at Tamaki for bumping into him, then those same kids learned well to keep their distance.

After minutes of trying to find that perfect game to play, the boys managed to find space in a game that involved the test of aim. This was a game heavily seen in America that was brought to their festivals time to time and it involved throwing balls into moving vases that circled around in a spiral frenzy.

“Hey, you two! Come try out your aim! Get the ball in the white cup and get a prize!” The attender called out to them, beckoning them closer.

“You wanna try this, Amajiki? It looks like it would be pretty fun,” Mirio asked his friend with a soft yet encouraging tone. Tamaki gave a light nod and he pulled them up to the man. “We would like to try sir!”

“Excellent!” He then dipped lower to pick up a series of balls that balanced themselves on his palm. “Who’s up first?”

“I’ll go!” Mirio volunteered, raising his hand up really high to showcase his readiness. Exchanges happened between them and he bounced on the balls of his feet, gearing up to showcase his aim. “Alright, here I go!” And he began to aim at the moving cups.

If anyone separated the scene into two different parts, a person would believe that Mirio was winning due to the smile and determination that created creases on his forehead. However, the balls ended up nowhere the moving vases. Despite adjusting his strength in different conditions, the balls would roll around in the rims of the cups until they bounced off into the water. The last throw almost made it in, that is until a gust of wind blew it off.

“Sorry about that, young boy. You’ll do better next time,” The attender tried to encourage while collecting the fallen balls to dry them for the next game.

“Ahhh! I was so close!” Mirio grunted out, placing the bottoms of his palm into his eyes.

Tamaki didn’t say anything but he knew that Mirio’s light heartened frustration was actually bothering him much more than what he was letting on. Each time he threw the ball, Tamaki saw the small glint that would cross his eyes that came from the desire of wanting one of the plushies. It wasn’t clear which one attracted him and pushed him forward in determination but knowing his friend, he had a good idea behind.

“I….I would like to try….” Tamaki spoke up, raising his hand shyly. Eyes snapped towards his comment and he tried to hide within his cape until the balls of were thrust towards him. Smiles went around that pushed Tamaki out of the shell he was hiding under. Even Mirio gave a slight cheer and nudged him forward.

Pressure began to build up around Tamaki and his throat kept swallowing down the anxiety that formed lumps in his throat. This was exactly why he never put himself into any type of sports or performances and he almost brought back the balls until a glance at Mirio built in a push of confidence.

Nowhere around the stand or even in the neighboring areas were there mentions of the usage of quirks. There wasn’t anything stated outright that quirks were banned from the fairgrounds. Yet, Tamaki couldn’t help but feel a little guilty at the gasps that erupted when his arm transformed itself into a tentacle from the octopus he ate earlier in the day. The thin endpoint carefully wrapped around the first ball, suctioning it into itself the crevices. With immense precision, he brought his tentacle closer to rotating balls and focused in on the scarce white cups hidden within the sea of color. Their slow pace seemed to speed up within the energy of pressure but Tamaki focused in his senses and flicked it right at the moment his gut told him to do so. Time slowed into a blur that put Tamaki in a haze until Mirio’s shouts and screams pulled him out.

“Oh my gosh, Amajiki!!! That was awesome!!! You’re so freaking cool!!!” Mirio bounced around, going in and out of hugging his friend with a type of spastic energy. It took Tamaki for a second to be brought back to reality but when he returned, he saw the smiles on everyone’s face with the ball resting peacefully in the white cup. Little tugs pulled up on the corners of his mouth and he couldn’t help but feel a tad bit of pride in that. And each moment he managed to get the balls into the desired cups, he could have sworn he felt a little lighter and the shouts were a bit louder.

“My, my, my young lad! Even with the use of your quirk, you did a marvelous job! It’s a rare sight to see for sure!” The man complimented before jerking his thumb towards the prizes surrounding the back frame of the tent. “You can get whatever you want! You can get 4 small prizes, 1 big one with 2 other small ones, or even 2 big ones! Whatever you want!”

Immediately, his answer was met with Tamaki pointing at the big large plushies that were constricted by the large cords. “Are you sure you want those?” Which was met with a strong nod. “Well, alright, give me a second,” the man said as he climbed out of the stand and pulled out a small ladder. He struggled a bit with the tightness of the cords and even gave a small curse under his breath with his hands twisting them around. However, soon enough, he managed to get them down and presented them towards the small child. “Here you go! Enjoy!”

Tamaki brought the two plushies in and almost doubled over in the huge weight that it was creating against his fragile body. He had to set them down on top of a cleaner patch of the ground in order to figure out his bearings. With a small breath in and out, he reached for one of the plushies and hid his face behind it as he turned to Mirio and brought his arms forward. “This….this is for you…..” Tamaki said quietly, a small blush fired up in his cheeks.

He couldn’t see well behind the toy but he could definitely hear the gasp that came from his friend. “Really!? It’s for me!?” Mirio shouted back, forming an image of bouncing feet in Tamaki’s mind.

“...yes….” Tamaki responded softly, his head bobbing slightly in a nod. He pushed it towards Mirio even more, hoping he would take it soon since it was starting to be heavy in his arms.

That hope soon was answered when Mirio took it from his hands and hugged it within himself. “Thank you so much Amajiki! You’re such an amazing friend! It’s the best!” His friend spoke, though there was a small waver in his voice that threatened to release tears. However, once Tamaki picked up his own plush and a cough came from Mirio, the same excitement burst back in. “Let’s go Amajiki!! There’s still a lot to see,” and with that, the boys went off.

It was a bit silly to see two small kids with toys half their size but they somehow managed to traverse the grounds will small peeks of their toys’ shoulders and using the sounds of nearby footsteps. Fortunately, Tamaki recently ate an aquatic animal that had the ability of echolocation so he managed to traverse the grounds while making sure him and Mirio to submit to their sudden deaths. He could hear little sighs of protest coming from Mirio with his inability to see but Tamaki actually enjoyed the lack of sight. His plush kept him in a fuzzy darkness that was comforting. It almost made this experience fun and enjoyable.

“Hey Amajiki! Look! It’s a haunted house! We totally got to go to it!!” Or maybe not.

Tamaki pushed his face more into the back of his plush, smashing his face in enough that it was as if he completely disappeared from sight. “Do...do we have….to?” He asked softly, his tone carrying hesitation, though the indentations muddled within the soft core of the plush.

“Of course we do! This is the biggest thing here! I’ve been looking forward to that all week!” Mirio responded quickly before doubling back a bit and tilting his head towards his friend. “I mean, unless you don’t want to go. It’s fine if you don’t. I won’t make you,” he added, though there was a hint of sadness within it.

Tamaki heard that and peeked over at his friend. Selfishly, he wanted to take on that offer and walk away and never look at it again. Mirio did say that they didn’t have to do it so the lack of pressure dissipated. And yet, Tamaki couldn’t do it. Seeing the lack of glint in his eyes made his stomach turn in different directions. He had never seen a frown on the blonde boy and yet, there it was. And it wasn’t as if Mirio was doing it to make him feel guilty, rather he would do whatever Tamaki desired and needed and would always put his friendship first. Which is why Tamaki had to change his answer. “No it’s ok….we can go….” he muttered to his friend, his voice quiet but still present enough to hear.

“Really? Are you sure? We don’t have to if you don’t feel comfortable. I won’t pressure you,” Mirio  responded back, his voice still sincere and worried, yet Tamaki could tell that there was a small little glint in the corner of his eyes. Already feeling regret bubbling inside of him, he nodded his head, affirming his previous words. Suddenly, the saddened face Mirio wore turned brighter, shining in the midst of the darkness looming around them. “Wow, you really are as bright as the sun Tamaki,” he said, though Tamaki couldn’t help but look at the irony in his statement. Then, he felt his hand being intertwined with his friend and he peeped up to see that Mirio beamed at him. “C’mon, let’s go. Don’t worry, it’ll be a lot of fun! I promise! And if you’re ever scared, you can always hold on to me.”

And with a little affirmative noise from Tamaki, the duo moved towards the haunted house.

Not surprisingly enough, there was a line of all ages shooting out from the door of the maze. Jitters and laughs came from the line while screams of those interior echoed against their excitement. Mirio kept bouncing on the balls of feet and moved around the sides that pulled Tamaki along with his movements. Having Mirio’s anxiety to get in only fueled Tamaki’s anxiety to go in, the screams and commotion only intensifying it even more. The shy boy even had to disappear once more into his plush until he heard a grunt. His dark eyes shifted to the owner and the first thing he saw was a teacher wrapped in bandages to a point where any recognizable features were gone. Dark patches of makeup covered any exposed areas of skin, looking as if they crawled out of a casket that buried them alive many years back. Only grunts came out of their mouth but they did hold a sign that stated, “Please leave all belongings in the cabinets to your right!”, to which Tamaki peered past them and saw kids cluttered around the lockers.

Tamaki was about to protest this rule when Mirio pulled on his arm to guide him along the way inside. “We gotta hurry Amajiki! We don’t want a bad spot!” Which was a reason that made Tamaki tilt his head in question but soon became clear when he saw Mirio shove other kids to have that cubby that was the right size for their plushies and bags and that wasn’t too high nor too low. Tamaki froze in the midst of the squandering children so there was a little bit of grace when Mirio took his stuff and placed it right next to his own. It took a bit for his friend to come over back to him but soon they were reunited and Tamaki’s arm began to pull out of his socket with Mirio dragging him along.

The mere second Tamaki laid eyes on the darkened door frame with pieces of stained fabric ruffling in the entrance, he could feel his soul seeping out of him, leaving his body into a frozen state. The only reason his feet kept moving was because of Mirio’s insistent pulls that drove him further into the tunnel. However, when the blood stained fabric brushed against his skin, the shock that froze his limbs shattered into millions of pieces and the adrenaline of fear zapped into him. Shakes covered his whole body and nails dug deep into his friends arms.

Eerie sounds echoed around them that contained jabs of snarls and henious jackal laughs. Hidden speakers scattered around the hallways, making the boys feel as if it was all happening right next to them. Splashes of red light illuminated parts of the hallway to help them find passage, though the first thought that came to Tamaki’s mind was that it was meant to help them lead the way to sudden death. Little ooo’s and aaaa’s came from Mirio and Tamaki questioned in his mind if his friend actually understood the negatives of this maze.

A dead end appeared at the end of the hallway with a window that had shadows dancing behind it. By force, the boys had to turn right with a darkened shadow peering off the left next to the ghostly window. With focus on getting through the new hallway in front of them, neither of them noticed a grotesque female in a tattered dress with zombie holes pushing herself out of the shadows, shouting monstrous noises while curling her clawed hands. Screams bubbled out of the boys and they scurried forward in fear she would be trailing behind them. In that scurry though, they didn’t notice a barn door slamming open and having a bloodied farmer popping out, reaching his arm for the boys to grab on help. However, before they could register the need, a horrific figure seeped behind the farmer and pulled him out of view that soon became replaced with sounds of hacking skin and blood bubbling screams. It felt like a scene from a horror film and Tamaki dug his face more into the crook of Mirio’s neck.

As they continued forward, the horrors turned more into sickening nightmare. The boys pushed through heavy black straps that greeted them with deafening chainsaw sounds. The scenery changed from a dark interior to a red lit farm. Glossy sheep and cows laid strewn on the turf, blood painted on the plastic surface. Bumpy paper mache trees stood tall, almost looking too calm in the scene of horror. They took more cautious steps, looking at the details and getting lost enough to distract the actions in their peripheral. Shooting behind the stationary tree was a younger male with a crumpled mask and plastic knife, charging after them with theatrical groans. Little screams erupted from the kids and they ran with adrenaline pumping in their system.

They pushed through to the next hallway and caught their breath in silence while listening to the whispers of halloween music in the background. Tamaki doubled over and placed his hands on his knees, wheezing from the creatures that popped out at him. He only paid attention to his breathing until the positive energy of Mirio snapped him out of it. “That….was awesome!” He heard Mirio say. Tamaki brought his eyes upwards and saw a gleaming smile on his face, completely serious on his comment. Mirio twisted to his friend and gave him a boost of encouragement. “Are you doing alright, Amajiki?” Tamaki wanted to give a big no along with running in maddening circles but he knew that the only way out was through the tunnel. He gave Mirio a nod and his friend stuck out his arm for him to grab. “Don’t worry, we’re almost there. Just a little bit more!” Mirio continued on, waiting until Tamaki grabbed his arm. “If anything, just close your eyes! Don’t worry, I won’t let anything to you. That’s a promise!”

Tamaki could only nuzzle into his shoulder and nod his head in response. Walking forward, he could steal hear the exaggerated halloween music playing in the background with screams and bangs hitting against the areas of the maze. He could also hear Mirio’s screams that were filled with more of a shock than any actual fear. Tamaki could occasionally feel slimy objects pressing against him or even the cold slivers of chill running up his spine when passing through a new hallway. However, no matter what ran through his mind and whatever colors flashed behind his eyelids, Tamaki made sure that they were kept shut as they traversed through the maze.

Then, a little glimmer of light seeped into his closed lids. He opened them to find a glowing hole, like the light at the end of the tunnel. True, there were hanging corpses and fragments of web shadowing over it but that went over Tamaki’s head. It meant his escape, the end to the horrors he had to endure the while he was stuck here, clutching onto Mirio’s arm and only having his laugh comfort his screams.

