#who knew the cbs eye could look cool i guess

[malamilkbeats]

Cybersecurity

He protecc you from the bad guys <3

Art proof because can't be sure someone used AI or sum shi

[waitimcomingtoo]

Plank All Over Me - Spill Your Guts Or Fill Your Guts Edition

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader

Masterlist

Plank All Over Me Masterlist

“Welcome back to Spill Your Guts Or Fill Your Guts.” James Cordan said to the camera. “I’m here with Tom and Y/n Holland.”

“Oh my God.” Tom looked at you with wide eyes as you both thought the same thing.

“He introduced us.” You realized. “We can’t do our bit.”

“You’re my wife now, darling. You get to do anything you want.” Tom stated at he looked at James. “James, we’re actually Dave and James Franco.”

“Who’s who?” James humored you, well aware of the way you and Tom acted in interviews.

“I’m clearly the James.” You mumbled as you smoothed your dress.

“Dave is more attractive.” Tom shrugged sassily and you made a face at him.

“Can we start the game?” James playfully interrupted and you and Tom sat up straight.

“Yes, sorry.” You nodded as James began to explain the rules of the game. You’d seen the bit enough times to know how to play, so you tuned James out a little. You didn’t mean to, you just had a lot on your mind lately. There was something you needed to tell Tom and you hadn’t found the right way to do it yet.

“The first question is for Y/n and since I love her so much I’m going to give her the hot sauce.” James smiled wickedly as he got the hot sauce in front of you.

“Mmm.” You said sarcastically and grimaced at the camera.

“Who got the drunkest at your wedding?” James read off the card before looking at you. You pursed your lips as you thought about the answer before chuckling.

“Probably Tom.” You laughed as you pointed at your husband who was sat across the table from you. His face lit up with laughter as he folded his arms.

“Yeah, I was gonna say. Ryan Reynolds and I had a drinking competition that I definitely won.” He said smugly, making the audience cheer.

“I never imagined I’d be standing by Blake Lively’s side on my wedding day, screaming “CHUG” at my husband, but I’m glad it happened. You made me proud.” You said to Tom with a fond pout on your face.

“Aw.” Tom held his hand over his heart as you stared at each other lovingly.

“Gross.” James deadpanned, making the two of you laugh.

“Next question is for Tom and I am going to give you the cockroaches.” You said as you spun the table. “Love you, honey.”

“It’s looking at me.” Tom gagged as he picked up a cockroach and quickly dropped it back in the little glass bowl.

“How dare that slutty, dead cockroach stare at you.” You joked. “Tell it you’re married.”

“I swear, you two are the strangest couple I had ever sat with.” James shook his head as he laughed.

“We get that a lot.” You and Tom said in unison.

“Okay, Tom, who is the most unprofessional Avenger on set?” You read off your card before setting it back on the table.

“Ooo. That’s a tough one since they’re all so badly behaved.” Tom clicked his tongue and the audience laughed gleefully.

“No, I’m joking.” He smiled at the reaction. “I’m gonna go with Evans because he’s pretty much a ten year old. Like, he carries around one of those tiny skateboards - what are they called?”

“Tech Decks.” You told him.

“Yeah. He carried around a Tech Deck and runs it over everyone’s arms when we’re blocking scenes.” Tom explained as he did the motion of the mini skateboard on the table.

“I have also seen him covered in Cheeto dust countless times.” You added. “He will straight up come to set with orange fingers. He is the opposite of Captain America.”

“I hate that. We call them Wotsitz in England and it makes me cringe.” Tom shuddered as he moved the table. “James, I’m gonna give you the bird saliva.”

“It looks warm.” James commented as he picked it up to examine it. “That’s so unsettling.”

“Ick.” Tom grimaced and picked up a card. “James, which guest would you not invite back to the show?”

The audience reacted accordingly and you raised your eyebrows at the host.

“I can’t answer that.” James held his hand over his mouth as he stared at the bird saliva in front of him.

“Then why do you get asked that in every installment of Spill Your Guts Or Fill Your Guts?” You asked bluntly, making the audience laugh.

“That’s an excellent question and I’m going to think about it while I drink this bird saliva.” James looked you right in the eyes as he took a sip from the small glass. You cringed when he swallowed it and immediately went to take a sip of water.

“Ew. Is it thick?” You wondered as he coughed into his elbow.

“You don’t want to know.” James said hoarsely, shaking his head.

“Do I go now?” Tom asked, already forgetting the order of turns.

“Yes, you pick for Y/n.” James told him as he wiped his mouth.

“Okay.” Tom smiled deviantly and spun the table. “I’m gonna give you the turkey testicles because I know how much you love-“

“Tom.” You cut him off with a stern look.

“Turkey burgers.” He finished his sentence. “She loves turkey burgers.”

You squinted your eyes at him as he laughed devilishly.

“I’m about to walk out.” You threatened him once your fate was put in front of you.

“It’s not a true interview with us unless one of us threatens to leave.” Tom noted as he picked up his card. “Who do you think is the smallest Avenger?”

“Oh, definitely Mackie.” You answered confidently, relieved you didn’t have to eat the “food” in front of you.

“But he’s taller than me.” Tom tilted his head in confusion and your eyes widened.

“Oh you meant height?” You asked, fully misunderstanding the original question. The audience erupted into laughter and you felt your cheeks heat up with embarrassment.

“WHAT?” James asked as he wiped tears from his eyes.

“I thought you were asking about something else.” You said sheepishly as you shrunk in your seat.

“This is CBS.” He reminded you and you have an apologetic grin.

“Next question.” You requested, wanted to move on from your lapse in judgment.

“This ones for Tom and I’m giving you the salmon smoothie.” James decided. “Tom, how much did you get paid for Spiderman: Far From Home?”

“Enough to put a 20 karat ring on Y/n’s finger.” Tom response was immediate and you lit up in delight. You held your hand up to your ear so the camera could see it.

“With matching earrings.” You said coyly before letting out a laugh, all while Tom watched you with a childlike grin.

“My turn. I’m gonna give you the tarantula. James.” You decided and picked up a card. “Who was your least favorite guest on Carpool Karaoke?”

You held the card to your chest as you looked at him expectantly, knowing he’d never answer it.

“I can’t answer that.” He shook his head. “I have an answer but I can’t say it.”

“When you met Lin Manuel Miranda, did he bite his lip?” The words left your mouth before you could stop them. Tom burst out laughing at you, knowing exactly what you were talking about.

“Oh my God. She’s obsessed with that one picture of the guy.” Tom explained.

“It’s so funny. EUHYYYHY WE WERE MARRIED THAT NIGHT.” You imitated the countless singing videos of Lin Manuel Miranda you’d seen on Tik Tok that left you in tears of laughter every night.

“I hear this everyday.” Tom told James as you laughed at yourself.

“I can’t. I can’t. Sorry Lin.” You giggled again before calming down.

“Lin was perfectly lovely and we would love to have him back.” James brought the conversation back to the question. “I have an answer but I just can’t say who it was.”

“Then you better put that spider in your mouth.” Tom nodded towards the spider.

“It’s easy. I do it all the time. Wink wink.” You gave the camera an over exaggerated wink.

“Oh My God. Every time.” Tom scolded you as you made yet another innuendo.

“It smells horrible.” James whined as he leaned down to sniff the tarantula.

“Well it’s a dead bug. Were you expecting Japanese Cherry Blossom?” You sassed him.

“Oh God. Here we go.” James plugged his nose and took a tiny bite of the spiders leg.

“How is it?” Tom wondered as he watched in disgust. “Is it crunchy?”

“It’s gooey.” James told him before wiping his face with his napkin.

“I could’ve told you that.” You shrugged, causing Tom to give you a stern look that told you to behave.

“Stop it.” He couldn’t contain his laughter. “Who’s turn is it?”

“It’s my turn to ask Y/n.” James said as he looked around the table for what hadn’t been used yet.

“Fire away.” You said casually despite the butterflies in your tummy over what he could possible ask you.

“Okay Y/n, I’m gonna give you the grasshoppers.” You bit your tongue between your teeth as James moved the table towards you.

“Delicious.” You grimaced as you poked around in the bowl of grasshoppers.

“Y/n, if you had to date one of Tom’s brothers to save his life, which would you pick?” James read off the card and the audience murmured with anticipation.

“How would I get into that situation?” You stalled your answer, knowing you’d have to pick between hurting Toms feelings or eating a bug.

“And how do I prevent her from getting into that situation?” Tom added, making you laugh. He was trying to keep his cool but you knew the question bothered him.

“You have to answer the question or get to eating. Come on now, before they hop away.” James joked, making the audience laugh. You stared into the bowl of grasshoppers and knew there was no way you could put it on your mouth without throwing up. You gulped and looked at your husband, giving him an apologetic pout before looking at James.

“I guess Sam.” You said weakly and quickly moved the grasshoppers away from you.

“Why Sam?” James asked, always trying to get the best response he could.

“That’s not the question.” You quipped as you taped the card with your fingernail.

“I want to know too.” Tom spoke up, making your stomach drop. You shrugged and folded your arms to look relaxed.

“He was the first one that came to mind and I don’t think you’d want me to sit here and go over the pro’s and con’s of dating all your brothers. Plus, he’s a great chef.” You answered, and to your surprise, Tom smiled.

“That’s true.” He nodded. “Good job, baby.”

“Thank you.” You blew him a playful kiss which he caught and then pretended to throw away to get a laugh. You shot him a look before returning your attention to the table.

“Stop it.” You warned. “Who’s turn is it?”

“It’s your turn, Mrs. Holland.” Tom said, always taking the opportunity to call you that.

“Okay. I’m gonna give you the bulls penis.” You said lovingly as you moved the table.

“You’re too kind, my love.” He teased as it landed in front of him.

“I know. It’s my gift since you always give me the-“

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence.” Tom cut you off. “I don’t even want to know how it ends.”

“Fine. I won’t.” You gave the audience a pointed look and they laughed at your antics. You picked up your card and read the question, immediately laughing at what it asked. You were about to read the question when an idea popped into your head. Tom noticed the way your expression changed and sensed something was up.

“Oh no. I’m scared already.” He smiled nervously as you looked at the card again. Finally, you looked Tom in the eye and gave him a soft smile.

“Are you excited to be a father?” You asked the question that had been weighing on your mind ever since you took a pregnancy test in an airport bathroom two days ago. You wanted to break the news in a memorable way, and constantly being on planes or in cars made that difficult.

This show, however, made it easy.

Toms face melted from a playful smile to wide eyes at your question. The audience quieted down as everyone waited for Tom’s response.

“What?” He asked slowly, studying your face closely to see if you were joking.

“That’s what it says.” You put it simply, makes Toms face shift into a smile. James took the card fork where you had set it down, knowing damn well his writers hadn’t put that as a question, and read it.

“This card says “how big is it?”” James read off the card as he looked at you, making you chuckle slightly.

“I took a creative liberty.” You shrugged. Tom and James looked at each other, both thinking the other was up to something.

“Are you pregnant?” Tom leaned closer to you from across the table to ask.

“You don’t get to ask a question until you’ve chosen what food I have to eat.” You reminded him as you gestured to the table.

“Not to make this about me, but It’s also not your turn.” James threw in a joke as he watched the drama unfold.

“Cow tongue.” Tom said quickly and shifted the table so the cow tongue was in front of you. He looked up at you with all the hope in the world as you gagged at the tongue. “There. Are you really pregnant?”

“Oof.” You blew out a breath. “That’s a toughy.”

“That’s a toughy?” Tom asked in exasperation. You could see his leg bouncing under the table from anticipation but you wanted to drag it out just a little longer.

“Yeah. I mean, I really want to tell you, but this cow tongue also looks really good.” You teased him, making him let out a whine.

“She’s got a point, there.” James nodded, squeezing your hand under the table to congratulate you.

“No she doesn’t!” Tom exclaimed. “Baby? Are you actually pregnant?”

You knew Tom couldn’t take the suspense anymore and broke into a grin.

“Yes.” You told him. “I’m pregnant. We’re pregnant.”

“Really? We’re gonna have a baby?” Toms eyes welled with tears as he covered his mouth with both his hands. He’d been wanting to start a family for a while now but you hadn’t had any luck in conceiving.

Until now.

“Yeah, honey. We’re gonna have a baby.” You reached across the table and rubbed his hand with your thumb before pointing finger guns at the camera. “Keep watching to find out who the father is!”

The audience, who had been busy cheering at your news, switched to laughter.

“She’s kidding. It’s me.” Tom assured the audience.

“He’s kidding.” You insisted. “It’s Benedict!”

“Congratulations to the both of you.” James said sincerely. “I think that just about wraps this up this segment. My producer is going to be very happy with me for getting that information out of you without even asking.”

“You’re welcome.” You smiled at him as he leaned in to press a congratulatory kiss on your cheek. Tom finally broke out of his shocked state and got out of his chair, rushing to you and practically pulling you out of your seat to hug you. His hug was firm but gentle all at the same time, especially around your tummy. He pressed your face into his neck and you heard him sniffle, making you take his hand and put it on your tummy.

“We have about three minutes of commercial break. Excellent job guys.” James said as he got out of his seat. “That was definitely the best Spill Your Guts we’ve ever done. I might have to hire Y/n as a writer here.” He joked.

“Thanks for having us James. All three of us.” You said as you pulled away from Tom. Tom kept a protective hand on your tummy as you rubbed circles on his back.

“I can’t believe you’re pregnant. I’m so happy for you both. That’s beautiful.” James shook Toms hand to congratulate him as well.

“Well when you plank all over someone and don’t use a-

“That’s enough.” Tom cut you off but kept his smile on. “That’s enough for today.”

You leaned into him and took his hand, kissing the back of it as you all walked back towards the main stage.

“Can you believe we met planking on each other for a video and now we’re having a baby?” You asked him.

“I know.” He shook his head in pleasant shock. “We should name our baby BBC, since we met at BBC radio 1.

“You suggesting that tells me you don’t know the other meaning of BBC.” You laughed as you took a seat on James’s couch.

“What’s the other meaning?” Tom looked at you in confusion. You laughed gleefully and patted Toms cheek, always delighted by his innocence.

“Oh, Tom.” You sighed. “I’ll let you google that one.”

Tag List 🏷

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[meltwonu]

| 🍒 CH-CH-CHERRY BOMB! 🍒 |     [CHAPTER 17]

pairing; dom!seungcheol x camgirl!reader

this chapter’s notes; camshow, intercrural sex, lots ‘o teasing, dirty talk/the absolute tiniest bit of degradation, some cum play/cum eating, seungcheol having a kink for thighs/thigh highs 😳😗 welcome to the weekend my bbys!! I hope yall are having a good day/night!! Also again, another inbox roundup tomorrow(also an updates post)!! 💕 Might be a regular thing for the next 4-ish weeks ‘cause I have been so busy this month 😭 and I can’t believe there’s only 3 more chapters of CB left!! 😭😭 some bangers on the way tho LMAO 🤣 As always, thank you so much for the love and support!!💕💕 Have a great rest of your weekend and enjoy ch 17![cheol voice] seventeen right here 😌💕🍒 

chapters; 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8 - 9 - 10 - 11 - 12 - 13 - 14 - 15 - 16 - 17 - x - x - x

Seungcheol doubles over in laughter, tears blurring his vision as his laughs turn into quiet wheezes.

“God, this is so embarrassing.” Seokmin mutters; cheeks burning crimson when he glances over to Jeongguk who shrugs back. “Maybe I really should quit…”

Jeongguk scoffs jokingly, “Maybe you shouldn’t have lied. No offense, but all the staff here probably have at least seen her before and you just so happened to lie to her actual boyfriend. That’s honestly really lucky if you ask me! You should buy a lotto ticket!” Seokmin whines back, shifting on his heels as he watches Seungcheol start to wipe the tears away.

“Hyung, can you please take this Edible Arrangements I got you so I can go ask Namjoon-hyung to fire me?” This only causes Seungcheol to laugh harder and this time, Jeongguk can’t help the giggle that bubbles past his tightly pursed lips.

“Please!” Seokmin begs, shaking the basket of skewered fruit at the older male. “I heard the diner across down is still hiring, I can still save the rest of my dignity if I leave now!”

Seungcheol shakes his head, eyelashes wet with tears when he takes the gift from Seokmin’s hands to place it on the countertop of the concession stand. “Hate to break it to you but she works there and one of the staff is also one of her regulars so I think your best bet is workin’ here. Embarrassment and all.”

“So, okay… But you’re not mad?”

Jeongguk peels the cellophane off of the basketed fruit, looking to Seungcheol for permission before he takes a skewer. “Go ahead. And no, I’m not mad. If anything I should apologize too, I shouldn’t have let you keep lying when I already knew. But also, to be fair, we weren’t really… official ‘til recently.” Seungcheol shoots the younger male a sheepish smile; cheeks a pretty pink of their own. “And it’s kinda been nice meeting you guys too. It’s great to know you’re not all weirdos.”

Seokmin laughs lightly, breathing a sigh of relief. “Okay, cool, ‘cause this place pays really well and I’d hate to stop working here and you guys are a lot cooler than the coworkers I had before.” He rolls his eyes jokingly, leaning up against the countertop as he picks off a strawberry from the basket.

“Don’t even get me started on this coworker I had at the last place. His name was Mingyu, I think? Suuuuuch a kissass. I had to move to manning the register at all times just so I could avoid him pickin’ his nose in the backroom and then pretending like he was doin’ shit.”

“Hey, Seungcheol-hyung?”

Seokmin’s inquisitive voice has Seungcheol turning; setting the rollerskates in his hand down onto the bench. “Yeah?”

“Do you think it’s weird that we’re, like, watching your girlfriend?” He tilts his head in thought, eyes blinking up to the ceiling. “I don’t want to overstep or something if it’s weird, y’know? I’ve been thinking about what Jeongguk said earlier...”

Seungcheol grins back at him, eyes twinking. He’d also thought about that before too, when he first found out that Jeongguk had also watched your streams.

“I don’t really mind ‘cause at the end of the day, it’s you watching me fucking my girlfriend.”

“Well, I’m glad he took it… well?” You giggle, tugging the white thigh high up your leg.

Seungcheol pulls off his shirt as he sits on the edge of the bed; tossing the wrinkled material onto the floor as he laughs under his breath.

“He did give me an Edible Arrangements while I laughed so hard I cried. I think he’s learned his lesson.”

xcaliburDK: good news, i didnt quit!!

chwenon: i was gonna say

chwenon: u literally started like last week

universe_WZ has donated $75

angelhan has donated $75

therealchan99 has donated $50

therealchan99: u look rly pretty in ur white set!!!

“Aww, thank you! It’s one of my favorites~ And ‘xcaliburDK’, I’m glad you didn’t quit!” You wink at the camera, giggling softly in Seungcheol’s lap as he peppers kisses along your shoulder.

A shiver runs up your spine at his gentle touches and you easily melt under his soft kisses and roaming fingertips. He ghosts them across your breasts, teasing you through the thin lace as you mewl and squirm against his cock that’s pressed firm against your ass. “A-ah, S--Seungcheol…”

tangerine_kwan: she looks so happy now that she can call ur name out lol

alphagyu97: now i cant pretend its me tho

gentleman_josh95: i mean i guess but are u even built like him

alphagyu97: well

Your body slowly starts to fill with warmth; soft stuttered breaths falling from your lips when he drags his fingers down your torso until they play with the hem of your panties. “M-more… tease me m-more…” He grins against your shoulder; hooking a finger around the waistband of your panties and tugging it away from you before letting it snap against your skin.

“‘Cheol!” Whining, your legs snap shut on impulse as you feel a gush of wetness soaking into your panties.

“Ah, ah, ah, part those legs, princess. Don’t make me have to punish you.”

kitty_junjun: no thats what the shibari stream is for right? Right? 😩

artist8hao: is that really happening bc i want to see it

alphagyu97: u guys should do it and think of it as like a rebrand of the channel ykwim

hoshi_tiger_xx: jdfkjhf like a grand re-opening under new management

therealchan99: what is this, a restaurant?

chwenon: u guys should come up with a new channel name too or sth

Seungcheol manages to read off a few of their comments; committing some to memory knowing that your eyes were still sealed shut as you focused on his soft touches.

He drags his fingers down further, humming when he can already feel how wet you were getting. “Hmm~ Already soaked through your pretty panties, baby~” Your head rolls back against his shoulder, nodding gently as you start to grind against the fingers that he uses to press into your clothed, wet folds.

“F-feels good w-when you, ah, t-tease me…”

Unbeknownst to you, Seungcheol smirks, eyes twinkling at the camera. “You really like it, huh? When I just touch you gently like this. Not enough to get you off but just enough to get you soaking wet until you’re begging for my cock.” He pauses; pressing a soft kiss to your skin. “I wanna try something with you, pretty baby~”

You gulp as you raise your head from his shoulder and he retracts his hands from your body as you shift your body and slightly turn to the side to face him.

Seungcheol’s eyes are blown wide with lust and you can already feel his cock throbbing against your lower back as he smiles dreamily at you.

“I think you’ll like it too.”

A stuttered moan falls from your lips as Seungcheol’s cock slides past your tightly clasped, yet shaky, thighs.

“O-oh, ‘Cheol, this--this is…” The words die on your tongue as your head falls forward and Seungcheol is quick to reprimand you, just as he draws his hips back.

“Baby, I want you to watch yourself on the screen. I want you to see your cute face while I tease your pretty body.” He moans; thrusting between your wet thighs as your hazy eyes peer at the laptop’s screen. Your lips are swollen and your pupils are blown wide when you catch yourself and you can see the head of Seungcheol’s cock only just breaching past your clamped thighs when he thrusts forward.

You let out a guttural moan, eyes rolling to the back of your head when he alternates between thrusting between your thighs and letting his cock slide against your soaked, panty-clad mound. 

He hadn’t bothered to undress you at all, but you didn’t mind. The material of your panties only added onto the pleasure with every drag of his cock against you.  

Seungcheol teases you even more; dragging his hands down to your thigh highs and letting his fingertips play right underneath the hems before pulling the material away from your thighs and letting them snap against your skin, much like he’d done with your panties.

“Ah, fuck, m-more! P-please…” He repeats the action a few more times, playing with the sheer fabric of your thigh highs before he draws his hips back. Except this time, when you expect him to thrust back between your legs, he wraps a hand around his cock instead, guiding himself until the head of his cock is rubbing up against the sheer fabric.

“Fuck, you’d look so pretty with cum all over your pretty thighs. I should cum all over your panties and your white ‘lil thigh highs and get them all soaked. Don’t you think they’d be cute? Sticking to you like a second skin? Translucent ‘n soaked through with my cum?” He laughs under his breath, watching through the laptop screen at the way you bite your lip and furrow your brows at the thought.

“I--I want t-that… I want S--Seungcheol t-to make, ngh, a m-mess…”

angelhan: i kno we say this all the time but can u upload some pics of that later

angelhan has donated $75

universe_WZ: seconded cuz thatd look so fuckin hot

universe_WZ has donated $50

alphagyu97 has donated $75

alphagyu97: fuck, like a lil angel covered in cum

Seungcheol teases you and himself at the same time; rubbing his cock against your fabric-clad thighs. He spreads precum onto the material, licking his lips when it already becomes translucent and sticks to your skin.

He positions his cock back between your thighs once he’s had his fill and quickly finds himself doubling his pace when he sees how wet you’re getting his cock without even having taken your panties off. “God, look at you. I don’t even need to fuck you to get you this wet. You just need to rub your ‘lil cunt against my cock and it’s enough for you, huh? I should make you sit on my lap, rub your pretty ‘lil pussy on my cock ‘til you’re cumming over and over again.”

“Ngh, yes! Fuck, Seungcheol! I--I can feel your c-cock throbbing between my l-legs… Please, please c-cum, mmh, all over my s-skin…”

“That’s right, baby. So fuckin’ desperate to be covered in it too. And always so fuckin’ pretty when you are.”

You let out a whimper as you try to focus on watching yourself just like Seungcheol had asked you to. Your lips are parted in soft breaths and you can’t seem to unfurrow your brows as Seungcheol chases his pleasure behind you.

angelhan: what if

angelhan: seungcheol in thigh highs lmao

universe_WZ: sub.cheol

sleepy_wonu: sub.cheol

universe_WZ: jinx

sleepy_wonu: fuck u 

You lick your lips at the thought; although you knew Seungcheol would have a hard time relinquishing his dominating nature.

But your mind wanders as you continue to think about it; various images of Seungcheol tied up underneath you while you fucked yourself on his cock running through your mind. You let out a shaky moan, to which Seungcheol hums.

“What are you thinkin’ about, princess?”

“Um… ah, n-nothing…” He thrusts between your legs hard, making you jolt forward as you yelp.

“Princess...”

“I--ah! J-just thinking a-about… y-you tied up, ngh, to--to the bed and m-me fuh--fucking myself on your c-cock… ‘n me u-using, mmh, my toys o-on you...” Seungcheol smirks, pulling his cock from between your shaky thighs as he slightly pushes you over until you're on your back.

He spreads your legs as you look up at him and he’s quick to wrap a hand around his cock as he jerks himself off above you. “Oh, I bet you’d love that, wouldn’t you? I bet you’d be so cute trying to be the domme for a night.” Seungcheol teases.

You find yourself clenching around emptiness as you think of the possibilities. You definitely wanted to try it if Seungcheol was willing.

“Fuck, but first, gonna cover your pretty body with my cum.” He groans; thrusting up into his palm as he chases his high.

“C-cum all over me, Seungcheol…”

The donations and comments sound off in the back as you maintain eye contact with Seungcheol who’s brows furrow when he starts to feel himself about to cum. He scoots back a little; growling when his cock throbs in his grasp and he cums all over your, already, soaked panties.

You let out a moan when rivulets of cum hit your lower abdomen and you’re quick to reach down and scoop some up to bring to your mouth, smearing the warm substance against your puckered lips before licking it off. Whimpering, you dip your fingers into your mouth; this time pretending they were Seungcheol’s instead of your own.

He guides his cock until the head is aimed at your thighs; streaks of cum settling into the sheer material of your thigh highs. “God, you’re so damn pretty...” Groaning, he milks his cock for every drop of cum before he’s stopping to catch his breath.

“You came so much but I didn’t cum yet, ‘Cheol~” Pouting, you turn your head to the side to face the camera. “Tell him he has to make me cum now~”

kitty_junjun: well u heard the lady!!

hoshi_tiger_xx: make her cum and let her cream her cute lil panties even more

therealchan99: oh fuck yeah, get her off without fucking her cute cunt

Seungcheol leans over your body until the two of you are almost face to face, eyes twinkling with playfulness when you feel his sticky hand playing with your thigh highs again.

“D’you hear that? Let’s give them what they want, baby.”

The sounds of donations and comments once again get lost as Seungcheol finds himself on his knees between your legs.

“Ready?”

When you slide into bed after your camshow’s ended and Seungcheol has properly taken care of you, he’s quick to tug you into his chest. 

The two of you let out soft sighs at the warmth that envelopes you both as you finally start to settle in for the night.

After a few minutes, Seungcheol clears his throat, catching you just before you drift off to sleep.

“This is so random but have you considered, I dunno, rebranding your channel… with me? I was thinking about it and kinda wanted your opinion...”

You blink up curiously at him, urging him to continue. “I mean, yeah, of course! I don’t really know where to start though since it’s always just been me. And to be honest, I wasn’t sure if you wanted to either so I never brought it up.” You snuggle into his warmth, yawning as the sleep threatens to take over.

“But let’s talk about it later, ‘cause ‘m tired now, ‘Cheol. You really didn’t have to make me cum twice…” You mumble, “I can still feel my legs shaking...”

His soft laugh reverberates in your chest and he’s quick to press a kiss against your hair as he tugs you in closer.

“It’s ‘cause I like to spoil you. And okay. I’ll remind you when you’re more conscious.”

“G’night, ‘Cheol...”

“Goodnight, baby.” 

[loveisblindfanfictionbka]

Love Is Blind: Chapter One

“Come on Robs, what could it hurt?”

Robyn looked over at her friend and frowned.

“Online Dating? Really? Do you know the kind of psychos on these sites?”

Leandra sighed, “Girl, ain’t nobody saying marry them but at least try it out. It’s been years since your divorce. Why are you still so gunshy?”

“Well maybe because my ex-husband ripped my heart out my chest.”

“Isn’t that a little dramatic? You and your ex-husband were both childish and lost. I still don’t think you should’ve gotten divorced either.”

“You and everyone else seems to have my failed marriage all figured out.”

“Look, forget about all of that, you need to get back out there, even if it’s just for a night of fun. It wouldn’t kill you.”

“You know what, just to shut you up, I’ll do it.”

“Good, I got your profile all set up, you just need to approve it and submit it.”

“How in the hell? This is the first time we’ve spoken about this.”

“Yea but this was just a minor technicality because I was gonna set you up anyway.”

“Ugh….get away from me.”

Leandra laughed  as she slid her laptop over for Robyn to review the profile. After a few minutes, Robyn nodded her head in approval and pressed publish.

“So now what?”

“Now you wait to see if you get any hits or you just peruse others’ profiles too.”

Robyn was shaking her head before Leandra even finished her statement, “I am not perusing anything. I don’t even want to do this right now.”

“So let the men come to you, it is the natural order of things.”

“I’ma divorce you next.”

“You love me so whatever.”

Robyn laughed as she leaned her head on Leandra’s shoulder, “Le, do you really think this will help?”

“I think it’ll give you something to do while you try to get your life right again. I love you and I know you and I know that your divorce is something that you’re still trying to understand but your life doesn’t have to stop while you’re doing that. Things don’t have to be serious. You don’t have to fall in love with anybody but it wouldn’t hurt to get from behind these walls you’ve erected and live. You owe it to yourself, if nobody else.”

                                              ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Daddy, come on, the movie is starting”

Chris smiled as he rushed into the living room with a big bowl of popcorn. He sat next to his 3 year old daughter, Anesa, just as the classic Disney symbol flashed across the big screen.

“You know Princess, you could’ve just paused the tv. This is just a stream.”

“No because you were supposed to be faster anyway.”

Chris chuckled as he kissed her temple. He made the right decision becoming a foster dad two years ago. The little imp had done so much to replace the empty void in his life. He had suffered so much loss, being able to give that extra love to someone felt good. An image flashed in his head and he shook it. Years ago, he thought he had someone but that relationship crashed and burned. It surprised him that he even thought about her sometimes, all these years later.

Just as he started to become enamored with the Princess and The Frog, his phone rang. Anesa glanced over at him as he stepped out into the kitchen to answer it.

“Hello?”

“CB, what’s going on, Bro?”

“Marcus, how you doing?”

“I’m good. I’m moving back to the city so I just wanted to check in and see if we could meet up one of these days.”

“Of course, I’ll see if my sister can watch my daughter so just let me know when.”

“Daughter? A lot has happened, huh?”

“Too much.”

“How’s the wife?”

“Divorced years ago. I thought you knew.”

“I thought you were joking. You really went through with it?”

“We weren’t exactly seeing eye to eye.”

“But you were together for so long since middle school, right?”

“Officially since high school but you’d think that would’ve made our life together much easier, but nope.”

“Wow. We definitely got some catching up to do. Well, I’m back officially on Friday. We can meet at Roddy’s Bar.”

“Cool. 8 good for you?”

“Perfect, Bro. See you then.”

“Bet.”

They hung up and Chris went back to watching TV with Anesa.

                                      ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Robyn fought as much as she could to not be curious about the stupid dating app but….that only worked for so long. As she scrolled, the frown in her face just got deeper and deeper. What the hell had the world become? These men were just- no. It was hard being single. She hadn’t been single in years. Scratch that, ever. She’d never been single. She wasn’t used to being alone and being married was supposed to prevent that. Her ex-husband had literally tore her heart in two and she still hadn’t recovered. How two people so in love could be so incompatible baffled her mind to this day? Of course, her people just thought they were too young and just gave up too quickly but what would they know? They didn’t live with them 24/7. Yes, they had awesome memories but all she could remember was how alone she felt when he was in the bed right next to her. How withdrawn he had gotten in the last two years of their marriage. How unsettled she felt. Like she never knew when he would finally explode from holding everything in. She felt like she walked on eggshells her whole marriage but him asking for a divorce shook her to her very core and she had never bounced back from it. She endured his brutal silence, his emotional hardness but yet he was the one who walked away. It just never made sense to her. Just as she was about to close the app, a direct message popped up. 

Subject: Hello

Body: Hi, I was browsing your profile and you seemed really interesting. I was wondering if you would like to chat.

Robyn frowned a bit but she clicked on his photo to be directed to his profile. 42 years old. Divorced. One child. College Music Professor. 

He seemed harmless. His photo was full length so his face wasn’t the clearest but he looked decent. Besides he’d probably say something weird and she’d never have to meet him in person so what’s the risk and Leandra had listed her under just her initials so it’s not like he’d know her real name anyway.

Re: Hello

Body: Hi, I would love to chat with you. My name’s Anna. Yours?

A few minutes passed before she got a reply

Re: Hello

Body: Christian but my friends and family call me Chris. It’s nice to meet you Anna.

A: Chris? That must be a common name, I know a few of those.

C: I can imagine. Don’t know too many Annas though. Not the typical name of this time

A: It’s a little old school but I like it. I see you’re a music professor

C: Yup. Decided to change career paths once I got divorced a few years ago. You’re a veterinarian?”

A: Yea, I own a clinic and a shelter in the city.

C: No children?”

A: No. Seems like my animals take up all my time.

C: Understandable. Animals can be like children.

A: Definitely. How old is your child?

C: She’s three. 

A: That’s an awesome age

C: Very fun and energetic

A: My friends have children so I definitely imagine. Have you lived in the city long?

C: Just a few years. I was working at another college when the possibility of tenureship opened up at Columbia. Normally that can take years so I got lucky for the invite.

A: you work at Columbia University? That is awesome

C: I think the shock still hasn’t worn off. Kind of waiting for them to take it back at some point

A: Lol when I got the keys to my clinic, I felt the same way

C: Where’d you go to school?

A: Stanford for undergrad. University of California, Davis for veterinary school.

C: Pretty far from home, huh?

A:New York has always been the place for me. I always knew I’d end up here. You?

C: I’m from down south so that’s where my soft spot is. I did my undergrad and grad at Stanford though.

