#yes I referenced Mary on a cross I was listening to that when I made this shut up

[pr1ncessavar0se]

🎶Your Beauty Never Ever Scared Me🎶

I drew this back in July-August, sometime around there. I just never uploaded it to here until now!! fair warning, I’m gonna be shilling out more old drawings surrounding Agoti and Kofi (my silly silly oc lol) so if ya like this, stay tuned!! :D

[derelict-antiquarian]

A fun story about a stromatolite.

A stromatolite, or stromatoliths, are layered sedimentary formations that are created mainly by photosynthetic microorganisms such as Cyanobacteria, sulfate-reducing bacteria, and pseudomonadota. These microorganisms produce adhesive compounds that cement sand and other rock materials to form mineral “Microbial Mats”. In turn, these mats build up, layer by layer, growing gradually over time.

In nature, these living micro organic rocks pail in comparison to how large the fossilized predecessors grew. They are some of the oldest fossils on this planet. Current living species of stromatolite grow anywhere between 1 foot and 3 feet. The fossilized specimens have been found to be up to 20 feet tall.

Doctor Fondy Mescaf has studied these fossilized creature rock making machines and made a break through in the lineage of its current existence.

Doctor Mescaf started the initial DNA altering, with the assistance of two T.A.’s and in front of a class of Under grad Students, with a process that cross referenced sequencing from the fossilized artifacts and the modern day living ones we have. The ancestors DNA was found to be significantly smaller. The sequence was easily duplicated by chopping a section of the dna down to a point that looked closest to its earlier ancestors length. It was at times a guess, a shot in the dark, a Hail Mary if you will; but it led to the discovery that would not only change who we are as humans, but change how we think, feel, and interact with the universe around us.

In nature, as it was 3 Billion years ago, where this particular early ancestors DNA would have existed, it would have lived for decades, centuries, and in some isolated fossilized cases, millennia. The sample DNA was one of those isolated cases. This ancestral form was perfectly suited for survival in small but powerful numbers. It was designed to survive being buried under ever shifting sand dunes that were at the bottom of the sea. Only being exposed for a couple of days at a time, it would get all the nutrients it would need before being buried again for months. They had evolved to survive a life of entombment with far and few days of exposure to feed.

However, when grown in lab conditions, with all it can ever eat and need to reproduce, it took full advantage of all its available resources.

Let me introduce you to Bach aka Stromatolite 4367. Bach chose their own name during observation day 4,367. Day 1 was the aforementioned DNA experiment that brought back a centuries old being with the flick of a blade. A simpler DNA that was able to unlock connections to the world that none of us could have imagined, and had always been alive, on our planet, just in the background. Growing with humanity, being the origin of a once thought to be nonexistent form of communication to all beings.

We do need to admit this was a reckless butchering of a living organism that could have led to a veracious form of hostile DNA that could have microscopically infected all of humanity and earth in the blink of an eye, but instead led to the day we celebrate as The Day Of First Contact with another intelligent species, and they have named themselves Bach.

And I know you’re asking yourself if it is after that Bach. Yes. It is named after That Bach. They named themselves, their existence, the pure and unaltered DNA of stromatolite 4367 on day 4,367 named themselves after the late baroque period classical composer and musician Johann Sebastian Bach because, in that time, they had learned enough about our society and our people, and our world that Bach was the most inspiring to them and they felt the classical emotion humans get when they listen to Bach and think about the baroque period was the same emotion they wanted to give the humans when they joined as one.

Day 4,367.

[bountyofbeads]

Here is a detailed account of how Sondland snared Pompeo, why he must testify and be impeached if not resign.

If Pompeo doesn’t testify, he should be impeached

By Jennifer Rubin, Opinion writer | Published November 20, 2019 at 2:52 p.m. ET | Washington Post | Posted November 20, 2019 |

U.S. Ambassador to the European Union Gordon Sondland implicated numerous senior officials and President Trump in a plan to extort Ukraine: No White House meeting until the Ukrainians announced an investigation into nonexistent dirt on former vice president Joe Biden. (The announcement was vital for political purposes; Trump could have cared less if any corruption was going on.) Secretary of State Mike Pompeo, according to Sondland, played a key role in the plot and in obstruction of Congress. As such, Pompeo needs to appear as a witness or face impeachment himself.

Sondland made clear he was no rogue actor in the Ukraine plot, something we already knew from other witnesses and from the July 25 phone conversation between Trump and Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelensky. In the call, Trump specifically mentions the Bidens, Burisma and the 2016 election (a reference to the repeatedly debunked conspiracy theory that Ukraine, not Russia, interfered with the election). Pompeo was on that call and therefore understood the link between the White House visit and Trump’s political demands.

Here is what else we know about Pompeo’s involvement:

A text from William B. Taylor Jr. Jr. dated July 10 reflected that “S” (Secretary Pompeo) directed him to talk to Rudolph W. Giuliani about Ukraine.

In an email dated July 19 sent to Pompeo and a raft of senior officials, Sondland said that he had briefed Zelensky for the July 25 call and needed to “turn over every stone,” a reference to the Burisma and 2016 investigations, the same investigations Trump spoke about on the July 25 call, adding in Biden’s name.

Sondland on Aug. 11 sent an email to Pompeo’s counselor and a top aide, Lisa Kenna, stating he had helped draft a statement that would guarantee the “deliverables” need to have a big news conference; Kenna said she would pass it on to Pompeo, which in the absence of his testimony we must assume he read.

On Aug. 22, Sondland emailed Pompeo directly talking about a way to alleviate the “logjam” (the aid holdup). Pompeo said yes. Pompeo approved the plan and not unsurprisingly, “Sondland testified that because Pompeo listened in on the July 25 call between Trump and Zelensky, he would know that the ‘issues of importance to Potus’ were the investigations into 2016 and Burisma.”

The Post further summarizes:

Emails from Aug. 11 and Aug. 22 show not only that Sondland was updating Pompeo on his activities, but that the secretary was approving the plans to get Zelenksy to commit to the politically charged investigations.

In the Aug. 22 email, Sondland said he hoped that Zelensky could meet Trump in Warsaw, and that he would encourage Zelensky “to look him in the eye” and tell him that by mid-September he “should be able to move forward and with confidence on those issues of importance to Potus and the US.”

“Hopefully that will break the logjam,” he added. ... Sondland said he was referring to the 2016 and Burisma investigations — exactly what he had been referencing earlier that month, on Aug. 9, when he told then-Ukraine envoy Kurt Volker over texts that Trump “really wants the deliverable.”

In sum, Pompeo is complicit. Moreover, he now refuses to testify or produce documents, which likely will complete the picture of what he knew and when he knew it. He is obstructing Congress’s investigation, and even refusing to recuse himself from the matter.

Former Justice Department spokesman Matt Miller tells me: “The bill of particulars that have emerged about Pompeo’s involvement are incredibly damning. At the minimum, he knew about the scheme and did nothing to stop it while allowing the president to attack and run roughshod over his people.” Miller continues, “He should be up on the Hill testifying tomorrow, but we know he won’t because if he had to start telling the truth, rather than bullying and blowing off reporters, his answers would be damning to himself and the president.”

Former prosecutor Joyce White Vance agrees. “Sondland puts Pompeo right in the middle of Trump’s bribery scheme,” she says. ”And, Pompeo, who listened in on the July 25 call, knew what was at stake — Trump was forcing Zelensky to announce an investigation into the Bidens that was politically valuable to Trump’s 2020 campaign.” She makes a key point: “Pompeo, top of his class at West Point and a graduate of Harvard Law, knew it was wrong. But he hasn’t had the courage to come forward with the bravery of a [Marie] Yovanovitch or a [Lt. Col. Alexander] Vindman.”

“The Sondland testimony puts Pompeo (as well as Trump, of course) squarely inside impeachment territory — and, under a normal Justice Department, in indictment territory as well,” says constitutional scholar Laurence Tribe. “There is no [Office of Legal Counsel] memo suggesting that a sitting secretary of state is immune from indictment and prosecution, and this one was deeply engaged, if Sondland is to be believed, in a conspiracy to commit bribery and extortion, to violate federal election law against foreign interference, and to obstruct justice, including obstructing congressional investigations.” (He also notes that Energy Secretary Rick Perry "is implicated as well. And [Giuliani] is up to his eyebrows in indictable federal felonies.”)

The House Intelligence Committee should make a criminal referral, subpoena Pompeo for testimony and proceed with impeachment proceedings if he doesn’t comply. The message to future secretaries of state must be that they must not participate in illegal schemes and that their oath is to the Constitution, not a president.

🍁☕🍂🥮🍁☕🍂🥮🍁☕🍂🥮🍁☕

5 takeaways from Gordon Sondland’s blockbuster testimony

By Aaron Blake | Published November 20 at 2:13 PM ET | Washington Post | Posted November 20, 2019 |

The most anticipated — and potentially most important — witness in the House’s impeachment inquiry is testifying Wednesday. Ambassador to the European Union Gordon Sondland is the figure closest to President Trump to take the stand, and in his opening statement, he directly connected Trump to the Ukraine quid pro quo.

Below are some key takeaways from his opening statement and testimony. We’ll add more throughout the hearing.