“C’mon! We’re almost there!” Mirio exclaimed loudly while pushing the hanged body out of the way. Their steps trudged through the wood flooring and the creepily placed tissue paper that stuck their feet into the ground, as if the maze was trying to keep them within the walls. However, with force, the boys pushed through. It wasn’t easy or fun or even comforting for Tamaki to have to push through hanging corpses that shared deceased eye contact with him with pieces of their toilet paper wrappings brushing against his skin. Nor was it easy or amazing to have to touch anything that had death and blood slime all over it. Yet, the light was getting closer and closer and the chills on his arms subsided and his eyes were screaming in adjustment and it kept going and going until….

They made it outside.

At first, it took Tamaki a small while to adjust to his surroundings. The fairgrounds had completely different vibes than what was shown in the maze. While the interior of the house was decked in horror and fright, the fairgrounds brought him back to the happier side of halloween with candy and costumes running around. Tamaki could feel his heartbeat calming down at the sights of comfort around him. Even his breath slowed down and the hyperextension of anxiety twirled down to a more easy rate, one that he was more used to.

“Congratulations for getting through the maze you guys!” A teacher in a witch costume encouraged. In her hands were little pumpkins buckets filled with all sorts of sweets brimming at the top. “Here, take this you guys. You earned it! Don’t forget to pick up your stuff!” She said with a sweet smile as she handed the buckets to the boys. Mirio gave a loud gasp while Tamaki matched it with wide eyes. Every candy that a sweet tooth desired found its way in the bucket and Tamaki couldn’t help but feel his mouth watering with anticipation to eating one of the candies in there.

Yet, before he could quickly pop one in his house, he grew distracted at the posture Mirio was doing. In his hand, Mirio held up a piece of chocolate with a grin slapped on his face. “Let’s do a toast to the night we already had so far and for the night to come!” And he brought the chocolate closer to Tamaki, hoping for a little bop back. It took a bit for Tamaki to get and Mirio had to give a small hint but he managed to scavenege a similar piece of chocolate and gave it a small boop into the one Mirio had in his hand while giving a small cheers in return. In unison, the boys ripped through the wrapper and chucked the chocolate in, savoring the sweet and melting flavor against their small tongues.

Silence passed between them when they tasted the goods but their swallows aligned at the right second and Mirio hooked his arm within Tamaki’s. “Alright, let’s get our stuff and do more stuff! There’s a lot to do and I’m sure we can get more candy!” He told Tamaki excitedly, making him walk toward the cabinets.

Tamaki didn’t say a word while Mirio went on and on about the different activities that were still left to do. However, it wasn’t exactly a terrified silence. Rather, and to his shock, Tamaki ended up smiling and nodding towards Mirio’s words, almost as if he was excited for the rest of the night. As if….this was going to end up being one of the best days within Tamaki’s life so far.

[thespoonplayer]

(DJ) Spoon’s Review of 2018

This year I haven’t listened to much music at all, at least not in comparison to previous years and I certainly haven’t been to many gigs. I’m sure this won’t last but this year I’ve been busier at work so less likely to plug in, I’ve stuck to the radio in the car just to keep up with how messy Brexit really is (ooer a bit of politics) and my runs have been 100% fueled by podcasts so music has just taken a backseat. However, I couldn’t let the year go past without some kind of list...so here is a pot pourri of my favourite discoveries of 2018.

1. Podcasts

Seeing as these have been so important this year I’ll start here...and cheat slightly by bigging up some oldies, but good enough to bang on about again.

Old favourites : Running Commentary (Comedians Paul Tonkinson and Rob Deering take you on their runs and chat sometimes about running, but always about life, kids, comedy and anything that pops into their heads), Adam Buxton (always entertaining ramble chat from Dr Buckles whoever is on, I’ve learnt stuff and I’ve laughed a lot), My Dad Wrote a Porno (Sheer filth as ever but genuinely caused me to LOL during my runs, wondering if people can hear that I’m listening to chat about vaginal lids).

New entries : Off Menu (Ed Gamble and James Acaster opened their genie run fantasy restaurant a month ago and it has quickly become one of my favourite podcasts ever. Eclectic guests pick their fantasy 3 course meals, simple premise and it works. The Scroobius Pip episode was a perfect clash of two excellent pods), Blank (another late entry into 2018 from Jim Daly and Giles Paley-Phillips ostensibly about blank moments in life but just rammed with infotaining chat from ‘non standard’ guests including a jaw dropping episode with Michael Rosen and fun with Gary Lineker and Susie Dent), Poddin’ on the Ritz (sadly now finished with maybe its only series) this pod recorded backstage at Young Frankenstein by Hadley Fraser and the sublime Ross Noble made me laugh more than any other in 2018, it might be about musicals but their search for Kenneth Branagh’s snowglobes and Lesley Joseph adoration was a joy.

2. Board games

They say a family that plays together, stays together. Well we are together more than you can imagine. We’ve played over 220 games this year! Here are our favourite new games into our collection:

The game of the year is Azul, a seemingly simple tile grab and place game, building up a mosaic prettier than anyone else, is full of strategy and a little (but not too much) shafting of others. If you really want to shaft your fellow players though then pick up Unstable Unicorns, a card game where you aim to grow your stable of unicorns, whilst stopping others filling theirs. SO many different cards, tactics and ways to mess it up, you will swear at some point. Discovered in the excellent new board game cafe The Dice Box in Leamington, we bought Meeple Circus before we left, it’s that much fun. Rehearse and perform the best tiny wooden meeple circus performance, accompanied by a bespoke playlist. Stack the acrobats, balance the lions and raise the bar. Another board game cafe, Chance & Counters in Bristol introduced us to the frantic game of Klask, a cross between air hockey, pool and table football. Slide the magnets around to flick a ball into your opponents hole, avoid the magnetic biscuits and don’t KLASK! When is a game not a game? another game of the year has been played a lot in our house, and it’s The Mind. 100 cards numbered 1-100, no words between players and a tense task to lay cards in ascending order. Simple? yes? possible? nope! but it’s sure to cause fun and arguments. The final two of MY favourite sadly aren’t quite as loved by my family, but I’ll get them there. Sagrada is a similar game to Azul with you attempting to build a beautiful stained glass window with coloured dice. More variations and thinking needed than Azul which adds to the challenge. And finally and lovely chess like 2 player game which transports you to the sun dappled Greek island of Santorini. Take the powers of a god and build the traditional blue domed white houses of the island whilst trying to stop your opponent climbing onto a roof. A lot of ‘aha, you’ve stopped me’ moments.

3. TV

It’s been a long old year at work, and in the world of parenting so we’ve found ourselves flopped on the settee many evenings just soaking up great drama, comedy and chilling ;o)

We are very late to the party with Suits but that means we have 8 series to wade through! Really neat writing, bants and relationships between characters, a ‘don’t worry they will always win’ calmness about it and you get to see the Queen in her knickers...ish. Another Netflix treat this year was Magic for Humans with Justin Willman, a hugely likeable and funny magician pulling off tricks that constantly make me smirk with a huge dollop of WTF? amazing. A huge recommendation. A late entry to my TV highlights of 2018 is from the warped warped mind of Charlie Brooker...of course with Bandersnatch. An interactive choose your own adventure TV ‘event’ (I know) that had us hooked for the full 90 minutes (only if you want to see how much bloodshed you can invoke!). Completely on the other end of the spectrum was the sublime and minimalistic Mortimer and Whitehouse: Gone Fishing. I don’t like fishing and why would I find two old mates just teasing each other for half an hour entertaining? No idea but it was beautiful. Like Radio 4, comforting and perfect. Then a few suspenseful dramas that got us on the edge of the settee, Killing Eve (quirky AF), Bodyguard (did they really kill Keely Hawes that early?) and Informer (bleak bleak bleak) and sweaty bullocks in ‘should be in the next section really’ Bird Box (made Informer seem like a giggle fest).

4. Films

Really haven’t been to the cinema much in the last 12 months and only once to see a ‘grown up’ film I think but kid’s films are SO good at the moment that’s ok. A few stand out films for me were:

Ralph Breaks the Internet, much better than the first one, lots of #lolz internet jokes and more than a little heart. Wrap me up in a duvet and give me a hot cocoa and Paddington 2 any day, tears at the end. A little more sighing but just as much emotion in Christopher Robin, not sure why Eeyore had an American accent but the characters were spot on and nicely faithful to the original concepts. The one time I did venture out for an adult (it’s a 12 so almost ;o) and saw Ready Player One I was delighted, yeah it might not be a) as good as or b) anything like the book but a visual treat and an enjoyable romp.

5. Books

I read A LOT, until my Kindle donks me on the head in bed anyway...literally a tiny selection of books that have kept me awake. 

The Secret Lives of Colour - Kassia St Clair. They say never judge a book by its cover. Well that didn’t work...I bought this purely because it is a beautiful package, the hardback a lot more pleasing imho. Simply 2 coloured pages about how each colour was discovered, invented and introduced throughout history. I never really gave it a thought that colours were...made. Weird and fascinating.

This Is Going to Hurt - Adam Kay. A hilarious ‘secret’ diary of a junior doctor that horrifies at the same time. I think we all knew it was a hard life but bloody hell, if you didn’t love the NHS before you will after this. A thoroughly enjoyable and insightful story of Adam’s journey through medicine. And that ending...wooof.

Moose Allain - I Wonder What I’m Thinking About. I love Moose, I love his colour-me-advent calendars, I love his tweet threads that show the best in Twitter, I love his cartoons and this book is all of those wrapped up in one. And a certain Mr Spoon is to thank for the publication, find me in the back of Unbound funders! An inspiring book for anyone who loves art, creativity and childish humour.

Factfulness : Ten Reasons We’re Wrong About the World - Hans Rosling. A brilliantly clever and educational book about why the world is NOT as shit as it might seem some times. It’s all backed up by real data and lovely lovely graphs!

Lee Child and Ian Rankin. A highlight of the year is the next Reacher and Rebus novels and these two didn’t disappoint. Rebus’ latest adventure Past Tense, is a self-contained story that could introduce anyone to the man machine that is Jack Reacher. Rebus however is back, retired but won’t lie down, in In A House of Lies, an old case comes back to haunt him and will this finally be his downfall? I doubt it!

6. Music

As mentioned, I haven’t ‘been into music’ as much in 2018 for various reasons but I’ve still enjoyed some great new discoveries:

Barns Courtney - The Attractions of Youth, discovered via the use of Glitter and Gold for the theme tune of Netflix’s Safe. An album of ‘cheesy, commercially viable blues and folk rock’ apparently. I just liked the visceral nature of some of the tracks and it always fired me up at work on slow days.

Isaac Gracie - Isaac Gracie, a rare listened to recommendation from my wife. Isaac is everything I claim to like, fragile thin sensitive boys with acoustic guitars....and I do very much with this. Painful screeched out tales of heartbreak. Sublime.

R.E.M. - Live at the BBC, 104 rare and live tracks from arguably one of the best bands ever. Some of the tracks I haven’t heard since my bootleg cassette buying days at Sheffield Uni, when the world was in black and white. Not all tracks are of the greatest audio quality but bliss for a fanboy like me.

Creep Show - Mr Dynamite, a spin off project for Mr John Grant and even from the eclectic crooner this is an odd one. Glitchy electronica with vocoders all over the place. Weird and very Marmite.

Public Service Broadcasting - Every Valley and everything else. The latest offering from the other PSB was a trip through the miner’s crisis and Thatcher years. Bleak? yup but fascinating snippets of well, public service broadcasting and guest stars including the obligatory Welsh rockers the Manics. This album is perfect by itself but it ‘forced’ me to go back and really discover all the PSB albums. The Live at Brixton release is a huge recommendation, I wish I was there.

Rex Orange County - Apricot Princess, maybe I just added this in to seem cool as Rex, aka Alexander O’Conner, was ‘one to watch in 2018′ from the BBC. A multi-instrumentalist that dabbles with hippity hop, R&B and piano pop. The first track alone contains about three musical styles if you wait. 

7. Food & Drink

I run, because I really like food. And thankfully I’ve run a lot in 2018 so I got to enjoy a lot.

I was introduced to the weird fermented tea monstrosity that is kombucha by my sister-in-law. Vinegar tasting drink that may or may not help your gut that grows in your living room. WTAF? However, health benefits aside the LA Brewery Strawberry and Black Pepper drink is something, alongside my pilgrimage to Leon, worth going to London for. I’ve heard it’s also for sale in Solihull but I don’t often travel that far beyond my class ;o) I’d say, try it...but I suspect 9/10 people with hate the flavour. 

I suspect 10/10 people that try the Aldi Black Forest Mince Pies would love them, but you won’t get a chance as I’ve bought them ALL. Aldi are a bugger for getting you hooked then never restocking. I only managed 10 boxes in 2018 and we’ve rationed well so have 12 left to get us through the bleak January weather. Cherries, Dark Chocolate, Chocolate pastry and a smidge of mincemeat. Perfect!