A: Wow talk about a small world.  It is a large school so I’m not surprised we haven’t met unless we have.

C: Probably not, don’t remember many Annas there

A: True. How do you like being a professor?

C: It’s cooler than I thought it would be. My previous job had a little bit more excitement but after some personal issues then my divorce, I had had enough excitement to last a lifetime.

A: My divorce kind of knocked me off balance so I can understand wanting to start over

C: How long were you married?

A: Three years. You?

C: Same. Together?

A: Over ten years. You?

C: Same. Bad ending?

A: I really don’t know. It wasn’t the best situation but it wasn’t the worst. I think abrupt would be a better word. You?

C: I walked away. I wasn’t the best husband but I think we really outgrew each other.

A: That can happen. How old were you?

C: 35. You?

A: 34. A lot can change in over ten years

C: True. I don’t know if she knew that though

A: did you try to tell her? 

C: Honestly no but that’s partly why I walked away. I wasn’t any good for her let alone for myself. I struggled a lot emotionally back then, I still do now sometimes. She didn’t need that weight in her life

A: Did she say that or did you make that decision for her?

C: Both.

A: Ah. I’m sorry

C: No need. She was better off without me anyway

A: you still think about her?

C: I try not to. It hurts. Failure sucks.

A: tell me about it. Have you seen her over the years?

C:No. We both moved away once we got divorced. Don’t really know where she went to be honest

A: Same. Some things are just better left alone, I guess

C: True.

A: You know Chris, this was fun. I was a little nervous about this online thing

C: Really? I’ve done it once or twice before. It’s not too bad if you take it for what it is

A: And that is?

C: Just a way to meet people. Doesn’t have to go further than a conversation unless you let it

A: That is very true.

C: If it’s agreeable to you. I’d love to talk to you again

A: I’d like that

C: Great. I guess, until next time

A: Have a good night

C: You as well

Robyn closed out of the app after reading Chris’s last message. They had a lot in common, a lot more than her ex-husband. She got a little nervous when he said his name was Chris but once he clarified that his full name was Christian, she could let out a breath. Her ex-husband’s name when shortened was Chris but his full name was Christopher. Christopher was a common name but she really didn't need that reminder of him too.

Chris dropped his phone onto his nightstand just as Anesa ran into his room. He laughed as she tried to climb onto his bed before leaning over to pick her up, “what’s the matter Love Bug?”

“Can I sleep in here with you?”

“Of course you can. Did something happen?”

“I had a bad dream.”

“Aww...I’m sorry, Love Bug. Come on, get under the covers.

Anesa climbed under the blankets as Chris turned off the lights. She cuddled onto his chest and Chris hugged her close, “Comfortable?”

“Yes. Goodnight Daddy.

“Goodnight Love Bug.”

                                     ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“So….how was it?” Leandra asked as her and Robyn sat down for breakfast.

“It was a nice conversation. He seemed like a decent guy.”

“What’s his name?”

“Christian but people call him Chris.”

“You really have a thing for Chris’s, huh?”

“Don’t say that. Chris is just a common name.”

“It is but what a coincidence.”

“Yea.”

“So what does he do?”

“He teaches music at Columbia.”

“Nice. Educated. Kids?”

“A daughter.”

“Marital status?”

“Divorced like me.”

“Guess you can share horror stories.”

Robyn chuckled, “my marriage was a failure but not a horror story. Stop it.”

“Have you spoken to Chris?’

“Not since the divorce was final. Why?”

:Leandra shrugged.

“Le, what happened?”

“Nothing. I thought I saw somebody who looked like him the other day, that’s all.”

“Where? Here? In New York?”

“Yea.”

“Please don’t tell me we moved to the same state.”

“Robs, I don’t know if it was him. I just caught his profile. It could’ve been any cute light skin guy. They are running around here galore.”

“That’s true.”

“So about your new Chris?”

“What about him?”

“What’s the next move?”

“We agreed to talk again but nothing more than that. I’m still stuck in limbo, I’m not trying to make something out of nothing.

“I guess. Are you gonna meet him?”

“Nah. Some things are just better left alone, you know.”

“Not even if you really start to like him.”

“Doesn’t matter. I’m swearing off serious relationships until I fix my broken heart and I have no idea how long that’s gonna take.”

“You still love him, don’t you?”

“I don’t know but I don’t want to.”

“You were together a long time.”

“Yea and he still left me so what does that mean?”

Leandra sighed, “I don’t know. “

“Chris, who are you messaging so much?” Jessica, his sister, asked as she started stirring a pot of beans.

“I met this woman online. We’ve been talking for a few weeks.”

“Online dating? You sure that’s safe?”

“I don’t plan on meeting her so it’s not a huge deal. Just a conversation.”

“Few weeks is a long time for it to just be a conversation. You like her?”

“She seems really nice.”

“Glad you’re opening your heart up somehow.”

“I’m not opening anything up. I went down that road and have no qualms about avoiding it.”

“You know you walked away from your marriage, Chris. I don’t understand your apprehension with moving on.”

“I didn't walk away to move on. I walked away to keep from hurting her. Two different things. I’m not fit to be in a relationship, let alone a marriage. My daughter is the only woman I’m concerned about right now.”

“Anesa can’t be your whole life.”

“Who says?”

“I wish Momma was here to talk some sense into you.”

“Don’t do that, Jess.”

“What? She was the only person you listened to. Did you ever tell your ex what happened with Momma?”

“No.”

“You never took her to meet her?”

“It’s not like she was around. Auntie C raised me.”

“So when you left every weekend to see Momma in the hospital your ex never asked why?”

“She asked. I never answered.”

“Chris.”

“I don’t want to talk about it. It wasn’t for her to know. She didn’t need that kind of weight on her, ok?”

“You never gave her a chance to really love you, Chris.”

“Well that doesn’t really matter. She moved away and about her life. I did the same. No harm, no foul.”

“I wouldn’t quite say no harm, no foul but whatever.”

“Why are you doing this?”

“I don't want you to hurt this new woman because you’re still in love with your past, Chris.”

“I’m not in love with anyone so there’s nothing to be worried about.”

“And that worries me even more.”

[jimimn]

HI ITS ME WHO'S NOT OVER JJK BLONDE SELFIE AND WILL NEVER BE -💫

HELLLOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO <33333333

HONESTLY ITS THE WAY YOH SAY SUCH NICE THINGS AND I DISAPPEAR FOR DAYS ON END BECAUSE INCONSISTENCY BLEEDS INTO EVERY CORNER OF MY LIFE FNEKALKD BUT I'M GETTING DONE WITH MY FIRST LEG OF EXAMS ON MONDAY SO YAY TO THAT!! OKAY I THINK WE'LL MOVE SLOWLY WITH BABY STEPS JUNGKOOK DROPPED SOME SELCAS JIMIN DROPPED SOME SELCAS IN THE WORDS OF THE LEGENDARY JEON JUNGKOOK ALL WE NEED NOW IS "together..BAM!" (THAT'S LITERALLY ONE OF MY FAVORITE MOMENTS EVER THE WAY HE SAYS IT 🤧)

YES IN THIS HOUSE WE SCREAM OVER JIMIN'S DISRESPECT HE IS THE PARAGON OF A MULTI-FACETED MAN THAT HAS US WRAPPED AROUND HIS FINGER. THE AUDACITY 😤

CHANEL X JIMIN LETS MAKE IT HAPPEN AND OMG THAT SELFIE THAT DROPPED?? SIR???? WHAT THE ACTUAL HELL?? I MEAN YES BH SAID LET'S DROP SELFIES IN BULK BUT THAT ONE PICTURE OF HIM IN BLACK(GREY? I DONT KNOW FHSKKAJF) WITH THE SHIRTS UNBUTTONED!!! THEM COLLARBONES ARE FREE AND THEY'RE THRIVING IN THE OPEN IN THAT ONE. ALSO HIS LIPS ARE SO PRETTY. OH GOD LITERALLY HE HAS THAT COCKY SMIRK ON HIS FACE WHEN HE KNOWS HE DOES HOT BOY SHIT LIKE SHUT UP OK YOU CANT DO THAT JAIL FOR U NDNSLSKAJJW

SUCH A FUCKING TEASE THATS RIGHT!! EVEN STRAIGHT MEN?? BRO LIKE HOW DO YOU HAVE ALL GENDERS JUST TRIPPING OVER THEMSELVES FOR YOU IT'S INSANE AND OMG MISS SHIVI HAVE YOU SEEN THAT ONE CLIP IN WHICH JIMIN HOLDS HIS GAZE WITH THESE MEN WHO LOOK AT HIM (i think it was bon voyage?) and when they cross each other he JUST SMIRKS AND RUNS HIS HAND THROUGH HIS HAIR LIKE YEAH OK ALEXA PLAY I'M SEXY AND I KNOW IT. AND YES I'LL LISTEN TO EVERYTHING YOU HAVE TO SAY ANYTIME 💗💗

12PM KST IS THE HOLY HOUR I TELL YOU ALTHOUGH I REMEMBER WAITING THE NIGHT BEFORE BE CAME OUT WAITING FOR SOMETHING TO COME AND BH WAS JUST LIKE "yea...no" OMG THAT'S AWESOME YOUR COUSIN'S VISITING YOU

HHFJDOSO YEAH IT'S BEEN A WHILE SINCE THEY DID THE JUMP ALTHOUGHHHH I'M POSITIVE THEY'LL DO SMTH COOL LIKE THAT IN THEIR CONCERTS BECAUSE THEIR PERFORMANCE QUALITY IS JUST.. THROUGH THE ROOF IT'S CRAZY!! WHEN THE PERFORM WINGS?? LIKE HOLY SHIT NO CHOREO NO POSITIONS JUST BTS RUNNING AROUND THE STAGE MAKING THE CROWD GO FERAL I LOVE EVERY WINGS PERFORMANCE SO MUCH MY SEROTONIN LEVELS ARE ALWAYS AT A HIGH THEN. OOHH MY GODDD BS&T IS REALLY THAT BITCH!!!! WHO'S DOING IT LIKE HER TODAY NO ONE IS EXACTLY. AND NOOOO I TOTALLY GET IT WE THINK ON THE SAME WAVELENGTH THAT ACCIDENT HAS THE SAME EFFECT ON ME. IF ONLY YOU'D TOLD ME THEN IN 2016 THAT THAT ACCIDENT WAS THE START OF SO MANY I'D BE PREPARED FOR EVERYTHING THAT FOLLOWED (see: him basically stripping himself that one serendipity performance. holy shit.)

FOR REAL THO CHRISTMAS LOVE DROPPED OUT OF NOWHERE AND DO YOU REMEMBER JIMIN SAYINF uUH iM nOt wORkInG oN a SoLo SoNg aT ThE mOmEnT heHe LIKE ALL MEN DO IS LIE OK AT THIS POINT. BYE. YES TAEHYUNG DID WARN US BUT ARMYS (LIKE MYSELF) PUT THEIR CLOWN WIGS ON AND THOUGHT IT WAS KTH1 LMAO. OMG I HOPE YOU DON'T SLEEP THROUGH ANY OF THEIR UPCOMING SONG RELEASES BUT I'M SURE IT'S THE BEST FEELING TO WAKE UP TO CHECK YOUR NOTIFS AND SEE "Big Hit Labels" BECAUSE THAT'S HOW YOU KNOW IT'S GOING TO BE FIREEE. DUDE SERIOUSLY I NEED JIMIN TO GO LIVE AGAIN (although we've been well fed by namjoon for now🤧😌💗) LIKE THAT ONE YT LIVE WHERE HE SAID "O...M...G" SHUT UP STOP BEING SO CUTE I'M DHJSWLIFJWKALS

LMAO OKAY YEAH THAT'S VALID YOUR BLOG THEME IS BASICALLY ✨jimin✨ AND I LOVE THAT IT REALLY GRAVITATED ME AND YOUR URL OH MY GODDDDDDDDDDD YOUR BRAINNN 💆‍♀️💆‍♀️💆‍♀️💆‍♀️💆‍♀️

YES YES YES JIMIN IS SO PERFECT AND THE SOCK DOODLESSS 😭😭😭 oooo so when did you get into giffing? how did you start? BROOOOO YOUR URL'S ORIGIN STORY. I LOVE IT WOW YES IT'S DEFINITELY GOT THE REQUIRED ✨pazzaz✨

NOOO OMG THIS URL IS YOUR BRAND LIKE YOU'RE A LEGEND ON ARMYBLR I LOVE IT SO MUCH. BUT STILL!! IT'S YOUR CHOICE AT THE END 💖

OMG QUARANTINE DID IT'S ONE GOOD JOB AND GOT YOU INTO BANGTAN YAY. OMG YOU AND MISS LIFEGOESMON ARE FRIENDSS??? LEGENDS INTERACTING THIS IS SO COOL. LMAO THE PARADIGM SHIFT YOU MUST'VE FELT FROM LISTENING TO STAY GOLD (WHICH BTW THE MV...THE LITERAL CUTEST OH GOD THE LITTLE DOG AND JIMIN'S LITTLE SMILES DHSJAOWO) TO THEN GOING TO BST IN WHICH JIMIN IS BASICALLY STRIPPING AND JUNGKOOK IS UPSIDE DOWN LMAOOO. YES BS&T HAS EVERYONE HOOKED THE POWERRRR. YOU FALLING DOWN THE RABBIT HOLE WITH YOUR FRIEND'S ASSISTANCE OH GOD THIS IS SO CUTE 💓 EVERYTHING ABOUT THEM 🥺🥺🥺

AAAAH OKAY MY STORY ISN'T AS INTERESTING AS YOURS IS BUT IN 2016 BASICALLY ALL I KNEW OF KPOP WAS GANGNAM STYLE AND WASNT WILLING TO CUANGE THAT PERCEPTION (FOOL BEHAVIOUR I TELL YOU) AND WAS TOO BUSY OBSESSING OVER ONE DIRECTION'S REUNION AND SO ONE NIGHT (THE NIGHT BEFORE JIMIN'S BIRTHDAY 🤧🤧) I JUST STUMBLED UPON THEIR BS&T TEARS MV AND I HEARD IT AND I WAS LIKE OMG!! THIS IS THAT SUPER ADDICTIVE SONG THAT I'D HEARD SOMEWHERE AND IT JUST SPIRALLED FROM THERE I REMEMBER SEEING JIMIN AND BEING LIKE 👀👀👀👀 WHO IS HE I LIKE HIM AND JUST HIS AURA DREW ME IN SOOO MUCH AND WHEN I WAS GETTING INTO THEM I REMEMBER WRITING THEIR NAMES IN MY NOTES TO SEE IF I COULD REMEMBER 🤧 AND I STILL HAVE THAT NOTE FROM 4+ YEARS AGO 💓 AND YEAH BASICALLY SEEING THEM DO ALL THE MUSIC SHOWS AND STUFF AT THE TIME WAS SO COOOL AND MIND YOU BH DIDN'T HAVE SUBS FOR BANGTAN BOMBS THEN SO WENT ON THESE SKETCHY DAILYMOTION TYPE SITES LOOKING FOR ALL THE CONTENT I COULD CHURN OUT LMAO

AND YES!! COURTESY OF YOU I DID WATCH SOME RUN EPS!! I WATCHED THEIR CANADA ONES SPEAKING OF WHICH I LOOOVE THAT PART WHERE THEY'RE DOING THAT SONG GUESSING THING IN THE MORNING AND JIMIN SAYS "are you cold?" 🥺🥺 TO TAE AND HUGS HIM URRHRHEHSJSJSH AND I ALSO SAW THE ONES WITH THE PUPPIES GODDDDD I LOVE THE PUPPIES ONE SO MUCH LITERALLY JUNGKOOK AND HIS DOG (MIRI?) OH MY GOD THAT LIL FLUFFER AND ADAM IS MY ICON WITH HOW HE JUST DID HIS OWN THING LMAO.

BUT ANYWAY!! DO YOU HAVE A FAVE ERA?? LIKE DO YOU EVER LOOK AT THEM AND GO "Damn I wish I was a fan then" BECAUSE HONESTLY I WISH I HAD STANNED THEM IN THEIR DOPE ERA BUT I DON'T THINK I WOULD HAVE SURVIVED JIMIN THEN DHKSOWID-💫

FOR THE UMPTEENTH TIME!!!!!!! ITS OKAY!!!!!!!! I TOTALLY TOTALLY UNDERSTAND!!!!! AND YAYYYYY CONGRATS I HOPE THE FIRST LEG OF EXAMS WENT WELL <333333 AND OH MY GOD you’re gonna make me cry with the together baam goddddddd same one of my fave moments and jimin’s giggles after that 😭😭😭😭 my babies <3 :((((

that..... black suit selca....... that opened button...... like open one more dear sir who’s stopping you... just do it <33333 YEAH he totally needs to shut up with his i know im hot side it just kills me every single time 😭😭😭😭😭

LISTEN THAT BV3 MOMENT  S H O O K  ME OKAY????? THOSE GUYS LOOKED AT HIM AND HE WAS SO FUCKING SMUG ABOUT IT (AND HE SHOULD BE) AND THE WAY HE LICKED HIS LIPS AND RAN HIS HANDS THROUGH HIS HAIR????? LIKE HE KNOWS HE HAS EVERY SINGLE PERSON; NO MATTER WHAT GENDER; WRAPPED AROUND HIS LIL PINKY LIKE THAT???????

OH MY GOD ME TOO I LOVEEEEEEEEEEE THE WINGS STAGE AND WATCHING THEM HAVE SO MUCH FUN IS JUST SO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! AND I ALSO ABSOLUTELY LOVVVEEE THEIR ENERGY DURING THE SY TOUR MEDLEY WITH IDOL AND BAEPSAE AND FIRE AND DOPE ZSXDFGFCHGVJBHJN THEY JUST LOSE THEMSELVES IN THE CROWD AND THE MUSIC AND ITS JUST SO FUCKING SURREAL TO WATCH HOW MUCH THEY ENJOY DOING WHAT THEY DO!!!!! kinda makes me want to find that happiness and passion in whatever i do in my professional life <3 and LISTEN jimin said the break the soul commentary THAT HE COULD DO SERENDIPITY SHIRTLESS TOO. THE AUDACITY. HE SAID THAT WITH HIS WHOLE CHEST. 

YOU KNWO WHAT I THINK JIMIN WON’T GIVE US A HINT BEFORE DROPPING PJM1. HE’LL JUST DROP IT ONE FINE DAY OUT OF NOWHERE LIKE HE DROPPED PROMISE AND CHRISTMAS LOVE (i wasn’t here when he dropped promise but i read that on twitter sdfghjkl) AND NO PLS NO I DO N O T WANT TO SLEEP THROUGH JJK1 OR KTH1 OR PJM1 OR KSJ1 OR NAMGI MIXTAPE 3 OR HOBI MIXTAPE 2 OR ANYTHING BASICALLY YOU GET IT i had slept through dynamite cb because i had NO CLUE that they were gonna drop it at 1pm kst rather than 12 am kst. i was under the impression that since they dropped all the teaser pictures and the teaser itself as 12 am kst, the mv will drop at 12 am kst too. and I woke up like two hours after the mv dropped (which was almost noon my time) and i felt like A FUCKING FOOL AND I JUST 😭😭😭😭 NEVER WANT TO FEEL LIKE THAT EVER AGAIN 😭😭😭 

AND YES BABIE NEEDS TO COME LIVE SOON PLS I MISS HIM SO FUCKING MUCH :((((( AND HIS O...M.....G HAD MADE ME FUCKING SOBBBBBBBBBBB his yt live god he looked sooooooo fluffy with his hair and his tiny hands and his puppy eyes and soft voice im just so 😭😭😭😭😭😭

NO NONNONONONO PLEASE IM NO LEGEND DON’T SAY THAT IM EMBARRASSED im just a normal fangirl who makes okayish gifs 😭😭 and ok yes so i started giffing LONNNGGGGGG time back on a different public fan forum from my country but i never knew the right process and stuff so obviously the gifs were shitty lmao BUT ANYWAY i got into gifmaking PROPERLY this in july last year and obviously struggled a lot in the beginning because i didn’t know shit about colouring and stuff lmao but i kept practicing and even though im not perfect rn i do think that i got better. i love giffing tho. its such a nice creative outlet and whenever i gif the boys it brings me so much happiness :( <33

AND YES ASDFGHJKL ME AND HER ARE FRIENDS SINCE A VERY LONG TIME SDFGHJK LIKE LONG BEFORE BOTH OF US GOT INTO BTS SDFGHJ and ah yes the whiplash lmaooooooo and you’re right god the stay gold mv is SO FUCKING PRETTY THE COLOURS IN THAT ENTIRE MV HELLLOOOOOOOOOOOOOO AND JIMIN AND TAE AND JOON WITH THE DOGGO JUST EVERYTHING SDFGHJK <3333333 AND BS&T DUDE I GIFFED THE MV YESTERDAY AND IM 💀💀💀💀💀 (like i just giffed jimin from the mv but i did watch the whole thing 5647589 times <333333) AND GUESS WHAT!!!!!! I WAS A LILLY SINGH FAN (IDK IF YOU KNOW HER SHE’S A YOUTUBER) BACK IN 2016 AND PEOPLE BACK THEN HAD REQUESTED HER TO REACT TO BS&T MV AND I HAD WATCHED HER REACTION VIDEO AND (although it didn’t stick with me back then because i was a fucking fool) I DID SOMEHOW REMEMBERED THE JIN AND STATUE KISSING MOMENT AND WHEN IN 2020 I SAW THE MV AND SAW THE KISSING MOMENT MY BRAIN JUST!!!!!!!!!!! I WAS LIKE HOLY SHIT I HAVE SEEN THIS BEFORE SOMEWHERE AND THEN I REMEMBERED I HAD SEEN THIS IN THE REACTION VIDEO LMAOOOOO i wish i hadn’t been a fool and gotten into them back then :((((

AH NO OMG YOUR STORY IS SOOOOOOO CUTEEEEEEEEEE ATLEAST YOU WEREN’T A FOOL LIKE ME TO NOT GET ATTRACTED TO BS&T THE FIRST TIME OF SEEING IT!!!! I WANNA HIT MY 2016 SELF LIKE DAMN YOU YOU FOOLISH ASSHOLE AND yes omg how did y’all do the subs thing damnnnnn i can’t imagine

AND YES THE CANADA RUN EPIS ARE LOOOVVVEEEE and that vmin moment plsssssss i cry everytime 😭😭😭😭😭 it is just so soft and innocent and tae’s little smile after jimin just turns around and hugs him 😔😔😔😔 i love soulmates 😔😔😔😔 AND MIRI YES OMG EVERYONE WAS SO IMPRESSED BY THE LITTLE CUTIE AND THE WAY JUNGKOOK JUST KEPT ADORING HER THROUGHOUT MADE ME SO SO SOFTTTT and bro adam is me. i am like that. lazy and un-motivated AF. although if i were a dog and jin were to be my owner i would listen to him so well and jump on him every chance i’d get 😌😌😌

GOD YES RED HAIR DOPE ERA JIMIN 💀 BABIE BUT MAKE IT SEXY 🥵🥵 AND OMG YESDGFHG MY FAVE ERA IS HYYH. ORANGE HAIRED JIMIN. PLS. HE’S EVERYTHING. I WISH I HAD GOTTEN INTO THEM DURING THAT. LIKE THAT ERA IS ..... SOMEHOW SO FUCKING WILD AND STILL SO ASSURING AND CALMING ????? KEEPS ME ROOTED LIKE IDK HOW TO EXPLAIN DFGHJKL AND WINGS TOO DAMN I WISH I WAS HERE TO LIVE ALL THOSE AMAZING ERAS. but even though i wish i had gotten into them earlier... i think i found them when i needed them the most. I was going through a very difficult time last year and they somehow they made me feel so fucking safe and at home that the connection was instant. honestly i’ve never stanned or felt a connection with any celebrity as strong as the one i feel with bangtan. its like... they don’t know i exist but they still know EXACTLY what im feeling and what to say or do at that time to make me feel comforted. Its weird god but its true :((( SORRY I GOT EMO I JUST LOVE THEM A LOT SDFGHJKL

[vincent-g-writer]

The Silver Screen Savant, pt 2- the Meh, the Bad and The yikes.

Hello Writers!

Last time here on Starry Starry Write, I talked a little about Autism in the media and my personal experiences therein. Today, I’d like to go a little broader, and tackle the topic from a macro perspective.

In recent times, you’ve probably heard “Representation Matters” oft repeated. Especially in prominent talking spaces like social media. But what does that mean, exactly?

Why “Representation Matters,” and how.

The short answer:

Diverse representation in media tells us that everyone has a place in the world. That everyone’s story matters.

The long answer:

It’s no secret that we begin engaging with media at a young age. When I was growing up in the 90’s and 00’s, TV and video games were often the babysitters of my peers. I was one of the few kids in my neighborhood whose parents weren’t divorced. The kids I knew? Not so much. Most of them were raised by single parents, grandparents and of course-the boob tube. I personally prefered books, when my mom wasn’t yelling “it’s too nice out to be holed up in that dark bedroom!”

Now, don’t mistake my preference for some kind of intellectual superiority. I watched plenty of TV too. Besides, books aren’t magically out of the equation. Printed material is our oldest form of media. And- often just as problematic. Though I will say- I saw a much broader range of people on covers adoring library shelves than I ever did titles on a TV roster. But, I digress. The point is: for many of us, consuming media begins at an early time of our life. And that’s where the problem starts. Even in my childhood, where The Magic School Bus, Hey Arnold, and Sesame Street showed people of all kinds, I can point to many that did not. Especially not people like me. Which did me a grave disservice. I didn’t know I was on the spectrum for a long time, and when I finally found out, I was horrified, thanks to what I had seen on TV.

Because media is not only a wonderful way to learn about people that don’t look, act or sound like us. It also informs our ideas of who we are, and what we can be. Whether we like it or not: it shapes how we understand the world. And it doesn’t stop with Childhood.

Time Changes Much, but not all.

Things are better now. Well, a little bit, anyway.

As an adult, I see more people like me on the screen nowadays. Which is nice.

Ish.

Why “ish?” Well…

Frequently, these “noticeably different” characters (read: Autistically coded) are branded “NOT AUTISTIC!” You heard it here first, folks! That one character (insert your favorite) is Totally Not Autistic. Despite being written in a way that gives every indication otherwise.

*Facepalm*

Now for some examples, which we’ll call the “Meh,” “The Bad” and the “Yikes.” For “fun,” we’ll also go into the off-air perceptions of the characters.

The “Meh.”

First on the list is Dr. Spencer Reid, from CBS’s “Criminal Minds.”

Dr. Reid is the youngest member of the FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Unit, having joined at the age of 22. He holds three B.A degrees in Sociology, Psychology and Philosophy, as well as three Ph.D’s in Engineering, Chemistry, and Mathematics.

He also has the social skills of a limp dishrag. Wait, what’s that? High Intelligence + Low Social Awareness? Hmmm…Then there’s his restrictive behavioral patterns, obsessive interests, and general “quirkiness!” that we could talk about. But let’s hear a quote from the actor who plays him, Matthew Gray Gubler:

“..an eccentric genius, with hints of schizophrenia and minor autism, Asperger’s Syndrome. Reid is 24, 25 years old with three PH.D.s and one can’t usually achieve that without some form of autism.”

Hoooo-boy. I could go into all the things wrong with this, including why the term “Asperger’s” is both horrific (TW: Eugenics,Ableism, N*zis) and harmful. However, today we’ll simply leave it with the fact that this term is no longer applicable, having been reclassified in 2013 as part of Autism Spectrum disorder.

The “Bad.”

Next up, we have Will Graham, from NBC’s Hannibal.

Like our first example, Will works for the FBI. He’s a gifted criminal profiler with “special” abilities, namely hyper empathy, which allows him to reconstruct the actions and fantasies of the killers he hunts. He’s intellectually gifted, hates eye contact, socializing, and prefers to spend…most of his time…alone.

Oh dear. Haven’t we been here before? But, I mean, he doesn’t have Autism! The show runner says so!

For Will Graham, there’s a line in the pilot about him being on the spectrum of autism or Asperger’s, and he’s neither of those things. He actually has an empathy disorder where he feels way too much and that’s relatable in some way. There’s something about people who connect more to animals than they do to other people because it’s too intense for whatever reason.

You can’t see me right now, but I’m cringing. A lot. This is just…ugh. I mean, for starters, I know a handful of autistic people who struggle with hyper empathy, which can make social situations overwhelming and hard to navigate. In fact, I happen to be one of them. Plus, there’s a cool little thing about how, frequently, people on the spectrum more readily identify with animals. But, y’know. Who am I to say? I’m just someone, one of many, who’s dealt with this my whole life.

Now, onto the “Yikes.”

*sigh*

And finally, we have BBC’s Sherlock, a modern adaptation of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s renowned “consulting” detective, and probably the most famous fictional character of all time.

Now, I’ll start by saying that the BBC incarnation is not the first to be Spectrum labeled. In fact, Sherlock was my childhood hero, and the first “person” I saw referred to this way. My aunt, an avid reader herself, casually remarked to a friend “I’ve always wondered if Holmes is Autistic,” after I came yammering on about how fantastic the books were. Had I not been champing at the bit to get back to my reading, I might have asked her what that meant.

I also believe this fandom driven speculation is why many detective type characters (see above) are often coded as Autistic, intentionally or otherwise.

In this New York Times article, Lisa Sanders, M.D. describes Holmes traits:

He appears oblivious to the rhythms and courtesies of normal social intercourse — he doesn’t converse so much as lecture. His interests and knowledge are deep but narrow. He is strangely “coldblooded,” and perhaps as a consequence, he is also alone in the world.

Now, before we go any father, let me take a moment to defend his creator. During the time Sir Arthur Conan Doyle first created his most famous work, Autism was not known. That isn’t to say it didn’t exist. We’ve always existed. In fact, it’s now believed that the Changeling Myth, a common European folk story, was a way to explain Autism. In one telling (there are a few) children displaying “intelligence beyond their years” and “uncanny knowledge” were imposters, traded out by Fae creatures for offspring of their own. Children believed to be “Changlings,” regretfully, often came to a bad end. A chilling reminder that the stories we tell impact our real lives.

So while Autism was at least somewhat recognized, it did not become its own official diagnosis until 1943.

Meanwhile, Sherlock Holmes was first published in 1892. Now, as a writer who often draws from my personal reality, I imagine Doyle probably “wrote what he knew,” which is to say, acquainted with one or more Autistic people, he used them as inspiration.

On the other hand…

BBC’s Sherlock first aired in 2010. And while one might argue that the writers simply capitalized on the Autistic fan-theory, or took already available traits and exaggerated them for their version… they left a lot to be desired. Autism aside, this new Sherlock is…well…an asshole. Narcissistic, abusive and egocentric (to name a few) he sweeps his caustic behavior under the rug of “high functioning sociopath,” and blytly ignores the consequences.

Which is a major problem. Because while doing this, he’s still “obviously” (at least in the Hollywood sense) Autistic. In my previous post, where I said some characters are “too smart™, and logical© to ever have feelings, friends or empathy,” this is what I meant.

This is bad. We’re looping right back to Representation Matters. Bad representation, and the navigating of such, is just as important for writers to think about as good representation. Maybe even moreso. Because bad representation paints real people into cardboard, stereotyped people-shaped things. It otherizes. And it’s harmful. You would not believe the people I’ve met assume I’m not Autistic because I’m not an egotistical jerk. Why? Because they watched, you guessed it, BBC Sherlock.

Confession time:

Now here’s my little secret:

I love all of these characters. They are some of my favorite on tv. Why? Because for good or ill, I recognize myself in them. Finally, I can turn on the TV, and see myself. Or, somewhat, anyway.

My favorite character out of this list? Loath though I am to admit it… Is Sherlock. See, what those well meaning folks didn’t know (the ones who say I’m I’m “too nice,” to be Autistic) is… well, if we’re being honest, I wasn’t always nice. A few years ago, I was that guy. I was a jerk because I thought I was the smartest person in the room. Which is really not a good look. In fact, sitting down and watching the first season of sherlock, (around three or four years after it came out) made me realize how much of a jerk I actually was.

There are other things there too. Things that tie me to all these characters, that I didn’t list. But that’s for another today.

For now, I’d like to add a caveat or two:

1) I’ve watched all the shows listed above, and adore them. As I mentioned, Sherlock is my favorite. He’s also the one I’ve watched the most (Repeatedly, in fact. Whoops.) and I recognize it’s not all bad. In the end, he learned to treat people better (somewhat) and certainly became more human over time. And, there are other deeply problematic elements of the show I’d like to tackle, eventually.

*cough* Queerbating! *cough*

2) I’m well aware that the above cases are all thin, white, able bodied, “straight” males. But I chose these characters for a couple of reasons. One, they’re the most prominent type on TV. Again, we loop back around to representation, and why we need more positive, diverse examples of it.

And finally-

3) In my last post, I mentioned I’d give some “good” instances of Hollywood Autism trope. But I didn’t exactly do that. Partially, because half way through, I thought…perhaps…I’m not the best to judge what might be a good Autistic character. I mean, I’m sure someone will read this and think my current aforementioned characters are fine. Heck! They might even argue my perception here, and say the characters are just fine. I accept that. In my life, both on and off the page, I recognize that I cannot, should not (and don’t want to) speak for an entire community.

Because of this, I cannot tell you how to write a “good” Autistic character, or what media is “acceptable.” I can’t even really tell you what a bad character is. Sure, I have a lot of opinions about it. But- if you’re on the spectrum and like and identify with the above? That’s fine. I mean, even with all the problems I noted (and some I didn’t) I certainly do.

On the other hand, if you’re a writer, and you want to write a character from this (or any, for that matter) community you aren’t part of, I caution you.

Do your research. Preferably from multiple credible sources.

Talk to people on the spectrum about what it’s really like. (Though try to steer clear of asking for emotional labor.You could, say, hop on reddit and ask the community there, for instance, which is a no pressure way to obtain potentially decent info.)

Finally, whatever you do, remember this-

Autistic people can look like anyone. We can act, and think and be different, like anyone. We are real, living, breathing people. Not robots, not sob stories, not tropes. People. So if you write about us, write us like people. And your work will be all the better for it.