1. CONNECTING THIS TO THE PRESIDENT

Pretty much every witness to date has said there was something unholy about asking Ukraine to launch specific investigations, including one involving former vice president Joe Biden and his son Hunter Biden. But none of them has testified to the idea that Trump actually wanted the U.S. aid or a White House meeting to be conditioned upon those investigations.

In his opening statement, though, Sondland walked right up to the line, if he didn’t cross it.

“... [Trump attorney Rudolph W.] Giuliani’s requests were a quid pro quo for arranging a White House visit for President Zelensky,” he said. “Mr. Giuliani demanded that Ukraine make a public statement announcing investigations of the 2016 election/DNC server and Burisma. Mr. Giuliani was expressing the desires of the president of the United States, and we knew that these investigations were important to the president.”

At another point, Sondland said explicitly that special envoy to Ukraine Kurt Volker told him this was the case. Rep. Jim Himes (D-Conn.) asked, “So, Mr. Volker told you that [Giuliani] was expressing the desires of the president of the United States?” Sondland responded, “Correct.”

Sondland also repeatedly said “everyone knew it” when asked about the quid pro quos — as if to emphasize that this was hardly a secret.

Sondland did stop short of saying he had direct knowledge of this being Trump’s desire, though. In a tense exchange with Rep. Michael R. Turner (R-Ohio), Sondland eventually admitted he was connecting some dots:

TURNER: No one on this planet told you that Donald Trump was tying this aid to the investigation? Because if your answer is yes, then the chairman is wrong. And the headline on CNN is wrong. No one on this planet told you that President Trump was tying aid to investigations. Yes or no?

SONDLAND: Yes.

TURNER: So you really have no testimony today that ties President Trump to a scheme to withhold aid from Ukraine in exchange for these investigations.

SONDLAND: Other than my own presumption.

It’s tempting to say Sondland is implicating Trump. That’s not completely the case; he seems to still be walking a fine line about what he knew and could prove and what was plainly apparent to him and others. But he seems to be saying this was something that Trump blessed, which is significant.

2. POINTING FINGERS AND NAMING NAMES — INCLUDING POMPEO, MULVANEY AND PENCE

Whether Sondland is directly fingering Trump is up for debate. But he’s clearly pointing fingers. He said “everyone” was aware of the quid pro quo, and he indicated that includes acting White House chief of staff Mick Mulvaney, Secretary of State Mike Pompeo and Vice President Pence.

He said Pompeo had instructed him to work with Giuliani as late as Sept. 24 — which is notably after the whistleblower situation exploded into public view. He added later that Pompeo directed him about how to ease what Sondland described as a “logjam” with Ukraine. “Secretary Pompeo essentially gave me the green light to brief President Zelensky about making those announcements,” Sondland said.

He also passed along this text exchange with Mulvaney from July 19, six days before Trump’s call with Zelensky:

[Sondland said:] “I Talked to Zelensky just now … He is prepared to receive Potus’ call. Will assure him that he intends to run a fully transparent investigation and will ‘turn over every stone’. He would greatly appreciate a call before Sunday so that he can put out some media about a ‘friendly and productive call’ (no details) before Ukraine election on Sunday.” Chief of Staff Mick Mulvaney responded: “I asked NSC to set it up for tomorrow.”

That implicates Mulvaney in these efforts even more. Witnesses had previously said Sondland indicated that he had coordinated the quid pro quo with Mulvaney, who is Trump’s top White House aide.

He was asked later more specifically if both Mulvaney and Pompeo were aware of the quid pro quo, and he responded “correct” for both.

A State Department spokeswoman, Morgan Ortagus, responded: “Gordon Sonland never told Secretary Pompeo that he believed the President was linking aid to investigations of political opponents. Any suggestion to the contrary is flat out false.”

Lastly, he indicated that he conveyed “concerns” about a quid pro quo to Pence before Sept. 1 meetings in Warsaw.

“I mentioned to Vice President Pence before the meetings with the Ukrainians that I had concerns that the delay in aid had become tied to the issue of investigations,” Sondland said. He added later in his testimony that Pence “nodded that he heard what I said.”

Pence’s office denied Sondland’s account. Chief of staff Marc Short said, “This alleged discussion recalled by Ambassador Sondland never happened.”

Sondland also said repeatedly in his opening statement that the State Department and the White House didn’t allow him access to the things he needed to provide accurate previous testimony — hence the inconsistencies and the clarifications, apparently. He brought this up repeatedly, especially when questioning from GOP counsel Stephen Castor turned more hostile.

Sondland doesn’t sound at all happy that he’s in this spot and seems to believe the administration and Giuliani put him in it. And it wasn’t just Trump he was prepared to rope into all this.

3. A BREAKUP IN THE ‘THREE AMIGOS’

Pence’s office wasn’t the only one taking exception to Sondland’s testimony; so did one of Sondland’s fellow “three amigos.”

Sondland said in his opening statement that Energy Secretary Rick Perry and the other member of the “three amigos” who spearheaded the Ukraine effort, special envoy Kurt Volker, handled initial communications with Giuliani after Trump told them to “talk to Rudy” on May 23.

“Secretary Perry volunteered to make the initial calls with Mr. Giuliani, given their prior relationship,” Sondland said. “Ambassador Volker made several of the early calls and generally informed us of what was discussed.”

The Energy Department issued a statement disputing that.

“Ambassador Sondland’s testimony today misrepresented both Secretary Perry’s interaction with Rudy Giuliani and direction the secretary received from President Trump,” it said. “As previously stated, Secretary Perry spoke to Rudy Giuliani only once at the president’s request. No one else was on that call. At no point before, during or after that phone call did the words ‘Biden’ or ‘Burisma’ ever come up in the presence of Secretary Perry.”

By the end of the hearing, members were noting that the amigos had been pulled apart.

“I lost my amigos?” Sondland joked, to laughter.

4. TRUMP TEAM DIDN’T CARE ABOUT ACTUAL INVESTIGATIONS, JUST ANNOUNCEMENTS

Sondland further undermined the idea that Trump truly cared about corruption in Ukraine, saying that he wasn’t under the impression that there was ever actually a desire for investigations — just announcements of them.

“He had to announce the investigations,” Sondland said of Zelensky. “He didn’t actually have to do them, as I understood it.”

That indicates this was all about the headlines created by the announcement, and not the actual substance of the evidence.

He was pressed on this later, but was a bit cagey. He said he never heard “anyone say that the investigations had to start or had to be completed. The only thing I heard from Mr. Giuliani or otherwise was that they had to be announced in some form. And that form kept changing."

Sondland added: “The way it was expressed to me was that the Ukrainians had a long history of committing to things privately and then never following through.”

This is merely the latest piece of evidence contradicting the idea that Trump was worried about corruption in Ukraine. Giuliani’s own public comments indicated this was a political effort aimed at helping Trump. Second, Trump himself hasn’t shown an interest in any investigations besides ones that involve the United States and his political interests. And third, an aide in Ukraine, David Holmes, testified last week that Sondland had told him Trump didn’t “give a s---” about Ukraine and only wanted the investigations.

Despite this extensive evidence, the idea that this was actually about corruption has remained a GOP talking point.

5. ‘TALK TO RUDY’ WAS A DIRECTIVE FROM TRUMP

Related to Takeaways No. 1 and 3 is this: Sondland believed Trump urging them to talk to Giuliani was a directive — which isn’t quite how Volker testified about it.

In his testimony Tuesday, Volker was asked about Trump’s May 23 order that he, Sondland and Perry were to “talk to Rudy,” and he suggested it wasn’t a direct order.

“I didn’t take it as an instruction, I want to be clear about that,” Volker said, adding: “You know, when we were giving him our assessment about President Zelensky and where Ukraine is headed, he said, ‘That’s not what I hear. I hear terrible things; he’s got terrible people around him. Talk to Rudy.' And I understood in that context, him just saying, that’s where he hears it from. I didn’t take it as an instruction.

Volker said it was just “part of the dialogue.”

But Sondland is clear on this point: It was an directive.

“In response to our persistent efforts to change his views, President Trump directed us to ‘talk with Rudy,’ ” Sondland said. “We understood that ‘talk with Rudy’ meant talk with Mr. Rudolph W. Giuliani, the president’s personal lawyer.”

Castor tried to poke holes in that, urging Sondland to say it wasn’t actually an order. Sondland, though, made clear he viewed it as necessary if they were to get what they wanted out of a relationship with Ukraine.

“Our conclusion, and the conclusion of the three of us, was that if we did not talk to Rudy, nothing would move forward on Ukraine,” he said.

That doesn’t exactly make this sound optional. And it again connects this whole effort to Trump — in a way Volker declined to.

Sondland also, notably, disagreed with Volker’s testimomy that he wasn’t aware of quid pro quos.

“I strongly disagree with that portion of his testimony," Sondland said. "It was absolutely a requirement.”

🍁☕🍂🥮🍁☕🍂🥮🍁☕🍂🥮🍁☕

[rose-of-pollux]

Inktober for Writers, Day 26

Prompt: Dark Fandom: Perfect Strangers Title: Irreplaceable Summary: [Season 7ish] In which Jennifer learns the hard way that her newlywed husband may suffer from sleep apnea.