There are many ingredient delivery services available and I’ve only tried Gousto but I don’t know why you’d go anywhere else. 33 recipes tried and 32 of them I’d have again, with the one not so good one was still far better than anything I’d cook by myself. So easy, so tasty and if you want to try it I can give you a big discount that will help us buy another box, a tad expensive without a discount but worth a treat every so often.

Genuinely I traveled to London just to visit Max’s Sandwich Shop...kinda. It was certainly the deciding factor in a day out at the Summer Exhibition (see below). I downloaded the Kindle version of this book when it was promoted in an email, I bought some Scampi Fries and made a Fish Finger sandwich, I crumbled up some Ginger Nuts into a Mascarpone and Jam sandwich and I made a Fried Egg, Shoestring Fried and Gammon sandwich then I NEEDED to go and see how it’s really done. Amazing over the top sandwiches in a rough little hipster cafe in Stroud Green (no me neither and it’s a long walk from the tube!). So good I had to a) buy the hard copy of the book and b) carry half the sandwich home as even I couldn’t manage it all...not with deep fried macaroni balls filling me up ;o)

8. Places

A family that plays together, stays together as a great man once said. And we don’t just play inside, we love adventures so adventures we had.

I’d never been to the Royal Academy Summer Exhibition, as it’s in that there London which often seems hundreds of miles away...but I’m so glad that I visited this year. A trip with a good friend with neither of us knowing quite what to expect. We saw, and laughed, and marveled at, paintings, sculptures, videos, photos, models, and weirdness by Banksy next to Joe Lycett next to Grayson Perry next to Harry Hill, next to me mate Lorsen Camps from Coventry. The SA allows ANYONE to submit artwork for consideration and anyone can be accepted. I think this has to become a yearly visit, awesome.

My parents have been wanting to take our kids, and their big kid, to The Forbidden Corner in North Yorkshire for a few years now...and I’m so happy we finally got round to going. Started as a folly to entertain his children this huge labyrinthine site is crammed with strange sculptures, mazes, tricks and squirting fountains. Many hours were spent squeezing through holes, getting lost and getting wet. Beautifully eccentric.

A family holiday to Brittany meant we could visit the loopy city (it’s their phrase!) of Nantes and more importantly Les Machines d’Ile. Ostensibly the workshop of  a group of engineers and artists that make huge animatronic machines and animals...that you can ride on! Needs to be seen to be believed, the Elephant brings out the big kid in everyone...and we can’t wait to go back in a few years when they’ve built a huge forest over the river with ride on caterpillars and dragonfly. Incredible. The city itself is dotted with crazy art and interactive pieces encouraging play, I know a city closer to home that should be the UK Loopy City of Culture!

Luckily Tilly is a Harry Potter obsessive AND it was her birthday last year so it gave us the excuse we didn’t need to visit the Warner Brothers Harry Potter Studio Tour. Wow, just wow. The incredible detail in everything made for the film, the engineering, the amount of artists involved and the presentation of the exhibition blew us away. I’ve enjoyed everything in this list but this maybe was the most magical in the best way.

Many many amazing experiences warrant a mention, but I just don’t have enough words, include Talking Birds - Walk with Me, Print Manufactory Darkroom Workshop, Ludic Rooms Random String Festival, Go Karting with Tilly, some dancing balloons in Broadgate, Godiva Festival with Tony Christie et al, Bristol Gromit trail, Disc Golfing with my girls, Edinburgh Fringe with Dick and Dom and with another wonderful dick from Coventry starring in Bon Jovi musical We’ve Got Each Other, Pandas! at Edinburgh Zoo, Matilda the Musical with Tilly at last, running the Coventry Mile with the girls’ school, Dippy the Dinosaur in Brum, Wicksteed Park (amazing family fun theme park like what they used to be), Cycling on Stratford Greenway in the sun, Autotesting at MotoFest, Bourton-on-the-Water (it’s just a shame 3 million other people know about this gorgeous village), Giant Pac Man in the city centre, Pork Pie making with a good friend, CET several times, Novelty Automation in London and being on The One Show, a couple of Hope & Social gigs and much much much more fun with my wonderful fam and friends. Roll on 2019!

[vvitcheshq]

below the cut, you will find a complete list of all of the accepted characters! we had an incredible time reading all of the amazing applications you all sent in, and of course, we wish we could have accepted every single one of them! you are all so creative, and such talented writers, these applications really were incredible to read, and we can’t wait to see the amazing things you all bring to this group.

you may notice, beyond the cut, that there are more accepted characters than there were skeletons applied for -- some of the decisions we had to make were so difficult that, where characters were different enough to allow, we accepted a few extra characters under two new skeletons: IVY ( endurance ) and POPPY ( dreams ). If we could have done this for every skeleton with multiple apps, we would have, but our decisions were based on faceclaims, general personalities and backstory similarity, and adherence to the original skeleton to ensure that we didn’t end up with any characters too similar to one another. 

for those of you who weren’t accepted there are still a few open skeletons -- ANEMONE, ELDERFLOWER, and LARKSPUR -- and we’re considering the possibility of opening up a few new skeletons once things settle down on the main and the group is properly open, so we would absolutely love to have you reapply, if you’re interested. we’ll set a second acceptance date soon, so let us know how long you’ll need to write a new application if you’re planning to reapply!

for those of you who were accepted, at the bottom of the post you’ll find a link to the accepted page, which will give you a checklist of what to do now! we can’t wait to write with you!

ASPEN -- congratulations, Kay! you have been accepted as Reina Takahashi ( Asami Zdrenka FC ). What struck me first, in reading your all, was the way the style of your prose so perfectly echoed Reina’s uncertainty and anxiety, the questions and the what-ifs. I was also so taken in by your metaphor of Reina approaching magic like a game of Minecraft, “All you’re doing is rendering an enormous amount of land— but what are you doing with it?” -- I can feel and understand the way Reina sees the world so clearly from your application, and I think she’s absolutely perfect for Aspen!

But how many times had she gone sleepless, awake at night while the rest of the coven was fast asleep as dusk turned to dawn? How many times had she spent so much time fretting that she decided to drop a decision altogether? Action was better than inaction, they say, but the what-ifs always ate away at her, until sometimes all she could do was let the idea rest.

FOXGLOVE -- congratulations, V! you have been accepted as Claudia Nguyen ( Lana Condor FC ). The decision for Foxglove was one of the hardest we made, but it came down to the specificity of detail in your app -- her ice skating, her connection to the world of witches through her friend, the way she attempts to feel content with the idea of never having magic... I just kept loving Claudia more and more as the app went on. I think she’s absolutely wonderful, and I can’t wait to write with her!

Her powers were weak, underdeveloped, hard to understand, and almost vague. Claudia heard someone whispering in the halls in her first weeks, wondering if she was a mistake, if her patron regretted their choice yet. Claudia kept her chin up, telling herself to just work harder. But she wasn’t a part of this world, she’d been raised with money and rules and snowflakes, not spells and incantations and rituals.

HEATHER -- congratulations, Emm! you have been accepted as Dera Helene Whelan ( Josefine Frida Pettersen FC ). Emm, both your apps were absolutely fantastic, and picking between the two was agony, but ultimately we felt more passion in your app for Dera, which tipped the scales her way. Dera’s family connection to the coven that raised her, her troubling and fascinating relationship with her patron, and the way her loss informs her coldness to the world were absolutely incredible and we can’t wait to see where you take Dera in the group! 

Knowing this made the grieving process easier for Dera - she was comforted in knowing that her mother and father could be visited in a summer breeze, the crash of waves, the rustling of leaves. Yet, she still felt like a large part of her was tangled up in a locked treasure chest somewhere, an emptiness that she learned to fill with a growing thirst for knowledge, for protection, for distance. She didn’t want to feel anymore, at least not in the way that she was now so used to feeling.

HOLLYHOCK -- congratulations, Shannon! you have been accepted as Felix Dumont ( Chance Perdomo FC ). Maybe I’m biased because Hollyhock was my favorite of the skeletons, but I am absolutely head over heels in love with Felix. Their reluctant acceptances of a patron who was so much different from what they expected, and their subsequent whole-hearted acceptance of her and of fortune magic is so incredible, and I absolutely love Zoraida as well. I can’t wait to see Felix butting heads with some of the other witches we have in play, and I can’t wait to see what you do with them!

Like other witches Felix hadn’t thought much of the ancient discipline, that was until they saw the true power that lay within its workings. Magic had given Felix something they’d never had before- a future, a way to gain control of the life that was finally becoming their own. Now with the magic of foretelling the future in their hands, they are determined to use it to their full advantage, and to help carve out a new age for the discipline that has become so wholly their own. 

HYACINTH-- congratulations, Kal! you have been accepted as Aria Hadley ( Stella Maeve FC ). This app... Kal, I am shook. You apologized for length in your bio but there was absolutely no need, because by the end you absolutely still had me wanting more. When I thought about possibilities for Hyacinth’s mistake, I summoned a demon by accident and got my best friend killed was not what I had anticipated and yet, it was the exact right thing to pick. It’s so clear from your decisions that you’re really engaged with the worldbuilding work that we have done as admins, and I can’t wait to see that translate to your threads in the group! I also loved Aria’s family background so much, and I’m fascinated to see where her plots go and how she’ll relate to some of the other characters! 

Magic ruins people. The words rang in her head as the investigation continued, everyone in the school eyeing her suspiciously and wanting her to leave. When she closed her eyes, she swore she saw glimpses of the attack and she could hear her friend’s screams, but they were blurs, nothing substantial and definitely not enough to put together what happened that night. After a while, she thought it best that she couldn’t remember.

HYSSOP -- congratulations, Emily! you have been accepted as Abigail Sparrow ( Jessica Henwick FC ). Every single word of your bio for Abigail was stunning, it literally brought me to tears. Abigail’s loss is so haunting, and her determination to replace her sister is so heartbreaking... it left me absolutely speechless. I loved her unexpected choice in discipline, the way she envies the chaos students and wants so desperately to fill the hole inside of her. And her patron is so fabulous, too! I can’t wait to see who she becomes in the absence of her sister’s ghost, and what might happen if she sees her again!

One night, in half-delirium, she turned to you with a vacant smile. Will the spirits be kind to me when I go? You didn’t tell her you gave up on them. You didn’t tell her that their haunting had begun to haunt you, that you couldn’t bear to watch her become one of them. Instead, you lied. A small sin for a greater comfort. Yes. You whispered, tears spilling down your cheek.

You fiddled with the dates on the calendar, persuaded Gabrielle you were fourteen a day early. You just wanted one more birthday together.

IVY-- congratulations, Yara! you have been accepted as River Quinn ( Emma Dumont/Ezra Miller FC ). Yara, we loved your application so much we just couldn’t possibly reject it. River is the entire reason we decided to add more skeletons, she’s just that good. I found myself aching for his as I read his backstory, and on top of that, you know I adore both the idea of using two fcs to play a genderfluid character and both of the fantastic fcs you chose. I can’t wait to see her humor in play, as well as her vindictiveness -- and, of course, as is clear from the new skeleton we chose to represent him -- the endurance that has gotten him through this much in life and will take him so much farther!

river quinn was born again at 15 years old. life as an uphill battle, temptation in the desert. they struggle and they grow into something more, they learn how to hide. be seen, not heard, be admirable and lovely and easy to ignore. they were raised with love, but they were raised to be something cruel as well, and they win their approval in any way they can. but every manipulative golden god falls in the end, don’t they? it isn’t river’s parents who decide enough is enough with their new messiah, but river knows the decision is made because soft hearted people can only watch children go through so much.

LAVENDER -- congratulations, Roz! you have been accepted as Nico di Salvatore ( Luke Pasqualino FC ). Nico was the first app we received, and we’ve been longing to accept him every single day since. He’s stunning, I love the way you really wrapped him up in his obsession with magic so fully, from the way he treats his own body -- wanting to escape it when it limits him -- to the way he relies on it for everything. I love his fasciation with technical magic, his big goals in terms of the kinds of magic he wants to do, and I love, love, love his “familiar” Sparrow and his fantastic patron. I’m so excited to see where he goes!

Between his major and minor, Nico didn’t pay enough attention to the traditional routes of summoning a familiar to properly conjure one. He has, however, cobbled together what he calls a sort of familiar: a computer program, binary and magic folded together, housed in the casing of a little mechanical bird. Sparrow, as he named it, acts as his eyes (and ears, if he wants to eavesdrop on juicy gossip). And though she might not be a true spirit familiar, capable of real intelligence, Nico is nonetheless as attached to her as other witches are to their proper familiars.

LOBELIA -- congratulations, Em! you have been accepted as Theodora Summerfield ( Anya Taylor-Joy FC ). Firstly, I am in awe of the beauty of your writing. Every part of your bio ( a five act play through which a girl is written & a witch is made) was absolutely stunning. And on top of that, Theodora is thoroughly fascinating -- her decision to run away from the family that couldn’t stop hurting her, and the feeling of violation and despair at understanding what social magic is and what Violet has done, the way she decides on protection magic to keep her safe from all the ways she’s been hurt and manipulated throughout her life... I love the way her cruelty is born out of pain and fear and the need to protect herself. I can’t wait to see how she grows and changes in the group! 

She finds you, again and again as fall fades into winter and winter snaps cold, offers you little pieces of help that you know better than to decline. You don’t understand why you trust her, really you don’t, but you can’t shake the feeling. It’s like magic, the way she’s wormed her way where you’ve allowed no one and it sets you on edge.