-Your Loving Vincent

[mymelodyheart]

Starting Over Chapter 32 ~The Surprise~

"Hey, Jamie, look at this! Ye remember this picture?" Rabbie called out from the other side of the attic, waving a piece of yellowed photograph. "I must have been ten here and look at ye ...ye look like Annie from that musical show."

Ian got up from where he was sat sealing boxes and peered over Rabbie's shoulder. "Fuck, Jamie, ye look flaming hot!"

Joe grimaced and gave Jamie a sympathetic look. It was a normal occurrence that Jamie was the butt of the jokes in the family, having inherited the MacKenzie genes. He'd been the easiest target with his unruly coppery curls, but he'd learned from an early age, the best way to deal with it was by not responding.

Jamie gave a long-suffering sigh and looked all around him. There weren't enough hours in the day, and there was still so much to do before he went to see Claire and got on a plane to France. They needed to box all his rugby memorabilia, trophies and professional photos to be brought later to the rugby academy and displayed in the built-in, glass case Willie had recently installed. It had been his ma's idea to exhibit his rugby collections and awards, in the hope of inspiring young athletes who would be attending the academy. The only problem was, he just hadn't realised there would be plenty of it and paired with a lot of mucking about from his younger brother.

"And here's another one ..."

Willie shot Rabbie a look. "We're supposed to be boxing things up, no' spending yer time on the floor looking at pictures."

"Cool yer jets. I'm going through Jamie's rugby photos, but some of them are mixed with the family ones ...oh look! Here's one with Joe ...oh, and Claire's in it. Jamie, I didnae ken ye knew her back then."

They all gathered around behind Rabbie and bent down to take a closer look. On the photo standing next to Jamie was Joe, another medic and then Claire. Her hair was pulled back, and she was wearing a cap with a Scottish flag sewn into it, the visor almost concealing her eyes. Whereas Jamie and the rest in the photo had been smiling for the camera, Claire's face looked inscrutable.

They stared at the photo for a while. It was taken not that too long ago and wondered if Claire was with Frank already. Jamie guessed she was.

Joe broke the silence first. "Claire used to help my medical team during the early days of her internship," he explained, straightening up. "And working during the rugby game could be quite hectic with all of those lads getting all sorts of bumps and bruises. It was hardly a place to mingle."

"Aye, I understand that, but Jamie ye're in the same photo as her. Didn't ye notice her back then?" Rabbie asked, glancing at Jamie.

Jamie cleared his throat as he peered closer. He had a vague memory, but then again, after their meeting in Lallybroch, he'd always thought Claire looked familiar. He must have seen her in passing but with everything that usually happened in the sideline and all of his concentration focused on the game, it would have been easy to overlook a lot of things. "Aye ...weel ...there were a lot of people going in and out of the locker room after the game. As Joe said, it's hardly a place to socialise." He rubbed a hand behind his neck, wondering what it would have been like if he and Claire had been acquainted back then.

"Hang on a minute," Joe interrupted. "Now I remember that photo. Rabbie, flip it to the other side. There's a message on the back." He looked at Jamie. "I gave you that photo to sign it for Claire. I guess I must have forgotten to ask for it back. She'd wanted an autograph from you, but she'd been too shy to approach you and ask. She was worried you'd remember that awesome smackdown she gave you that time when you got too cheeky with her, so she'd asked me to ask you instead."

_ Ah yes! _ He remembered that encounter now. He'd been teasing her while she'd been attending to his injuries. Jamie felt his cheeks flushed. "Here, give me that. Let me take a look." He took the photo from Rabbie's hand and flipped it over. And sure enough, there was a message from Claire with her neat cursive writing.

_ Dear Mr Fraser,_

_Could you sign this photograph for me? I would be forever grateful if you could spare a moment of your time as I am an avid fan of yours. _

_ Many heartfelt thanks, CB x _

_ PS I am the one on the far right on this picture. _

Despite himself, Jamie grinned. _ Mr Fraser indeed! Will have to get her to say that in private, one of these days. Maybe while we're getting busy under the sheets. _ "I'm keeping this," he said suddenly, running a finger over the written words. _ Christ, I miss her already! _Ever since he'd confessed about Forbes, Claire had finally conceded to staying in his apartment every night. These past few days were like as if an invisible dark cloud had lifted from their midst, and there was more openness in their relationship allowing him to see the future more clearly. Already he was itching to see her again, and it was only a few hours ago he'd last seen her. Now he wished he wasn't going to France anymore.

"Uh-oh, look at him! Ye've gone soft, Jamie lad."

Ian's ribbing launched him out of his reverie and snagged the attention of Rabbie, who grinned and sniggered, making Jamie realise he'd been staring at Claire's writing this whole time,

"Aye, definitely, he's gone soft. Just the other day, I saw him buying tampons for Claire in the shop, and he didnae see me. I overheard him asking a girl if there's a size that fits all," Rabbie chuckled.

Joe and Ian burst out laughing.

_ Ah fuck, here we go! _

Rabbie shook his head. "Hey Jamie, how come ye dinnae ken about tampons? Ye've had a few of them stuck up yer nose when ye'd taken a bashing in the field."

"They're nasal packing you dimwit!" Joe snorted, throwing a crumpled paper at Rabbie. "But I guess you can call them that as it does the same job."

"Ach, Claire has been Jamie's Achilles' heel, and Kryptonite rolled into one," Ian grinned. "Jenny says, when ye start buying tampons for yer girlfriend, that means ye're ready to take it to the next level."

"Aye, I think so too," Rabbie agreed, nodding his head. "I wonder when Jamie is going to ..."

"Are ye done with those photos, Rabbie?" Willie cut in, trying hard not to smile at Jamie's expense.

Rabbie scowled at the older Fraser as he gathered the photos and stood up. "It's done, ye grouchy git," he muttered, getting up and placing the photographs in the open box. "Ye're just surly because the only thing ye're laying at the moment are bricks."

Jamie muttered a curse under his breath. He didn't have time for this, and the last thing wanted was to be in the middle of the big brother and wee brother verbal match. He might have been the target of their taunting as a tag team when they were bairns, but he wasn't about to play referee, middle brother or not.

"Right, lads ...ye think ye can sort this all out without me?" Jamie asked rapidly before Willie could come back with a rebounder for Rabbie. "I need to see Claire before I catch the plane. When I come back from France, dinner, drinks and more drinks are on me for sorting my stuff out." He grabbed his jacket from the nearby chair and pulled them on, careful not to crease the photo in his hand.

Willie scanned the room. "Aye, we can handle this. Ye go ahead, and we'll deal it. See ye in a few days?"

"Aye, see ye in a few days. Everything under control, aye?" When Willie nodded, Jamie faced the room once more. "And Joe, check up on Claire once in a while, alright? She's staying in my apartment while I'm away. And ye Rabbie behave. See you soon, Ian."

"Always mate!" Joe replied as the rest of the lads said their byes. "Now go before ye miss yer ladylove's lunch break."

With that, he turned around and left the attic.

..........

Ignoring the gazes that landed on him and the hush that followed, Jamie scanned the hospital cafeteria for Claire. When he found her sitting on her own at the far end of the room eating something, what looked like a sticky bun and reading a book, he quickly made his way to her, unhearing of the gushes and whispers that followed his wake. He caught her unaware when he planted a kiss on the nape of her neck.

"Jamie!" Claire gasped and looked around, her face blooming red as she caught the glances and attention they were gaining by the second. "You should have called. Do you want to go somewhere private?" she asked, putting the book down.

"No, here will do," he said, taking the seat opposite her and taking her hand in his. When she tried to pull it away, he tightened his hold and grinned. She looked so beautiful when she blushed. "What's the matter, Sassenach? Are ye embarrassed to be seen with yer boyfriend?"

"Of course not! How can you ask such a daft question? I'm surprised you haven't been mobbed, walking in like that without even a cap on."

"I was hoping ye'd protect me if that happened." When she didn't laugh and frowned at the people from the nearby table for staring, he kissed her fingers to catch her attention. "See it this way ...if I came in here with a cap on or any sort of disguise and your colleagues saw us holding hands, they would have figured out eventually who I was. Most of them already ken ye're with me, so they're hardly going to think there is some other bloke ye like to hold hands with. Unless of course, there's another bloke." When her frown deepened, he twined his fingers with hers and changed the subject. "Just joking. Don't mind them, Sassenach." He sighed. "I wish you were coming with me. I'm going to miss you and us, like this."

He'd asked her only once to come to France with him, and when she said she couldn't, he didn't push any further, knowing how dedicated she was to her work. He knew she wanted to go but asking her to take two weeks off was too much of an ask.

"Jamie, I wish I could come too ...you know that. But you'll be busy attending interviews, shoots and other stuff. So really there's no point in me coming. I'll just be bored out of my mind waiting for you to finish when I could be here doing something more productive." She sighed and looked down as he stroked the inside of her wrist. "The only thing I'll regret not coming with you is, we won't be together on my birthday." She looked into his eyes. "But don't worry about it. I'm aware you're doing this for the academy. If it's going to take a little separation sometimes to make this right, then that's what we have to live with."

He wished now they were somewhere private so he could take her in his arms. Instead, he kissed her hands again alternately, taking a few precious moments to lock away the irreplaceable sensation of basking in her love and understanding.

"We'll celebrate yer birthday when I come back," he promised. "Once the academy is up and running, I think I'll settle more into a routine. But I still think we should go on a break before the academy starts. The biggest part of the work is done, thanks to Willie and his team. But God knows when we'll get a chance once we get down to the nitty-gritty part, like hiring and administration. I intend to have the academy ready and functioning by next year, and I want to have everything covered before we officially open our doors."

She leaned forward, propping her elbows on the table and smiled at him. "Just do what you need to do and hurry back to me. I'm quite sure we'll manage a little break before the academy opens." She squeezed his hands and gazed longingly like she's trying to keep them at this moment for as long as possible. When she finally pulled back, it's with a resigned expression. "You're going to be late for your flight. Call me or text me when you get there."

"I will do, I promise."

They left the cafeteria and walked together to the main entrance, and when they were stood outside, she turned to him. "It's only for two weeks, Jamie. We can do this. You've been away from me longer much longer."

"But this time, it's different," he said, referring to the time before he confessed about Forbes.

"I know," she whispered. "We'll be both busy, and before you know it, you're back again."

He nodded and smiled. It took an effort to act like saying goodbye wasn't physically painful. "Aye, ye're right. I'm quite sure the days will fly by quickly. See you in two weeks, Sassenach."

He kissed her briefly, knowing she was conscious of people watching and taking photographs.

"I love you, James Fraser," she whispered, before turning around and going back into the hospital.

Before he could say it back, the door already closed behind her.

..........

_ Nine days down and five days to go before Jamie arrives home_. Claire had taken three days off for her birthday to visit her parents' grave and left last night for Oxford after her gruelling shift. Arriving late at her booked Airbnb, she'd immediately gone to sleep so she could wake up early and have the cemetery to herself.

Before she'd left Edinburgh, Geillis had made her promise to be back around late afternoon today for whatever uncle Lamb had in store for her. Initially thinking Jamie had something to do with the surprise birthday celebration uncle Lamb had planned, her excitement had grown exponentially, believing Jamie would be home earlier than expected. But that hope was immediately dashed when she saw an announcement in social media that Jamie would be attending an interview with a sports network in Paris later today.

She walked past the giant redwood tree, clutching her mother's diary in one hand and a tote bag holding a tartan blanket, flask and flowers in the other. The sun was bright and early, and the autumn air crisp. Today she'd worn her mother's knitted red scarf for the occasion to commemorate her parents' death anniversary. Every year, for the past eight years, instead of celebrating her birthday, she came to visit Wolvercote cemetery where her parents had been laid to rest many years ago. She'd looked forward to visiting, welcoming the tranquil and peaceful surroundings and the chance to get things off her chest, but she had to make sure she arrived early to avoid the tourists that came to see the graves of the Tolkiens.

Following the same route of years past, she took her time wandering through the maze of headstones, reading inscriptions, stopping now and again to say a silent prayer for some of the memorials she'd become familiar with. The engravings promised the dearly departed ones they'd never be forgotten but a promise which sadly, sometimes were broken. She left a single flower on some of the old crooked, crumbling monuments which had no visit or care in a long time, greeting them like they were old friends. In a way, it felt like that, for whenever she stopped by to say hello, time seemed to stand still, the wind unmoving and the birds stilling in acknowledgement.

When she finally reached her parents' graves, their plots side by side next to each other, she was surprised to see generous bouquets of forget-me-nots laid on each headstone. She smiled, thinking it must have been from Reverend Wakefield, an old friend of uncle Lamb or perhaps his housekeeper, Mrs Graham. Either way, she was glad to see the graves well taken care of and free of weeds.

After she'd placed her own flowers in the flower holders, she laid out the tartan blanket on the ground between her parents' graves and settled herself comfortably. She poured herself some coffee and drew out a picture from her mother's diary. It was a photograph Jamie had sent her from France. It was a group photo of him, Joe, a colleague and her. At the back was her own writing she'd written a few years back asking him to sign an autograph. To her delight, he'd signed it with a note saying, _ long overdue _and a smiley face and sent it to her via post.

"Hey, mum and dad ... it's me. How is it going up there?" she whispered, leaning forward to touch their engraved names. "Well, whatever you're doing, I hope you're having a blast and a time of your afterlife. Unfortunately, I don't have much time today because uncle Lamb is planning something for my birthday, so I need to be back home tonight. Anyway, there's something I've been dying to show you ever since I got on the plane last night. Here take a look at this." She held up the photograph in the air as if she was showing it to a live person. "See that guy on the far left? That's Jamie. You probably heard all about him up there and how much of a big deal he is in rugby. Yeah, he's the same guy I've been crushing on for years, and you might remember I've mentioned his name a few times before. Well, what do you think? He's handsome right?"

An unusually warm breeze for a cold autumn morning caressed her cheeks as a monarch butterfly settled on the headstone. She stared at it for a while before slipping the photo back into her mother's diary. "I bet both of you have plenty to say after the year I had. Well, this time last year, I was engaged to Frank ...you remember Frank? Of course, you do. Stupid question. How could you not?" She shook her head as memories from her last visit to the cemetery came flooding back. "You might have noticed during my last visit, I was in a place of uncertainty. And I remember taking mum's diary with me for the first time hoping it would be our way of communicating. I have no idea why I thought of that. Maybe because her writing has brought me comfort over the years." She took a deep breath, and a wood pigeon cooed from a high branch. "It sounded a bit daft at the beginning, but when I look back with hindsight, I think it worked. I know ...I know ... a priest would be having a canary right now if they could hear me talk. You see ... last year I asked you what you thought about me marrying Frank, and then I opened mum's diary and read the first passage my eyes landed on. Can you remember that passage? Because I'm not sure anymore if I said it out loud to you. Well, allow me to remind you." She flipped the diary open to the page she was looking for. "It said ... here's a snippet ..._ from an early age, I've learned to trust my gut because I realised it knows what your head hasn't figured out yet _."

Sighing, her finger drifted over the words she just recited, admiring her mother's beautiful penmanship. "So there you go. Looking back now, I think you were indeed trying to tell me something about trusting my guts, even if the words didn't immediately register into my muddled brain. It may sound crazy, but I honestly believe that with my whole heart. And before you remind me of my Catholic upbringing and call this a form of divination, I'm sorry, but I have to disagree. Reading this diary has been my saving grace while growing up, and it always felt mum wrote those words to guide me one day, and it has, in a lot of ways." A lone starling landed on the neighbouring headstone and chirped.

She closed her eyes for a moment breathing the fresh air and soaking in the warmth of the sun. Then she laid down the diary and took a sip of her coffee. "Anyway, I'm not here to talk about Frank. I'm here to talk about Jamie." She fidgetted with the edge of her scarf and smiled. "Mum, dad, I really love him, and what I feel for him, it's something I've never felt before. It's different this time, and I want you to know I'm happy ...happiest I've been for a long time. So that must count for something, right? I know he made a lot of bad choices in the past ...choices you probably would disapprove of. But hey, we all make mistakes at some point in our lives, and I am no different. Yeah, he is a complex man, I must admit, but he has a big heart and an inherently good soul, and he's proven it time and time again. So I'm hoping you will like him and maybe find it in your heart to love him the same way as I do. And perhaps if it's not too much of a big ask, you can relay a message from me to the old man up there to watch out for him."

A wind suddenly picked, sending a folded note she hadn't seen before from one of the bouquets to land on her lap.

Curious, she unfolded it. When she saw the writing, she gasped, and her eyes widened. _ Oh, sweet mother of God, it's from Jamie! _ With trembling hands and blurring eyes, she read the simple yet heartfelt message.

_ You had left this world a long time ago, but your memories are still fresh in your beautiful daughter's heart and mind. May you rest in peace, knowing I will always protect her and love her with all of me until my heart stops beating. JAMMF _

_ ...Until my heart stops beating? _ Her heart swelled. Who needs a birthday present or celebration when Jamie did something like this out of the blue? At almost every turn, he somehow managed to surprise her with his affection and tenderness, something he'd doubted he'd be capable of. But here it was, a perfect example of love from a perfectly flawed man. She didn't know if it's the words, or the flowers, or the fact she missed him so damn much making her feel like she couldn't breathe right. Half sobbing and half laughing, she reread the note over and over again.

"Good God ...mum, dad, did you see that?" She shook her head and swiped her cheek. "Jamie's even trying to make a good impression on you. Who would do that? And what do you have to say about it? He is charming, isn't he but oh sweet Jesus, I have a sneaking suspicion he knows it too. He's cocky like that, you know? If you were alive today, he would have probably given you a lifetime free ticket to watch rugby. Or a free ticket to anywhere. Uncle Lamb only got a season ticket and a signed jersey, but it was uncle's fault pulling that meat cleaver move on him. But honestly ... Jamie's that smooth he makes my eyes roll, and I can almost see you doing the same."

She pulled out a miniature Fraser whiskey from her pocket. "I know it's still early in the morning, but shall we have a toast? It's my birthday, after all." The wind blew, the falling leaves of red and gold drifting all around her and flipping the pages of her mother's diary to a picture of her first birthday. "I get it, mum and dad," she whispered as she worked on opening the bottle. She didn't know if it's her parents' absence from years gone by or Jamie not being there that made the thought of having a celebratory drink seem bittersweet. Still, she smiled. There was so much in the future to look forward to.

"Today," Claire began, saluting the air with the wee bottle of whisky, "I'm going to honour my uncle's wish, and we're going to start our own new tradition. It was far too long ago that I lost you both, and even though I would give anything to have you both here with me, I wouldn't trade the time I spent growing up with uncle Lamb. So, from now on, every year, I'll celebrate your legacy, instead of dwelling on what could have been." She touched their headstones once more. "I wish both of you could be here to meet Jamie and see what a great job uncle has done being a parent. I have no doubt you're always watching over us. But I want you to know you also had a hand in raising me, with mum's little nuggets of wisdom written in her diary. Thank you for that and know you'll always be in my heart."

She raised her whisky. "To you, mum and dad. I love you both."

She sipped her drink, and as she swallowed a mouthful of the peaty alcohol, the wind lifted the pages of diary once more. She read the first passage her eyes landed on.

_ When the stormy clouds follow us with the turbulent concert of thunder, know that the liberating rain will finally wipe away the tears from our eyes. _

Suddenly out of nowhere a fat blob of water droplet fell onto the page, and when she looked up, she realised for the first time the clouds had drifted to cover the sun. Grabbing her phone from her pocket, she sent a quick text to Geillis, letting her know she would be heading home soon. With a smile, she said goodbye to her parents and gathered her things before she could get caught in the rain.

..........

Claire fished around in her oversized handbag to find her purse as the taxi slowly came to a standstill. She was just pulling a few pound notes when her phone rang.

She groaned when she saw Geillis' name flashing on the screen. "Ah, blooming heck."

When she paid the driver, she answered the call as she struggled to climb out of the vehicle.

"Geillis, hey. Did you get my voice message? I'm sorry I missed my flight in Oxford, so I'm catching the next flight from London. Sorry I'll be late."

She stepped out onto the kerb and gasped. It started to rain hard. Again. Squealing, she ran for the nearest cover, glad she only had a duffle bag to haul.

"Yes, I got yer message but are ye fucking kidding me? How could ye have missed yer flight?"

She paused, took huge deep breaths before making a mad dash to terminal five. "Well, it started to rain unusually hard," she explained huffing. "The Airbnb owner offered to drive me to the airport, but his car broke down on the way, so I missed my flight in Oxford. The best next flight I could get was here in London."

"Yer uncle was very anxious and fidgety when I told him about yer voice message."

"Oh, well, that's to be expected. Uncle Lamb has never planned a birthday surprise before."

"Please make sure you get in the next plane."

"Wow, you're really into this surprise party for me. Who's anxious now?"

"Weel, I put in a lot of effort, so I don't want ye to muck it up."

"I'm so sorry if I sound like I'm taking this lightly, but I'm in a bit of rush here too. Thank God I've printed my boarding pass. I think I'm running a bit late."

"Claire! Don't ye bloody dare miss this flight too or I swear to God ..."

She was trying to walk past a big group when she slipped on the wet tiles. As she let out a scream, her phone and bag went flying in all directions, and she fell heavily on her bottom. When she tried to get up, she slipped again and this time landing on her knees. She grunted when she tried to get up.

"Oh, bugger, bugger!" she muttered, wincing as the pain shot up her leg.

People crowded around her, asking if she was alright as two men helped her up. Mumbling she was fine, she quickly grabbed her handbag, but when she picked up her phone, the screen was cracked. _ Bloody hell! Whatever next! _

"Claire? Hello? Are ye still there?"

"I can hear ye Geillis," she replied, straightening her coat and scarf.

"Hello? Hello? Claire? Ah fuck, she's gone. Probably ran out of battery again. I swear I'm going to kill her."

Realising Geillis couldn't hear a word she was saying, she stuffed her phone back into the pocket of her coat with a sigh of resignation. As the crowd dispersed to catch their own flights, she scanned the area once more in case she'd dropped something else. Satisfied she got everything, she limp-ran to the boarding gate and realised she was the last passenger to board that flight.

..........

By the time Claire made it out of the terminal in Edinburgh, it was already eight in the evening, and she was hungry, bruised, cold, and missing Jamie terribly. To make her discomfort worse, her clothes, still slightly damp from the rain earlier, hadn't dried properly during the flight. She'd tried to change them in the cramp plane's toilet, but too bruised and sore from her fall, she couldn't even manage to lift her leg into a pair of jeans. She still couldn't believe the string of bad luck she'd endured after visiting her parents' grave. Maybe that's what happened when you decide to celebrate your birthday on their death anniversary.

Claire had taken another sneak peek on the last passage she read from her mother's diary. As she reread them again and again, she took the meaning literally and surmised it was probably a warning of the impending rain. Shaking her head, she tamped down the absurd thoughts, scanned the arrivals and was relieved to see Geillis walking towards her.

"Oh my God, what happened to ye? Ye look like a drowned rat!"

Claire wanted to cry and collapsed into Geillis' arms but refrained herself from doing so, afraid of causing a scene. She'd had enough of that in London earlier, so instead, she quickly filled her friend in with the incidents that took place as they made their way to the bathroom so she could change into some fresh clothes. It took them half an hour to make her look decent, and by the time they were in Geillis car, she was ready for bed.

"Christ Geillis is there any chance we can do this birthday party tomorrow? I'm really bone-tired, and all I need right now is a bath and a warm bed."

"Oh no, you don't! A lot of thought has gone to preparing your birthday, so suck it up, princess." When Claire didn't reply, Geillis rummaged through her bag and got some paracetamol. "Here take this, this should take the pain from yer bumps and bruises," she said, handing her the painkillers and a bottle of water.

Grateful, Claire took the medicines and popped two tablets into her mouth. "Sorry for sounding selfish and ungrateful, but it's just that I'm a bit emotional after visiting my parents' grave and missing Jamie so much. I haven't even spoken to Jamie all day."

"Not Jamie's fault, hen. Even if he had a chance to call now, your phone is damaged anyway. Besides, he's busy rearranging the stars in heaven for ye." Geillis handed her a bandana. "Here put this over yer eyes. And make sure ye cannae see a thing."

Claire glared at her. When she saw Geillis was serious, she groaned. "Oh no, Geillis, please no! Do I have to? I promise I will look surprised when we get to wherever we're going. Besides, is this really necessary if there's only me, you, Joe and uncle Lamb?"

Geillis gave her a sympathetic look. "Look, just humour me, alright? I ken it's been a rough day, but I need ye to trust me on this one. Just remember, Lamby had his heart set on this."

It was no use arguing with Geillis when she had no fight in her left. Grumbling under her breath, Claire gave in and tied the bandana over her eyes. When she was done, Geillis checked if she'd done it right.

"Good lass," Geillis said, starting the car and guiding it out from the parking lot.

They rode in silence for the next few minutes, and with all the turns and roundabouts Geillis took, Claire gave up guessing where they were heading to. She was relieved when they finally stopped as she was beginning to feel nauseous. With Geillis' erratic driving and impatience with slow-moving vehicles, Claire's stress level had reached an all-time high by the time her friend turned off the ignition.

Geillis hurriedly got out of her side of the car and helped Claire. "Right, here we are! Mind yer steps, we dinnae want a repeat from the London incident."

"That wasn't funny," Claire scolded, grabbing Geillis' hand. She sniffed the air for some clues to their location, but the one thing that stood out most was the eery stillness of their surrounding. The only sound she could hear was the traffic from a distance. "Jesus, where are we?"

"Patience, lass," Geillis replied, tugging her hand and guiding her forward. "We'll get there soon enough."

They walked for several metres, and when they finally stopped, Claire heard keys jiggling, some electronic beeping sound followed by a heavy door opening. She knew they weren't anywhere near the city and certainly not in a residential building. As they shuffled in, the loud echo of their movements made her think of empty open spaces. "I hope this is not a slaughterhouse you're leading me to. You're mentally unstable enough to come up with something like that."

"Ach, ye're sense of drama never ceases to amaze me."

"And your sense of humour is sometimes sick."

Geillis laughed as she gently pushed Claire into the lift. "Not far to go! Take huge big deep breaths and just remember, no one is making any sick jokes on ye. This is yer day, and it's high time we do a bit of celebration ...Lamby style."

"I don't even have a clue what his style is, so whatever he's got in store for me, it'll definitely be a surprise, and I don't think I would need to pretend anything."

"No, I don't think so either." The lift pinged, and the door slid open with a whoosh. "Alright, this way, we're almost there."

"Oh dear, here we go," she mumbled.

They stepped out, walked some more and then stopped again. Claire heard another door opened and Geillis gently pushed her inside. She held her breath, her heart already near her throat, unsure what to expect next. She just hoped no one was going to jump on her and shout "surprise!" as she had a strong feeling her nerves wouldn't be able to take it after the day she'd already had. Before Claire knew what was happening, Geillis gave her a bear hug. "Happy Birthday, hen," she whispered, her voice suddenly laced with choked emotions. "Just enjoy this, okay? Soak it all in. Promise me."

Surprised at her friend's sudden change in demeanour, Claire could only embrace Geillis back, thinking uncle Lamb must have done something extraordinary to get her all worked up.

"Ye can take off the bandana now and open yer eyes," Geillis whispered.

Before Claire could respond, Geillis stepped back, and the door suddenly shut. _ Ah, hell! _ She whipped off the covering from her eyes and blinked. She was engulfed in darkness. But there was the distant soft glow of city lights coming from outside the window and other than that, she couldn't see a thing. "Hello? Anyone in here? Please don't shout and jump and scare the bejesus out of me, because if you do, I'm out of here."

Nothing. No response.

She carefully moved forward until her hands grasped the ledge of the window and squinted. It was too dark to see and decipher the place she was in. But one thing she was sure of, she was outside of Edinburgh as its silhouette and lights were visible from where she stood.

She heard a whirring sound, and then all of a sudden, brightness replaced the darkness outside, as floodlights illuminated a wide-open space of green. She gasped when she realised she was looking down at a rugby field. It was complete with covered stands, benches and team shelters and even the lines on the mowed field were freshly marked with white. On the far end was a gigantic white screen and surrounding the area were netting erected in place. Everything looked brand spanking new and fresh. It could only mean she was in Jamie's academy. Shaking her head, she laughed out loud. _ He's done it, my bloody Scot has gone and done it! _

Tears started to fall as pride for Jamie overflowed in bucket loads. She was about to grab her phone from the pocket of her coat, but she remembered it wasn't working. So instead she allowed herself to cry like a child, knowing how far Jamie had come and at what cost. This was what he'd always wanted and worked so hard for, and she couldn't be happier for him and what he'd accomplished.

"Why the tears, Sassenach? Don't ye like it?"

Her heart jumped out of her chest, and the moment she spun around, she heard something clicked, and the light in the room went on. Jamie was sat on an office desk, looking ruggedly handsome in his black shirt, faded jeans and a leather jacket, and sporting a week-old scruff.

"Jamie!" she breathed.

He beamed, and it's the most beautiful sight she'd ever seen. With her heart pumping madly, she took quick steps towards him and launched herself into his arms.

He laughed out loud as he caught her, lifting her against him and burying his face into the crook of her neck. "Mo chridhe," he murmured. "Christ, I've missed ye." He inhaled deeply, his lips warm and tantalising against her skin.

"Not as much as I've missed you," she whispered, raining kisses on his jawline. When they drew away, she looked into his eyes, all the restlessness from the past few days dissolving in the warmth of his body heat. "What are you doing here? I thought you were going to do a live interview."

His hands gripped her waist and leaned his forehead against hers. "I did have an interview, but it was done early this morning. The show featured it tonight as live even if it wasnae. I didnae want to miss yer birthday for anything, so we did a pre-recording."

"But when are you going back?" she asked, pulling back. "I love the fact you came here for my birthday, but does that mean you will be away longer because you came here today?"

He stroked her hair and kissed her forehead. "I've finished everything I needed to do." He gave her a lopsided grin, unable to hide his joy. "I did a lot of rescheduling as I didn't want to hang around and wait in between interviews and photocalls. I told them I have a lot of business obligations, so I managed to convince them to scramble their timetable for me."

Her eyes widened in surprise. "Really? So, that's it?" She smiled at him, happier than she could fully express. "No more public appearances?"

"Aye, that's it. The only interview I will entertain in the future will be for the academy." He brushed his lips against hers. "Oh, by the way, happy birthday, Sassenach!"

She linked her hands behind his neck. "Thank you. You being here is the best birthday gift ever and by the way too, congratulations on the completion of your academy. But how on earth did you do all of this so fast?"

"Weel, when I bought this sports complex, all the infrastructure were already here in place, and that helped a lot financially. It needed a lot of work done, and an additional extension to the building, but that wasnae much of a problem as Willie has a great construction team. The extension isnae quite finish yet though, but as ye saw, the field is complete. We are still waiting for some of the equipment for training and gym to arrive. But they're on their way. And this here ..." he waved a hand in the air. "...will be my office."

Claire looked around the spacious room, taking it all in for the first time since she came in. It was beautiful, masculine and fit for a rugby academy director. The whole space had been fitted out with rich dark wood, high-quality furnishings and the latest electronic gadget, including a massive TV on one wall. The exposed brick wall and the wide window overlooking the rugby field lent the room a more modern, twenty-first-century edge, without compromising practicality. It was simply too stunning for words.

Claire untangled herself from Jamie and walked over to the window. "This office reminds me of a private box in Murrayfield stadium. You have a bird's eye view of the whole field. As well as an uninterrupted panorama of Edinburgh."

"That's why I chose this space for my office." He stood behind her and pointed to the roof of the stand's cover. "And over there, Sassenach, is one of the spots where the sign and logo of the academy are going."

"Yes, I can see it already, Jamie," she whispered. "In big, bold, beautiful letters ...James Fraser Academy."

Jamie cleared his throat. "About that, Sassenach, I have something to show ye."

She turned around to face him and watched as he took out a bundle of folded papers from the inside of his jacket and placed it in her hand.

"What's this?"

He smiled nervously and nodded. "Take a look."

It was some sort of official document. Claire flicked through all the pages, skimming paragraphs as she went, but it was all legal jargon to her. "I don't understand, Jamie."

"Oh, sorry," he mumbled, his face turning red. "It's on the last page. Tell me what ye think."

There were only three sections on the page, and right at the bottom where Jamie's signature was supposed to be on the dotted line, was blank. Claire carefully read the words, and as the meaning behind them began to sink in, her heart started to race. Jamie had named his academy FRASER-BEAUCHAMP RUGBY ACADEMY.

She licked her lips and reread the page again, just to make sure she didn't misunderstand anything. "Jamie, but why ..." When she tore her gaze away from the paper, her heart stopped. Jamie was down on one knee in front of her, holding out her mother's engagement ring.

"Sassenach," he said gruffly. "I ken I do a lot of things poorly and a few things well. And when I'm with ye, I feel I can achieve anything and everything. Ye make me a better person, and I want to keep getting better with ye by my side. What I'm trying to say is, I want to spend the rest of my life with ye. I want to have babies with ye and grow old with ye. And if you agree to be my wife, what's mine will be yers, that's why I havenae signed that paper yer holding yet. And I swear as God is my witness, I will cherish ye with every fragment of my being each and every day until I draw my final breath." He swallowed audibly and whispered, "Claire Elizabeth Beauchamp, will ye marry me?"

She gasped. Every ounce of oxygen and emotion she felt for Jamie poured out of her with such incredible force, she couldn't stop the tears from streaming down her face. "Oh, Jamie ..." Her hand clapped over her mouth, stifling her cry.

"Sassenach?"

"Oh, this all too much."

He stood up and pulled her into his arms. "Sassenach, are ye upset because I asked ye to marry me?"

She shook her head and pressed her face against his chest, inhaling his clean, masculine smell. She was crying because they were two broken people when they first met, and despite all odds and their past, their pain had brought them together. It was the messiness of their histories that drove them, and the damage that came with it connected them at a soul level. The scars they carried were so deeply embedded they couldn't see them anymore but recognised them in each other. It would have been easy to wallow in bitterness and succumb to all the negative emotions, but somehow in understanding each other's hurt, they were able to heal and forgive their own shortcomings and give them the strength to have faith in love.