Notes: This vignette, which takes place in early S7, was inspired by the scene from episode 2x5, “Life Savers,” when Balki was checking Larry’s breathing while he was sleeping and seemingly couldn’t see any evidence of breathing—between that scene, and the following scene in that episode where Larry ends up revealing that he was “born three weeks early,” it’s more than likely that he has undiagnosed sleep apnea, so this piece happened.

I reference Season 3’s “The Horn Blows at Midnight” again.  There may be a day when I stop referencing it, but it is not this day.

Cross-posted to AO3 & FFN.

It had been a grueling journey for Jennifer, trying to come home from the last leg of an international flight.  Rome to London had been particularly smooth, but London to Chicago had been met with so many delays, including a slight diversion due to inclement weather. It was one in the morning by the time the plane had landed at O’Hare, and it had been nearly another hour to clear customs; by the time she had made it home, it was 3:00, and the house was dark. She hoped the others hadn’t been waiting up for her too long.

The challenge now was getting to bed without waking the others up.  Slowly, she opened and closed the front door, removing her shoes and heading up the stairs, skipping the fifth stair—it creaked. She made it to the upper landing and tiptoed to the master bedroom, once again opening and closing the door as slowly as she could.

She let out a quiet sigh.  Good—she’d avoided waking Balki and Mary Anne, at least.

She was distracted by how cold the room felt; was there something wrong with the heat?  She and Larry would have to deal with that in the morning, she decided.

She glanced at Larry, who was asleep on the bed; the moonlight was streaming through the window, right on him, but it didn’t seem to disturb him at all. His right hand was on the phone, which he had placed beside him, which prompted Jennifer to smile—he’d been ready to go pick her up if she’d called.

Gently, she moved his hand and put the phone back on the bedside table, and moved to go change, but she paused, suddenly feeling uneasy.

Something was wrong.

She glanced back at her husband, taking note of how her presence hadn’t disturbed him at all.  In fact, he was absolutely still.

“…Larry…?” she asked, no longer bothering with trying not to disturb him. She gently touched his shoulder, giving him a gentle nudge.

Larry didn’t move.  Her eyes went to his chest, which was also illuminated by the moonlight.  She waited for several moments, waiting to see his chest rise and fall.

It didn’t.

And with that realization that she was watching her true love slip away in front of her eyes, Jennifer felt her world crumbling to dust all around her.

“Larry!?  LARRY!?” she cried, gently placing her hands on the sides of his face.  He was still warm to the touch—maybe it wasn’t too late!? “Larry, don’t leave me—please don’t leave me!”

She was trembling, but in doing so, she had adjusted the position of his head and neck; suddenly, Larry let out a gasp, and his chest started rising and falling again, rapidly, as his body instinctively tried to compensate for the temporary oxygen loss.

Jennifer stared, listening to his gasps for air, hardly daring to hope.

“Larry…!?”

She shook him again, more forcefully this time, and with a sleepy mumble, he opened his eyes.

“Jen…?  You’re home…!” he managed to say, before needing to catch his breath again.  He seemed surprised at this, and she just stared at him.

Jennifer didn’t even notice the flurry of activity out in the corridor as the landing light clicked on, and then as the door to the master bedroom opened and their light clicked on, as well.

Standing in the doorway were Balki and Mary Anne; Mary Anne was still struggling with removing her sleep mask.

“Cousin Jennifer?” Balki asked.  “What happened!?  Is Cousin Larry okay!?”

“I’m fine, Balki,” Larry managed to say, though he was still out of breath. “Why do you ask?”

“Why?  We heard Jennifer scream loud enough to wake the dead, that’s why!” Mary Anne exclaimed.

Jennifer paled at this description, realizing that might have been just what she had done.  With another cry, she buried her face in Larry’s chest, much to his concern.

“Jen!?  Jen, what is it!?  I’m alright, Jen—I promise!  You must’ve had a bad dream!”

“It wasn’t a dream!” Jennifer retorted, looking up now.  “I’d just walked in here, and you weren’t breathing, Larry—not until I moved you!  I thought… I thought I’d lost you…!”  Her voice broke, and she buried her face in her hands, crying.

Still confused, but now very concerned for his distraught wife, Larry struggled to sit up so that he could comfort her, gently drawing her into a hug.

“Jen, really, I’m alright,” he said.  “Maybe you mistook something in the dark?”

Jennifer was about to say something to defend herself, but she found support from another voice—

“She didn’t mistake it, Cousin,” Balki said.  “It’s happened again…”

“Again!?” Jennifer exclaimed, looking at Balki.  “This happened before—he stopped breathing in his sleep!?”

“Yes, five years ago,” Balki said, his voice trembling at the very memory. “He… He’d fallen asleep on the couch, and I thought he looked too still…  I…  I checked his breathing; I took a pot lid and stuck it under his nose to make sure—nothing! I pulled on his eyelids to see if his eyes were clouded over, but that’s when he woke up, breathing again.”

“Are you sure you didn’t mistake something, either?” Larry asked him.

“I beg to take issue,” Balki retorted.  “The lights were on, and you were out.”

“It sounds like sleep apnea,” Mary Anne said, concerned.  “For people who have it, sometimes, they just stop breathing while they sleep.  Usually, they start breathing on their own again.”

Jennifer, Larry, and Balki gave her a look of confusion.

“…I once had a passenger who was a sleep specialist; she talked about a lot of interesting things,” Mary Anne explained, with a shrug.  “But, anyway, one of the things she said was that since people with sleep apnea usually start breathing again on their own, they may sometimes go undiagnosed until their lack of breathing is noticed by a family member.”

“You…  You mean to tell me that Cousin Larry has been not breathing at night for the last five years!?” Balk exclaimed.  “No wonder Mr. Death has his number…!”

“Well, there’s no way to know for sure,” Mary Anne said.  “If he has been, then he’s really, really lucky that he started breathing again on his own all those times that no one else was there to check on him.  And, Larry, you really should see a specialist just in case that is what’s been going on.  I mean, call me crazy, but the whole breathing thing is kind of important.”

“I… Um…  Yeah,” Larry said.  He glanced at Jennifer, who was still looking at him with tears in her eyes, and he gently reached a hand out to dry them, and she responded by burying her face in his chest again, hugging him tightly, as though determined not to let him slip away again.  “Oh, Jen…”

“Larry…” she said, softly.  “Don’t ever forget that you’re irreplaceable.  Whatever this is…  Please, don’t let it take you from me.  From us.”

“I… I’ll try my hardest,” he promised.

“You’d better.”

There was an awkward silence now; Jennifer still didn’t move, still terrified, and Larry was still trying to comfort her.  He cast a helpless glance at Balki and Mary Anne, every fiber of his being trying to stay calm, knowing that if he let his anxieties take hold, it would only make Jennifer more upset.

“I’ll go make us some hot cocoa,” Mary Anne said, after a moment.

“Yeah, good idea—I’ll help you,” Balki agreed.

“No…” Larry said, wincing.  “Please—you two don’t have to stay up because of this.  I’ll be fine.”

“Cousin, we don’ mind,” Balki insisted.

“What are friends for?” Mary Anne added.

They headed downstairs, and Larry could hear Balki talking about that time five years ago, and how scared he had been.

He exhaled in defeat, tightening his hug around Jennifer.

Suddenly, he was afraid, as well.

“…I don’t want to leave you,” he managed to say.  “I want to be a part of your lives, I…”  All he could think about now was Claire Hayden’s prophecy, and now this…  “…Why me…?”

She looked up at him now, realizing that he was trying to bottle up his own fears for her sake.

“I don’t know why,” she said.  “You’ve been through so much as it is, but apparently Death doesn’t want to leave you alone.”

“Maybe it’s Mr. Death’s way of trying to wear me down and get me to give up…” Larry realized.  He glanced back at Jennifer.  “But I won’t. I’ve got too much to live for.  I’ve got you and Balki and Mary Anne, and all of you are there to help me fight this.”  He paused for a moment.  “Thank you… for saving my life.”

Jennifer managed a nod, still not letting him go.  They were still looking into each other’s eyes when they noticed something flickering in the dark, shadowy corner of the room, as though it had suddenly moved through the window.

They both turned, having both seen it out of the corner of their eyes.

There was nothing—at least now. The coldness of the room was suddenly going away, as well.

They turned back to each other, nervous.

“…Larry…?”

“…He’s going to have to try harder than that.”

Balki and Mary Anne soon returned with the hot chocolate, the both of them pausing as they noticed the difference in the room, as well.

Soon, they were in chairs beside the bed, and all four of them were drinking the chocolate and trying to reassure each other.  Jennifer was slouched against Larry, resting her head on his chest still, a part of her mindful of Larry’s heartbeat and breathing.

She forced herself not to think about what could have happened had she arrived only just a few minutes later.  Just as Larry had promised he would keep fighting, so would she—Death would have to go through her first to get to him.

For now, though, she would draw comfort from the steady beating of her husband’s heart.

[sole-cuore-amore-e-droga]

Suspiria remake review from a shitty movie-goer

(this review is posted too late so excuse me for some timing inaccuracies I couldn’t be arsed to edit)

(IF YOU HATE TL;DRS JUST SKIP AHEAD TO THE “THE REVIEW” PART. YOU’RE WELCOME)

I actually hate to admit why was I interested to watch this movie in the end, but for once SOMETHING motivated me to go to a movie after countless tries from my family to get me to watch something in theatres at a “reasonable time” (daytime is what they mean, this movie was at 8pm our time, and this is when the cross-city bus transport (it goes from one big city to another) stops doing their service lmao).