MARIGOLD -- congratulations, Zack! you have been accepted as Lucien Yates ( Keith Powers FC ). We’re so glad you got the time to finish your application, because Lucien is so wonderful. His closeness with his coven, his found family, and the way that closeness and their care for him makes his loss so much worse was so heartbreaking, and the way he was so light and so steadfast before it happened makes it even worse. That being said, I know you want to explore his darkness, and I can’t wait to see what you do with it and how loss and grief are going to shape him, and I know that my co-admin is so excited for your wanted plot with Dahlia as well!

Her death was a wave of a darkness that engulfed your light, causing every inch of you to be drained of what made you special. A drought choked at your senses for months afterwards, your spells became erratic, your grades slipped, while your tongue sharpened with new words that were painted with anger. Your father lied about the greatest witches pulling from pain, as if grief was a conductor of power. Perhaps your sorrow was suppose to add grace to your magic, twisting pain that forced tears from your eyes ever night were fuel to a greater strength. Bullshit! Since if that was true, there should be a hurricane revolting in your bones, a maelstrom of power, however you are a drizzle of a boy.

NARCISSUS -- congratulations, Charlie! you have been accepted as Leila Katerina Alvarez-Finch ( Melissa Barrera FC ). We were so glad to see that Leila was your first choice, because she was absolutely ours! I love the fire you’ve captured within them, but also their connection to the human world, and the difficult decision they made in choosing one over the other, in sacrificing what they’d worked so hard for to pick Aradia instead. I think she’s absolutely lovely, and with all the characters in the group who have experienced loss of a loved one, and who have dabbled with necromancy, I can’t wait to see what you make of their necromancer patron! 

She had been alone when time had seemed to stop, the chatter around her dying down into a quiet murmur. Everything thing had seemed to slow down to nothing…except for the man who had sat down beside her at the pool. His feet didn’t cause even a ripple when they entered the water. The liquid growing cold around her own feet as a icy breeze radiated from the man.

“I like you.” He had said, sparking an eye roll from Laila even as she sat confused at everything happening around her. “Your confidence.” He continued, “I must be brief. We don’t have a great deal of time.”

POPPY -- congratulations, Nat! you have been accepted as Luna Vaughn ( Courtney Eaton FC ). Nat, we loved both of your applications, but ultimately Luna was the one we loved enough to create a new skeleton for her. You took her insecurity from Foxglove’s skeleton in such a different way that she really seemed to work as a new skeleton -- and we took her experiences with spirits and her longing to find her birth mother again as inspiration in creating this one. I loved the way that forgiveness was such a major part of her personality, with how many times she’s been left behind ( you forgive and forget and start all over again ), and I love the way you used spells to frame your plots for her. I can’t wait to see them in action! 

Your thirst for more has become quite dangerous. The dead beings by your side scream out warnings but they fall on deaf ears now, you think you’ve gathered enough strength within the academy walls to practice the forbidden. Oh, you are sorely mistaken; way in over your head as you gather spells and herbs, you know this is not allowed, it is one of the rules they warned you about since starting school but you’re tired, aren’t you? Tired of feeling empty inside and having no one around for support. You want to see the one person that showered you with love, she’s long gone — buried and dead, how can you even dare to try such a thing? You, out of all people, should know that the dead should stay dead.

VALERIAN -- congratulations, Meg! you have been accepted as Aurelia Ashcroft ( Brittany O’Grady FC ). Oh my gosh! We were on the edge of our seats waiting for someone to apply for Valerian, so we were so glad that you sent in an app. Your app was simply lovely! I think the spirit of Valerian was really there, and how they’re always ready to leap into action. I’m so excited to see how the character grows and what direction you take her in! 

She had no hesitation upon cutting ties with the mortal world, her family at all. All she’d known with them was secrecy and a normalcy that she had never quite been able to stomach or adapt to. Aradia was a place for her to feel free and she doesn’t know what the future holds but she is ready to become. There’s this little voice in her mind constantly telling her to be alert, to be open to anything. 

CLICK THROUGH TO THE ACCEPTED PAGE. Please submit your character blog within 24 hours, or message the main if you need more time. CONGRATULATIONS, AND WELCOME TO ARADIA!

[cardboard-moon]

40 Things You Never Wanted To Know About Me

You probably already know me decently well or else you wouldn’t be reading this, so instead of rehashing the basic (boring) “getting to know me” questions I dug a little deeper and asked myself about what’s really important. Here is the result: 40 Things You Never Wanted To Know About Me. Enjoy!

1. What Parks and Rec character am I?

While I could argue for almost everyone on the show I’m probably most like Ben Wyatt: a white, brunette, and sad man who eats soup alone on a park bench (minus his love of math and rollerskate kink)

2: Top 5 books?

To Kill a Mockingbird, The Secret History, A Prayer for Owen Meany, The Help, 11/22/63

3: Top 5 movies?

Chinatown, Star Wars, Rear Window, National Treasure (nick cage can be good in small doses ok) and Nancy Drew (2007)

4: Top 5 shows?

Parks and Rec, B99, That 70′s Show, Mad Men, Arrested Development

5: Top 10 most iconic vines?

1) Chris is that a weed/Mary is that a police

2) Hi My Name is Trey I have A Basketball Game Tomorrow

3) Rebecca It’s Not What You Think

4) The one where the girl is just hitting elmo with a baseball bat

5) Anything Kermit but esp. the one where he falls off the building

6) You Know This Boy Got His Free Taco

7) 2 Bros Chillin in the Hot Tub

8) Waelcom to my Keeetchen we have bananis and avocadis

9) Whoever Threw That Paper Your Mom’s A Hoe

10) i spilled lipstick in your valentino bag (yOU SPILLED WHAHULAUG LIPSTICK IN MY VALENTINE WHITE BAG)

6: Where do I see myself in 21 years?

One of my dreams in life is to marry the heir to a prestigious winery out in wine country. I have a vision of myself at 39, waking up at 10 AM on a tuesday and standing on my private balcony in my state-of-the-art spanish stucco villa. i am drinking a chardonnay despite the early hour whilst i observe my grape empire in my silk negligee. the only event planned for the day is a portrait sitting for my rottweilers (4 of them), for which i have arranged spaces in the family’s private art gallery. i am aging well despite the harsh california sun and my partner and i have a trip to tuscany planned for the fall. it’s a charmed life and i never tire of eating grapes  

7: Top 5 favorite cryptids

1) Nessie (Nessie is a true lady I believe in her)

2) Mothman (not real)/ el chupacabra (possibly real)

3) the kraken (definitely real)

4) Bigfoot (not real but a legend anyways)

5) the yeti (real only in russia)

8: Do I Believe in Ghosts

It’s a complicated topic and of course we will likely never know for sure but the short answer is yes. in my opinion though, what ghosts are is the important question: are they really the dead coming back to haunt the earth? are they just manifestations of energy that the mind interprets into recognizable shapes? hallucinations? or is it wish fulfillment and the reduction of tensions on a heavy conscience? our brains are capable of powerful things, but it begs the question as to whether if a human desperately wants something to be true does the human mind have the power to make it true? c. s. lewis mentioned once that he never understood the ghost debate since, given that ghosts are real, they have no real power over us or anything interesting to say. but i believe that just goes to show how the mystery is far often more important than the solution.

9: Best/Worst Month of the Year

Best: May/November (spring/fall in full swing, holidays, time off school, great atmosphere) Worst: August (too dang hot & start of school)

10: What is one of my embarrassing secrets

I didn’t learn how to tie my shoes until I was nine (velcro ftw)

11: What is my Dream Date

We go cryptid hunting in the woods and have a picnic in the dark; you supply dogs for entertainment and guardianship purposes, i supply drinks and the cryptozoological myths we are chasing. Afterwards we get gelato

12: Top 3 Presidents

(this is based solely on arbitrary opinion not policies) 1) Barry Obama 2) Lincoln  3) Millard Fillmore (his name is funny) 

Honorable mention: jimmy carter (he was the only noncorrupt man in office for like 30 years before barry)

13: Top 3 Vice Presidents

1) John Adams, if nothing else but for the drama this man caused 2) Walter Mondale 3) the big boy JB 

Honorable Mention: Nichard Rixon

14: Top 3 Secretaries of State

1) Madeline Albright 2) Henry Clay 3) Elihu P. Washburn 

(note: secretaries of state have the funniest names, like Hamilton Fish (1869-1877) rest easy Mr. Fish)

15: Worst Activity they make you do in middle school PE

Middle school P.E. is the worst in general but I’m going to say either grading you on your shotput skills (?) or BMI (??) or just the tuesday run in general (luther kids know)

16: Top 4 Worst Scents

1) Washing a knife covered in peanut butter 2) Really cheap perfume that they sell in checkout lines at convenience stores 3) Olives 4) organic deodorant

17: Top 7 Conspiracy Theories

1) The Denver Airport is an underground military fallout shelter designed to protect the 1% from nuclear warfare

2) A Roman pope adjusted the Gregorian calendar so that his reign would fall on 1000 AD so we’re actually living in the year 1783

3) Paul McCartney is dead and was replaced prior to the Seargant Pepper album by a lookalike named Billy Shears

4) The state of Wyoming is a myth

5) Avril Lavigne died and was replaced back in the early 00’s

6) The Titanic sank because too many people went back in time to prevent it from sinking

7) Not to be cliche George Bush and the military-industrial complex orchestrated the 9/11 attacks (jet fuel can’t melt steel beams and all that)

18: Inside jokes with myself

I’m not usually a “gamer” but every year without fail someone introduces me to a game exactly at finals time and I get hooked and it ruins my gpa and study habits. This year it’s Stardew Valley, last year it was Dream Daddy and the year before that it was undertale and I blame Jojo for absolutely all of it bc they are usually the instigator. Anyway, every year I joke with myself about what game will derail my grades this year

19: Top 5 Worst Tactile Sensations

1) Putting tights or leggings on wet, hairy legs post-shower

2) Running fingernails along cardboard

3) Sweating in a turtleneck

4) Having wet, salty hair after swimming that drips down onto your back and makes the top of your shirt damp

5) Reaching into a bag of grapes and only finding really soft, slimy ones

20: Best Cat I’ve ever encountered

One time my friend and I were leaving Romancing the Bean and walking back to her car and the fattest, fluffiest, softest ginger cat I’ve ever seen came trotting up to us and flopped over at our feet. He was such a good boy!!! And so friendly with strangers!! He was very well groomed and just wanted some love, and whenever we stopped petting him he would jump up onto our legs and leave little wet paw prints everywhere, I wanted to kidnap him

21: Best dog I’ve ever encountered

All of them

22: Best squirrel I’ve ever encountered

My dad has befriended a squirrel named Nutty that likes to sneak into his office when the door’s open and steals peanuts. if the door is closed he’ll bang on it and scream until we acknowledge him

23: If I were a furry what would my fursona be

I do not know because I am not a furry. HOWEVER someone who is well-versed in furry matters told me once that I would be one of those long, nervous dogs like a greyhound maybe and tbh I could see it

24: Favorite/Least Favorite Disneyland Rides

My favorite has always been haunted mansion, except for the halloween season when it’s nightmare before christmas and then it’s thunder mountain. I just love the outside atmosphere of the house bc I’m a slut for that southern gothic architecture style. Worst is splash mountain because there’s no seatbelt and LOGICALLY i know I don’t need one but it doesn’t stop me from having a panic attack every time I get on and we go up the big hill as I worry about being flung from the toboggan across the park

25: Least favorite restaurant within 10 mile radius of my house

I live over by Porto’s so I am #blessed to be surrounded by some really dope food. However there is a hipster place a couple of blocks over in Toluca Lake that only serves bizarre food like fried chicken in maple syrup with waffle fries and it’s surprisingly bland, so the lack of taste combines with how expensive it is probably makes it the worst (it’s also forgettable bc I can’t even remember its name)

26: Rank of JBHS history department according to how good of a parent they would be

9.Mr. Bixler - I have never had this man so I can’t say shit. NA/10

8. Ms. Snowden - I’ve never had her either but I’ve heard enough about her between Burroughs and Luther to know that this woman is kind of scary, intimidating and uptight, all things I personally do not desire in a parent. 2/10

7. Mr. Hatch - I love Scott Hatch but he is a tremendous mess of a man. Judging by his wife’s instagram photos his idea of parenting is taking naps while cuddling his children and letting his wife do the rest of the hard work. Plus he seems like the type to be too wrapped up in his own melodrama and too busy hangin out with his best friend Edward Frankenbush playing Xbox to pay much attention to his kids. However, he did skip the first day of school to take his daughter to kindergarten so he gets points for that. 4/10

6. Mr. Lee - Mr. Lee is a very respectable guy who seems like he does a very good job providing for his family. He’s ranked as middle of the road because he’s a naturally private person so I can’t speak to his parenting tactics or personality much, however the few stories he shared about his daughter were very cute and he does the typical teacher/parent things like making her his screensaver on his computer. Overall, a very quality dad and man, 6.5/10

5. Mr. Fitz - Kyle Fitzgerald is similarly a mess of a man, but the difference between him and Scott Hatch is that he seems to make an investment in his kid. He always talks about current events in terms of what idiocy his poor daughter will have to put up with which shows his devotion to her well-being and survival in a confusing world. Also he brought her in to go swimming once while I was working at Verdugo and I got to see them having a great time on the splash pad and it warmed my heart. Great dad 7/10

4. Mr. Piper - Richard Piper is such a good father but in a detached way. He loves talking about his son and wife just as much as he loves talking about planes. The real kicker? When he talks about taking his son ON planes and geeking out over history together. He also asked all of his classes for people looking for tutoring work when his son was struggling in math which is so cute. Good guy Rick gets an 8/10.