Jamie's hold tightened. "Please tell me those tears mean ye're saying yes. Because if it isnae, this would go down in history as the worse birthday present ever."

Taking a deep breath, she looked up at him and laughed through her tears. "Oh God, Jamie, yes, I want to marry you."

A single tear slid down Jamie's eye as he slid her mother's ring into her finger with trembling hands. And when he kissed her with so much reverence, it felt like they were kissing for the first time. As they gradually pulled away, he wiped the tears from her face. "Uncle Lamb gave me this ring to give to ye. He said this ring has been missing for a while and he found it a few weeks ago. Maybe it's a sign yer ma approves of me."

Claire laughed. "Oh, my mum and dad definitely approve. You don't need to worry about that."

"If ye dinnae approve of the ring, I can buy a new one. I cannae give ye my mother's because she's given it to Willie already."

"Oh, Jamie, this is perfect," she said, splaying her fingers out to admire the jewellery. It was a simple platinum Art Deco ring with two matching cut diamonds in a square frame. It had belonged to her father's mother.

"That's good then if ye think so," he grinned, putting on a pair of AirPods into his ears. "Now are ye ready for this?"

"What are you doing?"

Jamie didn't reply as he swiped a few times on his phone. When he shoved it back into his pocket, he smiled at her and pulled her into his arms. "I want everyone that matters to know that ye said yes. So, Sassenach, ye really do want to marry me?"

"Yes, Jamie, I want to marry you. I have the ring on now, don't I?"

A sudden loud roar of cheers came from the TV, and when she turned around, she was stunned to see Jamie's family, uncle Lamb, Joe and Geillis applauding and cheering on the screen.

"Oh, my God, so this is the surprise," she whispered, more to her herself than to Jamie.

While more shouts of congratulations and good wishes followed, Uncle Lamb's face filled up the TV screen. "Well, what are you both waiting for?" he grumbled into the camera, his face comically up too close. "Everyone is starving. Show us a kiss and come down here and let's celebrate."

Jamie and Claire both laughed and obliged their family and friends. When they got carried away kissing, another uproar ensued reminding them of where they were. With hesitation but with laughter, they untangled themselves from each other's embrace and left Jamie's office, heading down to what would one day be the cafeteria.

But before they entered, Jamie stopped her and pulled her into his arms once again. "Thank ye for choosing me, Sassenach. I still cannae believe I get to call ye my fiancee. But please, let's not make this a long engagement because I cannae wait to start our life together and start calling ye my wife."

She smiled up at him. "I don't want a long engagement neither nor do I want it all over the papers, nor do I wish for a fancy wedding. If ye want we can get married tomorrow."

Jamie shook his head. "Now, Sassenach, dinnae be silly. I want a proper wedding, and I want to see ye walking the aisle in yer dress. I'm gonnae get married only once, and I want to do this right."

"Fine, now kiss me before everyone starts looking for us."

"I love ye," he whispered before he lowered his head to kiss her.

"And I love you too," she murmured against his lips.

When Jamie's phone started to beep, they both groaned in despair.

"Come, Sassenach, we have a double celebration coming up, and everyone has been waiting for hours.."

With smiles in their faces and hearts, they entered the room to the cheers of their love ones.

As they walked hand in hand, Claire realised that loving Jamie will never cease to amaze her. He was like thunder and the gentle rain that follows. He was both fire and balm to her soul. There was no doubt there will be heartaches and pain along the way, but they've seen each other's mess and brokenness, and they still loved each other and came out stronger. She used to think it was fate when he caught her fall from the church window. But now, after all the twist and turns they'd been through, she believed fate is what one makes out of it - you get the love you fight for and the one you think you deserve. Their destiny was to nurture that love and keep reminding themselves, that whatever life throws at them, they will always find their way to each other.

[deanofwhumpuniversity]

Chambers Authority: Becoming

This is the first of this verse I’ve posted here, and it’s pretty gross. A real Dead Dove, Do Not Eat. Nearly 4k words of...whatever the hell this is.

CW: Self-mutilation, amputation, cannibalism, medical whump, intubation, choking, acid, guns, blood, gore, human sacrifice, murder, death, immortal whumpee of a sort. 

It started last October, on a night so quiet and comfortably cool I should have known it wouldn’t last. I was sitting in the passenger seat, finishing a granola bar when the radio chirped to life with a no-nonsense message from dispatch. “Ambulance requested at 1002 Pike St.”

We didn’t have to speak; my partner was already putting the truck in gear while I picked up the CB. “Team Sierra Hotel responding, we’re on the north side. Details?”

There was an uncharacteristic pause before the dispatcher came back. “It was...a strange call. We’ve also reached out to PD.”

A spike of anxiety shot through me. It’s never pleasant, rushing to some horrible scene, mentally preparing while physically you just can’t do anything until you get there. All that adrenaline with nowhere to go might just be the worst part of the job. Aside from, y’know, everything else. But this was a new kind of harrowing: situation in progress, bracing for nothing and everything. My brain dredged up every sort of first response procedure I knew, like I was cramming for EMT exams all over again. It was overwhelming and useless, and I shook my head to clear my thoughts, when the radio clicked back to life one final time. “They just said that someone’s going to die.”

Our siren was blaring outside and the road was flying past, and I hoped I had misunderstood; but Roman shot a concerned look at the radio and then at me, and I knew he’d heard it too.

“Come back, dispatch? I did not copy.” The radio only played a low whine, almost more the whirr of magnetic tape than any of the familiar fuzzy sounds the CB usually made. After a few more moments I gave up, switching the machine to police frequency. “This is SH 176 emergency medical, who’s responding to the call on Pike?” My only answer was that same low mechanical rasp. No voices came back over the radio, to me or anyone else. The constant chatter characteristic of the police band was simply...gone.

The silence stretched as I stared at the dashboard radio, microphone sitting useless in my hand. 

WHAM! I startled back to awareness as Roman thumped the side of his fist into the radio, trying to jostle it to life. I shot him a look as I hung up the mic and took a deep breath to settle my nerves; he kept his eyes on the road and we began to slow. I realized we were on Pike Street, our destination coming up on the left. The area was all nondescript commercial buildings, small warehouses with vague signs that gave no indication what sort of business they did.

We came to a stop on the wrong side of the street, lights and sirens granting us permission to ignore the rules of the road. It seemed we’d gotten here first. There were no other emergency vehicles, no police, no one coordinating the scene. “What do we even take in?” It was part genuine question, part musing aloud. With no hint of what we’d find inside, I had no idea what our potential patient -- or patients -- might need.

Roman didn’t answer, staring out into the night with a look of consternation furrowing his brow. He leaned forward and flicked a switch, killing our siren but leaving the lights flashing. The silence was so sudden I could feel a ghostly echo of the blare bouncing off my eardrums. I popped my ears and craned in my seat, but I didn’t see any lights but ours bouncing off the glass storefronts; there were no distant wails of sirens coming to join us.

My partner opened his door and hopped out. “I guess it’s on us.” Of course it was fine for us to respond first; that was the job and we didn’t need the police here to get to work. But something in the stillness, thrown into ghoulish contrast by the flashing red and blue, seemed...different from our usual calls.

“What if this isn’t the place?” What if I had heard the dispatcher wrong? If we somehow both had? I knew it wasn’t likely, but the look Roman gave me showed he had doubts too. He leaned back into the cab and switched through the frequencies on the radio. Dispatch, police, back again. Then to a random band. All silent. There wasn’t even a momentary shock of static as the frequencies changed. He shrugged, grabbed a trauma kit, and started off toward the building, leaving his door hanging open. 

I pulled my own first responder kit from behind my seat and followed after him, telling myself it was purely professionalism that hastened my step -- the ability to do my job without need for direction -- and not an expanding discomfort at the thought of being alone in that garishly lighted stillness.

I surveyed the building for side doors and open windows as we approached, inwardly cringing at the idea of breaking the glass front door only to discover we were, in fact, in the wrong place. But Roman gripped the handle and the door swung open soundlessly, as though it were perfectly natural and the place was open for business at whatever ungodly hour of the morning. This seemed to give him pause, and he stood holding the door open for just a moment before continuing on into an unlit lobby.

We looked around for a moment, at the magazine-laden tables and a desk with its darkened computer; a hallway led further into the building, with lights on toward the end, our only obvious choice to proceed. Heading that way I began to hear a voice, muffled by distance but clear enough, and I realized it was the first speech I’d heard for many minutes. I was almost comforted by the normalcy of hearing other people before I began to process what the voice was saying.

“No! No. You’re crazy! This is crazy, why are you doing this?”

Roman and I picked up our pace, hustling toward the sound. We rounded a corner and came to a set of propped-open double doors. The room beyond was large and cluttered with equipment, but my trained eye was drawn immediately to the carnage at its center.

A young man -- maybe a teen, but it was hard to tell -- sat strapped to something like a modified dentist’s chair. His face and shirt were spattered with blood; I couldn’t immediately tell if it was his, or if it was all coming from the slab of gore being held to his mouth. A darker, silver-haired man stood before him, offering up a piece of bleeding meat with his right hand. The man’s left arm was...gone. His dress shirt had been tied off above the elbow, a rubber tourniquet knotted over the bloody sleeve. A table beside them was strewn with irregular chunks of flesh, unrecognizable except for a hand.

The man’s voice was quiet, almost pleading, despite his clear control over the scene. “There isn’t time for squeamishness, Mads.” His head was cocked and brows were knit with worry, as though he was pressing some much-needed medication on the boy and not some raw remnant of his own mutilated body. “We have to hurry! Just do as you’re meant to and everything will be alright.”

The boy in the chair let out a muffled grunt, struggling in his restraints but unwilling to open his mouth to cry out. He tossed back and forth against a leather strap across his chest, cycling his knees up and down in the mere inch of give that the ankle cuffs afforded him. As we watched, frozen, one of the straps gave way and he kicked out, barely glancing the man but knocking the table and its grotesque bounty to the floor.

The man let out a frustrated growl and stepped back. A black-robed figure I hadn’t noticed before rushed forward and grabbed the boy’s leg, wrestling it back into place.

Suddenly I was shoved hard to the side, barely catching myself against the wall of the hallway before I struck my head. I turned to see Roman, ducking to the other side of the hall and taking a position in the sliver of protected space behind the mostly-open door. As I regained my senses I took in more of the room, seeing now that some dozen black clad people ringed the space, standing nearly unmoving in the shadows. Out of the corner of my eye I saw my partner signalling at me; I turned to look as he pointed his thumb back the way we’d come, then held his hand up to his mouth like a phone. I nodded, yes, the radio, then turned back to the grisly scene playing out in the room. What could I do for this kid? We needed the police. 

The older man, though, clearly required medical attention; his sleeve was soaking through over the stump of his arm, the cloth saturated enough now to begin dripping freely. A morbidly hilarious image ran through my mind -- of me simply walking in and offering the aggressor first aid. Would he leave the kid be and let me staunch the wound? Somehow I doubted it.

The figure at the boy’s feet gave up on the broken restraint, sitting back on their heels and simply holding the kid’s leg in place. The man had righted the table and was gathering up the wet meat that had fallen to the floor. He sighed heavily, and his voice took on a disappointed tone. “Alright, Maddox, have it your way. Just...remember, it didn’t have to be like this.”

He strode away, to the poorly-lit edge of the room, and the boy -- Maddox, it seemed -- took the opportunity to shout in earnest, alternating “Help!” and “Stop, please!” and “Let me go!” as he rocked forward and back against a leather strap buckled across his chest. The shadowed figures held their silent vigil, unmoved by his outbursts.

When the man stepped back into the light, he held a jumble of supplies bundled in the crook of his remaining arm.  He dumped them onto the table, letting them slop into the bloody mess, and I heard a metal clank among the soft, wet noises. 

Maddox stopped mid-shout, leaning back and raising his hands as far as the restraints would let him, in a half-warding, half-placating gesture. “Let’s just talk about this, ok? Just...just don’t--” 

The silver-haired man selected an implement from the pile, and stepped well into the boy’s space, looming over him. He pushed what I could see was a speculum toward Maddox’s mouth, and the stump of his left arm moved -- as though he was trying to hold his victim steady and he’d forgotten his new amputee status. He fixed his gaze on one of the robed figures and nodded, and they rushed forward, grabbing the boy’s head and pulling it sharply back. They grasped his chin, and Maddox’s eyes screwed shut with effort as he clenched his jaw. With two people scrabbling at his mouth, he couldn’t resist long.

He gave one last sobbing cry -- “Don’t, please don’t do this! Dad! --” before the speculum wedged into his mouth, holding his tongue down and distorting his cries. My heart leapt into my throat as I watched the man reach for a spool of plastic tubing.

Movement to my right alerted me to Roman’s return, and I hissed as loudly as I dared, “Did you get anyone on the radio? Are the cops here?” When I got no response I dragged my eyes away from the horrifying display. Across the hall, behind the other door, was a man I’d never seen before White shirt and jeans, with an obvious underarm holster. He was braced against the wall, holding a handgun in ready position, his attention firmly on the boy in the chair. Plain-clothes cop. Oh thank God.

The officer didn’t acknowledge me before he ducked into the room, keeping to the wall and quickly disappearing from my view around the corner. A loud, sickeningly wet choking caught my attention, but the man had positioned himself up on the chair, kneeling over the seated boy and blocking his face from view. All I could see were Maddox’s fingers flexing and digging into the armrests, and his legs tossing side to side as far as they could, movements no longer controlled but instinctive, animal struggles to survive.

The man stepped back down onto the floor and grabbed a chunk of flesh from the table, then stuffed it into a funnel I could see had been crudely jammed into the top of the thick tubing. It shouldn’t have fit -- couldn’t possibly have fit -- but I heard a thick sloshing, and saw as a white froth started to stream from the boy’s mouth around the intruding tube. The foam quickly began to turn pink, and thick rivulets of blood ran from the corners of his mouth to meet under his upturned chin.

“Oh holy Jesus!” Roman’s voice came from right beside me and I spun toward him; I grabbed his shoulders to steady myself as my stomach reeled. He took hold of my upper arms, clearly seeing I needed the help. “The cops are here!” He began to pull me away from the doorway and back down the hall. 

“I know!” I whispered back, but he cocked his head in confusion. Before I could tell him about the officer, a shot rang out from the room. We both ducked reflexively, and my partner started pulling me back to the lobby. He’d already brought the gurney -- somehow I hadn’t heard him dragging in the heavy equipment, and I caught myself feeling bad I’d been too distracted to come and help him. When he shot me a concerned look, I realized I had let out a maddened giggle at the ridiculous thought.

Outside on the street, lights and sirens blared. The chaos of uniformed figures bustling to and fro beyond the glass doors lent a morbid sort of normalcy to this horrific night. But none of them rushed in to back up their comrade; more shots rang out from the back and I saw the gathered police ducking behind the vehicles pulled up out front. But my fear and confusion took a backseat to instinct as Roman began to pull the gurney further into the building, and I took position behind it, matching his hurried but careful pace.

A new scene of carnage greeted us in the back room. Several of the robed figures lay in spreading pools of blood, unmoving; but the one-armed man and the plain-clothes officer were nowhere to be seen. Maddox, still strapped to the chair, seemed to be fully seizing, lurching purposelessly in his restraints, the unsupported tube in his mouth hanging down and dragging his head forward. 

We parked the gurney and Roman set about undoing the straps, while I assessed how best to safely remove the tubing from the boy’s throat. I gripped his chin and turned his head up, and I met his eyes -- terrified, suffering...and aware. Despite his body’s violent convulsions, he held my gaze. A gurgling whimper left his lips. I pulled as gently as I could on the tube, and felt none of the sort of rough resistance I expected; instead it felt as though it was dragging through thick mud. Liquid gore began to absolutely pour out of the boy’s mouth, and I was struck by a noxious, almost chemical smell.

“Oh fuck, Roman, I don’t -- ! Acid. I think it’s acid.”

“Just keep moving, Elke. We have to keep trying.” He was in full EMT mode, voice full of urgency but detached. I tried to push my panic down and let training take over. Roman had freed the boy’s limbs and was bundling up his legs. I pushed my arm under his shoulder and supported his head, preparing to move him to the gurney. “One, two, three, lift!”

We lay him down and his whines became a tortured keening; the boy squeezed his eyes shut and tears streamed down the sides of his face. I could feel the tube jerking in my hand as his body shuddered with sobs, but I couldn’t make much sense of the bottom of his face through all the blood. After a few more wracking coughs he seemed to run out of air, and drew in a long, rattling breath that started harsh and quickly became grotesquely wet, as though he was aspirating his own liquified throat. His eyes shot open and he shrieked; he began to claw at his chest and neck, arching up off the gurney in agony.

“Leave the tube, maybe we can get him some oxygen!” Roman was pulling the gurney now, heading back to the ambulance as though there were some miraculous treatment there, as though if we somehow got the kid to the hospital we’d be able to put his ravaged organs back together. 

A wave of dizziness flowed over me from head to toes as I could feel myself giving up; but the boy was still looking at me, eyes bright and clear and desperate. So I just kept moving.

We burst out the front door and beelined for the back of the ambulance. The police outside went from barking at each other, to shouting questions at us -- but the few who came close enough to see the patient backed off quickly. Once the gurney was secure in the cabin, Roman hopped behind the wheel and flipped the siren back on. I pulled one of the rear doors closed; as I grabbed the other a hand shot out of the dark and held it open. I jumped back in surprise, and the plain-clothes cop from inside hoisted himself up into the ambulance. 

“Hey! I’m sorry, but, you can’t --” He pulled the door shut behind him and slid onto the bench opposite me. I didn’t have time to argue. Maddox didn’t have time. “We’re clear!” I called to my partner, and he pulled out onto the thankfully empty nighttime streets.

I went for an oxygen bag and began peeling it from it’s sterile package, when I realized the officer was speaking. “Provoneaux got away, but not all is lost, yeah? There’s still time.” He wasn’t speaking to me; his eyes were fixed on Maddox’s. He stood up, hunched from the low clearance, and reached toward the boy’s face. Before I could register what he was doing, he took hold of the tracheal tube, and yanked.

Thick blood sprayed across the roof of the ambulance, spattering hot and sticky on my face and painting the man’s rumpled white shirt. Muffled whimpers became an agonized howl as what was left of the boy’s mouth was freed. The cop set his large hand against the Maddox’s gore-streaked chin, forcing his mouth shut and covering his nose. I grabbed the man’s wrist and tried to push him away, but he was slick with blood and freakishly strong. “Roman!” I cried out in a panic, unsure if I wanted him to stop and help, or just drive faster.

Instead, he yanked the wheel to the side, tossing us about and jostling the gurney. I felt the man’s grip falter, before he climbed fully over Maddox’s prone body, and pressed his whole weight down over the dying boy’s face. I shoved at him, punched his shoulder to no effect, then my eye lighted on an oxygen tank hooked to the wall. Pulling it down quickly, I put my whole weight into my swing, bashing it into the side of the man’s head. He tumbled to the floor, bringing up his arms to block any further blows.

“You don’t understand!” He was speaking to me for the first time, and I found myself hesitating. I held the oxygen tank ready for another swing, but I didn’t have an easy shot with Maddox between us. The man looked up at me over his raised arms. “If the sacrifice dies, the ritual will complete.”

“If...WHAT?” That was probably the last thing I’d expected to hear, and I simply could not imagine what I was supposed to say to that.

“He has to die some other way.” The man was panting with exertion, but his voice was strangely calm. “Do you really think you can save him? Do you?”

I looked down at the kid, whose eyes flicked back and forth between me and the officer, wide with fear and pain. His chest was hitching with short, failing breaths; what I could see of his face seemed to hold a pleading expression. A treasonous thought ran through my mind, that all I could do for him now was ease his suffering, but I would not give it voice. I would not tell him I was giving up on him. 

I tossed the oxygen tank onto the man, and saw his eyes widen before he covered his head and ducked flat to the floor. I heard it connect, heard his grunt of pain, but I turned my attention to the manual oxygen bag I’d been opening. Tossing the packaging aside, I leaned over the boy and pressed the bag to his face. I tried in vain to force air into his destroyed body, but I could tell now he was making short, sharp exhales, not taking in any breaths. Helplessly clutching the apparatus, I reached my other hand up and brushed the boy’s dark, wavy hair from his forehead. “It’s ok, Maddox,” I lied. “Shh, it’ll be ok.” His shoulders settled back, and his gasps began to gentle. He held my gaze, and I watched as his eyes went still and dark. 

I stood at his side for a moment, an eternity, choking down the sobs that wanted to claw up from my chest. The ambulance bounced over a rough patch of road and I slumped back on the bench, suddenly feeling weak and small as the adrenaline seemed to drain from me. I turned to the man now sitting on the floor opposite me; he looked as spent as I felt.

“Elke?” Roman called from the front. I could see his eyes in the rear-view mirror, probably trying to puzzle out just what on earth was happening back here.

“Roman, stop.” My voice was barely more than a whisper. I almost couldn’t hear it myself over that useless, pointless siren. “Stop it! Turn it off!” The shout hitched in my throat, but we coasted to a stop and I heard my partner open his door and climb out.

“You’re not a cop.” That one shout was all I’d had, my voice quiet again. I kept my gaze on the boy’s body, not wanting to look at the man, the would-be murderer. “Who are you?”

“I’m...Will.” He paused, the way that addicts do when they don’t want to tell the EMTs who they are or what they took. 

“Sure. Will.”

“I’m with the Chambers Authority.” He laughed dryly. “Not that that...means anything. I’m the one who called you, but I was too late. No one is more sorry about that than me, I assure you.”

It was my turn to laugh. There was no humor in it. 

The back doors swung open and Roman surveyed the scene with concern. “What did you do?” he asked, his tone strangely light.

“This psycho, I -- I tried to stop him, but -- !” I couldn’t sustain my anger for more than a few words. “I don’t think there’s anything that would have mattered.”

“No,” Roman replied, “what did you do?” How did you do it?”

I followed his gaze to the body of the young man on the stretcher. His chest was still, and he was deathly silent. But his hands were flexing, and his eyes began to blink. And then he sat up.

[changingourdestiny]

Beyond Light Part 5: Stasis, Secrets & Science

Summary:

Rae and friends travel beneath the ice to Bray Exoscience to locate the next shard and Praksis. But they end up learning something else regarding one of their own members...

Previous Part: Here

Next Part: Here

“To my Eliksni sisters and brothers out amongst the stars and here at home on Europa: we have suffered a great loss today. Our beloved warrior Phylaks was murdered by not only a pawn of the once ‘Great Machine’, but a human Captain of the traitors known as House Light. As always, the machine-spawns eagerly seek to eradicate us. Remember, Light only burns bright for so long, but Darkness is forever.”

 “Traitors? Like she has room to talk!”

Tif pouted as Fireteam Paralight made their way their way down through the ice towards Bray Exoscience where the pull of the next shard was leading them. “Don’t mind her.” Blaze grinned, giving the Titan a playful nudge, “She’s just salty that we beat her best warrior. If she has a problem, she can shove it up her- whoa.”

Blaze cut herself off as they entered the inside of the facility. Despite being around for centuries and buried in ice, the inside was near spotless…aside from the dark shard floating above the platform. “Ok, I still stand by the fact that Clovis is a piece of crap,” Blaze began as she looked around, “But this place looks really nice.”

“Yeah! So shiny!” Tif beamed. Rae and Marcia approached the platform where the shard was. “You mind if I go this time?” Marcia asked, “I’ve had experience with Darkness before and I wanna ensure this doesn’t have any effects on Starlight.”

“Be my guest.” Rae motioned to the shard as she stepped back, allowing Marcia to double jump onto the platform. The Nightstalker took out her splinter and walked up to the shard, holding it up like Tif did. There was a brief glow as Marcia felt herself being frozen in stasis. She closed her eyes and let it happen. As the last of her was frozen, Rae watched as Marcia suddenly burst out of the stasis with a strained yell as what seemed to be two kama blades appeared in her hands. “Whoa!” Marcia exclaimed, examining the blades, “Not bad. Not bad at all!”

“Marcia, Eliksni incoming!” Nox alerted as Marcia spotted Fallen entering from a door at the other end of the room. “Good.” Marcia smirked, “Let’s see what this power can do!” Marcia leapt up into the air and threw her first blade at a group of Fallen, freezing them in place, as the second one exploded on impact and formed a stasis form that hunted down the remaining Fallen. “Whoohoohoo!” Marcia whooped, “This is so much better than Void!” The Hunter summoned what seemed like a stasis shuriken and threw it at a group of shanks. It ricocheted off each of them, striking all of them down. Marcia landed on the ground, rolling in the process, before snapping her fingers, letting out a wave of stasis. It went straight towards a servitor, freezing it in place, before seeking out the surrounding Fallen. Marcia whipped out her rocket launcher, Bad Omens, and fired it at the frozen Fallen, shattering them into pieces. Marcia sighed with a content smirk before feeling the energy leave her once more.

  “Now that!” Marcia grinned, stretching, “That felt satisfying!”

“Marcia, that was awesome!” Tif cheered. “Man…you took out those Eliksni like it was nothing.” Blaze mused, impressed.

“Well, now that that’s taken care of,” Rae began, “I’m gonna take a look around before we head back.”

“Why? There’s not much here. Well, aside from the Exo bodies. Which are very disturbing, might I add?” Blaze asked as she cautiously walked around a robotic body that was laying on the ground. “Eramis isn’t stupid.” Rae replied, sitting at a computer, “There’s no way she wouldn’t use the remaining tech here to her advantage. Chances are we might find something of use here.”

“Knock yourself out.” Marcia shrugged as she sat on the edge of the platform, her legs dangling. Rae browsed through the remaining files on the computer. A few of them were corrupted beyond salvaging, some were just cat pictures. Her curiosity was peaked when she saw a file with the lists of faculty members for each CB site in the system, one of them being Site-6. “Hey there’s a list of staff members for Site-6 here.” Rae called to Blaze. “Cool! We get to know who the assholes were that made SIVA.” Blaze chuckled, leaning over Rae’s shoulder to look at the list as Rae scrolled through it, “Screw you, Dr. Escher Zhang. Screw you, Dr. Marnie Ziglar. Screw you especially, Dr. Wilhelmina Bray. Screw you, Dr. A-”

Blaze went silent. Rae stopped scrolling.

“Uh…you guys okay?” Tif asked from where she was sitting beside Marcia. The two were just staring in disbelief at the screen. Marcia raised an eyebrow before hopping off the platform and walking towards them, “What’s got you two so rattled?” She peered over their shoulders at the screen and her face dropped in realisation, “Oh…”

Dr. Adam Bergfalk.

“It…it can’t be, right?” Blaze chuckled nervously, “There’s…gotta be loads of people with that name.”

“Only one way to find out.” Rae muttered as the clicked the file.

 Name: Dr. Adam Bergfalk.

Age: 36.

Rank: Junior Engineer for SIVA Project.

Assigned to: SIVA Replication Complex Site-6.

Important Notes:

Please ensure Dr. Bergfalk remembers to bring is arm in for weekly maintenance and himself for weekly check-ups. Ensure SIVA has affected no other parts of his body. We don’t need it eating his head too. We need that. ~SIVA.MEM.WB

Dr. Bray, as I’ve said a million times, my arm is FINE. I appreciate the check-ups, but I would also appreciate a little more confidence in my handywork. Speaking of which, whoever graffitied my arm with permanent marker while I was asleep: jokes on you, dumhuvud! I always have a spare on hand. And no, that’s not a pun. Also, I’ll be speaking to HR about some of the ‘statements’ you wrote. ~SIVA.MEM.AB

 In the corner of the profile was a mugshot of Adam. He had a confident and determined smirk on his face – almost a contrast to the quiet yet friendly Titan Rae and Blaze knew for so long. “Adam worked for Clovis…” Rae muttered. “Does it mention anything else?” Blaze asked, “Maybe he saw what assholes they were and quit?” Rae scrolled down through the file which had research notes, information and pictures in it, some of which were pictures of him with several other scientists when he first joined, one was him in a hospital bed without his arm looking very fed up while someone who bared resemblance to him seemed to be berating him, another was of him with a wrench in his mouth while he used a screwdriver to work on his metal arm which looked different to his current one – Rae assumed this arm was a prototype. Finally, Rae came across a note at the bottom.

 NOTICE OF MIA:

Following an explosion is his lab at Site-6, Dr. Adam Bergfalk has been reported as MIA as no trace of his body has been found. Until further notice, position of Junior Engineer has been passed to his assistant, Dr. Sigfrid Bergfalk. Investigation into the accident is underway and any new information will be posted here.

 “My guess is he died in that explosion…but they didn’t find his body?” Blaze spoke. “Maybe he managed to get out after the blast but died somewhere else?” Marcia suggested.

“I can’t believe it…” Rae muttered.

“Me neither.” Blaze replied, “To think he worked on-”

“He looks so smug!” Rae laughed, catching the other two Hunters off guard, “He’d never smirk like that now. He must’ve been a pain to work with. He sounds so sassy in his notes too!”

Rae got up from where she was sitting and turned off the computer, “Well, we better get back to work. Let’s head back to Variks’s place and figure out our next move.”

“You’re…not freaked out that Adam worked for the Brays? On Siva?” Blaze asked, confused. “Why would I be?” Rae replied with a smile, “That Adam died ages ago. He’s definitely not the Adam we know now. It doesn’t matter who he was, it’s who he is now.”

Blaze seemed surprised, her voice leaving her. “Hey!” Tif called over to the trio, “I just got a message from Variks! He says our next target is somewhere here in the facility!”

“C’mon, we got a house to tear down.” Rae smiled as she got her gun at the ready and continued into the labs. “Who he is now…” Blaze muttered as she subconsciously reached to where her ring once hung around her neck before smiling and following Rae alongside Tif and Marcia, feeling reassured.

“Brig incoming!”

“TRAVELLER’S CRACK!!!”

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 “I have seen what power has done to Eramis. But…perhaps you are different. Perhaps there is hope. Praksis. He is the visionary mind behind Eramis’s technology. He wrings power from the Darkness itself. But Variks was not privy to his secrets, his experiments. You must discover how he creates these dark weapons…and stop him.”

 “I…hate…BRIGS!” Blaze growled as she tried to catch her breath, the remains of the giant brig smouldering on the platform. “No, no, no…” Praksis’s voice came through the comms, “Troubling. Embarrassing. I must keep this from Eramis. The data must be clean.”

“D’aww! Is he embawwassed that the wittle Guardians twashed his science pwoject?” Marcia cooed before laughing. “Yeah, antagonise the Eliksni in charge of Eramis’s weapons. That’ll end well.” Rae sighed. “Relax! We’ll be fine! Let’s go!” Marcia took off towards the entrance at the back of the room when…

*BA-BOOM!!!*

“Guardian down.” Nox announced as Marcia’s body was thrown across the room by the explosion, “There were tripwires.”

Praksis could be heard laughing through the comms as Nox revived Marcia who then got to her feet. Rae started laughing, “Now you can’t give me slack for the time I triggered Drifter’s tripwires when you fell for the same trap!”

“Yeah, yeah.” Marcia groaned as she stretched, “Let’s just go kill Eramis’s head nerd already.”

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 “We should be nearly there.” Rae called out as the fireteam traversed the halls of Bray Exoscience.

“Hang on! I’m almost there!”

Rae, Blaze and Marcia turned around to see Tif slowly approaching them on what seemed like a roomba – similar to the ones Rae saw on Titan. “Really?” Marcia smirked, raising an eyebrow. “What? They’re cool!” Tif grinned, “And strong. I’m wearing a good bit of armour and this can still carry my weight no problem.”

“Well, you are pretty small.” Marcia chuckled.

“Am not! I’m 5 ft 6!” Tif pouted, “I’m not that much smaller than you!”

Marcia laughed, “I’m just messin’ with ya, Tif.”

Tif stuck out their tongue before hopping off the roomba and following the others further down the hall.

“Hey, Rae?” Tif asked.

“Yep?”

“I’ve been meaning to ask, since you and Variks mentioned him before, but who’s Cayde-6? He’s an Exo, right?”

Rae nodded, “He’s the Hunter vanguard and my boyfriend. He and his Ghost died in the Prison of Elders, but I was able to save him with an ability Paralians have.”

“Awesome!” Tif beamed, “My girlfriend’s a Hunter too. She’s super cool!”

“Wait. You have a girlfriend?” Blaze asked, seeming surprised. “Yup!” Tif replied happily, “Her name’s Azara. But I call her Azzy and she calls me Tiffy! She looks scary and mean but she’s super nice and cool! She likes being in the wild and sometimes visits me at Misraaks’s skiff when she’s passing through. One time, I was about to get blasted by an ogre and she picked me up and saved be before I got exploded. She’s really strong and she’s so fast! It felt like we teleported when she saved me. I love her so much!”

Rae couldn’t help but smile as Tif talked about their girlfriend. Their eyes were practically twinkling, and the smile never left their face. “You two must love each other very much.” Blaze noted. “Of course!” Tif grinned, “I’d do anything for her, and she’d do anything for me too! Right now she’s in the Tangled Shore investigating some Eliksni that were acting weird. I’ll be joining her once I finish up here.”

“Well, let us know if you ever need backup. We’d love to meet her.” Rae smiled.

“I will! She’d love to meet you too!”

 The fireteam arrived in a large room with a catwalk leading to an odd, spherical object. As they approached the catwalk, Praksis’s laugh cut them off as he came flying in on a Shank that exploded as he landed before them. “Well that was an entrance.” Rae muttered. “Eramis does not permit errors, so I will not fail.” Praksis growled as he got is gun at the ready. “What a coincidence!” Marcia gave a dark grin as she activated her super, a void bow appearing in her hands.

“Neither do I.”

 To Be Continued…

[kaiju-z]

FINALLY back on track, after a month and a half of stuff getting in our way, but here we are with session 20!!!

Seon Adventures Episode 20: Going Solo...

With the passing of the night, comes the light of day.

The trio of Belli, Luctan and Mournimar awake alongside Morgan and the elf baby with notably Amelia, Archie, Burk and Rimefang missing. Luctan does elaborate where Amelia had gone, though it gets missed in the confusion when everyone wonders what happened with Burk.

Thinking quickly on her feet, Belli sends a message to Burk to check where he is. But all he answers with is that  Rimefang’s fine, don’t know where Amelia is.”