I myself have a lowkey interest in moviemaking (I’m already getting there by editing my phone-recorded videos because whatever). I come up with my concepts in my head and I am mostly willing to put them down somewhere in my computer so I don’t forget it years later if I want to make that concept a thing in the end (because none of my concepts are finalized... well except for one short horror-ish story I posted on DeviantArt (see mom, I do like some horror stuff!). Reddit as of lately inspired me to edit some of my movie’s plot-lines based on irl events (not related with anything too SJW), and I’m not sure how an usual movie-goer would see this concept but I am going to try to execute it... whenever I have enough equipment to shoot my own little films or skits or whatever.

What’s that? There are people who scrolled past this and already yell at me that “YOU ONLY WENT TO SEE THIS MOVIE BECAUSE OF THE MAN WHO COMPOSED THE SOUNDTRACK~~~”? Ugh yes you exposed me, tea all over. I even had “Street Spirit (Fade Out)” on a bit of a repeat as of lately (how fucking come I wasn’t too couragerous to listen to this song before?? And “Pyramid Song”??? Man am I discovering their pearl(ie)s(*) too late). And I’m occasionally on the band’s subreddit as well. And the man himself is touring ‘round the USA, signing material of fans and have genuinely warm chats with them. Admireable.

But that’s only half truth.

I never thought I’d see Suspiria on cinema theatres in here. Until one time when I saw an ad on a completely random Lithuanian website that said this movie is coming to our theatres 14 December... I couldn’t quite believe my eyes. I made my goal to see Suspiria since then. I even dared to ask a couple of my new college ‘friends’ to see it with me, but one of them fell off the deal when I revealed that I’ll be going to see it on Saturday, and on the weekends he’s usually at home, far away from the city the college is in (he lives in college dormitory on mostly the work-weekdays). So my only movie companion ended up to be this 28-year-old coursemate (actually we both study different things but sometimes we attend some of the same lectures) who was intrigued by the Suspiria trailer herself so at least I’m gonna have her by my side of the movie, so I thought. Sweet.

I already envisioned seeing this in a mall cinema theatre but my companion offered me a cheaper alternative - her suggested cinema theatre was actually in renovation so the business is temporarily happening inside an actual drama theatre’s long theatre hall. I had to wait long until the ticket box opened and because of that I was lowkey frustrated as I finished my English test writing a little earlier, so I spent my time walking around the city until the time came and I wandered off to the old building of the cinema so then I remembered it was moved and I found the moved place. Yeah I bought the tickets before my companion could but I’ll skip ahead to the time that I almost lost the tickets because they were put down on a windowsill outside some children activity centre (Suspiria and children?? lol). I came back home late at night and was ready for the movie to happen the next day. Oh and before buying the tickets I coincidentally saw dance classes going on nearby that building... weird, as Suspiria has dance elements in there

The day came (December 15) and my family went together with me because they saw this as an opportunity to see the Christmas tree of our city (but not the movie). Needless to say, they were still visibly pissed at me orchestrating this idea, as I planned everything BUT the transport to go by. Well at least my mom and my sis. Dad was cool with it as he returned home to watch Home Alone. Aside all that, the cinema hall was cozy, Christmassy, not too small, there were a few trailers before the movie, no snack-seller places (as this is not a mall lol) - my companion was glad she wasn't at the mall as she found this place where we were at way lovelier.

Now with all that unnecessary long intro off my chest, let’s begin:

THE REVIEW

(definitely not spoiler-free, if you are sensitive to spoilers please watch the movie for yourselves before reading my review. But if you like being spoiled, I’m your friend then I guess lmao)

The intro to the movie felt like I ended up booking a wrong movie - I didn't expect that to be set somewhere in Germany, especially an American/Italian-shot one. Was that a thing in the original Suspiria? I don't know... (apparently it is, but the cities are different, never the country though)

Patricia (I didn’t know it was Chloë Grace’s role until reading the Wiki) looked like to be a really big deal here, with the dance pupils discussing her disappearance the other day and Susie overheard them, then Sara mentioned the Patricia thing to Susie after Susie revealed she was kind of chosen as the lead dancer for the Volk play... is it because Patricia was THE saviour that unfortunately knew a little too much?? Idk, it’s perhaps the reason we get to see the Klemperer guy subplot happen (I didn’t know it was Tilda Swinton behind him all the time either, must be because the way the male German accent was put on her lol). Turned out she was captured and kept under some dungeon where Sara had gone later in the movie, but looking like an almost melted and grotesquely old human being (or if Mary’s mother from “Chocolate with Nuts” was a person). Speaking of which, there is one more later in the movie, but I won’t tell just yet - we will need to get into such scenes discussion first.

Interesting deaths here, despite of them being grotesque and horrifically detailed. It almost felt like Susie, whilst doing her first dance as the probable lead dancer, temporarily turned into Olga’s voodoo doll or a violent bloodbender (that old lady from Avatar that could bloodbend was incredibly uncanny, damn) and left Olga completely fucked up, and the foam mouth later on... is this the effect myxomatosis has on a human being if it was ever humanly? She was twitching and salivating afterall. :P But no, she’s not dead until she gets to plead her death later in the movie! :O Several others occur throughout, but none is more prominent than this key scene I described, well at least according to TV Tropes.

The search for the evil person in this movie without Wiki helping me much was definitely a nice game for me to play. I kept thinking that Blanc might be that one, then I thought she’s not the one until she looked at Carolina (I think that was the tall tomboy’s name??) suspiciously and then she later passed out on the floor violently, with rabies foam and everything.

Anyway, don’t tell me Tilda Swinton wouldn’t make out a pretty good Thom Yorke post-Pablo Honey. She’s 8 years older than him, ffs! Also played a man before (e.g.: this movie I’m talking about) so the make up won’t be an unjumpable-over hurdle.

The sighs were for sure unsettling, especially because they oddly sounded like orgasm here and there. IDK why. I know fucking is referenced twice in this movie (well only fucking once and sex another time). Speaking of random things, the nightmare shots were completely random themselves, following up with some imagery we never see in the movie again, and some of that we see only a little (like the worms and bloody organs).

3 long scenes that were note-worthy for me. One is the Olga mutilation/Susie's first dancing scene that I already noted, and it was driven by music (the others will be too. Soundtrack of this movie still rules). Then there's the Volk play itself - girls go from one place to another, take poses of each other, dance individually, let their minimalistic red rope dresses flick in the air, interspersed with Sara in the underneath area and her broken leg (so broken, the bone went out of her skin!), and then the matriarchy getting her back on stage, but healing her leg with her witch powers before that. I haven't really listened to the rest of the soundtrack but I gotta check the song out so that I won't end up labeling it as a Kid A reject. No but seriously - intense dancing needed some intense drumming and painful instrument sounds just to project out the massiveness of the whole play.

Then I keep remembering the scene where Madame Blanc commands Susie to jump higher and higher in the mirror hall, up until she jumps as highest as possible. Also my companion’s favourite scene was the stare exchange between these two ladies during the part where people were singing some drinking song in a bar to celebrate ‘Volk’’s success - you hear them singing and then some chilling background noise slowly mixing and creeping its way into the atmosphere, then I think it leads into a scene where some sparkling aura entity wakes Susie up (and she’s nude) in the middle of the night and gets her to go down to this... dungeon orgy full of random stuff going on, complete with an Asian man doing something beyond explanation (I could say lewd but not quite), even more strange ritual dancing and the very much frightening Madame Helga... who looked like Jabba the Hutt for some reason. And then of course everyone slitting, slashing and twisting each other, and by the end Susie throwing us all a plot twist which makes her THE evil one who can finally let her ‘friends’ go of all that suffering they have been through thanks to the damn witches (and yeah apparently her dance friends haven’t completely died? THAT’S how they do - they tell Susie to end their suffering and she does). Also she cracks her chest open to reveal a... very graphic part of a female body that will by no doubt get this whole text review reported without consent so I refrain from any illustrations. Oh and this scene mostly has the possibly favourite this movie’s soundtrack song of mine, if not one of them, play - titled Unmade. It was a mind-boggling decision to do so but the movie editors do them I suppose, but still. I felt sad for the song having to be the background of such absurd but fair enough events? (Oh and I didn’t mention that everyone who voted for the other woman than Madame Blanc to be the leader of the witches (iirc) were rid of in this movie. Damn.)

Oh and the ending is rather an interesting detail, not talking about post-credits because as always I have to be this one movie goer who wants to do it but can’t because they’re urged to go back out of the movie theater. We turn into modern day Germany with a love heart carved on a brick wall with the letters A and L (perhaps?? at the time of finishing this review my memory towards it kind of erased some parts of the movie for me), a nice little remembrance of Lutz’s (the old man’s) love for his dear Anke, with which they have reunited during the movie, but Lutz was dragged out by some people related to the dance academy for probably wandering elsewhere than needed and somehow Lutz ended up as one of the sex dungeon victims, stripped of clothing and lying down quite powerless. That and before the modern day shot we are subjected with Lutz in hospital with Susie coming to visit, they discuss something related to the plot, Susie touches the guy speaks some more, leaves and according to the Wiki, Lutz “suffers from a violent seizure” that was nothing more than just a hard seizure. And it even erases his memories!