2. (tie) Mr. Frankenbush and Ms. Hacker - Ed and Jan are both beautiful people. I know Ms. Hacker is #divisive but I personally am a big fan and would die to have her guidance in my daily life. She’s always interested in what’s going on in people’s lives and sure she’s definitely chaotic but it’s a loving chaos that’s only looking to help other people. I’ve not had the pleasure of having Mr. Frankenbush but he always is hanging out with his son Joey and they love coming to the Burroughs pool and playing water polo together; they spend a lot of time together since his wife works so much and they have such a buddy friendship. Both of these lovely people are super devoted and invested in the youth and would make great parents. 9/10

1. Mr. Clark - A god. We don’t deserve this man and I can’t sing his praises enough. Were were all lucky enough to be Greg’s children I don’t think evil would exist in the world. 11/10

27: Worst book I read for school

Hands down Tale of Two Cities since it’s the only one I’ve never finished. Dickens just doesn’t do it for me I guess plus I get really tired of the one dimensional characters and how much he romanticizes Lucy

28: Favorite little-known tidbit of history

When Richard Nixon went to Soviet Russia as Eisenhower’s VP during the cold war his secret service agents detected higher than usual amounts of radiation coming from Nixon’s hotel room, so they started talking loudly about it bc they knew the Soviets had planted buds and were listening. Within like an hour the radiation had vanished and they never heard anything about it again so man Soviet’s ain’t sly

29: 5 Places in Burbank That Are Definitely Haunted

1. Coral Cafe for obvious reasons, look up the ghost on youtube

2. The View seems like it would have some kind of el chupacabra-esque creature prowling around, maybe a mountain lion hybrid

3. Fry’s Electronics

4. The abandoned train station under the bridge

5. The LA river by the equestrian center

30: Rank of all the AP classes i took in order of entertainment value

9) AP Bio: I liked bio but the class wasn’t very entertaining. There’s not a lot of humor in bacteria and cells, and Mr. Van Loo is much more of a calming than a humorous and chaotic presence, so overall it takes the hit as the least entertaining class.

8) AP Stats: Math is similarly not very entertaining, but Mrs. Hollingshed’s erratic personality gives it the edge over Bio. Definitely more humorous than expected of a math class.

7) AP Econ: I bombed econ and business/money isn’t very entertaining but Jan Hacker made it so thanks to her chaos (love her though).

6) AP Euro: European history is incredibly iconic because, spoiler alert, Europeans are idiots and historically speaking everything that can go wrong, will go wrong. I just wish I remember it since I think idiot sophomore Lily slept through most of the class so needless to say I didn’t soak up much of the entertainment value. If it were up to me I’d take it over again and maybe stay awake this time.

5) AP Lit: Lit was just as much challenging and intimidating as it was entertaining, so it balances out. Mrs. Caluya is notably iconic and the books we read were all pretty interesting so it gets a high vote from me.

3) (tie) Gov/APUSH: History is always entertaining in my eyes since people do stupid things out of pettiness. These two tie for different reasons: Mr. Piper is a great teacher and that mock trial we did for the industrial age was great, but the subject was also extremely entertaining overall. I loved reading about how John Adams made making fun of him illegal. Gov was mostly just entertaining because of Mr. Hatch and how salty his is about the government. His sarcastic comments about how corrupt everything is gave life to an otherwise pretty lifeless subject.

2) AP Lang: aka the class with no curriculum, or the Kuglen Hour. I love Mr. Kuglen so much and he is responsible for 99% of the amusement in the class. I somehow learned how to be a better writer by listening to him complain about Trump and everything else under the sun for an hour every day so it was well worth it. Also who doesn’t like a class where you read Dave Sedaris for homework?

1) AP Psych: Without question, this is the epitome of entertainment. Psychology is just a mishmash of people trying to figure out why humans are as stupid as we are and why we do dumb things. Add in all the iconic psychologists and history and a class led by salty Mr. Hatch and you have a recipe for an entertaining year.

31: Top 5 Iconic JBHS teachers that I NEVER had (no particular order)

Mr. Peebles: A quirky man who I would have loved were I any good at math whatsoever

Mr. Arakelian: Band kids hate him but the stories I hear are so frickin iconic that I wish I could be an honorary band kid for a day and see the horror firsthand. If you have Arakelian stories please send them my way I’d love to hear about your pain

Mr. Frankenbush: A sad boi who everyone should get to experience and I regret never having.

Dr. Madooglu: He was so kind to me after the failed anti-trump lunchtime protest last year and he didn’t even know me. I wish I could’ve experienced him as a teacher.

Mr. Clark: The man, the myth, the legend

32: List of some iconic swim horror stories

Charlie breaking his hand after he lost a race and punched the gutter as hard as he could

Some idiot JV boys smearing poop all over the Burbank High locker room

The entire JV team getting Burroughs swim banned from Islands

Me almost passing out at the Los Amigos meet last year after I didn’t eat or sleep all day

Everyone always feigning illness or injury to get out of swimming the 4x100 relay

Getting in trouble for watching boys volleyball practice instead of doing the weight room sets

Every. Single. 5AM morning practice before school.

When coach martin finally figured out how periods work and suddenly we couldn’t use that as an excuse for not swimming anymore

33: What Office Character Would I Be

A mix between Angela, Oscar, and Kelly (we love our dramatic icons)

34: #1 Thing I’d Bring With Me to a Desert Island

Castaway for instructional purposes

35: What Would I call my memoir

Schadenfreude

36: 7 Best Buzzfeed Unsolved Episodes (no particular order)

This is one of my favorite shows so these are my recommendations:

1. 3 Horrifying Cases of Ghosts and Demons - one of the very first and best episodes; a 45-minute special where the Boys investigate the Winchester house in San Francisco, the Island of the Dolls in Mexico, and the Sallie House in Kansas

2. The Strange Disappearance of D. B. Cooper - A man going by the name of Dan Cooper hijacked a plane, demanded money and passage to Mexico, and then at some point jumped out of the plane and was never seen again. To this day no one knows his identity or his fate despite some of the ransom money turning up in a river somewhere.

3. The Haunted Halls of Waverly Hills Hospital - Ryan and Shane explore an abandoned asylum in Pennsylvania and some creepy stuff ensues. One of the best supernatural episodes

4. The Thrilling Gardner Museum Heist - An almost hilarious story (with reenactments!) about a seriously inept security guard and the loss of some of the world’s most beloved paintings. This was one of the first episodes after they started making money and the production quality is off the charts 

5. The Scandalous Murder of William Desmond Taylor - Another excellent reenactment story about one of Hollywood’s first and biggest scandals, the suspicious murder of a leading film producer.

6. The Enigmatic Death of the Isdal Woman - A woman’s body was found suspiciously burned in the European wilderness and no one knows who she is or how exactly she was killed. Watch if you like espionage!

7. The Strange Killing of Ken Rex McElroy - An entire town seemingly rose up to murder a douchey, violent pedophile. One of the only episodes that’s actually happy?

37: 6 Things I would Have Changed About High School

1. Definitely would have joined yearbook as soon as I could

2. Wouldn’t have forced myself to swim for all 4 years; if the passion’s gone then you shouldn’t force it. It’s just a sign that you need to move on to better things

3. I would’ve taken more AP’s and maybe tried another stem ap class. I’ve always been self-conscious about how bad I am at math, but I’ve gotten a little better over the years and instead of being too afraid to challenge myself I would’ve liked to see how I could do and prove myself.

4. Worrying less about grades!! I killed myself over my grades for like three years and then I just kind of let myself go. I would have let myself have who knows how many more hours of sleep and taken the L on a couple of assignments; I’m still learning that my health is more important than perfection.

5. Meeting the right people! I wouldn’t have restricted myself to a few friends and would have branched out more by joinng stuff like JSA. It sucks meeting the right people your senior year and realizing that I was hanging out with the wrong people this whole time.

6. Spanish instead of French.

38: What Would I Name My Farm Animals if I had A Farm

I’d definitely name them all after female Shakespearian characters. My cows would be Hippolyta and Titania from Midsummer, my horse would be Desdemona from Othello, my chickens would be Gonereil, Regan, and Cordelia from King Lear and my goat would be named Gertrude from Hamlet

39: Most Useless Talent I Have

I have a really strong internal clock so when I don’t think about it too hard and guess intuitively I can usually predict how much time has passed/what time it is without looking at a clock. It’s really only useful for estimating how much time I wasted standing in the shower staring at the wall

40: Top Regret After Writing This:

Writing this instead of studying for my econ test in seven hours.

Thanks for reading!

[cackieo]

I’m really not exactly sure how it has come to be the 2nd of September. Are you?

In this year, 2020, the year to end all years, we might (if we are hopeful) be thinking, one might expect that it would have dragged along interminably. And in some ways, I suppose it has. We certainly have been through an awful lot- and we are still mucking our way through as best we can. In my wildest dreams, I could not possibly have imagined a worldwide, terrifying pandemic and the emotional and economic toll that would take on all of us. Add to that the turmoil and polarized division our country is currently in due to racial injustice as well as a political climate that seems ripped out of a doomsday novel. The challenges appear to be greater every day. It’s hard at times – I’ll be honest, a lot of the time – to feel hopeful. So how I suddeny l find myself in September is a bit mysterious to me. I feel like I’m in some bizarre space/time continuum that is completely out of my control. No doubt I am not alone in that feeling. At least I hope I’m not.

I’ll try to bring you up to date with a very quick synopsis of what’s been going on. But first I’d like to move on to my exciting news.

And that is, I am thrilled to tell you, Glittermoon Vintage Christmas and I have been featured in the 2020 Flea Market Décor Magazine 2020 Holiday issue with a beautiful 4-page spread! Have a peek:

  Cover of Flea Market Décor 2020 Holiday Issue

The issue went on sale yesterday. You can find it on newsstands, in grocery stores, and pharmacies everywhere. I picked up a copy in the grocery store. Or you can go here to order a copy mailed right to your home.

The issue is chock full of creative, fun holiday decorating ideas. I am over the moon to be included in the company of amazingly talented people, some of whom I follow on Instagram. Let me know what you think when you get your copy!

Speaking of Instagram, I do hope you are following me there at GlittermoonCards. It’s become my happy place. Because you can better control what’s in your feed than on Facebook, which I have found to be so toxic and negative at times, I can’t spend a great deal of time on it these days. Instead, I much prefer to follow along – and make friends (albeit virtual) with – like-minded, positive people who post lovely visuals. In all honesty, I have struggled quite a lot to keep my emotional being centered this year; IG has been like a balm. Since we cannot see our friends in person right now, it’s become a sort of surrogate friend. I tend to follow designers and gardeners. One of my favorite designers (and Richmond native), Charlotte Moss, notably, helped keep so many of us out of the “weeds” this past spring by offering up weekly creative challenges that were not only fun but they also benefitted charity. An example of this was the Collage Challenge. For every collage submitted, Charlotte , a lifelong collage aficiando, offered to contribute $100 to Feeding America. In the end, that added up to a whopping $100,000 donation!

So, for the first time in forever, I made a collage. I have to say it was an almost perfect exercise to keep the demons at bay and, oh my, did it ever feel good to have the creative juices flowing again. This is what I came up with…a sort of Italianate/Into the Woods fairy tale.

My collage for the Charlotte Moss Feeding America Challenge

This space as well as my social media pages have always tried to be positive, politically free zones and that goes for now, too. Especially now. I made the decision early on during the pandemic to try to only post things on social media that might bring people a smile or something beautiful that gives someone a lift. I have felt deeply for those who were stuck in high rises or other places where they could not even see green spaces much less get outside to one. So, I posted a lot of pictures of my garden during this past glorious spring; truly the best spring I can remember – what a gift that was and how we needed it!  You’ll find lots of photos of how the garden has done this year as well as occasional peeks inside my house and whatever else might pop into my line of sight. So I do hope you will follow along and enjoy.

The other reason to follow me on Instagram is that I tend to post updates there first. I will be using both that platform as well as the Glittermoon Facebook page to keep everybody updated on what I’m making and what I’ve got that is available for purchase this fall. Because of the Coronavirus all the shows for this year have been cancelled – quite rightly. However, this makes for a challenging time for people like me to get what they make out there to the people who want to buy. I am still trying to figure out what is the best strategy for that so stay tuned on social media. I will, of course, also be posting here but not as frequently as on those pages.

Glittermoon Cards SPREAD THE LOVE PROJECT

When the Coronavirus first roared into our lives back in March, like everyone else, we were scared – not only for us but for everyone we care about.  With Mr Transplant, we knew we had to be especially vigilant and heed all the warnings the scientists and doctors put out there.