As Luctan fixes the baby up for the day, packing him like a little baby burrito (a babitto, if you will), the remaining bunch go upstairs, while Belli gives a call to Amelia. Amelia, who had been having the most wonderful of sleeps she has had since a long while.

“No.”

Belli sends her a message again with a whistle.

“No. Just no.”

Luctan has to repeat himself on where Amelia actually is, much to the amusement of the adopted duo.

As they climb up the stairs, everything seems normal and as expected from the previous night, people coming and going, welcomed and- And the party for some reason get approached by a very confused human, wearing the robes of the temple of Keemis.

Brunette, with an undercut, in his 30′s, scars on his arms and face, the kind man delivers a letter to the bunch, asking if they’re the Cultbusters.

“Are you the Cultbusters?”

“Depends on who’s asking?”- Belli.

“3 of them!”- Mournimar.

After a brief sibling argument about just up and telling people their identities, the man elaborates that the letter is written by Burk. Or. Well, he helped Burk write that letter for the party.

Mournimar is the one to read it to everyone else. All lower case, a lot of the words are misspelled.

“ hi. this is from burk. i am leaving now. ive been thinking and i think i do not need to be here anymore. i found one of the guys i was looking for and it was really easy and no ofense but i was hoping for cold hard killers and u r not. but you were all realy nice to me, nicer than any one has before so i am going to miss all of u very much. rimefang is coming with me because hes too cool for u. also i think hes geting bigger cause he started sheding or some thing i dont know. i left some scales for u, and ur share of the gold. there is a lot of stuff i wana go do and i feel bad draging u guys with me so i gotta go do it my self. but i want u all to know im not just going to kill people for me. i am doing stuff for u. For amelia and luc i am going to come back and we are gona have the best fight ever and learn a lot. For beli i am going to steal the biggest shinyest kazoo i can find. For morni i will stop punching wolfs and also be nicer to weird animals i find in the forest. u were all very nice and good with peeple and not good at vilence, and thats a good thing. but i dont fit in. bye for a while

 burk “

The trio are devastated. Belli is the most vocal, with Mournimar having to calm her down, while Luctan stands stoically, with the baby in his arm.

Burk left.

It’s heart breaking.

It’s heart breaking and the cleric tries to cast Calm Emotions on the lot of them to try and soothe their woes. Mournimar fails his save, Luctan doesn’t even try and Belli tanks that and starts shouting at him for imposing his magic on them, without their consent.

“Don’t you fucking dare try and tell me what to fucking feel.” -  She is emotion personified.

When things calm down, Luctan apologizes and asks for the messenger’s name.

“ My name is Malak. I am a Devotee of Keemis. I’ve been living here in this temple for a few years.” He had heard of the Cultbusters’ reputation and found interest and want to join them on their questing, seeing as they’ve stirred some cults out of their comfort.

Thrown them out of their rhythm, if you will.

He is accepted, Belli referring to him as their “intern” for now and, with introductions made, and Malak gathering his equipment, the bunch of them take to the last tavern they had gone to for breakfast and meeting back up with Amelia.

Amelia waits for them there. Nel had spoken to her about how she managed to get her mother to agree on leaving town for a while with the help of a family friend. And she had made some sort of offer to Amelia.

The group are again together at the tavern and introduce Malak. Amelia and Malak shake hands as a distraught Belli pays the tavern keeper to go and work the kitchen for a while.

Amelia encourages her. “The fact he wrote us a letter means he cared about The Cultbusters.” She gently holds Belli’s arm, ‘cause Belli’s abandonment issues have kicked in hard.

There’s stress baking and then there’s stress cooking. And Belli does this handily. And she makes... so much food! 1st, second, third Breakfasts, if those were actual things, of course.

“It’ll be alright. He had to do what he had to do.”

As Belli comes and goes with increasingly more and more plates of food, we end up talking about the baby and his future. The little elven boy keeps tugging at Luctan’s hair, fussing at him and getting fussed at.

A few suggestions get made. From Malak’s suggestion to raise the child in the orphanage, to the talk with Nel the other day, involving handing him over to a rich family.

The decision is hard to make. Whether he likes it or not, Luctan’s attached himself to the little one, but he knows he can’t keep him with the party as dangers keep increasing on their journey. He had been having waking flashes back to every incident since the child was with them and how scared he was from the screams and roars and hurts and aches.

He couldn’t let the baby travel with them further. He knew what he was going to do, regardless of where the baby went, but still.

Amelia catches up with Malak on his Keemis Clergy work.

 He’s been at this for 5-6 years or so. He heard about the party after the CB helped arrest the local cultists. He’s fascinated by souls and how they transition, based on their alignment. He’s searching for an answer to this question. Basically, he’s looking for research.

Amelia asks where he’s from.

“I’m from Lian. It is not a good place to raise a kid and I left home, got a lot of people from my home town killed. We wanted to leave, thought we’d make our own band of soldiers to fight in the war and I’m the only one left. And so I try to find some meaning in the senseless death and resurrection and ended up meeting some Keemis priests. Fell in with them and came up here.”

The gang try to cheer him up about his backstory woes and some end up sharing their own troubles. Mournimar does so. Luctan gives away the shocker that his family owned slaves and that triggered his sense of aiding those in need, freeing the captive ones and fleeing via teleport scroll.  And lastly Belli tells the tragic story of her family.

Doting on the baby commences, while Mournimar gives Malak some pointers on the shenanigans he is up for with Belli, now that he is part of the group.

Following their hefty meal, Mournimar gets his new armor. Better fitted than his previous one. Since he found it in the barracks??? This one is more custom. Studded Leather, which raises his AC + 1

Going back on forth on where to go next, during this tragic shopping episode, Belli shares Burk’s treasures with the cleric, seeing as he had left them for the rest.

Before anything can be really bought, though, aside of the meals, we go for the payment on the Serial Kilelr job.

As the party draw closer to the dungeons, Mournimar suggests Belli let Luctan talk, which offends Belli, who gets encouragement from Luck and Malak that she’ll do great. Malak ingretiating himself by casting Guidance and Enhance Ability on the Half-Orc Bard, right before she approaches the receptionists, an older Half-Elf man and a yellow tiefling.

“Now is the time to prove them wrong.”

The conversation is quick and Belli shines during this process. We are thanked, the lot of us, for the work we did and are pointed to the office of the Captain in charge.

While walking, we get a few pointers on places to visit around town.

Generally South-West of the city is a good night’s time.” the HElf answers Amelia. Though, uh,  he wouldn’t know personally. Definitely.

We walk down to the office, knock on the door before walking in.

We are welcomed in by the Halfling woman inside. She’s dressed well for her job. Not exactly the outfit one would expect for prison duty, but then again, they didn’t have a good idea on that, themselves. Blue eyes observe us warmly and kindly, through a wavy bob haircut, while she fiddles with the cuff of one of her sleeves. Her office is bare, maybe she’s new, maybe it’s how she likes it.

She kind of looks everyone up and down. “I’m guessing you’re the folks we’ve been expecting, huh?”

The party apologize as they didn’t have a proper schedule in mind and the thought is shared vice-versa as it just... Really was like that sometimes? Often times?! A lot. It happened a lot.

For finding the hide out of the slayer of cityfolk, for convincing his husband to give himself up and testify about his beloved, the ‘busters gain a monetary reward. As she pulls out a big chest on the table, Belli tries to convince her to unionise. To some possible success? She certainly seems curious about the suggestion itself.

Ames kinda looks her up and down and gives a smol little thumbs up

She’s a valuable worker, she’s worth more.

On behalf of the city of Crystalgate, thank you for all of your efforst in intervening with the issue. The culprits have been dealt with.” Much to the four original members’ surprise, the husband has been released, having promissedto turn over a new leaf.

Luctan would later ask the captain, who introduced herself to the five as River Blackbrace (Just River), where he could find the husband and, after ensuring her that he planned no ill will towards the man, she guesses he’d be back in town or at one of the temples.

The woman feels like rewarding us with more, since this isn’t her gold, yeah? Lots of paperwork time prevented. The five are given suggestions on places to go and spend our money. Between " Neladrie's Rarities” and “Snipper’s Hall’, the clothing store of Grinella, they have some good options on their way.

Grinella is the best at her work, as far as River’s concerned.

Before they go, we mention to River that we plan on participating in the Spring Festival’s tournament.

River mentions that it was originally created as a celebration of the heroes Septum Sabata. It’s a series of trials re-creating what they went through to save everyone. Malak has watched it a few times and things happening around the arena a few good times. He’s the local CG expert.

And if they really feel down, there’s also a place... a-a-

Café where they summon fae animals.

And should they need a good book,  there’s a library in the north east. “The Lady Stormweaver National Library.” The conversation about books prompts Luctan to show off the “Handerstaad” he got from Sa Doma.

And River spills the tea that Kheyha is a local. And has spent some time in the dungeons for her alcoholism antics. (Never meet your heroes, kids.)

They are suggested to stay away from the Ebryosis followers. Best leave those kinky fellas to their own “dungeons”.

As they walk walk to the clothes and magical trinkets shops, Mournimar has a heart to heart with Belli, apologizing for his behavior. While Luctan checks the money with Malak. The sibs hug it out, while the money is counted and distributed amongst all of them, even as Malak protests some.

There’s a faint tingle of wind chimes as the five go to one of the most eclectic collections of goods of various kinds we’ve ever seen. Sort of an order to it, anyways. A rainbow pattern across the show. Vaguely arranged in no particular order. Pretty much everything’s in a different size and shape.

A high elven woman, Neladrie, sits in a tall stool behind a desk, very long hair. She glances vaguely at us and has a monocular on.

Good morning. Feel free to look around. Please be aware you’re being watched, so don’t get any funny ideas. And Welcome.”  She points at her watchful little pseudodragon, watching from the rafters.

Belli uses mage hand to pat the dragon.

She knows she’s a good gorl.

The search commences as each member of the party search foritems with some help of the shopkeeper.

Malak gains supplies for his Divination magic, including dragon bones.

Mournimar tries and fails to find anything that could enhance his wisdom.

Amelia gets her hands on some lovely sea shells.

Luctan gets helped with finding a focus for his recently developed magical abilities. A small purple crystal.

All the while Belli takes her pick, between some wild musical instruments.

There is an holy banjo with all the gods’ symbols.

There’s a great axe with a wider handle. A didgerydeath, if you will.

And also, what appears to be a kazoo 2. One sort of kazoo entrance and branches out into different sights. It’s like if a kazoo had different pitches.

There’s also a set of bagpipes.

And last, but not least, an ukulele of sorts. Upon testing it, the ukulute sounds like a spannish guitar, almost.

Ostentatious is her brand and after testing all the instruments, she agrees to buy the ukulute.

With purchases made, the gang take the next step of their journey, going to the “Snipper’s Hall”, where they meet the one and only  Grindelia Snipper. A Goblin Woman, standing atop a 7ft tall step ladder, measuring a tall model with her arm tattoo.

“OH! Welcome!” 

"Snipper’s Hall” is a long building, like a miniature Viking lounge house, with elements of stone to keep it stable. There is a wide variety of different sort of premade outfits, models of different heights going from 4.5 to 8ft tall... And. There’s a jewelry section.

After a greeting, the party make their requests and orders in a friendly sort of manner. Mournimar buys a jacket and a stag brooch, Belli gets herself a new, lovely outfit, a dress of blue and pink, as well as a canine bracelet. Malak’s fine as he is and Amelia is left uncertain with what to purchase.

Upon Luctan’s request... A custom outfit which’ll take a few days to put together, the poor secret Tieflingman gets handled with amazing strength and tenacity by the spunky and overly friendly goblin woman, who measures him nice and well with her arm and finger, taking his numbers with keen eyes, even with his armor still on.

He can’t be sure why, but the very suggestion she’s sent people to get treatment over the roughhousing sends a chill down his spine. The elf baby just has a blast during the entire developement.

Business transaction made, the next stop is “Peppery Pete’s Pile of Potions.”

Belli is still angry with the old gnome, over his potions involving Orcish strength, given the negative stereotype about Orcish intelligence lowering the user’s titular stat.

A stern talking to is to be had, before any dealings get made there.

Along the way to the shop, Luctan asks Malak if he knows anything about the tournament, beyond what the party had heard and he shares his knowledge with the gang:

“The Tournament is divided into three trials The Trial of the Elemental Lords, the Trial of the Beast and the Trial of the Betrayed.

The Trial of the Elemental Lords involves the blending of the elements being worked into a challenge that teams must overcome together.

The Trial of the Beast involves fighting a mighty beast that establishes victors as a cut above the rest.

The Trial of the Betrayed is the grand finale, the remaining 2 groups battle it out. But there are clerics on standby. You cannot aim to kill, just to knock unconscious. Any deliberate murder would be acted upon as such in a court of lawAfter the tournament, a party is held for all groups within the Echosmith Hall and the champions are presented with their rewards.”

Luctan’s mind wanders. Things to be re-worked in his goals.

The lot of them soon reach the shop and, upon summoning Pete inside, welcomes are had. Arguing commences between the Half-Orc and the Gnome as Pete ultimately admits that he stopped producing the particualr offending potion, much to the losses in his product.

Ideas are being thrown around on potions Pete could work on in turn, before any business could be had, involving the party’s wants and needs.

Aside from getting a Greater Health Potion and a new Potion of Wizard’s Folly (after giving his first one to Danton back in Sa Doma), the party have... particular requests.

Belli takes note of the “ Basilisk Tears “ potion. For 200 gold, she most definitely buys that and makes plans. Fast plans on the use.

On Luctan’s end, with the deal being made for Peter sponsoring the adventurers for the tournament to come, Luctan gives in to the support of the full party, now that they are all in the shop, as opposed to only half there. With the price for his sword’s modification being brought down to 1,000 gold and the helping hand of Mournimar, Amelia and Malak, who didn’t even want the share of money given to him, Luctan accets.

And hands his greatsword over to the gnome for the specific enchantments he requested.

Belli has that moment of realization, you know? The one, where you just know that you have to move, while the moving is available and contacts Ficus about the Potion of Basilisk Tears, a concoction that might JUST bring her family back to their old selves!

With the party’s blessings, she runs off towards the Crusty Challice, where Ficus will wait for her.

But she doesn’t go alone as Mournimar tails her, just to make sure she doesn’t get messed with, before getting to her older brother. All the while the rest of the group are welcomed to the back of the shop by Pete for training.

As the work out commences, Mournimar follows. And as he follows, he keeps an eye out for anyone shady that might be watching Belli on her way out of the walls of the city.

He doesn’t see anyone. But gets the feeling that he is watched. He investigates that feeling. He notices that someone in the crowd is watching him. Seems to be, looks like a bald older man, stocky built, little bit tall and for a second the tiefling swears there's the faint glimmer of horns in his shadow, but then they disappear. As does he as Mournimar tries to find him in the crowd. To no avail.

Regardless, he continues on the path to the tavern.

There’s a bit of a smog in the tavern as people’ve lit cigarettes and pipes. Belli and Ficus have a good long talk as she shows him the potion of Basilisk tears. They are shaken, misty eyed and anxious to see if it works. This horror that befell their family... It could end in the next couple of days!

By the time she hugs Ficus, Mournimar has entered the tavern and commenced watching over the shadyness that may be observed from the patrons.

Which is to say, he’s basically looking through a sea of shade.

He does notice, though, one of the bartenders has a sort of, finely shaped jaw and stood up black hair, a bit of stubble and seems to be watching Mournimar a bit more intently than normal.

Mournimar tries to stealth closer to the guy, even though he’s aware. He tries to figure out who the guy is, but he has no idea.

Eye contact is made between the two as the guy slides a glass with Brandy over to Mournimar and just continues with his work behind the bar.

Mourni has a leetl sip to make sure everything’s Gucci. Tastes like some of the brandy from around Bavorum. Nostalgic.

Through some small talk, Mournimar learns that the man’s name is “Joe”. Just a working Joe, you know?

It’s less of a talk and more of an interrogation as they don’t break eye contact.

“The brandy’s on the house, Mournimar.” the man answers with the name that the tiefling hadn’t given him. Like. At all.

No answer given on how he knows that.

He backs out the back door with a wink and Mournimar follows after her.

There’s no way the Half-Orcs don’t see this by now and they dash and jump on after the digitigrade ranger, who finds himself and Morgan out in the back alley, with no sign of the mystery man, named Joe.

He tries everything he can, from following tracks, to Hunter’s Mark, to Morgan’s snoofer, but nothing works. The man is just... gone.

With the Narahs catching up to him, he explains what happened and has to be talked down from pointlessly searching for a man, or whoever, who is just “GONE”.

It is then that Belli must explain to him that she has to leave Crystalgate with Ficus. To try the potion on her family. It’s hard on Mournimar, but the frazzled tiefling understands.

Belli hands him Orion and states that, if anything is to happen, she’ll call the others. They then agree to meet up with the others for a proper goodbye.

The others, by the way, doing pretty well for themselves in this new enviroment.

A deal has been made that every time Amelia does good in the training, Archie gets a treat.

Given that the chunky kitty is on his back, getting pats on his big belly from the baby, she’s killed this training.

The entire development has left the running quartet staggering back to the rest of the party. Mournimar doesn’t spot anything off on the way back. 

As everyone reconvenes, Mournimar gives them an update on the respective situations, giving in detail a description of this “Joe” character. He worries it could be related to Lazarus, his ex. Or Kahlia. Or Potencia herself. He gets calmed by Luctan’s wording on the subject.

“We’re a bunch of famous and attractive people. Let’s face it. we have fans.”

As the party splits up, with Belli making her goodbyes with the rest of the gang, Luctan Blesses her and Ficus, which catches Malak’s attention. Thinking about the type of magic being used, he can tell that, though holy, it is not one of the Five that has given Luctan his abilities.

With Belli and Ficus taking Kevin and Killer, the rest of the party opt to go to the circus on the outskirts of town.

“The Voluptani Mystique “, a big tent circus in the north-west part of town’s outskirts. It’s fabulous on the outside.

They pay and notice at the entrance, a red skinned tiefling woman with a long, ball gown dress, leaning against the booth she stood inside and she waves a hand over and leaves a small mark with Prestidigitation.

Lead inside,  it’s basically how you imagine a circus. An arena with seats around the circle. The four and their animal companions take a seat at the front as the Dancing Lights Cantrip flies around the tent, lighting and highlighting everything and everyone gathered, people of many walks of life. Just here for a little show to end the evening.

A cloud of smoke emits from the middle and the huge entrance of the tent swings shut.

Inside the cloud the lights start hovering, we can see the lights start changing color and go in different directions, erratic and suddenly there are hops from around the room where everyone’s sitting. And back in the middle, when they look, they see a high elf woman with pitch black hair falling long and wavy towards the bottom.

She stands with one hand in the air and one hand spread outwards towards the side. She pauses, looks around the audience and she whistles three high pitched notes. She snaps with her pointing up hand and the lights skatter, going right towards the audience. The cloud disappears and in the time it was there, the original woman is gone and there are two halflings, a man and a woman and they start doing all sorts of contortions. They entwine and roll in a ball. Throughout the whole show there is this almost hypnotic flute music. Pyrotechnic displays and after each one, there is a set of three elven dancer,s almost dangerously close as they maneuver around. Really fucking weird. A whole lot of illusion magic is happening here.

At one point the elven dancers starts flying around and Mallak, being a local, has seen this before.

After 3 hours of this weird bewhildering performance the entire room lights up and it’s completely clear and the original high elf woman, who’s actually an eladrin, is still in that same pose as when things started.

And she says “Thank you all once again, as always, please leave your tips with faith on the way out and thank you. She snaps with fingers and purple energy surrounds her as she leaves.

Bewhildered and amazed, Mournimar kinda wants to give this a go. Run away and joy the circus? Follow your dream, bud!

Having been in Crystalgate for a few years now, Malak had abided in a few viewings of the spectacle and, though it’s often with some modifications, it’s generlaly been the same good experience over time. He’s happy.

Amelia shares with the gang about the possibility of hanging out at Nel’s for a few days. As though there was any question on whether they would say “no” to such an offer.

 As the night covers the sky above Crystalgate, the party find themselves again at the rich sector of town, being watched by a guard.  Nel arrives at the gate, red faced after messaging Amelia. She forgot to give her a badge and was now paying the price with the run she had to make.

Sadly, though a talented bard,  Nel has the muscle content of a slug.

The party soon make it back to Shadowspire Manner, lead by Nel, after introducing Mal to the Half-Elven woman and sharing of Burk’s departure.

They are shown around. the rooms, the kitchen, everything they’d need, before she takes Amelia’s hand and leads her to her room. Nel’s room. She is the body guard and she must guard that body.

Mournimar and Malak opt to crash in Luctan’s room for the evening, deciding not to split the party any further than this.

Luctan watches out of a window for about an hour, while humming to the baby, before going to bed.

As Mournimar and Malak sleep, Mournimar has some kind of dream...

But Luctan doesn’t sleep.

No.

Instead, once he’s sure the others have fallen in rem sleep, he sneaks outside and goes for a short walk around the neighbourhood, doing whatever it is that he does at this time.

After coming back in, 5-10-20-to-30 minutes later, he feels the hairs on the back of his neck stand up and notices a shadow close to Mournimar, with no one casting it.

Then it disappears.

After investigating out the window, Luctan goes to bed and meditates... on something else.....

Day 2 comes to an end.

Previous Episode / Halloween Episode / Next Episode

[theromanticrationalist]

Short Treks: My Thoughts

Now that I’ve finally caught up on Short Treks, I thought I would share my thoughts on the series and the future of Star Trek. 

Short Version: It’s a bizarrely mixed bag.

Now for the long version. (SPOILERS)

Short Treks: Runaway

I love Sylvia Tilly (who doesn’t?), and this new era of Star Trek has certainly given us some interesting and lovely characterizations. This was a pretty solid short story, and I loved that we got to spend more time with Tilly. I also enjoyed how they tied this story into season 2 of Discovery, which added more depth to her character. Yes, Tilly just makes friends with random alien queens. It’s just what she does.

I also appreciated Po’s dilemma in her fears and struggles with her people about the coming changes of them becoming a warp-capable society. Thanks to Po’s ingenuity and talent, she has given her people a way to stabilize Dilithium crystals, but Po has done this out of a love of science and creativity. She fears the exploitation of her discovery and inventions for selfish gain. As a creative myself, I could relate to Po’s anguish as she desires the purity of her creation’s purpose, the soul, to be preserved above all else. #TheStruggleIsReal

In the end, though, both Tilly and Po mature and grow a little, which was satisfying to see. I look forward to seeing Tilly’s continued trajectory to her inevitable captaincy! 

Short Treks: Calypso

Another really solid story, but the only thing was that it didn’t feel like Star Trek to me. It just seemed like a beautiful and haunting science fiction story, maybe something that would be on Amazon’s Electric Dreams (love that series!). It certainly has some interesting implications for Discovery’s future, but overall it felt out of place in the lore. Despite that, this is probably the strongest of the Short Treks in writing, pacing, and emotional impact. Give me a love story with an AI/robot any day of the week.

Short Treks: Brightest Star

This was the one episode of the first batch of Treks that I was most excited about seeing. I think the strongest character and ideas of this new era of Star Trek is the character of Saru and his people, the Kelpiens and their predatory “overlords”, the Ba’ul. The planet dynamics of these species and how they’ve evolved together, and the mystery of how they are inexplicably linked is absolutely fascinating to me. Unfortunately, I feel like the writers really squandered the full potential of the ideas, which disappointed me greatly. 😞However, despite my disappointment, I did enjoy this story, albeit it was much to short. I think it needed to be 20 or 30 mins to really give the full impact of Saru’s struggle as an unusual Kelpien who looks up at the stars and speaks to them. But we don’t really get an explanation of how Saru is able to understand technology at all. We just have to accept that “he’s different”, so he just has the ingenuity to figure things out. I would have loved to have seen him when he was younger giving us examples of how his unorthodox thinking manifested in other ways in order for us to believe that he would be smart and capable enough to tinker and use technology beyond his people’s understanding. It would have also given us a chance to really immerse ourselves in the culture and mindset of the Kelpiens, to understand the psychology that shapes Saru’s very identity. In short, WE NEEDED MOAR KELPIENS AND SARU.

Overall, though, this episode was one of the very few that felt the most like Star Trek, as it exemplifies themes of questioning, seeking, searching, and asking and how that curiosity can lead us to worlds and realms beyond - that we are made for so much more than we could possibly imagine. 

This story also gave me Isaac Asimov vibes, which was cool.

Short Treks: The Escape Artist

This one was really disappointing and, frankly, very dull. Don’t get me wrong, Rainn Wilson does a fabulous Harry Mudd. He really adds nuance and cleverness to a character that originally was pretty one dimensional and campy. However, this was the one episode that NEEDED to be shorter, as it went on for far too long, and the pay off wasn’t worth it. It also left me feeling like, what was even the point? Why did they make this short story about Harry Mudd without telling us anything new about him? Yeah, we know he is conniving con man, we get it. It also doesn’t make sense continuity wise in Star Trek because I thought Doctor Noonien Soong was the leading roboticist/android expert, and Data wasn’t anywhere near to looking as life-like as Mudd’s replicas. Somehow Mudd is able to create perfect hosts-from-Westworld androids that sweat, bleed, bruise, and otherwise act like organic matter, able to express the full nuanced range of human emotion as to be clone-like duplicates of himself. Um. Okay??? I guess this lone con man fugitive has made these ingenious and world-shattering discoveries and inventions in robotics and technology. Yep.

Short Treks: Q&A

The absolute best of the Short Treks, IMLTHO. (Yeah, I may be biased...) You can read my thoughts on this episode here: X. 

Short Treks: The Trouble With Edward

Yeah. So this one is W-E-I-R-D, even by Star Trek’s standards. I also didn’t get it. I didn’t understand why it was made or why it took the tone that it did. It was funny, yeah, uncomfortably amusing, like we were watching The Office: Star Trek Edition, but WHY. Did someone ask for this? What is going on? WHY DID THEY HAVE THAT PARODY CHILDREN’S CEREAL COMMERCIAL AT THE END ABOUT EATING TRIBBLES WHAT IS EVEN HAPPENING RIGHT NOW

It also doesn’t fit continuity-wise in the timeline. If someone at Starfleet was responsible for making tribbles the way that they are, then how come Kirk and the Enterprise weren’t notified as such? McCoy was the one who examined and discovered why they were breeding so much, but he could have just looked up Starfleet’s records apparently and got all the answers he needed. 

I’m not one of those fans who gets upset about continuity errors in world building, but really, there are just some things you should obviously know better not to do. 

Personally, I think the writer’s room was on Stamet’s mushrooms when they wrote this one, tbh. 😉

Short Treks: Ask Not

This was one was just ridiculous. The scenario wasn’t plausible, it was predictable, and the implications were kind of disturbing. For one, we all knew Captain Pike hadn’t turned. Yes, this perfect, plush, teddy bear of a man who is THE NUMBER ONE Space Dad of All Time��ᴹ who has absolute, unwavering integrity and honor is someone we are supposed to buy as having committed mutiny, or at least convince us that Cadet Thira Sidhu buys this obvious load of malarky. 

Uh, I don’t think so.

Also...THIS IS SO MESSED UP WHY WOULD YOU DO THIS TO YOUR CADETS. Why would you put them through this manipulative farce just to test their devotion, commitment, and integrity?! If I were this cadet I would be seriously angry and upset that I was tricked and made to go through the emotional turmoil, trauma, and distress of standing up against your commanding officer in a life endangering scenario! What the heck?? What sick, perverted, twisted mind thought of this cruel -

Oh.

Haha, okay so I think it is kind of hilarious just how merciless Number One is that she would actually come up with this kind of test. This episode was TOTALLY worth the little Spock and Number One Mutual Appreciation Society moment, as Spock, with stars in his eyes, admires Number One’s cutthroat tactics. I mean in AOS, Spock did come up with the Kobayashi Maru so it is all making sense. However, at least in the Kobayashi Maru the cadets knew they were taking a test. Cadet Thira Sidhu did not. The lighthearted and warm fuzzy ending to this episode did not at all jive with what had just happened. It would have been much more interesting to have dealt with the implications of Number One’s test on the cadets, while expanding on her character as well as telling us why Pike would even partake of and allow this to happen, but oh well. 

Short Treks: Ephraim and Dot

The idea? Creative. The characters? Cute. The animation? Really nice with an old school flair. And yet I was once again left feeling like what was the point? I mean I’m sure 3-5 year olds would enjoy watching this little short, like something akin to Looney Tunes IN SPACE, but really there wasn’t much substance here. Frankly, it just seemed like it was a nostalgia trip and Easter egg dump. 

Short Treks: The Girl Who Made The Stars

This is another very creative idea with excellent animation and an interesting look into Michael’s childhood and the ideas that shaped her. I suppose it accomplishes what it sets out to do, and is pretty effective, but personally it didn’t do much for me. It was sweet and inspirational and that’s about it. 

Short Treks: Children of Mars

This was a prologue of sorts before Picard begins, and so it was interesting to have our first look into what we will come to expect from that series. It was, undoubtedly, emotionally effecting, as it actually brought tears to my eyes. However, I did have an issue with it and I was trying to figure out what that was. I then realized - it felt like a commercial. Like one of those long commercials that tells a poignant little story in order to sell an idea or product, whatever it may be. It was too glossy, stylized, and seemed like it could be used as a kind of propoganda-esque promotion of Starfleet and its ideals. I know that is a kind of cynical way of viewing it, but that is how it felt to me in the way it chose to tell its story. I think if the girls had been allowed to be real characters we could have immersed ourselves in their story and what the both of them ended up having to face together in the end. It would have felt much more real and earnest, instead of just tugging at our heartstrings in a syrupy kind of way. 

Also, it kind of gave me The Expanse vibes. Just an observation. 

Conclusion

These Short Treks, and subsequently the CBS era of the Star Trek franchise, are a really weird mix bag for me. On one hand, I do admire their creative risks as they decide to try new ways of telling Star Trek stories, which I know not all those in the fandom appreciate or desire. Yet on the other hand, most of the time the writing is just poorly done and generic, so it all seems to just cancel itself out. 😕

Creating memorable, enjoyable, and original characters: 100%

The level of Feelzᵀᴹ felt from the storytelling and acting: 1000%

Creativity through set, costumes, and stylistic approaches and ideas: 100%

Writing: Subpar, 20%

Science: Not Even Science

In the end it seems like those running this new era of Star Trek have a lot of heart, but not enough analytical thinking or patience to take the time to build the necessary character and plot logic that makes for much more satisfying storytelling. Just saying “Space, the final frontier” a thousand times doesn’t make this Star Trek, and making us feel things through excellently composed music and acting isn’t good writing. (Also, people saying that they love science all the time doesn’t mean they are actually doing science!) So, I don’t expect much from this CBS era, but I’ll be watching it and enjoying it anyway. I’m Star Trek trash. What can I say?  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Source for images: X

[spidergwenstefani]

Stakeout Makeout

Happy Valentines day!!

I’ve been meaning to write more 616 canon fics so I went all in with this one. It’s just a valentines day fic set with current comics canon (except not the new Winter Soldier title bc I’m not caught up with that)

cw: none

rated: g

also credit to @kangofu-cb for spinning that title just right off the dome. Amazing.

“It’s getting pretty cold, huh?” Clint says, rubbing his arms and not bothering to suppress the shiver that runs through him. LA in February isn’t nearly as rough as New York, but once the sun goes down it’s not exactly balmy, plus the lip of the roof he’s perched himself on is all ice cold concrete. An hour or so more of sitting here and Clint’s ass will be as numb as his fingers. Bucky doesn’t look up from where he’s cleaning his rifle. Who the hell brings a spare sniper rifle to a stakeout just to clean while they wait? Bucky Barnes, that’s who.

And the whole stakeout thing. What the fuck is that about? Sure, it’s not like they’re... what? Going steady? or whatever the hell Bucky would call it. Still, a couple team-ups that end with back-alley blowjobs, a few hookups, some movie and pizza nights scattered in between. It had to count for something. The kind of something that would perfectly justify Clint coming to a different goddamn conclusion when Bucky texted him an address and told him to show up on February fourteenth.

“It’s your fault for coming here in a uniform with no sleeves,” Bucky says, like he doesn’t eye up Clint’s biceps every time he wears said uniform. Clint grunts and glares at the leather jacket lying at Bucky’s feet, completely available and probably still holding some of that supersoldier body heat.

“Well, I didn’t know we’d be here all night,” Clint grumps. Bucky snorts, still not looking up from his gun.

“You sound like a twelve year old.”

“You sound like an asshole.”

Bucky looks up at that, probably because it’s a shade too harsh to be their usual banter. His brow creases behind the domino mask, like he’s just realized Clint is actively not having a good time.

“Are you alright?” he asks, and Clint resolutely does not cave at the genuine concern in his voice. “Is everything okay with the team? Kate doing okay?” And fuck. That does get him a little bit.

“Kate’s fine. The team is… a bunch of children, but they’re fine. I guess I’m getting a taste of my own medicine after what the twins and I put Cap through back in the day.” Clint shivers again, and this time Bucky notices.

“Yeah,” he says, wiping his hands off on his pants before scooping up his jacket. “Kid sidekicks are the worst, right? Dunno why anyone bothers with ‘em.” There’s a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth, and Clint doesn’t want his eyes to catch on it the way they do. He doesn’t want to spend his already shitty night pining over some guy who doesn’t care enough to bring him shitty candy, at least.

Bucky sits down on the roof ledge, leaving a good foot of space between them. Clint tries to fixate on that, but then Bucky is reaching over, enveloping him in super soldier warmth for just a moment as he wraps his jacket over Clint’s shoulders. It’s heavy. There’s probably layers of kevlar under the leather and it smells like gunpowder.

“You weren’t busy tonight,” Bucky states. He still has the domino mask on. There’s a billboard for a plastic surgeon hovering over this city block, and it’s throwing neon pink light over Bucky’s face, exaggerating how much the mask really hides.

“What else would I be doing?” Clint says, a little petulantly. Bucky doesn’t answer, instead turning to glance at the window they’ve been keeping an eye on. The mark still hasn’t shown up. Clint can’t even remember who it is they’re supposed to be watching for.