Anyway, as a whole, I felt more underwhelmed of this movie’s experience despite really wanting to see it. Like, “uhm yeah gore blood people getting slashed everyone’s a witch and everyone’s watched over by the witch and if you expose the witches you die” kind of underwhelmed. I didn’t want this movie to blatantly go through my head, but it did, that’s why I wanted to make notes everytime something notable happens. There was one startling moment, and it just was an innocent scene transition. And something within Olga’s mutilation scene made me chuckle (and made some other people leave the cinema hall ASAP). It’s more of a disgusting watch than scary. Also feels too dragged out in parts.

I’d only recommend it if you are gore-tolerant (there are people that can’t stand looking at blood so this might as well not be for you, especially if you’re younger than 16), like intense choreos that can impact other people literally, and... the soundtrack. Yes of course. If you dare to get through the movie with feeling its soundtrack, sometimes you might as well feel it right, but some of the soundtrack song usages might as well make you go “hmm” as much as me.

I'll remind myself to never watch a movie in theaters for soundtrack again (unless they're not THAT late). And the other 'trilogy of the three witches' movie remakes, especially if they come out at the time I haven't moved houses by now, because for sure as hell will my parents not like me going to cinema late once more. The movie is lowkey 7 out of 10 for me, can sometimes it's on the verge of falling down to 6 becaude of no completely proper comprehension of some directing choices... so 6.7/10 is good - as it still has 6 in it, but totally leans on to the 7.

Will probably watch it again. I need to remember some more of this movie sometime later. And looking for online uploads of this movie is unrecommendable - I'll wait until Lionsgate distributes it to America for wider audiences so that anything could surface 2 months (or even a few days) later from now. Though if I didn't need all that, I'd definitely not watch it again for a long time... unfortunately I want to.

Post movie feelings: my companion liked the movie, initially said to never watch it again but now wants to watch it again because it was so "wtf" she felt like re-experiencing it at some point. She liked the music (another bonus point for Yorke). She wished she could film the reactions of other people who watched this, as they mostly were confused, all being like "wtf did I just watch???". I'm already feeling bad for the 3rd companion who didn't join us but would also like to watch this - he’ll likely be one of those confused movie-goers.

[vivacesole]

Captured

Spencer Reid x Reader

Summary: You’re captured by the unsub of a case you’re working on. He allows you one five minute phone call before he plans to kill you. You spend those five minutes to your advantage, speaking to Spencer for what you think will be the last time.

Warnings: Kidnapping, mild torture, isolation, physical injuries, and a near death experience.

Word Count: 2053

Masterlist | Prompt List | Request

-

Of all your years, you never thought that it would have been you. You went through excessive training to prevent just this, you were always on high alert and could get out of any situation. So why was this time so different? How did you let yourself get captured by this unsub?

You raised your head, tortured by the fact that you couldn’t wipe the blood dripping on your forehead. Your hands bonded behind you, and your feet to the legs of the chair you were sitting in. It was dark in the room, a single hanging light was burning out. The room was empty. Just you and the light, and a locked door.

“What do you want?” you tried to yell out. But no answer. Just the chill from the vent that was above you.

-

Back at the BAU, there was a struggle for focus. Especially for Reid. His brain that was always moving at 100 mph, solving multiple problems at once, couldn’t spit out a single statistic. He stared at the map in front of him. Before you were taken he was able to create a geological profile, but now he couldn’t run with any information he had. 

“Reid.” Hotch stepped into the room that the local police station has set up for them.

“Did you find (Y/N)?” he perked up.

“No, not yet, but we may be close” he bowed his head. “but I need you out here with the rest of us. We need all hands on deck.”

“Hotch, I-I have no hands to give.” Reid whispered and fiddled with his fingers. “I don’t even know what to do with this profile, a-and I know this should motivate me to want to find this unsub faster but I can’t do it. I can’t think about anything except (Y/N) being okay.”

“Re-”

“Hotch, last time I tried working on a case I couldn’t focus on, Maeve got killed. I messed up.”

“This is a different profile Reid. We can learn from our past, but you can’t compare these cases okay? This is a slightly different situation. Do you understand? We may have something now, so we need you.” Hotch held the door open, knowing Reid would be coming with him. Spencer lifted himself up and trudged through the door to where the rest of the team was.

“Have you guys got anything else?” he asked.

“Well I think we’ve got our guy.” Morgan started.

“I cross referenced our starting profile with men who recently lost custody cases of their children, then narrowed it down to those who haven’t been paying child support.” Garcia spoke through the screen in front of them.

“Well what do you got?“ 

"I’ve got one Nicholas Fraiser. I’m sending you his address. It’s a large farm, with too much land for one person. I’m sending satellite images of the property, and I’m not seeing any other buildings than his house. If they’ve got (Y/N) there, there isn’t much above ground to search.”

“Alright thanks Garcia.” Hotch ended the call. “We’ll head out there now and search. Set up a perimeter and keep it secured.” Hotch ordered and the rest of the team followed him to the cars in a rush.

-

“Hey! Psycho!” you yelled out. After what seemed like an hour, you regained your strength and used your anger to your advantage. “What do you want with me?”

The door in front of you opened and you squinted to adjust to the bright light. The outline of a man walked through the door way and closed it behind him. 

“You messed me up Mary.” Fraiser said.

“I-I’m not.. Who are you?” you whispered. He knelt down next to you abruptly so you could see his face.

“You know perfectly well who I am Mary. Don’t act like you’ve forgotten, you can’t forget. I’m her goddamn father!” he yelled into your face. You noticed the gun in his hand, pointed at the ground. You noticed it was covered in dirt, in fact it was just dirt. The walls were wood, with dirt spilling through the cracks. You were underground.

“I’m not Mary.” you said sternly. You looked into his eyes, making sure you studied his face well to remember what he looked like.

“Shut up!” he stood and hit you across the face with the butt of the gun. “I’m not stupid.”

“No, no you’re not stupid.” your heart was racing, and you decided you might as well play along. “You were smart enough to kidnap me. To stay away from the feds all this time.”

“You’re damn right.”

“What do you need me for?” you asked cautiously.

“I don’t need you for nothin’.” he spit. “I want you to pay. I need you to pay. Samantha was everything to me. My only daughter, and you just had to rip her away from me. Cut me out of your life.”

“Look, it’s been years. She’s grown. Almost an adult.”  you cried out. “I didn’t want to, I promise.”

“It sure seemed like you did. And then what? You ran off with your boyfriend, leaving me behind and in the dark. How selfish could you have been?” he shook his head. “I need you out of the way.” he pulled out a phone from his pocket.

“What is that?” you whimpered.

“This is all you get, and then you’re gone. One call.” he stuck the phone in your lap and loosened one of your hands enough so you could hold the phone. “I got one call to Samantha before you took her away forever.”

-

Spencer had the route mapped out. Hotch was driving and JJ was in the front passenger seat. Hotch were booking it and eta was about in 7 minutes. Then Spencer’s phone rang.

“Reid.” he answered.

“Spence..” you breathed in relief. He sat up, stiff.

“(Y/N)? Oh my god. Are you okay?” JJ and Hotch looked at him through the rear view mirror. Hotch sped up immediately. 

“Tell Garcia to try and trace the line.” he whispered to JJ.

“Yes, yes I-I’m fine. He’s given me a phone call.”

“Like the rest of the victims.” he cut himself off. “I’m sorry..”

“No it’s okay, that’s exactly what I am. I messed up, my guard was down. I’m a victim.”

“No (Y/N) you were doing great. You-”

“Four minutes!” Fraiser called out.

“Hey Spence..” you whispered.

“(Y/N) can you tell me where you are?”

“No, he’s listening.” you whispered. “He wants his daughter Samantha. If she’s able, and y'all get here in time I think it’ll be good that she be here as a ruse to get him out and keep me safe.”

“Got it, Hotch, (Y/N) says we should have his daughter enroute to the site as well if able, can you pass that to Garcia?” you heard him faintly from the phone, “We think we’re headed to your destination we’re just under 5 minutes out do you think you can hold on?”

“Maybe, but Spence the reality is I could be dead in a matter of minutes. Please hurry. I’m sure y'all are on the right track” you whispered.

“Has Garcia got anything?” Hotch asked JJ. She nodded.

“We’re headed to the right area. She cant ping it, but it’s on the property. And the daughter is on the way with an officer." 

"Don’t- don’t say that. We’re gonna get you out of there.” Spencer paused. “(Y/N)?”

“Yeah Spence?”

“Why did you call me? Out of everybody, why me?”

“Cause even in situations like these you manage to calm me down. I needed to hear your voice Spencer Reid. I needed to tell you I love you." 

"Two minutes!”

“(Y/N)..” he paused. “You- I- we’re getting you out of there. That’s a promise.” he stuttered.

“Please Spence.” you were hopeless and doubted that they would have gotten there in time. “Ease my head.”

“I love you too.” he said breathily. 

“He’s going to take the phone soon.”

“We’re practically there, hold on (Y/N), we’re coming. Hotch step on it!” he yelled.