As the pandemic really began to rage and tragic stories of heartbreak and death etched themselves upon our consciousness, I found myself waking up at 4 AM every night with terrible anxiety. Thinking about people trapped in nursing homes, all alone, particularly haunted me. I wanted to help – somehow – but simply could not figure out how. I made donations but it just did not seem enough. I don’t sew so I offered up fabric and some money to a vibrant local group of mask sewers. And while those were good things to do, it did not satisfy that urge to DO something more. But how? As the spouse of an immune suppressed transplant patient and a member of the “at risk” group myself (though I am in good health and refuse to think of myself as “elderly”), there is no question that I need to stay at home for the duration.

I kept thinking about my inventory of Glittermoon Cards sitting in my workshop out back. Everyone knows getting a card in the mail can cheer you up. It’s a simple gesture that makes you feel like you matter to someone. And there are so many people in need of a human connection right now. So, I came up with The Glittermoon SPREAD SOME LOVE Project. For $12, you receive: An assortment of 10 GLITTERMOON CARDS (valued at $30-40, specially chosen and packaged by me), FREE SHIPPING to you via USPS (lower 48 states only, please) and, in addition, for every order, I  MAKE A $2 DONATION to FEED MORE, Central Virginia’s food bank.Mail your cards to someone who you think needs a little love, whether it’s a stranger in a nursing home, a special caregiver, an elderly neighbor down the street, or anyone who you think could use some cheer in these strange and scary times. And then tell all your friends! Let’s start an avalanche of mail to the people who need some cheer during this dark time! Hop on over to my Etsy shop to purchase. If you are local to the RVA area, they are also in stock in my space at Crossroads Art Center.

Pre-Covid seems a very long time ago indeed and so much has changed. We were supposed to have our house and garden open in May for a tour in our Ginter Park neighborhood but, of course, that had to be scratched. As of this writing, it has been rescheduled for May 1, 2021. Put it on your calendar now! Naturally, we were in the midst of several house projects trying to get ready for the tour. I was still finishing up the bathroom renovation that began 18 months ago now 😳 and I was working on refreshing some of the downstairs rooms. And then, everything ground to a halt. At this point, most of those projects have now been finished – yay – and I’ve begun working on the upstairs which has started to look tired after 25 years. If you remember way back to last year, we were doing a total gut renovation of the master bathroom. To give you an example of how looooong the bathroom took, I just got the new curtain, actually an antique pillow sham that we repurposed, up in the window last week! The master bedroom (which was the workshop during the bath reno and thus completely trashed) is all pretty and fresh now and I could not be happier with how both it and the bathroom turned out. I’ve moved on to the tiny little room I call my “perch” and things are proceeding at a sedate pace but that’s just fine with me.  Here’s a peek at how the bathroom looked once I hung pictures but before the new curtain. You can refer back to this post from a year ago to see the “before.”

Typical Gabby pose

In late July, our beloved kitty, Gabby (Gabriella Glittermoon), whose face and name were on the back of every Glittermoon Card, left us for heaven. She was just a few weeks short of her 20th birthday and we are having a hard time to adjusting to the empty space that small but mighty being has left behind. As I wrote at the time, I had a pretty good feeling of who she was on the day I adopted her. As I drove us home, this little striped arm kept poking out of the cardboard carrier, feverishly trying to feel its way along the car seat. She was feisty and funny, contrary and cantankerous, precious and persnickety, and full of her own self worth. A warrior with a zest for life. She was loving. And she was deeply loved. Most of all, she was her daddy’s girl: his constant, boon companion, especially during these past challenging years. We miss her terribly.

Emma P Buttercup

At the same time, my sweet Emma developed some scary health issues, too. We are still working on trying to figure out what is going on with her but it’s been very worrisome for me. She’s my shadow and I don’t even want to contemplate what life would be like without her.

I’m all set to get cracking out there in Santa’s Workshop, Southern Branch. Everything is organized and in its place. I had a bit of a hiccup when the fluroescent fixture directly over my worktable croaked last week. Fortunately, my electrician was able to squeeze me into his busy schedule and came yesterday to replace it and another one with new, and very bright, LED fixtures so I am raring to go! When I was working on getting everything put away and ready for the 2020 season, I realized just how starved I’ve been to get my creative juices flowing and get to work making beautiful things to share with you. I looked over at all the Santas on the old workbench one afternoon and there they all were, with jolly faces alight, and my mood improved by leaps and bounds in just that moment. Here’s a look at how nice and tidy a couple of the shelves are…perhaps your mood will lift, too!

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By now, you’re probably as exhausted reading this as I am from writing it, so I’ll come to a close.

Despite everything that has happened this year, I have much to be grateful for. We have a wonderful team of doctors who are doing their best to keep Mr Transplant safe; weekly family Zoom meetings we began months ago and which provide a happy lifeline (quite honestly, we are keeping up better now than during normal times); a comfortable home that we love; and a garden that offers respite and peace. Our family and friends have so far managed to stay healthy. We are at an age where we do not need to worry about losing our jobs or the place we live. These are all big things. It breaks my heart for all out there who are suffering so terribly.

Every day, though, I am reminded that so much of our happiness and contentment is derived from the little things in life and it’s those things which keep me going on the difficult days.  For me, the natural world is the gift that keeps on giving. A chipmunk racing acoss the patio, the sibilant sound of the breeze rustling in the trees, my sweet dog’s delight when I decree it’s time for walkies, or a little wren singing her heart out are what bring me joy. I hope you have something like that, too.

And let’s all be kind to one another.

Stay safe out there friends. I’ll be back soon with what’s happening in the workshop. Until then, I’ll leave you with this thought and a few random shots from the garden this past spring.

“Be soft, don’t let the world make you hard. Be gentle, don’t let the people make you difficult. Be kind, don’t let the realities of life steal your sweetness and make you heartless.”

― Nurudeen Ushawu

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Exciting News!…Then Let’s Catch up I'm really not exactly sure how it has come to be the 2nd of September. Are you?

[kyoune]

recurring

fandom: mystic messenger word count: as yoosung would say.... “around 600 2000?” notes: saeran “ray” / mc, persephone & hades reincarnation au, takes place on v’s route, beware of spoilers! 

in your dreams, instead of an elixir, you see pomegranate seeds. 

The newly opened florist attracts a mean crowd.

Ivy vines crawl among the cracks of the tattered brick, framing the building’s GRAND OPENING banner, slung carelessly across the center sign. Though the initial front of the store looks worse for wear, it’s lively - filled to the brim with customers, they swarm among the doors, buzzing

The breeze that tickles you feels familiar, brings back memories of wildflowers and spring days. the fields of Nysa are in full bloom. They’re so pretty this time of the year, hm? A maternal voice hums in your ear, from a figure whose slender fingers (like yours, strangely) glide through your hair.  

You don’t know why or how you can recall that specific place; it’s a place you’ve never been, yet the nostalgia is so strong.

When you open your eyes again, you are in the middle of the streets of Seoul, a bumbling young woman thrown to and fro by the rambunctious afternoon crowd. Ah, right. There’s somewhere you need to be, and your stomach is growling and -

-- there’s an unknown app on your phone.

Why do characters in horror movies act so stupidly? you used to ask. A handful of popcorn in one lazy hand, you’d binge watch the latest productions on your TV screen, shrouded in the dark and shaking your head, cringing at the thoughtless acts of “bravery” the protagonists would perform. How foolish, you had thought.

Little did you know, your own mockery would soon turn sour in your mouth.

It’s incredulous how a few taps and a phone call later, you’d gotten yourself into an unknown car, let yourself be blindfolded and taken away. It was stupid, yes, stupid, you admit, but there was something in that voice you couldn’t let go, a melancholy immune to time.

The car slows to a halt, graceful and soundless. Must be an expensive car, you think, as the nauseating lurch of gravity gently guides you forwards, putting more bubbles of anxiety in your stomach.

When the blindfold comes off, it is not the light that hits you hardest; it’s white hair, and a magenta heart, eyes the shade of a blue so shockingly otherworldly.

You’ve seen those eyes before.

“Ah, there you are.”

Decked in purple and black and greys, from head to toe, Hades, god of the underworld --

“Ray.”

“I don’t know what your tastes are, but I hope you like it.”

You do. It’s pink, and posh and god is it your dream room. Perhaps he simply has the same tastes, or perhaps he’s been stalking you - either way, it perturbs you that you almost don’t mind.

In a way, he feels less like a captor, and moreso a protector. Hell, with all these preparations done and his anxiety apparent, he appears like an admirer.

You wonder if this “Stockholm Syndrome” thing is getting to you, but then lunch comes, and food erases any debate of it from your mind.

(While you lift a forkful of eggs to your lips, a scenario pops out of nowhere: A tall man, robed in darkness strides towards your general direction. When your eyes meet, his face is kind, and lonely, and looks a little too close to someone else you know.)

As night befalls the residence, the screams and cries (of happiness! or so Ray claims...) die down. In their place, footsteps and shaky whispers brush along outside your floor, and the building turns into a haunting likeness of Hell. It’s a bizarre place, and it makes you uneasy, but for some reason, you don’t feel like much of a stranger. In fact, call yourself crazy, but you feel secure.

The underworld is intriguing. Outside is the river of Styx, of inverted nature. Souls and hands of the lost yearn to latch onto you, but Ray promises he will protect you, he swears.

“I shall be no unfitting husband for you…”

When you sit up and rub your eyes, however, he’s nowhere near you at all, and you wonder why your dreams are someone else’s memories.

“How do I pursue you, Ray?” you had joked, your smile reaching up to your eyes, and he’d been speechless, breathless. You are so lovely, so unlike him. Your voice lilts up the air and fills it with an energy he didn’t he was lacking, and perhaps, just perhaps this is what people mean when they say they’ve found their missing half.

Speechless and out of breath, he fumbles against embarrassment, fingers idly thumbing his tie. Dismissing the idea with a casual laugh, Ray flashes you a smile, sincere and twice shy, and tells you that unfortunately, those AIs are the only options.

You shoot him a pout at this, to which his smile widens. Before he figures you can do any more damage to his poor, lonely heart, he leaves, but not without parting words.

“I’m so happy you’re here, Persephone.”

An hour after he has taken his leave, you muse over that statement.

...your name isn’t Persephone.

“If you drink this elixir, you can be with me forever…”

Persephone is smarter, this time. Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me.

But you have no shame, you remember pomegranate seeds and your first exposure to a real “contact”. You recall the beginning of no returns, and of periods where the Earth grew barren in grief over your disappearance.

Now, V’s face is the sad, mourning Earth, stripped of Mother Nature’s gifts. In his urging shouts, and alarmed “Run! It’s dangerous here, go!” you see Helios, the Sun. Go back, he pleads, your mother wishes for your return.

Hurried footsteps of hooded believers clash against the monotone droning of the computers behind you, and the mixture of V and Ray’s screams confuses you. Where do I go? Where can I run?

Caught between the chaos of the present and memories of someone else’s past, you blink, and see pomegranate seeds rolling on the floor, all red, red, red, and it makes you forget about the teal-haired hero and the sound of shattering glass.

“You…..”

As a new chaos unfolds before you, you wonder who you really are.

These are not AIs. You’ve known this from the start, because you are no fool.

How you know it best, however, is when the RFA members yearn for you, attracted like sunflowers to the sun. V and 707, red and blue, drone on and on about “research”, and a peculiar desperation in their searching rings a bell somewhere within.

But you’ve never known these people. Never in your life have you seen these faces, or heard their names (well, Jumin is an exception, probably, but it doesn’t strike much of a memory), and yet they are your family.

Maybe it’s the power of friendship? you tease, fitting in the group with ease. Their replies, as always, are hilarious: Jumin muses about the scientific validity of such a force, all while ordering Jaehee to compose another report. You can practically hear her sigh through the texts, joined by 707 playing along, Yoosung’s shocked stickers, and Zen being Zen.

This everyday banter is what you fall asleep to.

And you can feel it now, your lids heavy with the weight of sleep and stress. As if on cue, a total darkness consumes your vision, and a high-pitched shriek begins to ring in your ears.

( Demeter, your poor mother - her wretched wails can be heard from underneath the surface of the Earth. Like a banshee, she cries and cries, walking the Earth and demanding for you. I want my daughter back, give her back… )

An all-too familiar pop! tears you away from the vision, and you sit up again, gasping. Reflected off your phone screen is a message from V: “..those are the coordinates of my current location.”

You really should stop dozing off...

(Or you’ll get captured by Hades again.)

“Please stay with me… please don’t leave me... “

It’s a curse, you swear; you’ve seen this before. On his knees, Ray begs, pleading with the same desperation you thought you saw from the RFA. Voice cracking and soaked with tears, his fear of abandonment tears deep into your heart, a double-edged blade that cuts both you and him. One side needs you, the other wishes to save you, and the two worlds unknowingly engage in a game of tug-of-war with you.

But all you are is just a girl.

You are Persephone, you are the maiden of spring, and you are leaving.

“I will return to you.”

You lace your fingers into Ray’s, a soothing hand ruffling his hair, and seal your promise with a kiss. Head held high, a blank face betraying any hesitation you might feel, you beckon for 707 to hurry, before the Savior can catch up. Your lips move without you knowing.

“Come along, Hermes.”