“Thought you’d have a hot date, maybe,” Bucky says, still staring at the window. Clint pulls the jacket tighter around him, wondering if he’s reading this right.

“Well, I do now that you called.” He bumps Bucky’s shoulder with his own, using the momentum as an excuse to scoot a little closer, to press their legs together as they dangle them off the rooftop. The corner of Bucky’s mouth starts tugging into a smile again, and Clint’s pretty sure the pink in his face is from more than just the weird lights.

The sounds of LA at night replace their conversation. Car horns, music spilling out from windows and storefronts. Clint almost thinks he hears Bucky start to talk a few times, but it’s hard to catch over the noise. He’s also trying very hard to stay cool and aloof, and not sneak furtive glances at the way the streetlights are making Bucky’s hair look soft and golden.

“What kind of flowers do you like?” Bucky says suddenly. He blurts it out in a rush, and Clint stares at him for a moment while he tries to parse out what exactly the question was.

“Um,” he says. “I- purple ones, I guess. Violets? Daisies are nice.” He’s never thought about it much before. He’s never been asked before.

“What about roses?” Bucky asks, flicking a piece of gravel off the ledge and watching it clatter down the side of the building. “Because the corner store was only selling roses today, and I just- I didn’t know if you liked them or not.”

Clint just stares at him. He doesn’t even notice he’s let the moment lapse into silence until Bucky turns to look at him.

“Sorry,” Bucky says, his shoulders slumping in a way that’s barely noticeable. “I didn’t mean to-”

“Can I take your mask off?” Clint interrupts. “It’s just that, I didn’t bring a mask and I’m kind of having a bitch of a time reading this situation.”

“Oh,” Bucky says, and now the pink in his cheeks is definitely not from the light. “Yeah, okay.”

Bucky’s jacket slips off Clint’s shoulders as he reaches up. He peels the domino mask off, getting weirdly giddy about the way his fingers brush over Bucky’s cheekbones. Jesus christ. He’s had his hand down the guy’s pants behind an In-N-Out before. This shouldn’t be giving him butterflies.

Bucky’s eyes are dark in the odd lighting, and more intense than Clint was expecting. He sucks in a breath as Bucky blinks at him, reaching up to rub a little at his face where the mask had probably been chafing.

“Roses are good,” Clint says finally, and Bucky’s smile starts creeping back again. “Better on special days, though. Anniversaries and stuff. Chocolate is way better for Valentine’s Day.”

“Yeah?” Bucky says, and his eyes are kind of twinkling in the semi-darkness.

“Yeah,” Clint answers, a little breathless. Bucky leans forward, and for a moment Clint thinks he might be going in for a hug. His next thought is that he’s just about to be shoved right off the roof, but Bucky just gathers up his jacket and pulls it back over Clint’s shoulders. Their faces are inches away. Clint licks his lips and watches Bucky’s eyes drop down to his mouth.

He closes the distance, shuddering at the heat of Bucky’s mouth after shivering for so long in the cool night air. He tries for tongue, tries to press even closer and tangle his hands in Bucky’s hair, but Bucky seems set on keeping the kiss short and chaste. He doesn’t even run his fingers up Clint’s side like he likes to. Instead, he just dips his hands into his jacket pocket, pressing something round into Clint’s hand as he pulls away.

“Are these-” Clint starts to say, his voice getting a little choked up at the sight of holiday-edition pink foil.

“Cadbury creme eggs,” Bucky says, wrinkling his nose in a way that’s so fond Clint loses his breath all over again. “I didn’t know what flowers you liked, but I’ve got your shitty taste in chocolate down.”

“Fuck you,” Clint says gleefully, but he’s already unwrapping one, stuffing it into his mouth whole just to watch Bucky’s face turn from fondness to disgust.

“Well I was going to offer, but now that I see what an animal you are-”

Clint cuts him off with a protesting noise, swallowing his mouthful of chocolate so he can grab Bucky by the front of his uniform and pull him into a properly searing kiss. The jacket slips off his shoulders again, and Bucky buries his laugh in Clint’s neck, nudging him gently backward until he’s lying on the edge of the rooftop. The leather and kevlar underneath him cuts the chill of the concrete, and the billboard lights cast a pink halo around Bucky as he pulls back. He holds Clint in place with a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“Hold on,” he says, his breath a little ragged. “Let me just- I just wanna say it before we-” Bucky’s eyes keep drifting down to Clint’s lips, so he bites them, grinning as Bucky falters in his speech. He slides his leg up to hook around Bucky’s waist, which has the unfortunate effect of getting him talking again. “Will you go steady with me?” he says, and he’s already sliding their hips together, but there’s a sort of worried hopefulness in his eyes like he thought Clint could ever say no.

“I fucking knew you’d call it that,” he says, laughing as Bucky bites halfheartedly at his shoulder. He doesn’t move from there, though, and Clint realizes he didn’t give an answer. “Yes,” he huffs. “Yeah, obviously. Jesus, Buck.”

Bucky runs his fingers up Clint’s side then, rucking up his uniform shirt and making him shiver from the cold. Clint turns his head, baring his neck for Bucky to press messy kisses to, and he lets out a frustrated whine as his eyes land on a window across the street.

“Hey, Buck?” Clint says, swallowing a moan as Bucky nips at his ear. “Our, uh. Our guy is here.”

Bucky groans, pressing his forehead to the concrete by Clint’s head.

“If I just… shoot him in the head. Real quick. Will you let me fuck you after?”

“Probably not, no,” Clint admits, running his fingers down Bucky’s spine as he thinks. He arches into the touch, shifting enough to press a kiss to Clint’s cheek.

“Fuck it,” he says, and Clint can feel his smile against his cheek. Bucky shaved today. “We can’t interrogate him tonight. It’s Valentine’s Day.”

“Good call,” Clint says, and Bucky presses their lips together again, tugging Clint’s arm away from his back so he can tangle their fingers together.

[strawberryjmilk]

bubblegum | bang chan

words: 2640

college!au, non idol!au chemistry major!reader

He was late again. Hyunjin was really going to hear it when he finally showed up. You sighed and crossed your arms, glancing at the clock again. Almost an hour, you pouted. You should be worried, but Hyunjin had been late for your study sessions for weeks now, and your agitation was only growing.

You were leaving your chemistry class when you finally spotted the black-haired boy. Narrowing your eyes, you sped up your walking until you were directly behind him. This is where you were probably going to look dumb - and maybe injure yourself - but you slammed your shoulder into his back anyway. Hyunjin squeaked as he went tumbling down, looking up at you in exasperation. You just narrowed your eyes again and looked as he began to stand slowly.

“Y/N,” Hyunjin gaped at you. Your eyes stayed in a glare when the boy finally stood in front of you. His arms were spread as he looked at you in shock - he quickly changed to a cool facade, though, when your classmates passed by.

And that’s where your curiosity spiked. Hyunjin acted like nothing had changed but you knew he did. Being best friends for ages, you knew the boy inside and out. He needed to study for a chemistry test coming up - the boy was hopeless when it came to chemical formulas and reactions, so you couldn’t comprehend why he’d risk a failing grade.

“Tell me where you’ve been going,” you finally spoke up. Hyunjin sighed as he looked away from you - he’d never admit it, but you could be intimidating when you wanted to be. “Or, better yet, show me what’s so important that you’ve been late for your study sessions. Your test takes up 30% of your final grade, Hyunjin. A failing grade could fail you completely!”

Hyunjin sighed as he looked at you. Your eyebrows raised and arms crossed - you wouldn’t give up on this argument. Biting his bottom lip and looking up to the ceiling in annoyance, he felt his hesitance melt away as he looked back to you.

“If I say yes - if I let you come with me - not a word, okay? I mean it, Y/N, this isn’t the type of place where you’d want to get in trouble,” Hyungjin spoke. And, even though you could tell annoyance was his prime emotion at the moment, you could also see concern flash in his eyes.

“You’ve got it, dumb boy! I’ll be as quiet as a mouse, promise! But, at least an hour with a periodic table when we get back,” You compromised with a grin with the boy. He only rolled his eyes but he couldn’t help his fond smile - you were his best friend, after all. Patting your head, Hyunjin told you to meet him in the lobby at six pm - not a minute earlier and not a second later.

And that’s how you found yourself grimacing at your reflection. What were you supposed to wear? Truthfully, you didn’t know exactly where you were going. You just knew Hyunjin had been sneaking off during your study sessions. [You didn’t really mind, while chemistry somehow calmed you down, it still sizzled your brain cells slowly.] But, your curiosity was swelling inside of you until you blurted out your questions.

Hyunjin was used to this, of course. You had a bad habit of questioning anything and anyone until you had the answers you wanted. A bad habit, it seemed, but it came in handy when you were paired up in subjects that fascinated you. But, the boy was still hesitant to bring you with him. It would be weird to see you - a person whose aura emits a soft, welcoming feeling - to a place that was so dark.

An underground club - that’s where you were. Your eyes widened and you found yourself thankful you chose to wore your ripped jeans and leather jacket, hoping to blend in at least a little. Hyunjin grabbed your hand before lightly pulling you with him past the guard who merely nodded at the sight of him - obviously your best friend was a bit of a regular here.

“Hyunjin, you’re unbelievable,” you grumbled to the boy. He paused his walking to look at you with a pout. “Do you come here to secretly rap? Honestly, you’re so predictable, I should’ve guessed. What a dumb boy.”

“Stop making fun of me!” Hyunjin whined. And, there was the boy you befriended. He tried to keep up this bad boy image - but the boy was honestly just a big puppy. You rolled your eyes before pushing him lightly, telling him to continue his search. With a small ‘hmph’, Hyunjin walked until he found an empty table. “You stay here and I’ll get us some drinks - but no alcohol, you hear me?”

“Do you want me to bark like a dog, too?” You grumbled. Hyunjin just pointed at you with raised eyebrows before turning to leave. Before you could lose sight of him, he turned pointing from his eyes to you - his ‘I’m watching you’ gesture. You simply put your hands on your head like ears, mouthing ‘woof’.

A few glances were passed between the two of you but it wasn’t anything you weren’t used to. Your relationship with Hyunjin was weird, to say the least. You argued and teased each other endlessly, but at the end of the day, you knew if you needed a shoulder to cry on, Hyunjin would be your first choice. Siblings, is how people viewed you. But, you somehow felt closer than that - platonic soulmates, in a way.

You turned your attention to the boy on stage. You shouldn’t say boy, really, he was clearly older than you. You bopped your head to the beat of his song as he rapped breathlessly. It was nice - you could see why Hyunjin liked to escape and come here. Hearing these people freely speak how they wanted - it was relaxing, in a way.

“Cute,” You heard someone mutter. Your head snapped to the left where you saw a guy grinning as he leaned against the wall behind him. His grin was hidden slightly by his hand - thumb nail clenched between his teeth. His eyes were trained on you as your eyes drifted across his figure. Dimples, curly hair, eyebrow slit - oh, jeez, the boy was cute and you were melting.

“Stop staring at strangers, Y/N, it’s weird,” a voice snapped you out of your daze. Your cheeks heated up as you realized Hyunjin was right - you were staring at the dimpled boy. Turning to glare at your best friend, you punched him lightly on the arm. “Stop hitting me! Honestly, why do I put up with you.”

“You’re a brat,” you muttered to yourself. You left your gaze trained on your cup, afraid to look up - just in case the boy was still there. You allowed yourself to peak up - slouching slightly when you realized the dimpled boy actually wasn’t there anymore.

Sighing, you allowed your eyes to drift around the small area you were in. There was a small stage, front and center. A turntable was behind it and what seemed like an endless amount of cordless microphones cluttered around the stage. Tables and chairs were scattered around and you found yourself a little thankful that you were perched against a wall. The place was dark - but lights seemed to flash as the dim place jumped to life with music.

Your attention was turned to the stage where three boys walked up confidently. Your breath caught in your throat - the dimpled boy was joined by two others as they were all handed microphones. Your attention stayed on the light haired boy as his eyes drifted across the audience until they seemed to pause at you.

He winked. He actually winked at you. And, you felt your cheeks trickle with warmth as a squeak escaped your mouth. Hyunjin looked at you curiously - he didn’t think you could look so shy.

“What, you think they’re cute, or something?” Hyunjin asked. His eyes were also placed on the three boys who were now rapping to their music. Hyunjin’s eyebrows perked up - he was impressed by how good they sounded.

“I can’t stand you,” you replied. You felt your head begin to bob to the beat - you had to admit the three boys were really good. You were beginning to enjoy listening to them when Hyunjin captured your attention again. He didn’t need to say anything - the question colored his eyes as he looked at you curiously. “C’mon, Hyunjin. I know atoms and chemical equations. I’m clueless when it comes to cute boys.”

“So you do think one of them is cute!” Hyunjin’s eyes widened. Had you ever actually had crush before? “Which one?”

You meekly pointed to the curly haired boy. He took a deep breath - it was his turn to rap now. The room seemed to pause as the boy began to rap. There was a slight aggression in his voice but it still sounded like melting honey to you. He also had an accent - he definitely didn’t grow up in Korea.

“He called himself CB,” you muttered. As his rap ended, he began to sing. His eyes met yours again as he grinned before sending you another wink. Your cheeks stayed pink, even after you and Hyunjin left the place.

“You’re going to the club again, aren’t you?” You sighed into your phone. Hyunjin was late to another study session - you didn’t know why you continued waiting for him. You could hear him scramble to come up with an excuse. But, you were already waiting for him in the lobby when you rolled your eyes. “I’m coming with you, dumb boy. I’m in the lobby, so don’t make me wait anymore.”

“You’re the worst,” Hyunjin pouted as he shuffled a hand through his hair. You simply shrugged and chewed lightly on your straw - you’d made him buy you a milkshake before you left. “Seriously, Y/N, I’ll drop our friendship!”

“Do it then, dumb boy,” you responded. You smiled lightly to the guard, getting a nod in return. You sighed as you glanced around the club - it was somehow relaxing to be there. “I have nothing to gain from you.”

“You’re lying,” Hyunjin looked at you with wide eyes.

“I would never!” You argued. To be even more dramatic - because it wasn’t like half of the club was watching your interaction with amusement - you placed a hand over your heart before looking at Hyunjin. “You’re dead weight, dumb boy.”

“Are you breaking up with me?” Hyunjin questioned as he bought himself a drink. You took a sip of your milkshake with a shrug. “Way to break my heart, Y/N.”

“It’s so tiny, there’s not much to break,” you replied. Hyunjin paused from sipping his drink to look at you.

“That actually hurt a little, you brat,” Hyunjin pouted. He continued to drink his drink as he lead you to a table. Sadly, it wasn’t the mildly secluded one from last time; it was right in the center where you’d be up close to the stage.

“I’d never spare your feelings, dumb boy,” you shrugged. Hyunjin merely rolled his eyes before beginning to speak to someone beside him. It was easy for him to make friends, of course. But it was easy for you to determine the protons and neutrons in a nucleus, so you guessed that was okay.

A soft melody began to play through the speakers, lifting your attention immediately. It was them - the three boys from before. You could now see that the name ‘3racha’ was showing on a screen behind them.

You liked how they paired their vocals and rapping. The one in the middle - he had squishy cheeks and a cute smile - had a soft voice when he sang. You felt yourself swaying lightly as he finished his verse.

A figure squatted on the stage, almost right in front of you. Looking up to see the dimpled boy, you almost choked on your milkshake. He grinned as he sang his verse - you’d never get rid of how his voice sounded when he said ‘baby’ - never losing eye contact with you. Before he stopped singing, he took his hat off, leaning until it was placed on your head. He leaned back with a wink as he and his group continued to perform.

“I think he likes you back, Y/N,” Hyunjin whispered in your ear. Your face felt like it was melting off from how hot your cheeks were. You couldn’t believe that dimpled boy - he’d just given you his hat and that meant you had to actually converse with him to give it back!

“What gave you that idea, dumb boy?”

You didn’t know how Hyunjin had convinced you to do this. You were waiting for the rapper - CB - to leave the club. You hadn’t been waiting long, but every second seemed to stretch into an hour. The club was almost empty, and you had yet to see the curly haired boy.

“Hey,” a voice spoke up. You looked to your left to see one of the 3racha boys. He was the one who sang - the one with cute cheeks. “You waiting for something?”

“I was wondering if your friend wanted his hat back,” you quietly spoke up. Your fingers clenched around the hat you held - you didn’t want to give it back unless you saw him. You blushed at your thoughts and shooed them away.

“Ah, right I remember you!” The boy grinned. He offered to wait with you, after introducing himself as Jisung - the audience knew him as J.One, though. He liked to talk, you noticed, but you didn’t mind. His endless chatter helped your heart to stop stuttering.

“What’s up, Jisung?” And your heart skipped at least three beats. You looked to where the boy popped his head out. His eyes widened as they danced across your figure. “Jisung, it’s cold out here! Why didn’t you offer your jacket or something?”

“That’s your job, Chan! See you!” Jisung cheered. He waved before disappearing back into the club. Now that you were left alone with the boy - Chan, you learned - you could feel your sweaty palms and racing heart.

“So, hey,” Chan grinned at you. Your cheeks heated up again as you smiled back at him. His eyes were starry and soft as they looked at you - it caused your lungs to close in. “You really are cute, aren’t you?”

“I prefer Y/N, but I guess that works, too,” you respond automatically. You were too used to your banter with Hyunjin that you didn’t even think. Everything seemed to pause before a snort was heard.

“Well, Y/N,” Chan spoke up. You allowed your eyes to meet before yours drifted back to the ground. “As a thank you for bringing my hat back, how about I take you to breakfast tomorrow?”

“I think if it goes well, then I might have to treat you to ice cream after,” you replied. You bit your lip, hoping you weren’t too forward. But, Chan was a mystery for you - a completely new mass of atoms that you didn’t want to leave undiscovered.

“I’ll be expecting a sundae, then,” Chan laughed. You finally kept your eyes on his as he grinned again. Leaning so he could kiss your cheek, you could still feel Chan’s smile as his lips pressed against your right cheek. “Keep my hat until then, alright? I’ll see you tomorrow, Y/N!”

You thought your heart had stopped. Ignoring your ignited cheeks, you placed Chan’s hat on your head snugly. You walked back to your dormitory, ignoring Hyunjin’s questions.

You could only think about Bang Chan and his nice smile and what you were wearing for your date. 

i have no excuse for this but i blame bang chan completely also... a college!stray kids series?? ill try to have a disney/greek au up later!! thank you for reading ♡♡ 

more college!aus: CHAN | WOOJIN | MINHO | CHANGBIN | JISUNG | HYUNJIN | FELIX | SEUNGMIN | JEONGIN

some daily texts

[itsaudreyhornebitch]

Total Knock Out

*cheers excitedly* I'm so happy you're taking prompts! I had this idea for an AU where: Frank’s a famous boxer and Karen the sports reporter gets to interview him on live tv after his win and no one knows that they’re dating until he kisses her right before walking off for a shower (or smth) :') ♥♥

@frank-kastle

Karen looked wildly out of place—she was well aware of this fact. In truth, she’d gotten quite used to it; to sticking out like a sore thumb in a sea of inebriated, sweaty men, all yelling and jumping and carrying on like teenagers. With her pencil skirt and patent leather heels, she seemed like she belonged in a board room, not shoving past sloppy, drunk frat boys on her way to the locker room at Barclays.

In her early years working as a sports reporter for CBS NY, she had tried to blend in with the crowds: baseball cap, jersey, sneakers, jeans. She’d done the beer-in-the-hand, locker room talk, eating hot wings, ‘just one of the guys’ bit (as most female sports reporters do when they are just beginning), mostly in the hopes of gaining a little bit of respect. Of being treated like an equal, by fellow reporters and athletes alike. But she’d quickly learned that it didn’t matter how she dressed—or how competent she had proven herself to be, time and again—because as long as she had a pair of tits, respect was really out of reach. Despite her near-encyclopedic knowledge of sports history and statistics (baseball, basketball, football, boxing—you name it), she was still a woman. A tall, attractive, blonde woman; and that, apparently, outweighed every other fact about her. She was, she’d realized about a year into the job, no more than the “hot chick from CBS with the killer legs” (a direct quote from one of the players for the Mets who hadn’t realized his mic had been on).

So eventually she’d said “fuck it”—fuck all of it. Trying to dress the way she thought she should; trying to play the part of the “cool girl”; trying to appeal to the lowest common denominator, who wouldn’t even show her basic human decency. She was a professional—one who was fucking great at her job—so she was going to dress like one. Silk blouses, red lipstick, and an elegant updo. And fuck anyone who tried to demean or devalue her talents.

“Woah, woah, woah. Watch the equipment there, sport.” Foggy Nelson, who had been Karen’s camera man for the past five years, bumped into her side as he tried to avoid a man stumbling around with Frank Castle’s face on his t-shirt. “Fucking hate this part, walking through the crowds. It’s like nobody respects an expensive Hasselblad around here.” He cradled his camera close to his chest, protectively.

“Who could’ve possibly guessed that boxing fans weren’t all secretly AV equipment enthusiasts?” Karen threw over her shoulder sardonically, side-stepping a puddle of what looked suspiciously like vomit. She swatted at a hand that tried to grope her ass in passing, biting down bitter words.

“All I’m saying is that boxing matches are the worst. The crowds are always rowdier. And way drunker.” Foggy shook his head, trailing Karen in the path she was cutting through the mass of bodies. “Why couldn’t you cover something nice and mild? Like golf? Or badminton? I love badminton!”

“Because there’s no glory in being mild, Foggy.” Karen navigated them to a quiet hallway off to the side of the main lobby, slipping behind a door marked “Employees Only.” Foggy hesitated for a moment before following her—Karen always knew the back ways and secret passages in every arena and stadium they visited, though he had never asked how. Part of him liked to imagine that she spent her evenings poring over blueprints like a bank robber planning a heist. “You know the saying, Fog,” she ducked under a velvet rope clearly meant to keep people out, “no guts; no glory.”

“Yeah, but why does the guts part have to be so fucking literal?” Foggy grumbled. He hated boxing—hated it. The blood and the bruises and the teeth flying. It was all a little much for him. He preferred the quiet sports, like tennis and baseball, where the chances of someone spitting blood on the camera lens were far less likely.

Karen, on the other hand, lived for it. Had grown up watching boxing matches with her father and her brother; even took classes at the gym. So every time there was a big WBA event in need of coverage, Karen was the first to volunteer, dragging Foggy along for the ride.

And tonight’s match…well it was one for the record books.

Frank “The Punisher” Castle in a comeback match against Matt “The Devil of Hell’s Kitchen” Murdock. As soon as the event had been announced, pay-per-view numbers had shot through the roof. Tickets to the live show were selling for the thousands; people who didn’t care about boxing were amped for the match. Even Foggy had been less reluctant about taking on the assignment than he had been with boxing matches in the past. It was that big of a deal.

Five years ago, Frank Castle had been the name on everyone’s tongues—a pure powerhouse of a boxer who could take a hit like nobody’s business. Classic slugger—unpredictable in the ring—lacking finesse, sure, but overwhelming in his ability to apply constant pressure to his opponent; unrelenting in the offense and impenetrable defensively. He’d seemingly come out of nowhere (though some sources claimed he’d worked his way through the underground circuit, which could never be conclusively proven), and brawled his way to the WBA’s number one spot, pound-for-pound. It was a meteoric rise, which Karen had followed obsessively.

Until three years ago, when he’d been injured in a shoot-out in Vinegar Hill. The story that had circulated for months after his injury was as follows: Frank, walking home from the gym one night, sees a young boy being mugged by a group of gang bangers. Having a touch of big-fucking-hero complex, he decides to intervene. Manages to take out three of the assailants before another crew of gang bangers shows up—the boy being mugged apparently one of their own. Guns are drawn—shots are fired—Castle ends up in the hospital with a bullet in the brain and three in the torso.

Three years in recovery—three long fucking years of physical therapy and re-training his body and itching to get back in the ring—all because he had decided to play vigilante. There were rumors that he would never fight again; that his body was beyond repair. But Frank ignored them all and set his sights on the impossible. Someone told him to stay down, and you could guarantee he wouldn’t listen. So he worked hard—and smart, with the help of his trainer, Curtis Hoyle—for three years, knowing that the world hadn’t seen the last of The Punisher. Not by a long shot.

In the meantime, with Castle out of commission, there had been a power vacuum in the world of NYC boxing. A number one spot in the WBA sitting empty, waiting for a new challenger to claim. Enter Matthew Murdock: an out-boxer with enough dexterity and agility to more than make up for his lack of pure voltage. His ascent to power had been much slower than Castle’s—he didn’t have the raw brawn that had made The Punisher so devastating in the ring. But he did have technique. A style of fast-paced, defensive fighting that was damn near impossible to copy. And soon enough, he had claimed the number one spot in the WBA, a new kind of champion.

Until tonight, when a returning Castle had gone 10 vicious rounds with Murdock, defeating him at the 40 minute mark with a brutal TKO, the likes of which the boxing world had never seen before. Murdock had been carried out on a stretcher.

It was the fight of the decade, and Karen was eager to get her interview with Castle, for more reasons than one.

 They took several sharp turns, down one deserted hallway after the other, before suddenly emerging at the entrance to the locker room marked “Frank Castle,” which was being guarded by a brawny man in a tight, black t-shirt that read “Arena Security.”

Karen flashed her press badge as she approached the door.

“Sorry ma’am,” the guard shook his head. “No press for another half hour, at least. Castle’s recovering.”

“Oh, uh—” Karen flipped over her badge so that her name, in large, bold letters, was visible. “I’m Karen Page.”

“Oh!” The guard made a surprised little noise, and stepped to the side. “Sorry, Miss Page. I didn’t know it was you.”

“Quite alright,” Karen shook her head, reaching for the door knob. “Thank you.”

Foggy hoisted his camera on his shoulder and shook his head. It was another one of Karen’s little secrets—how she was mysteriously able to weasel her way to early access with some of the athletes. Frank Castle, especially. Every time they’d worked together to cover one of his matches—in the early days, before his injury—Karen found a way to get them into the locker room while other reporters waited behind in the press line. But he wasn’t going to question it—his job was just to point and shoot.

 Frank looked up from his place on the bench as the door to the locker room opened; he squinted hard in an attempt to see through his left eye—the one not completely swollen shut. It had been about ten minutes since he’d stepped out of the rink, bloodied and victorious, which meant that it was still too early for press. For endless interviews and answering asinine questions, all while dreaming of a hot shower and a cold ice pack.

“Good showing out there, Castle.”

Frank grinned (in spite of his badly split lip) as soon as he heard her voice—Miss Karen Page, his favorite reporter from CBS NY. He managed to focus his good eye enough to get a look at her, pristine and lovely in her high heels and pressed blouse. Golden hair falling out of a sophisticated twist. Damn, but she looked like a dream.

“Well hello there, Miss Page.” He smirked, leaning back against the lockers, his head making a soft thudding sound as it hit metal. “First one on the scene, as always.”

“You know me,” Karen shrugged with a grin. “Gotta get first blood.”

“Well,” Frank spread his arms wide (and Karen couldn’t help the way her eyes darted to all those sweaty, glorious muscles on display), “plenty of blood to go around.”

“I can see that. You gonna get a medic in here for that eye? Looks like you broke the socket.” Karen took a step forward, raising her hand as though to reach out and touch his face. Thinking better of it, she let her arm fall to her side.

“You know me,” Frank mimicked Karen’s statement. “I’ll just rub some dirt on it.”

Foggy cleared his throat from the doorway, eyes flitting between the two with amusement. Frank Castle was notoriously difficult to interview; laconic, dismissive, and grumpy—getting him to answer a question with more than one sentence was like pulling fucking teeth. With everyone else but Karen, that is. As soon as she strolled onto the scene, all of the sudden Frank was a fucking professional, giving multiple-sentence answers and smiling at the camera like he was goddamn Regis Philbin. Foggy had seen enough painful, awkward footage of Frank shutting down interviewers to know that the way he acted with Karen was far outside the norm. And part of it was clearly due to Karen’s skill—that woman could get a Cistercian monk to talk—but part of it was due to the obvious affection Castle had for her. An affection that—again—it wasn’t really Foggy’s place to question.

“Oh, you remember Foggy?” Karen pointed at the disgruntled camera man, wearing his uniform of baggy, khaki cargo shorts and graphic t-shirt (this one had an image of Princess Leia doing the Rosie the Riveter pose, with the words “We Can Do It” over her head).

“Hey.” Frank grunted, bobbing his head in recognition.

“We’ve only got a minute before we go live, Kare. How do you want me to set this thing up?” Foggy removed the cover from his camera lens, squinting through the eye piece.

“Uh…” Karen glanced around, hands on her hips. “We can get it in front of Frank’s name on the locker. That okay? It’ll be a short interview—just a few questions—so you won’t have to stand for too long.” She looked at Frank, head tilted to the side.

“You can put me anywhere you want me, ma’am.” Frank suppressed a grin at the blush that began to creep its way up Karen’s neck.

“Uhm yes.” Karen cleared her throat, gesturing for Frank to stand. “How about right here?” She moved into position, smoothing a hand down her skirt.

Frank rose with a deep groan, feeling his body protest at the movement. Karen’s eyes immediately shaded with concern.

“You sure you’re okay? We can postpone for a bit if you need an ice pack or something.” This time she did reach out to touch him, putting a steadying hand on his arm as he sidled up next to her.

“Nah, I’m good.” He let his gaze dart down to her pale, delicate fingers on his skin, and felt the heat of it blaze a trail down his spine.

“Okay. But you pass out during this interview and I’ll never forgive you. It’s live, so we can’t edit it out.” Her voice was stern.

“Would make for great T.V. though.”

“True.” Karen pretended to consider for a moment. “Never mind. If you do pass out, give us a little warning so Foggy can get it all on tape.”

Frank snorted, then groaned again when his split lip began to throb.

“Sorry, sorry.” Karen hid a chuckle. “Won’t make you laugh again. I promise.”

“Okay, okay.” Foggy cut into the conversation, having finished setting up his equipment. He reached into his bag and tossed a microphone Karen’s way. She just barely managed to catch it. “Karen, turn that ear piece on.” She reached up to flick on the audio feed in her ear. “We’re rolling in 5, 4 , 3…” he trailed off, mouthing the last few numbers. Karen raised the microphone to her lips.

“Good evening, New York. I’m Karen Page for CBS NY, here in the locker room at Barclay Center with Frank Castle, also known as The Punisher, just minutes after his unbelievable victory over Matthew Murdock.” She shot a grin his way. “So tell me, Frank, how does it feel to be back in the ring after such a long recovery period?”

“Well, Karen.” Frank put a little something on her name—something that felt like affection. “Feels real good. Like coming home.” He shifted on his feet deliberately until his arm was brushing against hers. She raised a subtle eyebrow at the move.

“You certainly looked at home in the ring.” Karen turned her body toward him just a touch more, and Frank bit back a smirk. “Were you at all nervous about going up against Murdock’s singular brand of defense? Facing such an unfamiliar out-boxer with your style of slugging must have been a challenge.”

“Nah—wasn’t nervous.” Frank shook his head, crossing his arms over his chest. It was a move that made his muscles bulge, and he counted it a victory that Karen’s eyes darted quickly—almost imperceptibly—to his pecs. “Curtis had been training me like the devil leading up to the fight, so I was really prepared for anything Murdock could throw at me.”

“Speaking of Curtis Hoyle,” Karen tucked an escaped strand of hair behind her ear, and Frank’s eyes tracked the move. He was a sucker for all that blonde hair. “I heard that he was instrumental in helping to speed along your recovery, after the unfortunate incident three years ago.”

“Yeah, definitely.” Frank bobbed his head in a nod. “Curtis kept me thinking about the future—focused on recovery. Worked with my physical therapist to create a training schedule. Brought me tapes of matches to study. A lot of Murdock’s matches, actually.”

“I’m sure it was difficult being bedridden while Murdock climbed the rankings. Do you think the idea of facing off against him kept you fighting to heal?”

“For sure.” Frank dropped his arms again, letting the right one lightly skim down Karen’s side as he did so. Her delicate shiver was glorious. “Thought a lot about getting to reclaim my title while I was training. Also thought a lot about all the people I missed seeing while I was out of commission—the fans, my favorite reporters,” the quirk of his lips was entirely too charming, “my fellow boxers. Focused on them and it made recovery a lot easier.”

“Well, we certainly are glad to have you back in the ring.” Karen’s eyes flicked to Foggy, who was giving her the 30 second signal. Time to wrap up the interview. “We’re going to let you hit the showers, now. Thanks for taking the time to talk with us at CBS NY.”

Frank couldn’t help it—he really couldn’t help it. Karen looked so damn gorgeous in her work clothes, with that serious expression on her face and her lips painted red for the camera. And he’d had enough of light teasing; of brushing against her like that was all he was allowed to do. He knew he wasn’t supposed to do it—that they were keeping their relationship under wraps for just a little bit longer—but he was helpless. When she turned those big, blue eyes on him—damn it—he really was a fool.

“Sure thing.” Frank smirked. “I’ll see you at home, sweetheart.” He ducked his head quickly, before Karen could react, and captured her lips with his own. She made a surprised squeak, hands flying up to press against his bare chest, before melting into the kiss ever so slightly.

“What the fuck?” Foggy’s whisper echoed in the quiet locker room.

Frank released Karen’s lips with a smack, winking at her devilishly before turning to head for the showers.

“I—uh—” Karen stuttered, turning to the camera with wide, dazed eyes. “I’m Karen Page and this is CBS NY sports.”

Foggy gave her the signal that they were off air, and they stared at each other for a long time. Speechless. Foggy looking bemused and Karen looking shell-shocked. The sound of the shower turning on in the background shook her from her brief catatonia.

“Uh…I can explain. We—he—uh,” She fumbled for words, but was cut off by Foggy.

“Oh my GOD, Karen Page! You are seeing The Punisher!” He laughed, slapping his thigh in joy. “Good on you!”

“Yeah, I…” Karen grinned. “Good on me.”

[redditnosleep]

Has Anyone Heard of The Left/Right Game?

 oby NeonTempo

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 (Final)

Hi Guys,

Sorry it’s taken a while to get this posted up. I’ve been busy chasing leads with US missing persons.

I won’t waste more of your time. Log is below. If you have any information then please send it my way.