“Spence, I’m scared. I tried so hard, I was always ready to prevent this I- I don’t know what went wrong.”

“We all make mistakes-”

“Alright you’re done.” the unsub said and went to grab for the phone.

“Wait!” you called out. “Spence I’m underground!” the line went dead.

“Hotch, Fraiser has (Y/N) underground. How far out is the daughter?”

“They’re just behind us, not too far.”

“Hotch we gotta hurry or he’s gonna kill (Y/N).” he held onto the edge of his seat, ready to run as he watched the house grow closer. 

Hotch sped in and skidded to a stop in front of the house, backup units following his lead.

“Alright be on the lookout for a passage, basement, or storm shelter. We’ve gotten information that Fraiser is underground, and we should find Agent (L/N) there as well.” the officers nodded and ran off in a timely manner while the team went in to search the house.

“Hotch I got something!” Morgan called over the radio. “East end of the house I got a door leading downstairs.”

The team rushed to the location Morgan gave and made their way down in formation.

“Nicholas Fraiser FBI!” Hotch called out. They heard movement and a string of expletives. He now stood behind you holding the gun to your head.

“Nicholas it’s over, put the gun down.” Reid ordered. You looked back at the team in fear and relief. You had a chance. You caught Reid’s eye in the back of the group. His focus shifted from you to Fraiser, his gun raised and steady.

“She took my daughter from me.” he shook.

“No, Nicholas, she didn’t. She’s not Mary. I need you to put the gun down.” he said sternly. “She’s here.” Reid whispered to Hotch.

“Send her in.” Hotch ordered over the radio. It was the longest five seconds ever but she made her way down the stairs.

“Daddy?”

Fraiser shifted and blinked. Shifting his focus onto his daughter who was coming down the stairs.

“Samantha?” he whispered and then pointed his gun at the other agents.

“Daddy, I want to talk to you. But you need to put the gun down. They wont let us talk unless you put the gun down. Please.”

Morgan and Hotch began to move behind Fraiser waiting for his next move. You held your breath and kept your eyes on Spencer, even when he wasn’t looking at you, he kept you calm.

“Put it down Fraiser and let this be over with.” Morgan said. Slowly he started to back up. He threw the gun to the side and Hotch blocked Fraiser from the weapon while Morgan went to handcuff him. You let out a large breath and started crying.

“I’ve gotcha.” you heard Spencer as he started to untie your hands and feet. You stretched out your joints before using Spencer to help yourself get up and start walking. “I told you we’d be here on time.”

He got you to the medic that was waiting outside and sat you in the back. Your injuries weren’t too severe, gladly. They gave you a blanket and water while they worked to bandage your wounds.

“H-how are you feeling?” Reid asked.

“Better. I just really want to go home.” you avoided his eyes.

“That makes two of us.” he chuckled nervously. “I was so scared (Y/N), it was hard to not break down over the phone. Hotch had to force me back out onto the field. I couldn’t focus it-it was like-”

“Yeah.” you interrupted, knowing he didnt like talking about Maeve. “I know. I’m sorry I never should have told you.. what I told you. I wasn’t thinking. You’re probably-”

“Did you mean it?” he asked.

“What?”

“Did you mean it?”

“Yeah but-”

“So did I.” he sat next to you. “Don’t be sorry. I probably would have been too chicken to say it first.” he chuckled.

“Really?” you rested your head on his shoulder.

“I love you (Y/N). You should know that. On the other hand, I’ve known for a while.” he leaned into you. You smiled softly, ready for your plane ride home.

“I love you too Spence.” you chuckled. “Just sucks that it came to this for us to tell each other.”

[ifuckinglovestvincent]

BBC: A strange encounter with St. Vincent

By Mark Savage BBC Music Reporter

3 October 2017

“Are you ready for this?” St Vincent’s press officer is making small talk ahead of our interview, on a scorching hot summer’s day in London. “Sure,” I reply. I’ve listened to her new album. I’ve made copious notes. I’ve jotted down about two dozen questions. “No, but are you ready for this?” he asks. “I’m not sure what you mean.” “Oh, you’ll see.” Sounds ominous… A few minutes later, a cloaked woman appears and, without speaking, leads me by the hand into the street, through a fire escape and into a bare concrete room. She gestures to a billboard-sized poster of St Vincent, which has a non-disclosure agreement at the bottom. I sign it in pink felt tip, and am led to a prefabricated wooden cube. The monk woman unbolts a door, barely big enough for a medium-sized Labrador, and I stoop through. Inside, the walls are bright pink. There are two pink standard lamps, with pink light bulbs, placed in opposite corners. And there, sitting at a cheap wooden table, is St Vincent, playing ambient guitar music through her iPhone. Her hair is, I think, painted blue and cut in a close bob. She makes unwavering eye contact as we shake hands and the door is shut (locked?) behind me. “Wait til the paint fumes get to you,” she deadpans. “It’ll be really awesome.” As she describes the room - “it’s like a psychedelic womb” - the 34-year-old sips a drink through a bendy straw that’s been moulded into the word “No”. “That’s in case there’s a yes or no question. We can just save time.” This, I suspect, will not be your average interview. St Vincent is here, ostensibly, to promote her new album MASSEDUCTION (that’s “mass seduction”, not “mass education”). It’s the follow-up to 2014’s St Vincent, an expectation-defying art-pop record that cemented Texas-born Annie Clark as one of her generation’s greatest guitarists. If anything, the new record is even better - pitching wildly between jittery electronics and despondent ballads as Clark exposes her feelings on sex, drugs and sadness. “It’s an incredibly sad album,” she says. “Quite manic and painful. "I listen to it, and some points of the album are so sad it makes me laugh. It’s just so tragic. But that’s human life.” The first single, New York, is a disarmingly simple ode to lost love. “New York isn’t New York without you, love,” she sings over lonely piano chords, with the pulsing heartbeat of the city submerged deep within the mix. “It’s a kind of dance song that you listen to in your bed and cry,” she says. New York is one of several break-up songs on the album. It’s safe to assume they’re about Cara Delevingne, the elaborately-eyebrowed supermodel she dated for 18 months until last September - but Clark isn’t going into specifics. “Songs are Rorschach tests,” she deflects, referring to the inkblot psychological tests. “The interpretation of the song, or the feeling of the song, has more to do with the listener than it does with my intention and I’m fine with that. "But that song’s a love letter to New York, certainly, and to me it’s a composite of so many people and so many experiences in New York.” The album also continues the saga of Johnny, who first appeared on St Vincent’s debut album, Marry Me. Back then, she pleaded to be his partner, singing, “Let’s do what Mary and Joseph did / Without the kid”. By her fourth record, though, they were distant and estranged, as he embraced New York’s party scene. In the latest instalment, Johnny is dependent on drugs and living on the street. When Clark crosses his path, he accuses her of abandoning him. “What happened to blood. Our family?” he hisses. “Annie, how could you do this to me?” It’s heartbreaking, and savagely self-critical - but Clark won’t say whether it’s based on a real person. “Everybody’s real and everybody’s a composite,” she replies. It seems evasive. It is evasive. But the singer is a thoughtful, considerate interviewee. She seems to taste the questions, chewing them over before answering. Her responses are precise, but never abrupt. So why, then, are we talking inside a bright pink Tardis? The point, Clark explains, is to put both of us “in uncomfortable positions”. “You’ve done a million interviews. I’ve done a million interviews. There’s only so many times you can repeat your Wikipedia page to someone. "So what happens if we shake that up? Maybe you and I react differently, and that’s interesting.” What actually happens is that we spend 15 minutes talking about the process of being interviewed. She winces as she recalls a journalist quizzing her on the time she played New York while dressed as a toilet. “I had just made a horror movie,” she says, referencing her short film Birthday Party, “and this was a costume from it”. “Then I had an interviewer say to me, ‘Was that some Freudian display, as if you feel you’ve been pissed upon?’ "I was like, 'Wow, that says a whole lot more about you than it does about me.’” Principally, though, she’s bored of being asked the same old questions. “I’ll give you an example!” she says, grabbing her phone and scrolling through a series of about 30 voice memos. “I get asked to justify my existence as a woman in music all the time, so here is an example of something I might say.” She clicks play and sits back in her chair, arms crossed. Her voice, in a bored monotone, emits from the speaker. “Being a woman in music means being asked about being a woman in music. And when you ask me a question about being a woman in music, what you’re really doing is presenting me with two very tired narratives, and asking me to choose one of them. "The first one goes like this: I am a victim, and now is the time to list, in great detail, my many grievances in order to assert my place in the hierarchy of victimhood. "Or you’re asking me to defend now, in words, as if my work wasn’t enough, why I deserve a spot at the table. "I refuse to participate in either narrative.” Her protest duly noted, we proceed to safer ground. Clark notes that her new album was finished exactly 10 years after her debut was released, and marvels that she’s made it this far. “I’ve been happy every place that I’ve been - and every place that I’ve been, I felt like I had made it. Even when I was playing pizza parlours, or clubs in London for six people - three of whom were listening - I was like, 'I’m playing in London!’ "So for me, it’s been a constant, irrepressible desire to make things.” Making this album with Jack Antonoff (Taylor Swift, Lorde), she employed the absurdist tactics of her idols David Bowie and David Byrne, placing “motivational phrases” on the music stand as she sang. One, shared on Instagram last year, simply read “dead meat.” “Sometimes, when you’re doing vocal takes you have a pad and pencil there so you can make notes, and I’d subconsciously written 'Dead Meat’. It just made me laugh that that was whatever was coming out of my brain at that time.” Her Freudian scribbling had no impact on the song, though. “Self laceration is just another form of ego. It doesn’t really help,” she insists. “I’ve learned that the hard way. Trust me, it’s not that usable. You really have to get out of your own way, especially when singing.” And that, it transpires, is what really motivates her - the “meditative state” she achieves while making music. “I need it. And I realise I need it when I haven’t done it for a while and I feel very agitated. "You know, it’s like some people get really frustrated and angry and they’re like, 'Oh, I need to have an orgasm!’. And then you do that and you feel so much better. It’s just that easy.” At that moment, the cloaked woman knocks at the door and our time is up. “Thank you very much, it was a pleasure to meet you,” says Clark. “You too,” I reply, expressing relief that I didn’t trigger any of her “stock answers”. “You’ve done well!” she laughs. “You passed! Bye!” St Vincent’s album, MASSEDUCTION is released on 13 October.