707 slows, just for a bit, and shoots you perplexion.

“Who’s Hermes?”

The months fly by, and the calendar dates start to feel off. When did time start to hurry so much?

“Mint Eye’s headquarters have been detonated.” Someone, maybe 707, maybe V tells you, one day. “Rika went to one of our parties.” is told to you on another. You don’t really recall whose voice it was, because you’re lost in fuzzy daydreams of Hades and Persephone, and the possibility that Saeran is still alive.

Then, a phone call arrives one day, and your hands begin to tremble when the name “Saeran Choi” is uttered from the other line.

-

The hospital is a pallid white, too industrial, too formal. You wonder if this is also some alternate form of the underworld, because it makes you uncomfortable, makes you feel sick (ironically). But it has that same feeling, that certain security you’d feel nowhere else…

Or maybe you just feel that way because you see him, Ray, Saeran….

Embalmed in tangled sheets and IV drips, he’s barely even a person; as soon as you dare step in his direction, the nurses sense your intent and rein you in, their voices weary and their grip on your arms a touch too forceful. Substance abuse and mental neglect had shaped him into a violent, unstable man, and they all fear for your safety, but it’s alright, it’s alright, because he was once a god too.

So you raise at them the eyes of a God’s wife, silently imploring for their understanding. They’re the eyes you’ve used in your dreams, and it comes natural to you now. Though you don’t expect them to work, they do, and when Saeran rises, they fully back off.

Your eyes meet blue again, the otherworldly blue you love so, so much, and the maiden of spring intertwines her fingers with the god of the underworld.

“I missed you.”

author’s notes: god playing v’s route i thought of two things: 1) this kind of feels like persephone and hades with regards to ray/mc’s relationship and 2) please tell me ray gets a happy ending (and im heartbroken to learn he doesn’t...) so! this fic is a little kind of self-indulgence, a reincarnated hades/persephone! ray/mc thing with the added bonus of them having a happy ending :)

i havent written fanfic in a year & kind of rushed this + moved around some parts of the timeline so sorry if the events are kind of out of place... 

more saeran fluff is on the way… and i do want to try my hand at zen or vanderwood fluff soon.

[mhdiaries]

Diary of Honey Swamp

If you don’t want me to snap at you, sugar, keep your claws off my diary!

2 April

Mama Swamp has always said that navigating the waters of New Goreleans gentility is tougher than a cypress stump, but looking at what’s waiting for me this year, I’ll swear high society has nothing on high school! What with advanced film studies, the school newspaper, Fearbook photography, and all those lil’ social engagements a lady must keep, my calendar is filling up faster than a cistern in a hurricane. Nothing to fret about though, as I’ve formulated a ghoul-proof plan to make this year a success;

Create a student film that simply overflows with passion and originality

Impress Mr. Rougarou, my film teacher, so very much that he enters it into the annual Bayou Boovie Fest

Win accolades galore from the judges for my breakout cinema-togre-phy

Get discovered by Hauntlywood and move out west to work with the  monstrously talented SoFeara Gorepola. We'll make a divine boovie-making scream team!

My student flick last year—"Lurking on the Levees"—scared a major coup thanks to my expert eye for film decomposition, but the script was... well, just a teensy bit lacking, I must confess. Visually I'm always top of my class, but I'll be honest; cryptwriting is not my forte. That's why this time I'm going with a much more "cinéma scarité" approach—my neck of the woods is fairly alive with true stories to tell! Now I just have to find a subject that screeches "Hauntlywood", and I'll be all set.

10 April

Creeping kudzu, I do wish my hair would behave! I've been so busy dealing with the humidity I've hardly had time to think about anything else. Monsters outside this little soggy neck of the world don't know how lucky they have it with the weather; I may have been born here, but my lovely locks have not adapted. Lately they've been either limp as a wet noodle or more ornery than an itchy gator. I should whip up a batch of my famous smoothing marsh mud and see if that helps. A ghoul has to look her best, even if I'm more comfortable spending time behind the camera than in front of it.

19 April

My mama has, at least to my mind, a particularly unusual fascination with vampire royalty. She can tell you all the queens and their names and who their families were down to their 20th generation. She also has a whole bookshelf just stuffed full of stories about the "missing vampire queen" and who she is and where she may be hiding, and if the current jewel they use to detect who the true queen should be is real or a fake. There have been supposed sightings of her all over the world. One ghoul even wrote a whole book that says the missing queen has actually been unliving her life as a high school student. Now I know some drop dead debutante divas in my class that would give any royal highness a run for her money when it comes to acting like a queen but none with the pedigree for it. So, although I don't pay much mind to it, I have to say it has been rather interesting here lately, especially since now the news is saying that the new vampire queen has been found at... a high school. Now there's something you might be able to turn into a film or a book.

25 April

Today in film studies we had to give a presentation about our industry scream job. Most of my ghoulmates talked about being cryptwriters, directors, and boovie stars, of course; I was the only cinema-togre-pher in the class. Not that I'm all that surprised, mind. Most monsters get into booviemaking to see their names in lights, but cinema-togre-phy is a lot of responsibility without nearly as much recognition. A cineme-togre-pher defines the "look" of a boovie; she's a director's right-hand-monster for everything that you see on screen. The lighting, the camera movement, the special effects—everything has to look its beast if she wants an audience to lose themselves in the film. If she does it right, it's almost undetectable—but if she does it wrong, it's all anymonster will be able to see! I must have made a convincing case, because when I'd finished my presentation, half the class wanted to change their focus. Mr. Rougarou was impressed (all according to plan!) and said he'd be "very interested" to see my finished film, which makes me as nervous as a long-tailed werecat in a room full of rocking chairs! I gotta find a subject, and soon.

2 May

Still lurking for the perfect subject for my documentary. So far I've rejected half a dozen concepts, from an exposé on Mardi Claw (too cliché) to a search for the perfect gum-boo recipe (mine, of course, so it'd be a hideously short film). So far, nothing quite has that spark of inspiration I crave. My friends, bless their scary-sweet hearts, call me a perfectionist. Which I absolutely am! But unlike them I don't think of it as a weakness. After all, being a perfectionist doesn't mean you do it right the first time, every time—it just means never giving up until you're satisfied, even if that means you have to do it a hundreds times. That's how truly great art is made. Rotten Scaresese or Alfeared Hitchshock never would have given up after trying just one measly lil' time, and neither will I. Besides, I still have a hundred other ideas I have yet to give a fair shake—a little more time and screesearch should have me in the pink.

5 May

It was club picture day; always a busy one for the Fearbook team. I'm still learning about film, but photography will always be my first and dearest love—even when it's just snapping shots of my ghoulmates making freaky faces. The only fangup was a couple of vampires sneaking into every photo—of course, their faces didn't show up, but the out-there accessories they were wearing sure did! It was so funny I about fell out laughing... and then I realized we'd have to do all the shots again. Sigh... so not scare.

10 May

I took some time this weekend to haunt around Jackson Scare, looking for inspiration for my boovie. The deadline is still far off, but time is flying by and I have to admit I'm getting a lil' bit nervous—what if inspiration doesn't strike in time? I've got a half-dozen half-shot films, but nothing I can really call a boovie yet. And I want it to be good enough to blow away not just Mr. Rougarou, but all the judges at the Bayou Boovie Fest. I had some coffee and boue-uiets at the Cafe du Moau, watching the tourists stroll by, but still nothing came to me. If fangtastic southern cooking can't make your brain give up the ghost, what can? I clearly need to shake the ol' idea tree a little harder and see if something else falls out.

14 May

Last night, Mama hosted a dinner for some visiting digniscaries and asked me to lend a claw with the cooking. Entertaining is a big part of a Southern gentleghoul's repertoire, and you gotta be good at it. Photography isn't my only skill! I come from a long line of excellent cooks on both sides—Mama's always said one of the reasons she married my daddy was for his dead beans and rice! It's hard work, but between the two of us Mama and I kept the ladies and gents grinning all evening. Eventually talk turned to famous New Goreleans legends. It's an old town, and hauntings and happenings are all around. Our frights are famous and our mausoleums are second-to-none! One of the monsters in attendance mentioned the legend of the Bayou Bijou, and I sat right up. I'd heard of her, of course, but had no idea she was still floating. I should mention, "she's" a ghost ship, rising from the waters and floating across the bogs in the dead of night, with the famous plays and performers that appeared there still echoing on her stage. I asked the gentlemonster why this information wasn't better-known, and he said it was because the Bijou is so deep in the swamp that sightings are rare, and information rarer still. But nowhere in the bayou is unreachable for a Honey Swamp. Finally, an idea with bite!

15 May

There are advantages to being born and raised in the bayou—you get to know the lay of the land like your own scales. It was the work of just a few hours tracking through the swamp to find where the ghost ship rises. Seems she only appears on the full moon—so I had to lie in wait for a bit, but patience is one of my many, many virtues. Pretty soon I had the first-ever footage of the Bayou Bijou in all her beauty! It'll take a few more stakeouts, but I think I can finish my boovie in time for the festival—and with a subject so unique and fabulous, it won't be hard at all to make a film worthy of recognition. Just wait, Hauntlywood... Honey's comin'!

[kizardofkoz]

I’m giving up Zillow for Lent. And other thoughts on bravery.

I felt a nag. The thought seeped into the back of my mind like sunlight slowly stretching in the narrow cracks of a pulled shade in the early morning.

 Haunting me. Taunting me. It’s been on my heart for weeks. And It’s time I face the reality.

I feel like I am supposed to give up Zillow for lent.

Please God, anything but Zillow. This is possibly the biggest sacrifice I could possibly make.

Sure, my actual realtor will send me notifications of a home that fits the exact credentials that I need as a mother of three growing boys who teaches piano lessons out of our home and would love a great backyard, four bedrooms, two full baths, and if that puppy had a circle drive, then sweet baby Jesus, I have been gifted my real estate unicorn.

But in reality, Zillow has actually probably robbed me hours of my life, and there is a direct correlation between the accumulating time I have spent searching the same two zip codes over and over, and the pulsating anxiety that grows over finding the perfect home (Spoiler alert: doesn’t exist). Anxiety over lusting over homes both in and out of our budget (what would $50,000 more look like? Spoiler alert: Bitterness over not being able afford homes in that price range ). And anxiety over calculating and re-calculating the mortgage calculator as if starving children in Africa would be fed if I could only find the perfect balance of listing price, down payment percentage, and monthly payment.

I need released from my Zillow prison.

My big house, big house.

Shit.

SO!!!

Let’s Re-cap!

I’ve been busy!!

It is amazing what I like to think about and do when I’m not pregnant and new-babying! In January I decided I was really going to go after some dreams. 

Business Concept A.), which I found a partner for at a funeral. Where all of the best business partnerships are formed. 

B.) A Podcast, which basically feels like a funeral right now as it is taking a back seat to taxes and Business concept A. 

And C.) I signed to an agency a few days before Christmas last year and have been working on getting some print and commercial work. “Commercial Modeling” is different from “Runway Modeling” because the commercial world is composed of women under 5’8” who can still love and eat pizza. Which is perfect because those are two of my most qualifying credentials.

But I have been very intentional recently with what I am seeking, putting my energy toward, and I have not ceased to be floored at the opportunities that have been opened up because I quit thinking “Maybe someday?” and I started asking “If not now then when?”. Literally. It’s a mantra.

It’s even applicable when I’m in the parking lot of a place and I just can’t bring myself to go inside and run another stupid errand. The number of times I’m literally in the parking lot of any store and the idea of going inside seems about as hard as running 5 miles, or emptying the dishwasher. But dammit! Probiotics, razors and pancake mix aren’t just going to go buy themselves! I’m a trailblazer. For myself. Doing crappy things that I don’t want to do.

And awesome things that I do want to do…

I was randomly sitting eating my lunch this week at a local restaurant and decided to eat in their lower level as I know it’s less crowded and I wouldn’t be taking up a full table by myself, because I am an insanely selfless patron.

The owner was downstairs having a meeting with two other women about an event they are putting together. I was very focused on my work - I had a 10:00am appointment with my C.P.A. the following day to go over my 2018 taxes. The 72 hours leading up to my CPA executions appointments, are a very weird time where I am in this dreamlike oblivion where I don’t know if we are going to feel the sweet and exotic relief of a tax refund, or the more familiar dread of needing to scrounge up a lotta coinage to begrudgingly give to Ceasar on the 15th of April, this Christian Calendar year. I am in a self-employment purgatory, warded by an all-powerful tariff sheriff. Basically I’m picturing Jafar as the evil genie at the end of Aladdin demanding my quarterly payments, receipts, write-offs and then laughing as he says I owe 10% more as if *I* was the crazy one even though he’s the one who chose to be a serpent. Dumbass.

Anyways.

So I was sitting, eating my lunch, refiguring for the 57th time what my income was last year (where did it go?! Tar-get…) and these lovely ladies were talking about their event. The theme, intention, needs, location, keynote speakers, ideas, *record scratch*, heart race, look up, “What kind of keynote speakers are you looking for?” Sometimes, before Head-Kiley even has a chance to filter the way a normal person would, Heart-Kiley is already on the fearless train. Bags packed. Talking to strangers. 

After a brief exchange of information, niceties, and the 3 seconds of courage that any scary situation requires, I offered myself up as a keynote speaker.