Thanks for your help guys, it means a lot.

The Left/Right Game [DRAFT 1] 12/02/2017

Silence used to be an absolute.

That’s something I definitely miss.

Back in the real world, it would stand as self-evident that a group of people saying absolutely nothing, by definition, could not be saying any less. Maybe things are different on the road, maybe I’d just never encountered it before, but it’s clear to me now there are degrees beyond silence. A pervasive realm of deafening quiet which, following the loss of Eve and Apollo, our group has unreservedly embraced. Constructed out of our collective trauma, cemented with a cruel mixture of grief, guilt, and harrowing self-doubt, it quickly becomes apparent that this silence is stronger than all of us. The challenge of breaking it remains unmet for the rest of the journey.

We spend the next few hours burrowing through a featureless corridor of maize. The stalks rise far above the Wrangler, leaving only a thin strip of clear sky visible like the painted ceiling of a renaissance church. I find myself glancing intermittently at the CB radio, half expecting, half hoping, for Apollo’s voice to crackle through the speaker, bringing words of comfort, or a much needed attempt at levity.

After I catch myself staring at the radio for the fifth time, I decide it might be best to get on with my work. I plug my headphones into my notebook, bring up the audio files I’ve recorded thus far, and set about creating a very rough cut of our first day on the road.

APOLLO (VO) Everybody knows Rob, Rob's the god! Ahaha

I listen through Apollo’s first interview, making notes for the closing paragraph I’ll now be forced to write about him. When I have everything I need, I listen to the interview again, and then once more. It’s not lost on me that I just want to hear his voice, to lose myself in a pleasant digital echo, far removed from the frantic screams that followed him into the asphalt.

I listen to Eve’s interview next. She bristles with excitement as she talks about her upcoming visit to Roswell, steadfastly attempting to recruit me to the effort. She had no idea what she was heading into when she stepped out onto Rob’s front lawn. Then again none of us did.

The thin strip of sky is turning deep orange as I reach our encounter with the hitchhiker. It’s chilling to hear his voice after the fact, to revisit the conniving, veiled pleasantries he employed against us. I cringe as I hear Rob’s hand grasp my arm, ashamed that I let myself fall for the hitcher’s trickery.

ROB (VO): You did good, I’m sorry for grabbin’ you. I just didn’t want you to do something you’d regret.

AS (VO): No it’s fine. I was going to. Do you know what happens if you talk to him?

ROB (VO): Not sure. Came close myself once, a few years back. The way he looks at you when he thinks he’s got you? I don’t think I wanna know.

AS (VO): Rob, I-

I pause the audio file, clicking back ten seconds before pressing play again.

AS (VO): No it’s fine. I was going to. Do you know what happens if you talk to him?

ROB (VO): Not sure. Came close myself once, a few years back. The way he looks at you when he thinks he’s-

I certainly didn’t notice that at the time. I’d been so shaken by my run in with the hitcher, and so curious about the abandoned car that I’d been completely blind to anything else that had come my way. Maybe Rob misspoke, maybe he meant to say weeks or months. But if it wasn’t a mistake, if it was a truth carelessly uttered, then Rob has some explaining to do.

The Left/Right Game was posted online in June 2016, less than a year ago.

I glance sideways at him, a wall of corn rushing past us as we approach the rest stop. Throughout this trip, every emotion Rob’s displayed has seemed genuine. The sadness, the anger, the concern. They tell a story of a man who cares deeply about the welfare of those around him. Yet at the same time, it’s strikingly clear that there’s something he isn’t telling me.

With every new piece of the puzzle, the car, the text message, the faceless creature with the ringing phone, I’m left with the dilemma of when to confront Rob Guthard with what I know. I feel I’ve gathered enough to bring before him, enough to demand an explanation, but there’s no way I’d be able to truly verify his answer. I have a collection of strange and perplexing notions, lacking in the common thread that could bring me to any workable conclusion. If I am going to confront Rob, I need to uncover that thread. Much like the greatest journalists of our time, I should know the answer before I ask the question.

The jeep pulls up onto a large green space. Staring straight ahead, I find myself puzzled by the way the ground seems to stop, as if the horizon lies only twenty metres away from the car. As soon as the engine cuts out, I unbuckle my seatbelt, climb out and walk towards the grassy verge. The rest of the convoy pulls up behind me as I go.

I stop a few steps short of the edge, realising we’ve found our way to the top of a sheer cliff. A sudden swaying vertigo takes over, forcing me to take a few steps back. It doesn’t feel like we’ve been heading uphill, the road has been level since Jubilation, yet somehow I’m standing at the edge of a 400 ft. rock face, descending straight downwards, the distant earth shrouded by stalks of corn.

That’s the truly strange thing about this monolithic precipice. On either side of me, the maize runs to the very edge of the cliff and, at its base, the endless harvest continues until it stretches beyond the darkening horizon in every direction. It feels like I’m standing on the cliffs of Dover, staring over a golden ocean, its waves governed by the evening breeze. I wonder for a moment where it ends, then, taking consideration of the world I now occupy, I start to wonder if it ever does.

A belligerent scream rips me from the view. The source of the noise is blocked by the Wrangler and the first thing I see as I circle around are the shocked, wide eyed faces of Bonnie & Clyde. Once I make my way past the Wrangler’s hood, my expression mimics theirs.

Lilith has pinned Bluejay up to the side of the Jeep, a locked forearm pressing her chest against the door. Her other arm has been grasped in Bluejay’s hands, desperately stopped before it can strike her across the face. The two of them yell through gritted teeth as Lilith struggles furiously against her, vying to cause her any conceivable harm.

BLUEJAY Get the fuck off me you bitch! Get off!

I take a few quick steps over to Lilith as Bluejay attempts to kick her away.

AS: Lilith, we can’t do this… Jen…

Lilith doesn’t even register my presence as she continues her assault, deafened by the bubbling vitriol in every growling breath.

AS: Jen! We are not doing this now. Not after-

Before I can comprehend what’s happening, I’m staring at the sky, my head knocked back by the force of Lilith’s flailing elbow. A hot, raw ache radiates across my lower lip as I stagger back, raising my hand over my mouth.

Before Lilith can continue her assault, Rob swings open his door and takes two short strides over to her. He puts one arm around the girl’s waist and picks her up, carrying her safely, but firmly, over to Bonnie & Clyde’s Ford, and planting her back on the ground.

I seem to always forget how strong he is.

ROB: Damnit this is not the time.

LILITH: Take it back!

Bluejay has lost her usual snide demeanour, yet her aura still radiates an unbridled scorn. In response to Lilith’s demand, Bluejay walks back to her car and sits on the hood. She takes the Marlboros out of her pocket along with her lighter, and ignites a cigarette. I imagine the burning embers are the only company she’s comfortable to accept right now.

By the time I look back to the rest of the group, Lilith has stormed away.

AS: What did she say?

BONNIE: I didn’t hear it all.

AS: What did she say Bonnie?

BONNIE: I heard something about… she said Lilith was… that we were complicit.

ROB: Ah goddamnit… Bristol can you…

I watch Lilith, as she sits on the grass and looks over the cliffside. She begins to cry, yet I get a strong notion that it’s not something I should interrupt. It feels like something between her and Eve, a final act of reactionary mourning reserved for them, and them alone.

AS: Yeah… don’t worry. I’ll handle it.

ROB: Ok. I’ll cook us somethin’ up.

An hour passes. Lilith grows slowly calmer, drifting from cathartic release into a cold, wordless melancholy. Finishing up my dinner, I make my way over to her.

AS: It’s a strange view.

Lilith looks up at me. Her face falls.

LILITH: I cut you… I’m so sorry.

AS: It’s fine. You should see the other girl.

LILITH: Hah, yeah, I bet she looks like shit right about now.

I help myself down onto the cool ground, staring alongside Lilith into the ocean below.

LILITH: Bluejay thinks I’m complicit… in what happened to Eve.

AS: I heard.

LILITH: She used to think we were morons, now she thinks we’re all in on it… doesn’t make sense.

AS: I think she he has to believe this place is a lie. She needs it to make sense, and the harder it gets for her to rationalise the more she... Anyway, she shouldn’t have said what she said. She’s just... I guess the word is "troubled".

LILITH: She’s a fucking thundercunt.

AS: Umm… uh… ok.

LILITH: She’s right though... I killed her... and I killed Apollo too.

I look to Lilith, concerned, not quite sure what she means. Her eyes remain locked on the impossible horizon.

LILITH: Sarah… she wasn’t cut out for this, and she knew it. She wanted us to turn back this morning… but I didn’t want to.

AS: That wasn’t just your decision Lilith.

LILITH: Yes it was. She uh… she followed my lead. Always. Through everything. And I knew why she was doing it. I knew. But I let it continue, because it was convenient, because it was easy…. because deep down I liked having someone around who… who’d jump through fucking hoops for me… god it’s so fucked.

Lilith rests her head in her hands.

LILITH: She was weak. She was anxious and shy and… but that should be ok, right? You’re allowed to be weak that’s… but I made her come here. I dragged someone who couldn’t swim into the fucking deep end. And the last thing I did was lie to her and she fucking knew it.

Lilith takes a few deep, frayed breaths.

AS: What do you mean?

LILITH: I’m not uh… I didn’t, I… I loved her, you know as a… as a friend. It was always this fucking one-way street and… I don’t think she minded but. Then suddenly she’s vanishing right in-fucking-front of me and she said what she said… I mean how else was I supposed to respond to that? I had to say it back right?

Lilith maintains her composure as a steady stream of tears roll down her cheek.

AS: I don’t know what I’d do in that situation.

LILITH: I could see it in her eyes that she didn’t believe me. Fuck… I wonder how many people have died while being told like… comforting lies. How many of them fucking knew?

AS: I think you did the best you could Jen. I think you did better than most.

LILITH: You don’t need to tell me that just… are you tired? Do you need to go to bed soon?

AS: No, I don’t need to.

LILITH: There are some beers in uh… in Apollo’s bag. Is that like… looting? Or is that ok?

AS: I think he’d want us to have them, as long as he got a toast.

Lilith laughs briefly and finally smiles. She walks over to Bonnie and Clyde’s car, returning a moment later with a four pack.

We spend the next hour and a half slowly drinking them. Lilith can’t muster the right words for a toast so we just say thank you to Apollo, raising out cans to the open air. We talk about his tireless humour, his attempts to keep us all up during our first night on the road, how caringly he spoke to everyone, even at the edge of death.

We talk about Eve as well, about the pair’s misadventures, awkward college parties and the future of Paranormicon. Lilith smiles, and tells me there’s always a place for me once radio dies out.

After everything that’s happened on the road, the night can’t help but feel bittersweet. But for once, on a solitary cliff side in the middle of nowhere, it’s more sweet than it is bitter. That may not be much, but at the end of an awful day it’s more than either of us could have hoped for.

The next morning goes quickly. It’s amazing how efficient a group of people can be when none of them feel like talking. Not only that, but breakfast has become a noticeably brief affair. I manage to get through half a bag of trail mix before I find myself uncomfortably full. Rob’s words about the road’s sustaining properties ring in my ears as I look around the group. Everyone leaves their bowls half empty. Lilith hasn’t eaten a bite.

By this point, the launch protocol has been drilled into us. Despite our preoccupations, and the fractious rifts developing between us, the cars line up like clockwork as they merge onto the road. In fact, the mood of the group seems strangely procedural. All radio contact starts with the stating of a call sign, followed by that of the recipient. The cars maintain an even, careful distance between one another. We’ve seen all too clearly what happens when the rules are neglected, and no one wants to take chances any more.

AS: How far away are we?

ROB: From where?

AS: You haven’t got to the end of this road right? I mean… you’re still charting it?

ROB: That’s right.

AS: Well, how long until we get to… you know to… uncharted territory?

ROB: To be honest, not too long.

AS: What’s going to happen once we reach that point?

ROB: We’re gonna keep drivin’.

AS: Until we get to the end?

ROB: That’s the plan. You know I won’t judge you if you wanna turn around. I’m sure you can talk someone into it.

AS: Could I talk you into it?

Rob smiles.

ROB: ‘Fraid not. This trip ain’t like the others. Road’s kickin’ back like never before. I think it knows I’m comin’ all the way this time.

AS: … What is this place Rob?

Rob sighs as he slowly takes the next left on a quiet, rural T-junction.

ROB: I think it’s a stray thread… runnin’ off the spool.

The radio crackles.

BONNIE: Rob you just took the wrong turn.

An instant drum of fresh panic hammers in my chest. I stare at Rob, and he stares right back. I know he’s feeling the same thing I am, though he’s doing a much better job of keeping it off his face.

He thinks carefully for a moment.

ROB: No… no. I been down this road before. We took a right last time.

AS: Uhhh… yeah. Yes. The turn before this one was a right, I remember.

ROB: Ferryman to all cars. Thanks Bonnie for giving us the fright of our lives. We’re on the righ… we’re on the correct road.

BONNIE: No no that can’t be its… that’s wrong… Martin tell them…

CLYDE: Our mistake Rob, let’s keep going.

LILITH: Bristol…

There’s concern in Lilith’s voice. I lean over to my wing mirror, attempting to gauge the atmosphere in the car behind me. There’s clearly some commotion between Bonnie and Clyde, with the latter attempting to gently remove the walkie talkie from his sister’s hands.

There’s something else however. Past Bonnie & Clyde. Past Bluejay. An old, dilapidated road sign made of weathered timber stands by the side of the road behind us. I can’t read all of it as the peeling letters grow ever smaller, but I can piece together what it probably once said.

“Wintery Bay – 5 Miles”

BONNIE: We’re going to turn around right?

AS: Uhh one second Bonnie, I’ll… check the map.

I promptly switch off the radio.

AS: Are we not passing through Wintery Bay?

Rob turns to me, a puzzled look in his eyes.

ROB: Through where?

In the wake of those two, innocently inquiring words, my mind reels back to the morning of our third day on the road. Watching Bonnie and Clyde wander over to Rob to confess their transgressions with the hitchhiker, the quiet conversation that passed between them, Rob’s seemingly comforting response. I’d felt wretched in those moments. A few minutes prior I had tricked and deceived Clyde… yet I’d never once considered he might have done the same to me.

AS: Is it safe to pull over?

ROB: What? Why?

AS: Is it safe Rob?

ROB: Uh, yeah should be.

AS: Then pull over.

I switch the radio back on and grab the receiver. As I make a connection to Bonnie and Clyde’s car, it’s clear that an argument is brewing. Lilith is asking for me, a helpless passenger, caught in the middle of something she doesn’t understand.

AS: Bristol to all cars. We’re stopping up ahead.

Rob seems acutely aware that I’m not messing around. As soon as we roll to a halt, I throw my door open and jump onto the dusty roadside, striding over to the rest of the convoy, who are just starting to get out of their own cars. I’m conscious of a driving anger behind each step I take.

AS: You didn’t tell him.

CLYDE: Bristol, I…

ROB: What’s goin’ on Bristol?

Rob’s marches up behind me, more than a little restless to get a grip on my motives.

AS: Clyde?

Clyde looks around a circle of expectant eyes. When he delivers his answer, he’s unable to meet any of them.

CLYDE: Bonnie… Bonnie talked to the hitchhiker.

Rob’s expression shifts, his confusion degrading into a solemn understanding.

ROB: God… ahh Goddamnit. You knew about this Bristol?

AS: I told them to tell you the morning of the third day. I saw them go over to you I… I thought they did.

CLYDE: Bonnie… thought you’d… turn us around.

ROB: Well she’s was damn right. You seen what happens when the rules get broken. You shoulda told me as soon as you saw me and headed right back home.

CLYDE: That was before Ace… before everything. I didn’t know this place was-

ROB: The rules are the rules Clyde! Is anything even wrong with Bonnie? You said she gets confused... was that a lie?

Clyde doesn’t answer, avoiding Rob’s glare. As I process what Rob’s just said, I have to say I’m surprised by the deviousness of the two siblings.

When I thought they were telling Rob about the hitchhiker, it appears they’d instead told him that Bonnie was, to some degree, senile. It was a simple lie, but one that would adequately explain her odd behaviour, draw sympathy from Rob and, most ingeniously, prevent him from telling me about their conversation. A truth buried beneath an unpleasant lie, its subject matter just uncomfortable enough to head off any chance of discussion.

Still, it leaves a bad taste in my mouth.

CLYDE: We can head home if you want.

BONNIE: No.

The group turns to Bonnie. She speaks in a tone more decisive than I thought her capable.

BONNIE: He... the hitchhiker... he was talking about a… about the village we just passed. I was looking forward to seeing it, that’s all. I’m ok really.

AS: You’ve been talking about it a lot Bonnie.

BONNIE: It just sounded like a lovely place, I was sad that we passed it by. I’m sorry for worrying everyone. Please don’t make us turn around Rob.

Rob stares at them both. His position has been made crystal clear.

ROB: We’re stopping a little early today. Come the rest of the way with us, rest up… then tomorrow you both go home. You should count yourselves lucky you get the chance to turn around.

Rob marches back to the Wrangler, signalling that the discussion is over.

ROB: Lilith, you’re with us.

Lilith doesn't even try to hide her relief as she shuffles away from Bonnie & Clyde and climbs into the back of the Jeep. It’s a little heart warming that Rob still has the awareness to look out for her, angry as he may be.

As well as his surprising strength, I also tend to forget how perceptive he can be.

Bonnie, Clyde and Bluejay climb back into their respective vehicles. I catch Bonnie’s eye, the moment before she returns to the Ford. She appears truly disappointed, but otherwise resigned to keep going, satisfied to let Wintery Bay fade into the distance. It’s comforting to hear that she’s ready to put the place behind her.

It’s just a pity I don’t believe a word of it.

LILITH: It was fucking weird Bristol.

Lilith seems happy to be in the Wrangler, enjoying the sense of security the modded behemoth affords, and also greatly relieved to be away from Bonnie & Clyde. She’s spent the last five minutes detailing the thirty second argument that unfolded between them, charting its disturbing nuances as well as it’s eerie conclusion.

LILITH: ... but I swear she was basically like crying like… she didn’t understand how we could be going the wrong way. But then like, as soon as you pulled us over and she just stopped. Like I mean… stopped.

AS: That must have been disconcerting.

LILITH: You have no idea... So Rob, when are these cornfields gonna fucking end?

ROB: Soon. We’re gonna rest up for the night in a few turns. Then tomorrow it won’t be long until we’re on a track through the woods.

LILITH: The fucking woods? Are you kidding? Are we talking like… Sleepy Hollow bleeding trees or what?

ROB: Hah, wish I could tell ya.

LILITH: Wait, what do you mean?

ROB: I ain’t been that far yet. It’s new territory.

LILITH: Oh… great. Maybe the cornfields aren’t so…

Lilith goes quiet, transfixed by something in the rear view mirror, before quickly turning around to get a better look out of the back window.

The car behind us is out of control.

Bonnie is fighting to wrest the steering wheel from her brother. The Ford swerves erratically behind us, driven mad by the dynamic power struggle taking place inside it. Rob sharply accelerates out of the way as the car behind lurches drunkenly to and fro before skidding to a shuddering halt. Rob hits the brake hard, and by the time I’ve turned in his direction, he’s already slammed the door of the Wrangler, storming across the tarmac to Bonnie and Clyde.

ROB: Cut the engine!

The Ford’s engine goes silent and in the absence of its rumbling growl, new sounds emerge. The sounds of a struggle, and of wild desperate screaming.

Stepping out of the car for the second time today, I jump onto the road and cover the distance between us.

Rob is attempting to pull a screeching Bonnie from the car. Even with his impressive strength it seems to be a challenge. Bonnie claws at the walls, trying with all her might to regain her grasp on the steering wheel.

BONNIE: Please! PLEASE! Let me go! Let me go!

Rob extracts Bonnie from the car and attempts to subdue her amidst a flurry of flailing hands and elbows. She writhes and kicks as he pins her arms to her sides.

AS: Bonnie! Bonnie. Calm down ok? Let’s talk this through.

BONNIE: He told me it was on our way! He said we’d pass through!

ROB: He lied Bonnie.

BONNIE: No… no we’re going the wrong way. We’re going the wrong way!

Bonnie lashes out again, striking at Rob’s legs with her own. Rob holds her firmly, hit teeth gritted through every impact.

It’s clear that Bonnie isn’t going to let up. I run back to the Wrangler and open up the trunk. After a few moments of rummaging through my bag, I find the first aid kit and pull out an unopened pack of white zip ties.

AS: Clyde, open the back door.

Rob sees me standing with the zip ties. Even in the midst of Bonnie’s incessant struggle, he looks at me with an almost questioning air, as if he’s wondering how we ever arrived at this point. As if he’s asking whether we can really do what I’m wordlessly suggesting.

Bonnie answers the last question for him. In the slim few seconds of distraction, she slams her head back into his nose, eliciting a disgustingly loud thud and a pained growl from Rob. Dazed and confused, his nose immediately fountaining blood, Rob manages to keep his arms wrapped around her. But it’s clear this isn’t going to be sustainable, and that she isn’t anywhere close to calming down.

Clyde has opened the door, stepping back and looking on like a frightened child as we carry Bonnie over to the back seat of the Ford. I lean in before him, adjusting the headrest until it’s pressed against the ceiling, ensuring that it can’t be removed from the bracket. I then loop a zip tie around each bracket and fasten them.

BLUEJAY: What the fuck is going on?

Bluejay has stepped out of her car, making her way towards us. I realise that, to someone who is fighting to not believe in any of this, the following scene would appear at best as a melodramatic farce, and at worst, as the attempted detention of an innocent and distressed woman.

Sadly, I don’t have time to field her questions. I climb into the car. Bonnie working constantly against us as Rob eases her in after me, his hand on her head to prevent it bumping against the top of the doorframe.

Once she’s inside, I loop a second zip tie around the one I’ve already fastened on the right bracket, forcing her right hand inside it. I pull the plastic tab over the sleeve of her jumper.

I hope it’s not too tight, but at the very least it’s secure enough to keep her in place. Bonnie continues to pull against the zip ties, but it’s clear her strength has been sapped from her spirited battle with Rob.

Not quite able to look her in the eye, I push a pile of luggage out of the way and climb out the other side of the Ford. Rob and I are both getting our breath back, the former pinching his nose and adjusting stoically to the fresh pain.

BLUEJAY: Hey what the fuck are… you’re not going to leave her like that are you?

AS: Get back in your car Bluejay.

I walk back to the Wrangler, tuning out Denise’s coarse protests. Rob reaches into the Jeep’s still open trunk, and pulls out a pile of blankets and pillows. In the rear view mirror, I can see him placing them on Bonnie’s lap, giving her a place to rest her elbows.

She leans her forehead against the back of the headrest. Even with her face blocked from view, I can tell that she’s crying.

We arrive at the rest stop some twenty minutes later, the vague outline of a deep green forest blooming on the horizon. It’s earlier in the day than we would usually stop. Rob tells us he wants the entirety of tomorrow to chart the woods, as well as good time to turn back before night fall should the need arise. I’m not complaining, I’m glad of the chance to rest up following today’s events.

For the rest of the day, we take it in turns to keep an eye on Bonnie, making sure she has everything she needs. When the Ford pulled up alongside us, Lilith, Rob, and I expected to see a quivering wreck, tugging ceaselessly against her bonds. We were all surprised, and more than a little disturbed, to find her smiling. By the time my turn comes around, the sun is already dipping in the sky. Rob has prepared a small pot of miso soup in case anyone can bring themselves to eat. I finish my bowl, all too aware of how unnecessary each meal now feels, and pour out a helping for Bonnie.

I find her in good spirits.

BONNIE: How are you doing Alice?

AS: I’m fine. How are you doing Linda?

BONNIE: I’m ok. Sorry for giving you all such a fright earlier. I feel terrible.

AS: It’s fine honestly. I’m sorry about… about all this.

I gesture to the zip tied restraints. Rob has reapplied them, fastening bandages underneath the straps to afford Bonnie a modicum of comfort. Still the scene rings with a sinister barbarity which no kind consideration can make up for.

BONNIE: It’s ok. I wasn’t myself.

AS: I brought you soup. I know you might not be hungry.

BONNIE: No no I’d love some, thank you. Everyone’s being so lovely.

AS: Well, we just want to make sure you’re alright.

I submerge the spoon, drench up a measure of warm broth, and begin to raise it towards her.

BONNIE: Oh no you don’t have to… I can feed myself…

She gestures to her bound hands, the clear implication hanging in the air.

AS: No I… I don’t mind. I think it’s-

Bonnie throws her weight sideways, her elbow jabbing outwards and hitting the bowl out of my hands. Soup spills over my fleece, just a little cooler than scolding hot, and soaks immediately into the fabric. I back away reflexively, and watch Bonnie’s expression flicker like a faulty lightbulb from kind tranquility to utter, burning contempt. It’s gone as quickly as it appears, just in time for the rest of the group to look our way.

BLUEJAY: What are you doing with her?!

Bluejay storms across from her car, angrily drawing from a Marlboro and forcing the smoke draconically back into the air.

AS: Nothing. Just an accident.

BONNIE: It’s ok Bluejay, it was my mistake.

BLUEJAY: Did she get any on you?

Bluejay leans in placing her hand comfortingly on Bonnie’s, before turning to fix me with a murderous stare. It’s almost impressive how, even when caring for someone, Bluejay still manages to be simultaneously venomous to those around her.

BONNIE: No no it’s ok it was my fault. It’s fine. I’m sorry for causing trouble.

Bluejay laughs at Bonnie’s submissive apology, unable to believe what she's thinking. Her eyes remain fixed on me.

BLUEJAY: You’re a fucking coward. Look what he’s making you do. Look!

My eyes follow where she gestures. I have to admit the helpless figure of Bonnie, restrained in the back seat of the Ford, rings with an innate inhumanity, and being forced to stare my actions in the face makes me feel utterly ghoulish.

The choices I’ve made must seem insane to Bluejay, but that doesn’t mean hers are not. Despite her pretensions of rationality, I can’t help but feel that Bluejay’s actions are simply being governed by a different insanity. An insanity borne out of the desperate need to explain the unexplainable, which has morphed into an ugly cocktail of paranoia, self-grandeur, and fervent antagonism.

Bluejay notes my silent expression, most likely taking it as a personal victory. Without another word she returns to her car and shuts herself inside, festering silently and alone.

BONNIE: Do you want to know what’s wonderful Alice?

Bonnie leans towards me, lowering her voice so no one else can hear.

BONNIE: He told me there’s a house… waiting for me. My home by the sea.

AS: I’m sorry Bonnie. I don’t think there is.

BONNIE: It’s going to be a such a beautiful place. Such a beautiful place.

Bonnie flashes me a broad grin.

BONNIE: It’s been lovely knowing you Alice.

Bonnie turns away from me, placing her forehead back on the headrest. The grin doesn’t fade as I turn away. I walk back to the Wrangler, faced with the choice of changing into new clothes or my thermal pyjamas.

After removing my fleece and lying down for a just a moment, I end up sleeping in the clothes I’m wearing.

When I wake up, the Wrangler is moving.

The air mattress reverberates and my body rocks as we make a sharp U-turn. I sit bolt upright, Lilith waking up next to me, similarly bleary eyed and confused.

Rob is behind the wheel. The gear stick shakes as he transports us down the road at incredible speed.

AS: Rob what’s happening?

ROB: Bonnie got herself free. She’s headed for the turn.

I pull myself into the passenger seat, suddenly wide awake.

LILITH: What? How did she get free?

AS: Is she with Clyde?

ROB: She hit him over the head, dragged him outta the car. I couldn’t wait for him, but he’s catchin’ up.

Lilith and I turn around. Bluejay’s car is gaining on us, a distant pair of high beams steadily drowning the rear window in light.

LILITH: Why’s Bluejay helping him?

AS: She probably wants to keep an eye on us. Rob, do you think we’ll catch up with Bonnie?

ROB: I’m workin’ on it.

The Wrangler continues to rocket through the darkness. We keep our eyes fixed forward, scanning the very edge of the horizon for any sign of Bonnie’s Ford.

When Bluejay pulls alongside us, I get a look at the pair. Bluejay is nought but steely determination, dedicated to reaching Bonnie before we do. Clyde looks mortified, rocked by his sister’s actions, a small contusion on his head to mark her vicious betrayal.

Rob screeches to a halt once we arrive at the junction. Bluejay’s headlights are already illuminating the road to Wintery Bay, and Rob’s lighting rig coats the entire area in an artificial twilight. In the middle of it all, we see Bonnie, standing next to her car, smiling.

She’s already beyond the threshold of the turn.

CLYDE: Linda! Linda, please… come on back now, ok?

BONNIE: You can all come with me. There’s a place for all of us. He told me. There’s a place for everyone.

CLYDE: Please Linda. You have to come back.

A strange trail of black dust is streaming off Bonnie’s skin, rising into the air and dancing in the breeze. After a moment, it becomes clear that the edges of Bonnie are slowly degrading, converting quietly into dark ash and drifting into the atmosphere.

BONNIE: I love you very much Martin. You’re always welcome.

CLYDE: No please… please.

Bonnie turns around and climbs into the car. Without looking back, she pulls away down the road to Wintery Bay. The trail of black particles rise from the Ford as she goes, with greater and greater volume as the entire car starts to wither away before our eyes. Less than a minute later the Ford, with Bonnie inside it, gradually dissolves into dust and scatters to the winds.

Clyde doesn't speak. His entire being is quiet. Lilith immediately runs back to the Wrangler. Rob waits a while, staring at he dancing cloud of dust, before putting his arm around Clyde and gently escorting him to the Jeep.

As I turn away from the road to Wintery Bay, I take note of Bluejay’s reaction. She looks absolutely petrified, more so than I’ve ever seen her. She impulsively removes the pack of Marlboros from her pocket and holds them in her hands, before quickly returning them, unsmoked.

The night passes slowly after we return to the rest stop. All of us are exhausted, and more than willing to surrender to the escapism of sleep. Rob rests in the driver’s seat, giving up his space on the air mattress to Clyde. Everyone drops quickly enough into a quiet slumber, leaving me awake with only my thoughts for company. I find myself thinking of Bluejay, of how she could possibly hope to rationalise the disintegration of Bonnie and her car.

I wonder how I’d feel if the Left/Right Game were exposed as some unparalleled magic trick. Would I feel foolish? No I don’t think so. Impressed, maybe. Relieved? Most definitely. In fact, the more I think about it, the more I miss the innocent days when I believed the game was a hoax. I suppose I see why Bluejay is so adamant about dismissing this place; trickery however elaborate is almost always a preferable alternative to genuine horror.

The Jeep’s door opens and shuts

Part of me tries to ignore it, to wash my hands of any other developments in this harrowing night. However, exiled as I am from the kingdom of sleep, I slowly find myself sitting up, quietly putting on my boots, and letting myself out.

I step out into the cool night, observing the figure before me.

AS: Where are you going Clyde?

Clyde turns to face me, I initially interpret the look he gives me as one of resignation, but the word doesn’t quite fit. Resignation is a defeat, the world exacting compliance from you against your own wishes. But the man before me is as calm as the night air around him. His wishes are clearly his own. There’s no defeat in his eyes, but something else entirely… peace, maybe.

CLYDE: You know where I’m going Alice.

Clyde speaks softly, a quiet conviction behind every word he says. I briefly glance towards the Wrangler, wondering if I’m really equipped to handle this on my own.

CLYDE: Don’t call Rob. I made a mistake coming back to the rest stop. I shouldn’t have done... please. Just let me go.

AS: Clyde, just wait for tomorrow ok? He’ll understand. He’ll turn us around and take you home.

CLYDE: It won't be home anymore.

Clyde’s gentle stare renders me silent.

CLYDE: Linda had a husband once. He was a good man. Died young. She could never bring herself to go looking again and I… I never found who I was looking for. We’ve been by each other’s side for sixty years. Sixty years. I gotta be honest, even after all we’ve been through, everything you and I have seen, I never felt like I was in a new world until now.

AS: I don’t think I can’t let you do this Clyde.

CLYDE: I’m sorry Alice, but it’s not up to you.

Clyde breathes in the cool night air, exhaling through his nose.

CLYDE: I yelled at her to come back, when she ran off to rob that ice cream parlour. I kept calling out and calling out. I spent so much energy trying to get her to come back to me. After a while I realised she wasn’t coming back… that I’d have to follow her. I should’ve realised it earlier. That’s all I can do.... follow where she goes.

Clyde looks at me, almost apologetically.

CLYDE: Goodbye Alice.

He turns away from the convoy and wanders back down the road.

AS: Clyde.

He turns around one last time.

AS: Do you want company?

It takes roughly an hour for us to walk back to the junction. In the time we have, I’m treated to the story of Bonnie and Clyde. The warmest fragments of their life together, the moments that built them, the waves that rocked them and the places they once called home. I don’t think I’ll ever agree with what Clyde is doing, but the more he talks, the more I understand.

His stories span more than half a century, supported by a transient cast of acquaintances and friends, but at the core of each tale is a pair of siblings who meant the world to one another. The pair existed as two relative souls, quantifiable only in relation to each other. In the absence of one, the remnant was indefinable. A drifting point, unanchored in space.

The story ends just as we reach the junction

AS: I hope she's out there.

CLYDE: I hope so too. Thank you for coming with me, I know it’s late.

AS: No… it’s never a bad time to see a friend off.

Clyde smiles at me one last time before turning to face the road. He steps over the threshold, past the old wooden sign. In the silence of the night, I hear nothing but his soft footsteps and the quiet breeze, which after a few minutes carries the last of him into an open sky.

It’s a long walk back to the convoy. My mind is numb to fear as I make my way through the dark, the corn rustling in the wind beside me.

It’s been four days since I arrived at Rob Guthard’s house, sat down at his table, and listened to him speak about the new world he’d discovered. In that time, I’ve seen things I can’t hope to comprehend, sights that exist beyond the spectrum of our reality. Things I wouldn't have deemed possible.

For all I know there is a Wintery Bay, and Bonnie has already arrived at her house by the sea, standing at the door, waiting with quiet confidence for her brother’s arrival.

I may never know. But I do hope they find each other, wherever they may be.

[sending-the-message]

Has anyone heard of the Left/Right Game? (Part 6) by NeonTempo

Hi Guys,

Sorry it’s taken a while to get this posted up. I’ve been busy chasing leads with US missing persons.