[ Source ]

[sadrien]

wanna chat? pt.25

on ao3 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25

alright!!! so this chapter is a little special. its a contest!!!!

for literally no reason at all, i decided to have a little fun with this chapter. in this chapter, there are a bunch of pop song references. the majority are from the early 2000s (before 2010, tho there may be one or two from 2011 or 12) and one is from the 90s. whoever can list the most references wins a drabble/short fic of their choice from me!

to enter, submit a list of all the songs that were referenced in this chapter (or the ones you could find!!)

shoot me an ask if you have any questions~!

mental support = nino, ebony = alya, draco = adrien, vampire = alya

i hope you enjoy!

17:20

mental support: a reminder that i hate all of you

ebony dark’ness dementia raven way: u love u s

mental support: i can t believe you just made me listen to all of that what the fuck

draco malfoy: Now You Know

mental support: i wish i didnt

ebony dark’ness dementia raven way: its so good so iconic also the writer is now a fukcing awesome published author and mari and i r gonna read her books together join us we can b the nerds with a book club

mental support: i just spent several hours listening to you three do a dramatic reading of my immortal i think weve gone past nerds with a book club

ebony dark’ness dementia raven way: sounds fake

vampire: You cant say that wasnt a lot of fun though I forgot how wil d that fic got

mental support: i need to process

draco malfoy: Have fun

  5:02

draco malfoy: Reasons to quit modelling: Early morning shoots

draco malfoy changed his name to asleep in makeup

asleep in makeup: I can’t wait to be done today

  9:34

mental support: i am so sorry dude fingers crossed that your dad stops sending you to them

ebony dark’ness dementia raven way: ^^^

mental support: al babe please change your name

ebony dark’ness dementia raven way: f i n e uhhhhhhhh

ebony dark’ness dementia raven way has changed their name to aint no lie

aint no lie: baby bi bi bi

mental support: i dont know what i expected

aint no lie: pls choose a lyric and join me

mental support: youre ridiculous why do i love you

mental support has changed their name to fool for you

aint no lie: lmao sap

fool for you: true

  10:02

vampire: Oh my god we have so man y orders to day Wont be on Im dying Im gonna dronw in frosting

vampire has changed their name to too many cookies

fool for you: uhhh no such thing let me know when youre on your break i wanna stop in and say hi and also steal some baked goods pull you away from baking for a bit

too many cookies: My knight in shining arm or  <3

fool for you: mostly hoping for cookies deemed unworthy to sell but yes i can work with knight

too many cookies: At least youre honest

13:35

asleep in makeup: Get me out og hits hous e

aint no lie: omw get ready to leave boy i was in the area on a walk

asleep in makeup: Thnak s

  13:46

fool for you: let me know if i can do anything ok?? if you need to stay the night or something that super chill my moms wont mind besides they keep trying to invite you all to dinner

too many cookies: Same as what Nino said!!! And also what!! I love your moms Id love to go to dinner??????

fool for you: yeah but theyre gonna tell embarrassing stories

too many cookies: You say that like I wasnt there for most of them

fool for you: yeah but adrie nand alya werent

too many cookies: Ok true true

19:11 in PM between too many cookies and alseep in makeup

asleep in makeup: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6J1-eYBbspA

too many cookies: Why the fuck

asleep in makeup: I’m with Alya We’re listening to 2000 hits from the US

too many cookies: Of course you are Are you having fun And feeling better??

asleep in makeup: Yeah We’re cuddling and making fun of the music videos Mostly the fashion Also her mom brought home some food from the hotel so we don’t have to eat ramen which is both awesome and a disappointment

too many cookies: Mhm How hard are you pining

asleep in makeup: Shut up

too many cookies: You love me

asleep in makeup: Unfortunately Why are our friends just so Great Good Incredible Sos I’m getting emotional about them Mari I really love them what did we do

too many cookies: We have really great taste obviously

asleep in makeup: Man I have shitty luck

too many cookies: Or the best

asleep in makeup: That’s your department

too many cookies: True tru e Are you going to survive??

asleep in makeup: Yeah Cuddling with Alya is unfairly nice

too many cookies: Tell me about it Anyway why this song

asleep in makeup: Because I love you and just wanted to remind you

too many cookies: This is the worst way to tell me that But I love you too I have to go help my mom with dinner but Ill talk to you later <3 Have fun Dont die

asleep in makeup: No promises

20:02 in fucking clock hearts

aint no lie has renamed this conversation to tell your boyfriend if hes got beef

too many cookies: Wha t

aint no lie: THAT IM A VEGETARIAN AND I AINT FUCKING SCARED O F HIM

fool for you: what the fuck

asleep in makeup: We’ve been watching music videos for like 3 hours

aint no lie: im liv in g

asleep in makeup: My dad would die if he saw any of the outfits people are wearing in these

aint no lie: american pop music from the 2000s is wild join us

fool for you: i thik im good

asleep in makeup: Youre not

aint no lie: were not falling in love were just falling apart :/

too many cookies: Im too tired for fake deep al

aint no lie: rip im sorry babe

fool for you: can i break into the bakery and get a cookie i need sugar

too many cookies: Cn I convince you to watch a show with me or something

fool for you: duh

too many cookies: !!!!!!!!! Let me know when you get here Im just at the foot of the stairs braiding my hair Ill let you in  

  20:15

aint no lie: bo y why are all of 3oh3s songs fucking icon ci

too many cookies: 3oh3 is that supposed to like Mean somethin g

aint no lie: idk its just another word i never learned how to pronounce

too many cookies: RIp

fool for you: yo mari im here

too many cookies: !!!

  20:25

aint no lie: a;lsdkfjasdf things i apparently need to do add chloe on snapchat

fool for you: yo why

asleep in makeup: She just sent me a selfie of her wearing designer shades just to hide her face cause she took her makeup off

aint no lie: she is???? weirdly chill snapchattin g marhs whtf

too many cookies: Whtf???

fool for you: what hell the fuck

asleep in makeup: That might have to do with us having been friends since we were like In diapers Chloe isn’t the best person but we still talk for a reason

aint no lie: fair

fool for you: i follow her on twitter for her rants theyre ridic they make my day

asleep in makeup: Oh uh Nino can I come over when you’re done at the bakery?

fool for you: yeah of course dude!!! that offers always there

aint no lie: >:(

too many cookies: I take it you two had this argument alread y

asleep in makeup: Yup I feel bad invading Alya’s space for so long

aint no lie: youve been around all night before!!!!! its not a big deal!!!!!!!!!!! the party dont stop

fool for you: want me to steal some cookies from you

asleep in makeup: Stealing is bad

aint no lie: why are u leaving me!!!!!!!!!!!

too many cookies: Ill let Nino tak ethe cookies then its not stealing Also cant you have this con vo irl??

asleep in makeup: Yeah but this is better

aint no lie: yeah also were comfy on the couch and itd be weird to yell at each other when were sitting like this

PM between asleep in makeup and too many cookies

too many cookies: Rip

asleep in makeup: Please don’t make this worse

too many cookies: Come on Romeo

asleep in makeup: That’s not my name

too many cookies: Fiiine You ok?? I know youre going over Ninos Hes getting ready to leave btw but he just mentioned that in the main chat

asleep in makeup: Yeah I just Its been a really really messed up week

too many cookies: Fair enough Let me know if you need anything ok???

asleep in makeup: Thanks <3 Going from Alya to Nino will be fun

too many cookies: Tonight your e fallign in love

asleep in makeup: Very funny But let me know if you need anything too Ok???

too many cookies: I will <3 <3

in tell your boyfriend if hes got beef

fool for you: ok so how many cookies is too many cookies

aint no lie: there is literally no such thing weve talked about thi s

fool for you: i bet if you eat too many you could die

aint no lie: come on let me shake up ur world and change ur life eat All The Cookies

fool for you: thats too many cookies

aint no lie: eat all the cookies an d die

fool for you: youre just jealous that adrien is coming over

aint no lie: please this isnt even jealousy >:/

fool for you: bruh oh btw im leaving in like 2 minutes gonna steal you away from alya

aint no lie: n e v e r

asleep in makeup: Please save me she’s been playing the same song for like half an hour

aint no lie: listen hot stuff im in loe vwith this son g

fool for you: let the beat rock dude

asleep in makeup: Mari pl e a s e

aint no lie: i cant stop cause im haivng too much fun!!!!!!!