WHAT?! 

HAHAHHAHAHHAHHAahhahahahhaaHAHAHAHAHA

But.

It’s something I always wanted to do. Ever since church camp when I was younger, I always pictured myself some day speaking in front of a crowd. Sharing personal stories. Combining some of my favorite things: vulnerability, authentic real talk, inviting people to laugh at the hilarity of life, and being the center of attention. 

:)

In my mind, if I ever became a keynote speaker, it would eventually come from writing in my semi-annual blog (eat that Victoria Secret Sale), or from growing my other entrepreneurial endeavors, or maybe even a really bitchin viral video of me breathing fire (Yes. Yes I can.) while folding a fitted sheet. 

Just kidding, no one knows how to fold a fitted sheet.

But there was an opportunity. And I saw it and I spoke up. 

Because this is the year.

I’m almost 35, and “If not now, then when?”.

This component of my personality completely baffles and frustrates my husband. The Emperor of Excel, planning, editing, and thinking things through until he talks himself out of any given action, he is completely mystified, and even annoyed, that I can sashay into any situation, and operate with the most potent and confusing cocktail of unabashed unselfconsciousness, unnecessary confidence that is pretty much entirely fueled by complete obliviousness to how society typically operates. 

I think of it more as this very real and visceral feeling that on a daily basis, I subconsciously keep a baseline awareness that this is the one chance I have at life, and I don’t really care too much about taking risks and failing.

 It’s not that things work out for me because I have a weird magic, good luck, and opportunities that others don’t, it’s that when I see a possible opportunity for good luck, my only weird magic is that I could kind of give two shits if I fail.

The worst case scenario in any situation is that I don’t try. If I don’t succeed, I end up in the exact same place as I would if I didn’t try in the first place, only with the core-cleansing content exhale that I was true to myself. I took a risk. And at the very least, I probably have a really funny story that came from all of it.

I don’t know if anything will come from my weird self-proposing-speech giving. Honestly, I don’t even care (a ton) because I’m really just proud of myself for speaking up for something that I’ve always wanted, when the opportunity presented itself. How lame would it be to write about when I wanted to do something and I didn’t. Instead, I get to do stuff and laugh at how ridiculous it is. And it gets remarkably easier the more I do it.  Heart-Kiley: 1

A practice of tenacity, spunk and fearlessness.

To me, that’s kind of what life is. A chance to practice being our most fearless, spunky, wild selves. And day after day, we have chances big and small to practice ceasing opportunities, and making choices. From the breakfast we eat (I actually choose the same one every morning - sautéed greens, two fried eggs with a slice of melted American cheese on top and black coffee. It makes me so happy. Ambrosia.). To even being fearless in choosing what we will wear. Plaid? Florals? Sequins? Only if it’s all together! 

And bigger choices of fearlessness, like choosing (or not choosing) our partner. Choosing the number of children to have (and may I recommend all boys?). Or choosing whether to buy the $6.99 bottle of champagne because it’s on sale from $9.99, or do we buy the $9.99 bottle because it’s on sale from $17.99? Spoiler alert: They are both going to do the job so just pick the cheaper bottle because this year we are also focusing on our finances and the extra $3 bottle isn’t going to change your life.

It’s not like when you are sitting eating your lunch and doing your taxes and eaves-dropping and then insert yourself into a meeting and suggest that you are what the people are looking for.

But I do think champagne would be very helpful in that scenario as well.

Maybe to celebrate.;)

And if that opportunity doesn’t pan out, another one will. 

And it will still require courage. 

Spunk. 

Tenacity. 

Either the courage to speak up for yourself and say “Yes. I should be the person for this opportunity.” Or perhaps, the even braver courage to say “No, Zillow. I know I’ve had two glasses of wine and at this point you are whispering sweet nothings like “Fireplaces”, “Finished basement”, and “padded kids playroom you can lock from the outside” but I see through you and I am not giving you an undeserving 23 minutes of my life and then 6 more during the next commercial break, because you will leave me feeling both indulgent, deprived, and with an unscratchable itch to try out a new down payment percentage whilst simultaneously looking up mid-century color pallets on Pinterest, because ‘It’s good to be prepared.’ BUT NOT ANY MORE!!!!” (Or respectively, March 6th-April 18th, Happy Early-Lent, everybody.)

Plus, I’ve got keynote speeches to not give.

And Jafar-Ceasars to revolt against.

Nor will that $6.99 bottle of champagne drink itself.

Now.

Time to get back to Business Prop. A.

Because If not now, then when?

Taxes

This is just a great photo of Blair in his chameleon costume climbing off of the couch.

Did you know when you apply at a modeling agency, you have to have photos of you with no make-up and natural hair? Yeah, neither did I and thank God my endlessly talented and selfless friend Heidi Drexler met me in my driveway and took pictures of me while I wore a black tank top that I bought and returned to Target the same day. Because when you see an opportunity, sometimes you ask favors and hope the people along the way know how endlessly grateful you are. 

And you BRING IT.

LATER!

[frontmezzjunkies]

Jacqueline B. Arnold as La Chocolat, Robyn Hurder as Nini, Holly James as Arabia and Jeigh Madjus as Baby Doll from Moulin Rouge!. Photos: © Matthew Murphy, 2019

My Top Ten Theatrical Experiences of 2019

By Ross

So here goes. I’m not that good at making lists, especially in an order that defines saying one thing is slightly better or somewhat worse, because on any given day, the order and assigned number might shift around quite dramatically.  But on this cold NYC morning, this is what I was thinking. Of course, my special mentions are as long as this list of my top ten (by twice), but so be it.  I feel grateful every time I walk in the theatre, particularly since becoming an Outer Critics Circle voting member. There is just so much to love about New York City’s dynamic and eclectic theatre scene, and although I wanted to add a few from London, England, Washington, or Toronto, I tried my hardest to keep it tuned in to what is happening on Broadway and Off this calendar year. So disagree or agree. It’s all good, and let me know your thoughts. I always love hearing about someone’s passionate loves.

J.D. Mollison (center) and the cast of Octet. Photo by Joan Marcus.

10: Octet

“This one certainly got under my skin and had me thinking late into the night. It also forced me, quite intensely and wisely, to think twice before each and every impulse I had to look at my phone…It’s insanely beautiful and achingly real emotionality that forces itself on me even as I attempted to fall asleep after I got home from this enlightenment…The simpleness of this musical has one of the more important messages that the world seems to be desperate to hear and learn.” Full Review 

Danny Burstein. Photos: © Matthew Murphy, 2019.

9: Moulin Rouge!

“Truth. Beauty. Freedom. And above all things, Love. That’s what is splashed before our hungry eyes and ears at the Moulin Rouge! – The Musical decadently and gorgeously mashing together with high-wired spectacular spectacular-ness…Within this new musical, directed dynamically and deliciously…” Full Review

MaYaa Boateng and Roslyn Ruff. Photo by Henry Grossman.

8: Fairview

“Utterly fascinating and forceful play. Like a good food fight, it wildly throws out implied conventions and disturbing vantage points…It transitions dramatically into a heady examination of race, strongly held expectations, and white privilege. Layered on top is an upsettingly accurate internal dialogue…Directed with resolution and unabashed confidence…the piece pounds us forward dramatically, challenging us to overcome.” Full Review 

Heidi Schreck. What the Conststution Means to Me. Photo by Joan Marcus.

7: What the Constitution Means to Me

“As directed with a free-flowing and creative hand by Oliver Butler, it hits us deep and sharp, almost as complicated as the ripples of distrust and pain that strike through Schreck, shaking and overwhelming her composure that feels, most definitely, out of the box…It lightens my load, seeing the smart and funny ‘What the Constitution Means to Me,’ although my broken heart stays confused and perplexed in these trying times.” Full Review

James Jackson, Jr., John-Michael Lyles, Jason Veasey, Larry Owens (in red jacket and hat), Antwayn Hopper, John-Andrew Morrison, L Morgan Lee. Photo by Joan Marcus.

6: A Strange Loop

“Directed with crafty ingenuity…The thrills of that first number sent me into joyous giggles of delight and surprise. And it just kept getting deeper and smarter, wittier and wiser with each effervescent and boundary-free song. The show is like no other…There are times we don’t know whether to laugh, cry, or clap along to the sounds of this collision of hurt and humor, as the players all bring forth an authentic slap to each well crafted song.” Full Review 

Eva Noblezada, Andre De Shields, Reeve Carney. Photo credit: Matthew Murphy.

5: Hadestown

“The ‘Road to Hell’ has never been finer…With Mitchell’s spectacular retelling of the old Orpheus myth…It’s clear from the hot and fiery opening that…Chavkin has a pure vision of tense and muscular motion…The songs are beautiful…’Hadestown’ delivers a deeply resonant and defiantly hopeful theatrical experience, filled to overflowing with passion, artistry, and love, even as are hearts are crushed in the end by our human frailties.” Full Review 

Zawe Ashton, Charlie Cox, Tom Hiddleston in Pinter’s BETRAYAL at London’s Harold Pinter Theatre. Photo by Marc Brenner.

4: Betrayal

“A triangle built with a ballet-like precision within a circle against a long rectangular wall. This is the essence of this masterful revival. They are poised for interaction from that first visual, one by one, in pairs (for the most part), as directed with tight thoughtfulness by the gifted Jamie Lloyd.” Full Review

The full cast of SLAVE PLAY (On Ground L to R): Ato Blankson-Wood, James Cusati-Moyer, Sullivan Jones, Annie McNamara, Joaquina Kalukango, Paul Alexander Nolan. (In red boxes L to R): Irene Sofia Lucio and Chalia La Tour. (photo by Matthew Murphy)

3: Slave Play

“It’s provocative and uncomfortable, pushing boundaries and buttons that are hidden within every single soul in the theatre, daring us with staggering urgency to take notice and check our own prejudicial thoughts and politics…So sign up for this sexy and dynamic experiment and become engaged in a conversation that will likely continue long after the last group member leaves the stage.” Full Review

2: The Sound Inside

“The piece floats forward in segments, delicately ushering in the ideas of encapsulated loneliness and the acceptance of praise that resides within, ever so quietly…The two come together in a (Tony deserving) way that will haunt your imagination as you try to make sense of the imagined.” Full Review 

1: The Inheritance

“‘The Inheritance’ truly surprises us, moment to moment, with its tender power and strong parallel story-telling. It slides in almost unsuspecting, finding a way to deliver a heart breaking truth and an emotional reality that sends me, almost, over the edge. ” Full Review 

  Steven Skybell, Jennifer Babiak in Fiddler on the Roof in Yiddish. Photo by Matthew Murphy.

Honorable Mentions (in no particular order):

NYTW’s Sing Street, LCT’s Greater Clements, PH’s The Thin Place, Little Shop of Horrors, St. Ann’s Warehouse’s History of Violence, PH’s Heroes of the Fourth Turning, Fiddler on the Roof in Yiddish, ATC’s Blue Ridge, Public’s Sea Wall/A Life, ATC’s The Mother, St. Ann’s Oklahoma!, Gary: A Sequel…, Public’s White Noise, Rattlestick’s No One is Forgotten, LCT’s The Rolling Stone, Broadway Bounty Hunter, MCC’s The Wrong Man, 59E59’s Square Go, TNG’s one in two. I did not get a chance to see Fleabag or many others, as I only have me, and I do need to work occasionally and make some money to live and eat…And I have yet to see The Lehman Trilogy, but I will get my chance in the Spring. Along with the new West Side Story directed by Ivo van Hove and choreographer Anne Teresa De Keersmaeker that started previews early December. I’m guessing they might make my Best of 2020.

Heroes of the Fourth Turning Written by Will Arbery Directed by Danya Taymor FEATURING Jeb Kreager — Justin Julia McDermott — Emily Michele Pawk — Gina Zoë Winters — Teresa John Zdrojeski — Kevin Scenic Design: Laura Jellinek Costume Design: Sarafina Bush Lighting Design: Isabella Byrd Sound Design: Justin Ellington Fight Direction: J. David Brimmer Production Stage Manager: Jenny Kennedy Assistant Stage Manager: Madolyn Friedman

Greater Clements LCT 11-09 257 Greater Clements, written by Samuel D. Hunter and directed by Davis McCallum Lincoln Center Theater 11/13/19 Lighting Design: Yi Zhao Costume Design: Kaye Voice Scenic Design: Dane Laffrey Sound Design: Fitz Patton Photo Credit: T Charles Erickson © T Charles Erickson Photography tcepix@comcast.net

Photo Credit: Julieta Cervantes

White Noise By Suzan-Lori Parks Directed By Oskar Eustis David Diggs Sheria Irving Thomas Sadoski Zoe Winters

#frontmezzjunkies gifts u his #bestof2019 #OctetNYC @MoulinRougeBway #TFANAFairview @TheatreforaNewA @constitutionbwy #astrangeloop @phnyc @hadestown @betrayalbwy @SlavePlayBway @nytw79 @SoundInsideBwy @Inheritanceplay My Top Ten Theatrical Experiences of 2019 By Ross So here goes. I'm not that good at making lists, especially in an order that defines saying one thing is slightly better or somewhat worse, because on any given day, the order and assigned number might shift around quite dramatically.