I won’t waste more of your time. Log is below. If you have any information then please send it my way.

Thanks for your help guys, it means a lot.

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

The Left/Right Game [DRAFT 1] 12/02/2017

Silence used to be an absolute.

That’s something I definitely miss.

Back in the real world, it would stand as self-evident that a group of people saying absolutely nothing, by definition, could not be saying any less. Maybe things are different on the road, maybe I’d just never encountered it before, but it’s clear to me now there are degrees beyond silence. A pervasive realm of deafening quiet which, following the loss of Eve and Apollo, our group has unreservedly embraced. Constructed out of our collective trauma, cemented with a cruel mixture of grief, guilt, and harrowing self-doubt, it quickly becomes apparent that this silence is stronger than all of us. The challenge of breaking it remains unmet for the rest of the journey.

We spend the next few hours burrowing through a featureless corridor of maize. The stalks rise far above the Wrangler, leaving only a thin strip of clear sky visible like the painted ceiling of a renaissance church. I find myself glancing intermittently at the CB radio, half expecting, half hoping, for Apollo’s voice to crackle through the speaker, bringing words of comfort, or a much needed attempt at levity.

After I catch myself staring at the radio for the fifth time, I decide it might be best to get on with my work. I plug my headphones into my notebook, bring up the audio files I’ve recorded thus far, and set about creating a very rough cut of our first day on the road.

APOLLO (VO) Everybody knows Rob, Rob's the god! Ahaha

I listen through Apollo’s first interview, making notes for the closing paragraph I’ll now be forced to write about him. When I have everything I need, I listen to the interview again, and then once more. It’s not lost on me that I just want to hear his voice, to lose myself in a pleasant digital echo, far removed from the frantic screams that followed him into the asphalt.

I listen to Eve’s interview next. She bristles with excitement as she talks about her upcoming visit to Roswell, steadfastly attempting to recruit me to the effort. She had no idea what she was heading into when she stepped out onto Rob’s front lawn. Then again none of us did.

The thin strip of sky is turning deep orange as I reach our encounter with the hitchhiker. It’s chilling to hear his voice after the fact, to revisit the conniving, veiled pleasantries he employed against us. I cringe as I hear Rob’s hand grasp my arm, ashamed that I let myself fall for the hitcher’s trickery.

ROB (VO): You did good, I’m sorry for grabbin’ you. I just didn’t want you to do something you’d regret.

AS (VO): No it’s fine. I was going to. Do you know what happens if you talk to him?

ROB (VO): Not sure. Came close myself once, a few years back. The way he looks at you when he thinks he’s got you? I don’t think I wanna know.

AS (VO): Rob, I-

I pause the audio file, clicking back ten seconds before pressing play again.

AS (VO): No it’s fine. I was going to. Do you know what happens if you talk to him?

ROB (VO): Not sure. Came close myself once, a few years back. The way he looks at you when he thinks he’s-

I certainly didn’t notice that at the time. I’d been so shaken by my run in with the hitcher, and so curious about the abandoned car that I’d been completely blind to anything else that had come my way. Maybe Rob misspoke, maybe he meant to say weeks or months. But if it wasn’t a mistake, if it was a truth carelessly uttered, then Rob has some explaining to do.

The Left/Right Game was posted online in June 2016, less than a year ago.

I glance sideways at him, a wall of corn rushing past us as we approach the rest stop. Throughout this trip, every emotion Rob’s displayed has seemed genuine. The sadness, the anger, the concern. They tell a story of a man who cares deeply about the welfare of those around him. Yet at the same time, it’s strikingly clear that there’s something he isn’t telling me.

With every new piece of the puzzle, the car, the text message, the faceless creature with the ringing phone, I’m left with the dilemma of when to confront Rob Guthard with what I know. I feel I’ve gathered enough to bring before him, enough to demand an explanation, but there’s no way I’d be able to truly verify his answer. I have a collection of strange and perplexing notions, lacking in the common thread that could bring me to any workable conclusion. If I am going to confront Rob, I need to uncover that thread. Much like the greatest journalists of our time, I should know the answer before I ask the question.

The jeep pulls up onto a large green space. Staring straight ahead, I find myself puzzled by the way the ground seems to stop, as if the horizon lies only twenty metres away from the car. As soon as the engine cuts out, I unbuckle my seatbelt, climb out and walk towards the grassy verge. The rest of the convoy pulls up behind me as I go.

I stop a few steps short of the edge, realising we’ve found our way to the top of a sheer cliff. A sudden swaying vertigo takes over, forcing me to take a few steps back. It doesn’t feel like we’ve been heading uphill, the road has been level since Jubilation, yet somehow I’m standing at the edge of a 400 ft. rock face, descending straight downwards, the distant earth shrouded by stalks of corn.

That’s the truly strange thing about this monolithic precipice. On either side of me, the maize runs to the very edge of the cliff and, at its base, the endless harvest continues until it stretches beyond the darkening horizon in every direction. It feels like I’m standing on the cliffs of Dover, staring over a golden ocean, its waves governed by the evening breeze. I wonder for a moment where it ends, then, taking consideration of the world I now occupy, I start to wonder if it ever does.

A belligerent scream rips me from the view. The source of the noise is blocked by the Wrangler and the first thing I see as I circle around are the shocked, wide eyed faces of Bonnie & Clyde. Once I make my way past the Wrangler’s hood, my expression mimics theirs.

Lilith has pinned Bluejay up to the side of the Jeep, a locked forearm pressing her chest against the door. Her other arm has been grasped in Bluejay’s hands, desperately stopped before it can strike her across the face. The two of them yell through gritted teeth as Lilith struggles furiously against her, vying to cause her any conceivable harm.

BLUEJAY Get the fuck off me you bitch! Get off!

I take a few quick steps over to Lilith as Bluejay attempts to kick her away.

AS: Lilith, we can’t do this… Jen…

Lilith doesn’t even register my presence as she continues her assault, deafened by the bubbling vitriol in every growling breath.

AS: Jen! We are not doing this now. Not after-

Before I can comprehend what’s happening, I’m staring at the sky, my head knocked back by the force of Lilith’s flailing elbow. A hot, raw ache radiates across my lower lip as I stagger back, raising my hand over my mouth.

Before Lilith can continue her assault, Rob swings open his door and takes two short strides over to her. He puts one arm around the girl’s waist and picks her up, carrying her safely, but firmly, over to Bonnie & Clyde’s Ford, and planting her back on the ground.

I seem to always forget how strong he is.

ROB: Damnit this is not the time.

LILITH: Take it back!

Bluejay has lost her usual snide demeanour, yet her aura still radiates an unbridled scorn. In response to Lilith’s demand, Bluejay walks back to her car and sits on the hood. She takes the Marlboros out of her pocket along with her lighter, and ignites a cigarette. I imagine the burning embers are the only company she’s comfortable to accept right now.

By the time I look back to the rest of the group, Lilith has stormed away.

AS: What did she say?

BONNIE: I didn’t hear it all.

AS: What did she say Bonnie?

BONNIE: I heard something about… she said Lilith was… that we were complicit.

ROB: Ah goddamnit… Bristol can you…

I watch Lilith, as she sits on the grass and looks over the cliffside. She begins to cry, yet I get a strong notion that it’s not something I should interrupt. It feels like something between her and Eve, a final act of reactionary mourning reserved for them, and them alone.

AS: Yeah… don’t worry. I’ll handle it.

ROB: Ok. I’ll cook us somethin’ up.

An hour passes. Lilith grows slowly calmer, drifting from cathartic release into a cold, wordless melancholy. Finishing up my dinner, I make my way over to her.

AS: It’s a strange view.

Lilith looks up at me. Her face falls.

LILITH: I cut you… I’m so sorry.

AS: It’s fine. You should see the other girl.

LILITH: Hah, yeah, I bet she looks like shit right about now.

I help myself down onto the cool ground, staring alongside Lilith into the ocean below.

LILITH: Bluejay thinks I’m complicit… in what happened to Eve.

AS: I heard.

LILITH: She used to think we were morons, now she thinks we’re all in on it… doesn’t make sense.

AS: I think she he has to believe this place is a lie. She needs it to make sense, and the harder it gets for her to rationalise the more she... Anyway, she shouldn’t have said what she said. She’s just... I guess the word is "troubled".

LILITH: She’s a fucking thundercunt.

AS: Umm… uh… ok.

LILITH: She’s right though... I killed her... and I killed Apollo too.

I look to Lilith, concerned, not quite sure what she means. Her eyes remain locked on the impossible horizon.

LILITH: Sarah… she wasn’t cut out for this, and she knew it. She wanted us to turn back this morning… but I didn’t want to.

AS: That wasn’t just your decision Lilith.

LILITH: Yes it was. She uh… she followed my lead. Always. Through everything. And I knew why she was doing it. I knew. But I let it continue, because it was convenient, because it was easy…. because deep down I liked having someone around who… who’d jump through fucking hoops for me… god it’s so fucked.

Lilith rests her head in her hands.

LILITH: She was weak. She was anxious and shy and… but that should be ok, right? You’re allowed to be weak that’s… but I made her come here. I dragged someone who couldn’t swim into the fucking deep end. And the last thing I did was lie to her and she fucking knew it.

Lilith takes a few deep, frayed breaths.

AS: What do you mean?

LILITH: I’m not uh… I didn’t, I… I loved her, you know as a… as a friend. It was always this fucking one-way street and… I don’t think she minded but. Then suddenly she’s vanishing right in-fucking-front of me and she said what she said… I mean how else was I supposed to respond to that? I had to say it back right?

Lilith maintains her composure as a steady stream of tears roll down her cheek.

AS: I don’t know what I’d do in that situation.

LILITH: I could see it in her eyes that she didn’t believe me. Fuck… I wonder how many people have died while being told like… comforting lies. How many of them fucking knew?

AS: I think you did the best you could Jen. I think you did better than most.

LILITH: You don’t need to tell me that just… are you tired? Do you need to go to bed soon?

AS: No, I don’t need to.

LILITH: There are some beers in uh… in Apollo’s bag. Is that like… looting? Or is that ok?

AS: I think he’d want us to have them, as long as he got a toast.

Lilith laughs briefly and finally smiles. She walks over to Bonnie and Clyde’s car, returning a moment later with a four pack.

We spend the next hour and a half slowly drinking them. Lilith can’t muster the right words for a toast so we just say thank you to Apollo, raising out cans to the open air. We talk about his tireless humour, his attempts to keep us all up during our first night on the road, how caringly he spoke to everyone, even at the edge of death.

We talk about Eve as well, about the pair’s misadventures, awkward college parties and the future of Paranormicon. Lilith smiles, and tells me there’s always a place for me once radio dies out.

After everything that’s happened on the road, the night can’t help but feel bittersweet. But for once, on a solitary cliff side in the middle of nowhere, it’s more sweet than it is bitter. That may not be much, but at the end of an awful day it’s more than either of us could have hoped for.

The next morning goes quickly. It’s amazing how efficient a group of people can be when none of them feel like talking. Not only that, but breakfast has become a noticeably brief affair. I manage to get through half a bag of trail mix before I find myself uncomfortably full. Rob’s words about the road’s sustaining properties ring in my ears as I look around the group. Everyone leaves their bowls half empty. Lilith hasn’t eaten a bite.

By this point, the launch protocol has been drilled into us. Despite our preoccupations, and the fractious rifts developing between us, the cars line up like clockwork as they merge onto the road. In fact, the mood of the group seems strangely procedural. All radio contact starts with the stating of a call sign, followed by that of the recipient. The cars maintain an even, careful distance between one another. We’ve seen all too clearly what happens when the rules are neglected, and no one wants to take chances any more.

AS: How far away are we?

ROB: From where?

AS: You haven’t got to the end of this road right? I mean… you’re still charting it?

ROB: That’s right.

AS: Well, how long until we get to… you know to… uncharted territory?

ROB: To be honest, not too long.

AS: What’s going to happen once we reach that point?

ROB: We’re gonna keep drivin’.

AS: Until we get to the end?

ROB: That’s the plan. You know I won’t judge you if you wanna turn around. I’m sure you can talk someone into it.

AS: Could I talk you into it?

Rob smiles.

ROB: ‘Fraid not. This trip ain’t like the others. Road’s kickin’ back like never before. I think it knows I’m comin’ all the way this time.

AS: … What is this place Rob?

Rob sighs as he slowly takes the next left on a quiet, rural T-junction.

ROB: I think it’s a stray thread… runnin’ off the spool.

The radio crackles.

BONNIE: Rob you just took the wrong turn.

An instant drum of fresh panic hammers in my chest. I stare at Rob, and he stares right back. I know he’s feeling the same thing I am, though he’s doing a much better job of keeping it off his face.

He thinks carefully for a moment.

ROB: No… no. I been down this road before. We took a right last time.

AS: Uhhh… yeah. Yes. The turn before this one was a right, I remember.

ROB: Ferryman to all cars. Thanks Bonnie for giving us the fright of our lives. We’re on the righ… we’re on the correct road.

BONNIE: No no that can’t be its… that’s wrong… Martin tell them…

CLYDE: Our mistake Rob, let’s keep going.

LILITH: Bristol…

There’s concern in Lilith’s voice. I lean over to my wing mirror, attempting to gauge the atmosphere in the car behind me. There’s clearly some commotion between Bonnie and Clyde, with the latter attempting to gently remove the walkie talkie from his sister’s hands.

There’s something else however. Past Bonnie & Clyde. Past Bluejay. An old, dilapidated road sign made of weathered timber stands by the side of the road behind us. I can’t read all of it as the peeling letters grow ever smaller, but I can piece together what it probably once said.

“Wintery Bay – 5 Miles”

BONNIE: We’re going to turn around right?

AS: Uhh one second Bonnie, I’ll… check the map.

I promptly switch off the radio.

AS: Are we not passing through Wintery Bay?

Rob turns to me, a puzzled look in his eyes.

ROB: Through where?

In the wake of those two, innocently inquiring words, my mind reels back to the morning of our third day on the road. Watching Bonnie and Clyde wander over to Rob to confess their transgressions with the hitchhiker, the quiet conversation that passed between them, Rob’s seemingly comforting response. I’d felt wretched in those moments. A few minutes prior I had tricked and deceived Clyde… yet I’d never once considered he might have done the same to me.

AS: Is it safe to pull over?

ROB: What? Why?

AS: Is it safe Rob?

ROB: Uh, yeah should be.

AS: Then pull over.

I switch the radio back on and grab the receiver. As I make a connection to Bonnie and Clyde’s car, it’s clear that an argument is brewing. Lilith is asking for me, a helpless passenger, caught in the middle of something she doesn’t understand.

AS: Bristol to all cars. We’re stopping up ahead.

Rob seems acutely aware that I’m not messing around. As soon as we roll to a halt, I throw my door open and jump onto the dusty roadside, striding over to the rest of the convoy, who are just starting to get out of their own cars. I’m conscious of a driving anger behind each step I take.

AS: You didn’t tell him.

CLYDE: Bristol, I…

ROB: What’s goin’ on Bristol?

Rob’s marches up behind me, more than a little restless to get a grip on my motives.

AS: Clyde?

Clyde looks around a circle of expectant eyes. When he delivers his answer, he’s unable to meet any of them.

CLYDE: Bonnie… Bonnie talked to the hitchhiker.

Rob’s expression shifts, his confusion degrading into a solemn understanding.

ROB: God… ahh Goddamnit. You knew about this Bristol?

AS: I told them to tell you the morning of the third day. I saw them go over to you I… I thought they did.

CLYDE: Bonnie… thought you’d… turn us around.

ROB: Well she’s was damn right. You seen what happens when the rules get broken. You shoulda told me as soon as you saw me and headed right back home.

CLYDE: That was before Ace… before everything. I didn’t know this place was-

ROB: The rules are the rules Clyde! Is anything even wrong with Bonnie? You said she gets confused... was that a lie?

Clyde doesn’t answer, avoiding Rob’s glare. As I process what Rob’s just said, I have to say I’m surprised by the deviousness of the two siblings.

When I thought they were telling Rob about the hitchhiker, it appears they’d instead told him that Bonnie was, to some degree, senile. It was a simple lie, but one that would adequately explain her odd behaviour, draw sympathy from Rob and, most ingeniously, prevent him from telling me about their conversation. A truth buried beneath an unpleasant lie, its subject matter just uncomfortable enough to head off any chance of discussion.

Still, it leaves a bad taste in my mouth.

CLYDE: We can head home if you want.

BONNIE: No.

The group turns to Bonnie. She speaks in a tone more decisive than I thought her capable.

BONNIE: He... the hitchhiker... he was talking about a… about the village we just passed. I was looking forward to seeing it, that’s all. I’m ok really.

AS: You’ve been talking about it a lot Bonnie.

BONNIE: It just sounded like a lovely place, I was sad that we passed it by. I’m sorry for worrying everyone. Please don’t make us turn around Rob.

Rob stares at them both. His position has been made crystal clear.

ROB: We’re stopping a little early today. Come the rest of the way with us, rest up… then tomorrow you both go home. You should count yourselves lucky you get the chance to turn around.

Rob marches back to the Wrangler, signalling that the discussion is over.

ROB: Lilith, you’re with us.

Lilith doesn't even try to hide her relief as she shuffles away from Bonnie & Clyde and climbs into the back of the Jeep. It’s a little heart warming that Rob still has the awareness to look out for her, angry as he may be.

As well as his surprising strength, I also tend to forget how perceptive he can be.

Bonnie, Clyde and Bluejay climb back into their respective vehicles. I catch Bonnie’s eye, the moment before she returns to the Ford. She appears truly disappointed, but otherwise resigned to keep going, satisfied to let Wintery Bay fade into the distance. It’s comforting to hear that she’s ready to put the place behind her.

It’s just a pity I don’t believe a word of it.

LILITH: It was fucking weird Bristol.

Lilith seems happy to be in the Wrangler, enjoying the sense of security the modded behemoth affords, and also greatly relieved to be away from Bonnie & Clyde. She’s spent the last five minutes detailing the thirty second argument that unfolded between them, charting its disturbing nuances as well as it’s eerie conclusion.

LILITH: ... but I swear she was basically like crying like… she didn’t understand how we could be going the wrong way. But then like, as soon as you pulled us over and she just stopped. Like I mean… stopped.

AS: That must have been disconcerting.

LILITH: You have no idea... So Rob, when are these cornfields gonna fucking end?

ROB: Soon. We’re gonna rest up for the night in a few turns. Then tomorrow it won’t be long until we’re on a track through the woods.

LILITH: The fucking woods? Are you kidding? Are we talking like… Sleepy Hollow bleeding trees or what?

ROB: Hah, wish I could tell ya.

LILITH: Wait, what do you mean?

ROB: I ain’t been that far yet. It’s new territory.

LILITH: Oh… great. Maybe the cornfields aren’t so…

Lilith goes quiet, transfixed by something in the rear view mirror, before quickly turning around to get a better look out of the back window.

The car behind us is out of control.

Bonnie is fighting to wrest the steering wheel from her brother. The Ford swerves erratically behind us, driven mad by the dynamic power struggle taking place inside it. Rob sharply accelerates out of the way as the car behind lurches drunkenly to and fro before skidding to a shuddering halt. Rob hits the brake hard, and by the time I’ve turned in his direction, he’s already slammed the door of the Wrangler, storming across the tarmac to Bonnie and Clyde.

ROB: Cut the engine!

The Ford’s engine goes silent and in the absence of its rumbling growl, new sounds emerge. The sounds of a struggle, and of wild desperate screaming.

Stepping out of the car for the second time today, I jump onto the road and cover the distance between us.

Rob is attempting to pull a screeching Bonnie from the car. Even with his impressive strength it seems to be a challenge. Bonnie claws at the walls, trying with all her might to regain her grasp on the steering wheel.

BONNIE: Please! PLEASE! Let me go! Let me go!

Rob extracts Bonnie from the car and attempts to subdue her amidst a flurry of flailing hands and elbows. She writhes and kicks as he pins her arms to her sides.

AS: Bonnie! Bonnie. Calm down ok? Let’s talk this through.

BONNIE: He told me it was on our way! He said we’d pass through!

ROB: He lied Bonnie.

BONNIE: No… no we’re going the wrong way. We’re going the wrong way!

Bonnie lashes out again, striking at Rob’s legs with her own. Rob holds her firmly, hit teeth gritted through every impact.

It’s clear that Bonnie isn’t going to let up. I run back to the Wrangler and open up the trunk. After a few moments of rummaging through my bag, I find the first aid kit and pull out an unopened pack of white zip ties.

AS: Clyde, open the back door.

Rob sees me standing with the zip ties. Even in the midst of Bonnie’s incessant struggle, he looks at me with an almost questioning air, as if he’s wondering how we ever arrived at this point. As if he’s asking whether we can really do what I’m wordlessly suggesting.

Bonnie answers the last question for him. In the slim few seconds of distraction, she slams her head back into his nose, eliciting a disgustingly loud thud and a pained growl from Rob. Dazed and confused, his nose immediately fountaining blood, Rob manages to keep his arms wrapped around her. But it’s clear this isn’t going to be sustainable, and that she isn’t anywhere close to calming down.

Clyde has opened the door, stepping back and looking on like a frightened child as we carry Bonnie over to the back seat of the Ford. I lean in before him, adjusting the headrest until it’s pressed against the ceiling, ensuring that it can’t be removed from the bracket. I then loop a zip tie around each bracket and fasten them.

BLUEJAY: What the fuck is going on?

Bluejay has stepped out of her car, making her way towards us. I realise that, to someone who is fighting to not believe in any of this, the following scene would appear at best as a melodramatic farce, and at worst, as the attempted detention of an innocent and distressed woman.

Sadly, I don’t have time to field her questions. I climb into the car. Bonnie working constantly against us as Rob eases her in after me, his hand on her head to prevent it bumping against the top of the doorframe.

Once she’s inside, I loop a second zip tie around the one I’ve already fastened on the right bracket, forcing her right hand inside it. I pull the plastic tab over the sleeve of her jumper.

I hope it’s not too tight, but at the very least it’s secure enough to keep her in place. Bonnie continues to pull against the zip ties, but it’s clear her strength has been sapped from her spirited battle with Rob.

Not quite able to look her in the eye, I push a pile of luggage out of the way and climb out the other side of the Ford. Rob and I are both getting our breath back, the former pinching his nose and adjusting stoically to the fresh pain.

BLUEJAY: Hey what the fuck are… you’re not going to leave her like that are you?

AS: Get back in your car Bluejay.

I walk back to the Wrangler, tuning out Denise’s coarse protests. Rob reaches into the Jeep’s still open trunk, and pulls out a pile of blankets and pillows. In the rear view mirror, I can see him placing them on Bonnie’s lap, giving her a place to rest her elbows.

She leans her forehead against the back of the headrest. Even with her face blocked from view, I can tell that she’s crying.

We arrive at the rest stop some twenty minutes later, the vague outline of a deep green forest blooming on the horizon. It’s earlier in the day than we would usually stop. Rob tells us he wants the entirety of tomorrow to chart the woods, as well as good time to turn back before night fall should the need arise. I’m not complaining, I’m glad of the chance to rest up following today’s events.

For the rest of the day, we take it in turns to keep an eye on Bonnie, making sure she has everything she needs. When the Ford pulled up alongside us, Lilith, Rob, and I expected to see a quivering wreck, tugging ceaselessly against her bonds. We were all surprised, and more than a little disturbed, to find her smiling. By the time my turn comes around, the sun is already dipping in the sky. Rob has prepared a small pot of miso soup in case anyone can bring themselves to eat. I finish my bowl, all too aware of how unnecessary each meal now feels, and pour out a helping for Bonnie.

I find her in good spirits.

BONNIE: How are you doing Alice?

AS: I’m fine. How are you doing Linda?

BONNIE: I’m ok. Sorry for giving you all such a fright earlier. I feel terrible.

AS: It’s fine honestly. I’m sorry about… about all this.

I gesture to the zip tied restraints. Rob has reapplied them, fastening bandages underneath the straps to afford Bonnie a modicum of comfort. Still the scene rings with a sinister barbarity which no kind consideration can make up for.

BONNIE: It’s ok. I wasn’t myself.

AS: I brought you soup. I know you might not be hungry.

BONNIE: No no I’d love some, thank you. Everyone’s being so lovely.

AS: Well, we just want to make sure you’re alright.

I submerge the spoon, drench up a measure of warm broth, and begin to raise it towards her.

BONNIE: Oh no you don’t have to… I can feed myself…

She gestures to her bound hands, the clear implication hanging in the air.

AS: No I… I don’t mind. I think it’s-

Bonnie throws her weight sideways, her elbow jabbing outwards and hitting the bowl out of my hands. Soup spills over my fleece, just a little cooler than scolding hot, and soaks immediately into the fabric. I back away reflexively, and watch Bonnie’s expression flicker like a faulty lightbulb from kind tranquility to utter, burning contempt. It’s gone as quickly as it appears, just in time for the rest of the group to look our way.

BLUEJAY: What are you doing with her?!

Bluejay storms across from her car, angrily drawing from a Marlboro and forcing the smoke draconically back into the air.

AS: Nothing. Just an accident.

BONNIE: It’s ok Bluejay, it was my mistake.

BLUEJAY: Did she get any on you?

Bluejay leans in placing her hand comfortingly on Bonnie’s, before turning to fix me with a murderous stare. It’s almost impressive how, even when caring for someone, Bluejay still manages to be simultaneously venomous to those around her.

BONNIE: No no it’s ok it was my fault. It’s fine. I’m sorry for causing trouble.

Bluejay laughs at Bonnie’s submissive apology, unable to believe what she's thinking. Her eyes remain fixed on me.

BLUEJAY: You’re a fucking coward. Look what he’s making you do. Look!

My eyes follow where she gestures. I have to admit the helpless figure of Bonnie, restrained in the back seat of the Ford, rings with an innate inhumanity, and being forced to stare my actions in the face makes me feel utterly ghoulish.

The choices I’ve made must seem insane to Bluejay, but that doesn’t mean hers are not. Despite her pretensions of rationality, I can’t help but feel that Bluejay’s actions are simply being governed by a different insanity. An insanity borne out of the desperate need to explain the unexplainable, which has morphed into an ugly cocktail of paranoia, self-grandeur, and fervent antagonism.

Bluejay notes my silent expression, most likely taking it as a personal victory. Without another word she returns to her car and shuts herself inside, festering silently and alone.

BONNIE: Do you want to know what’s wonderful Alice?

Bonnie leans towards me, lowering her voice so no one else can hear.

BONNIE: He told me there’s a house… waiting for me. My home by the sea.

AS: I’m sorry Bonnie. I don’t think there is.

BONNIE: It’s going to be a such a beautiful place. Such a beautiful place.

Bonnie flashes me a broad grin.

BONNIE: It’s been lovely knowing you Alice.

Bonnie turns away from me, placing her forehead back on the headrest. The grin doesn’t fade as I turn away. I walk back to the Wrangler, faced with the choice of changing into new clothes or my thermal pyjamas.

After removing my fleece and lying down for a just a moment, I end up sleeping in the clothes I’m wearing.

When I wake up, the Wrangler is moving.

The air mattress reverberates and my body rocks as we make a sharp U-turn. I sit bolt upright, Lilith waking up next to me, similarly bleary eyed and confused.

Rob is behind the wheel. The gear stick shakes as he transports us down the road at incredible speed.

AS: Rob what’s happening?

ROB: Bonnie got herself free. She’s headed for the turn.

I pull myself into the passenger seat, suddenly wide awake.

LILITH: What? How did she get free?

AS: Is she with Clyde?

ROB: She hit him over the head, dragged him outta the car. I couldn’t wait for him, but he’s catchin’ up.

Lilith and I turn around. Bluejay’s car is gaining on us, a distant pair of high beams steadily drowning the rear window in light.

LILITH: Why’s Bluejay helping him?

AS: She probably wants to keep an eye on us. Rob, do you think we’ll catch up with Bonnie?

ROB: I’m workin’ on it.

The Wrangler continues to rocket through the darkness. We keep our eyes fixed forward, scanning the very edge of the horizon for any sign of Bonnie’s Ford.

When Bluejay pulls alongside us, I get a look at the pair. Bluejay is nought but steely determination, dedicated to reaching Bonnie before we do. Clyde looks mortified, rocked by his sister’s actions, a small contusion on his head to mark her vicious betrayal.

Rob screeches to a halt once we arrive at the junction. Bluejay’s headlights are already illuminating the road to Wintery Bay, and Rob’s lighting rig coats the entire area in an artificial twilight. In the middle of it all, we see Bonnie, standing next to her car, smiling.

She’s already beyond the threshold of the turn.

CLYDE: Linda! Linda, please… come on back now, ok?

BONNIE: You can all come with me. There’s a place for all of us. He told me. There’s a place for everyone.

CLYDE: Please Linda. You have to come back.

A strange trail of black dust is streaming off Bonnie’s skin, rising into the air and dancing in the breeze. After a moment, it becomes clear that the edges of Bonnie are slowly degrading, converting quietly into dark ash and drifting into the atmosphere.

BONNIE: I love you very much Martin. You’re always welcome.

CLYDE: No please… please.

Bonnie turns around and climbs into the car. Without looking back, she pulls away down the road to Wintery Bay. The trail of black particles rise from the Ford as she goes, with greater and greater volume as the entire car starts to wither away before our eyes. Less than a minute later the Ford, with Bonnie inside it, gradually dissolves into dust and scatters to the winds.

Clyde doesn't speak. His entire being is quiet. Lilith immediately runs back to the Wrangler. Rob waits a while, staring at he dancing cloud of dust, before putting his arm around Clyde and gently escorting him to the Jeep.

As I turn away from the road to Wintery Bay, I take note of Bluejay’s reaction. She looks absolutely petrified, more so than I’ve ever seen her. She impulsively removes the pack of Marlboros from her pocket and holds them in her hands, before quickly returning them, unsmoked.

The night passes slowly after we return to the rest stop. All of us are exhausted, and more than willing to surrender to the escapism of sleep. Rob rests in the driver’s seat, giving up his space on the air mattress to Clyde. Everyone drops quickly enough into a quiet slumber, leaving me awake with only my thoughts for company. I find myself thinking of Bluejay, of how she could possibly hope to rationalise the disintegration of Bonnie and her car.

I wonder how I’d feel if the Left/Right Game were exposed as some unparalleled magic trick. Would I feel foolish? No I don’t think so. Impressed, maybe. Relieved? Most definitely. In fact, the more I think about it, the more I miss the innocent days when I believed the game was a hoax. I suppose I see why Bluejay is so adamant about dismissing this place; trickery however elaborate is almost always a preferable alternative to genuine horror.

The Jeep’s door opens and shuts

Part of me tries to ignore it, to wash my hands of any other developments in this harrowing night. However, exiled as I am from the kingdom of sleep, I slowly find myself sitting up, quietly putting on my boots, and letting myself out.

I step out into the cool night, observing the figure before me.

AS: Where are you going Clyde?

Clyde turns to face me, I initially interpret the look he gives me as one of resignation, but the word doesn’t quite fit. Resignation is a defeat, the world exacting compliance from you against your own wishes. But the man before me is as calm as the night air around him. His wishes are clearly his own. There’s no defeat in his eyes, but something else entirely… peace, maybe.

CLYDE: You know where I’m going Alice.

Clyde speaks softly, a quiet conviction behind every word he says. I briefly glance towards the Wrangler, wondering if I’m really equipped to handle this on my own.

CLYDE: Don’t call Rob. I made a mistake coming back to the rest stop. I shouldn’t have done... please. Just let me go.

AS: Clyde, just wait for tomorrow ok? He’ll understand. He’ll turn us around and take you home.

CLYDE: It won't be home anymore.

Clyde’s gentle stare renders me silent.

CLYDE: Linda had a husband once. He was a good man. Died young. She could never bring herself to go looking again and I… I never found who I was looking for. We’ve been by each other’s side for sixty years. Sixty years. I gotta be honest, even after all we’ve been through, everything you and I have seen, I never felt like I was in a new world until now.

AS: I don’t think I can’t let you do this Clyde.

CLYDE: I’m sorry Alice, but it’s not up to you.

Clyde breathes in the cool night air, exhaling through his nose.

CLYDE: I yelled at her to come back, when she ran off to rob that ice cream parlour. I kept calling out and calling out. I spent so much energy trying to get her to come back to me. After a while I realised she wasn’t coming back… that I’d have to follow her. I should’ve realised it earlier. That’s all I can do.... follow where she goes.

Clyde looks at me, almost apologetically.

CLYDE: Goodbye Alice.

He turns away from the convoy and wanders back down the road.

AS: Clyde.

He turns around one last time.

AS: Do you want company?

It takes roughly an hour for us to walk back to the junction. In the time we have, I’m treated to the story of Bonnie and Clyde. The warmest fragments of their life together, the moments that built them, the waves that rocked them and the places they once called home. I don’t think I’ll ever agree with what Clyde is doing, but the more he talks, the more I understand.

His stories span more than half a century, supported by a transient cast of acquaintances and friends, but at the core of each tale is a pair of siblings who meant the world to one another. The pair existed as two relative souls, quantifiable only in relation to each other. In the absence of one, the remnant was indefinable. A drifting point, unanchored in space.

The story ends just as we reach the junction

AS: I hope she's out there.

CLYDE: I hope so too. Thank you for coming with me, I know it’s late.

AS: No… it’s never a bad time to see a friend off.

Clyde smiles at me one last time before turning to face the road. He steps over the threshold, past the old wooden sign. In the silence of the night, I hear nothing but his soft footsteps and the quiet breeze, which after a few minutes carries the last of him into an open sky.

It’s a long walk back to the convoy. My mind is numb to fear as I make my way through the dark, the corn rustling in the wind beside me.

It’s been four days since I arrived at Rob Guthard’s house, sat down at his table, and listened to him speak about the new world he’d discovered. In that time, I’ve seen things I can’t hope to comprehend, sights that exist beyond the spectrum of our reality. Things I wouldn't have deemed possible.

For all I know there is a Wintery Bay, and Bonnie has already arrived at her house by the sea, standing at the door, waiting with quiet confidence for her brother’s arrival.

I may never know. But I do hope they find each other, wherever they may be.