  21:35

aint no lie: i cant believe ive been betrayed!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

fool for you: youre so dramatic

aint no lie: this is the worst thing to ever happen o t me

asleep in makeup: Its not enough to say that I miss you, is it

aint no lie: no >:( tell me what i wanna hear and that is that ur coming bcak

asleep in makeup: Sorry Al

fool for you: yeah ive got a blanket fort set up still from last time so i win

aint no lie: shi t

too many cookies: Youre all ridiculou s You need to come back down t o earht Weve got bigger problems than this Liek the fact that I canT FIND MY SCISSOR S

aint no lie: r i p

fool for you: theyre under your chaise

too many cookies: What

fool for you: check

too many cookies: ……. Holy s hi t HO W

fool for you: magic

aint no lie: u might no t believe ur eyes but ninos magic

asleep in makeup: I thought I got away from this

aint no lie: nope <3

[itsnotsammy]

{ Burial at Sea }

He couldn't understand how things had happened so fast.

It almost felt like a bad, really bad dream. But it was real, and it was painful, and there was no way Sam could change things - no matter how much he wanted to. Dean was gone for good.

He just didn't expect to stumble on a door that led right into a city - in the bottom of the ocean. Because Men of Letters obviously didn't know how to catalog their dangerous shit properly.

Words: 2,300

Chapters: 1/?

Language: English

Fandoms: Supernatural; Bioshock

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Violence; Rape/Non-Con

Categories: M/M

Characters: Dean Winchester; Sam Winchester; Castiel; Mary Winchester; Atlas (BioShock); Big Daddy (BioShock); Little Sister; Andrew Ryan; Brigid Tenenbaum; Frank Fontaine; Jack (BioShock)

Relationships: Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester

Additional Tags: Crossover; Rapture (Bioshock); Season 12 AU; Time Travel; Pre-Season/Series 12; Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con; Minor Character Death; Implied/Referenced Torture; Pre 1958 New Year's Eve Riot; Splicers - Freeform; Plasmids; Explicit Language; Alternative Universe; Wincest;  Other Additional Tags to Be Added

Tagging: @stanfordwincest

read it on Ao3

For the first time in all those years living in there, the silence filling the bunker felt heavy, oppressive. An almost physical reminder that he was, once more, completely alone. Sure, he knew Castiel was still there, still trying to make him feel any better because there was no way the angel would leave his side after everything they've been through, even after all the mistakes and sins they both had commited in the name of 'greater good'. They were some twisted kind of family now, if he cared to remember. They had no one but each other now. Heaven had abandoned Cass. Dean was gone, just as dad and mom and... He sucked in a harsh breath, trying to focus on anything but the burning pain on his chest - but honestly, Sam almost had lost the little self control he had the moment he stepped into the hideout, because nothing else could make Dean's absence so clear than the empty place they were just getting used to call 'home'.

But he had a vague idea of how crushed, how miserable and broken beyond repair he'd feel the moment he looked at the Impala again after the shock had dispersed from his tired brain.

And there was Cass talking, trying to break the silence but it just made the Winchester feel even more at egde. He didn't want to talk right now. He didn't need to, in fact. All he needed in that very moment was a few bottles of the strongest alcohol he could find and then he'd just drown himself in self loathing and pity for some hours... or days, at least. That sounded like a very good plan, yes sir.

"Cass, listen-" Sam finally said, cutting whatever emotional crap the angel was trying to say. He really wasn't in the right mood for that, for anything concerning Dean and his death. Because obviously his brother had to play the great hero, because Dean had to save the fucking world again and... he took another deep breath, pushing those thoughts away as quickly as they had slipped into his mind, ignoring the little voice in his head just telling him what he had known for years now. Your fault it's your fault he's dead because of you again- "I know you're trying to help and all, but... not now, okay?"

"Dean asked me to look after you." Castiel said simply, yet there was something hidden in his voice, some kind of disguised pain he had never heard before, that prevented the Winchester from punching him in the face- no matter how much he wanted to do exactly that.

"I know. But I need some time alone."

And for a brief moment he felt some part of his stupid, tired brain scoff at that pathetic excuse of a lie, another one to add to his huge pile of countless lies he had gathered throughout the years, but Castiel didn't comment on it nor tried to change his mind. Sam didn't even try to hold the sigh of relief that escaped his lips as he smiled weakly at the old friend, finally reaching the library. What a foreign feeling it was, that one of not having Dean around once more, of being on his own again. And it was for good this time, a part of him decided to remember bitterly. No coming back from Heaven, Hell or Purgatory. Dean was gone, and there was no coming back now. How could've he ever agreed with that? But again, they didn't have many choices to begin with. Sam had sealed their fate the moment he decided to set Amara free.

The memory sent a bitter, poisonous taste up his throat and he forced himself not to choke on the wave of pure guilt that assailed him.

"I could..." The Winchester heard Castiel talking again, his tone careful as if he didn't know what to do around Sam. Funny, because not even the hunter knew what to do around himself now. "Go back to field. Check if there's any trail of Lucifer around. It's almost certain that Amara... ended him, but we have to be 100% sure. Are you sure you'll be fine?"

No, I won't. "Of course, Cass. You've got a good plan."

Sam didn't mention the fact that his new plan was to drink himself into a probable coma. Castiel could always give him a lecture later but man, was he decided to empty the bunker's entire alcohol stock in that single night if it was be humanly possible. He just wanted to forget that Dean was dead. He wanted to forget all the lies he had said and all the pain he had caused because he was so damn tired of screwing everything up. Of being a real screw up, a monster - just like Dean had called him before. And looking back at everything he had done, all the damage he had caused in the name of a brother he had killed, how could someone call him anything but a monster? How could he dare to call himself human yet, when it was more than obvious he had crossed the human line a long time ago?

A shuddered sigh, something so pathetic that almost sounded like a broken sob, echoed on the library before Sam had enough time to understand it was just him making such miserable noises. Fortunately he was alone again, and he couldn't be more glad that Castiel wasn't around - because some part of his useless mind was still trying to preserve whatever little dignity was left on him. The other part simply didn't give a fuck about anything happening around him in that moment. It was just so hard to understand Dean wasn't coming back anymore. It shouldn't be like this. And the hunter decided to move into the kitchen before he got too lost on his depressing thoughts. Better drown himself in self pity while he was downright drunk.

Never before the bunker looked so overwhelming. The silence, the emptiness, the guilt gnawing at his very insides... it was just too much. His feet, however, decided to move against his will and he just noticed something was wrong the moment his fingers curled around the doorknob of the room that once belonged to Dean. Honestly, it'd bring him only memories and scents and... everything he wanted to forget at once. Yet the Winchester caught himself turning the knob and pushing the door open, looking at the empty room that he'd never dare to step in again. Sam swallowed back the huge, uncomfortable knot stuck in his throat, trying not to break down right there and right now.

He should remember that maybe Lucifer was still out there, wreaking havoc, that there was no guarantee Amara had killed him for good. They've never been that lucky. If the fallen angel was still walking on Earth, they had to find a way to kick the devil's ass back to Hell as soon as possible, and they couldn't do it if Sam wasn't in his best shape. There'll always be time to mourn later, Dean would've said. Not that Sam was good at following his older brother's advices, had never been. So he closed the door, pretended not to feel the hot tears streaming down his face shamelessly and finally forced himself to go the kitchen. Everything was on the exact spot Dean had left them (Dean's kitchen, it's always been his, not Sam's) and hell, the younger Winchester felt like never touching any of those things, just as he'd do with his brother's room.

The only thing that wouldn't be safe from his trembling hands was the liquor cabinet, and he found it a bit too quickly. He got drunk a bit too quickly, too. Not that it really mattered.

That's the whole point, Sam thought.

Clinging at his third (or maybe it was fourth, but he couldn't really tell) bottle of scotch, he decided to move somewhere way more comfortable than the kitchen's cold floor. His hands still trembled, and for a moment his legs refused to sustain his entire weight but he finally stood up, breathing slowly through tears. It was pathethic, he knew - but he couldn't help it. Dean was just gone and there was nothing to do. No deal would ever bring him back, and God had just... left again. How was he supposed to deal with it? What was he supposed to do now? And then, just like that, the first notes of an old fashioned tune started echoing on the empty Bunker. Sam frowned, head moving towards the noise. Maybe he was drunker than he had thought. That would be a good explanation. For a second, he wondered if smacking his head against the closest wall would help him to pass out right there- and the tune melted into some happier, louder song.

"What the... Cass?"

No answer. He shouldn't be as surprised as he felt.

His hand flew to the gun on his pocket, the bottle long forgotten on the table. Someone had just entered the Bunker and how was it even possible? No one else had the key, Dean was dead, Cass wasn't around... and he was drunk. Oh well. As if he had anything else to lose. The Winchester half sobbed, half laughed and finally decided to throw all caution out of the window. If something was there to end him, so be it. He followed the song slowly, moving down through a corridor they almost didn't use for all those years they'd been living in the Bunker. There were locked rooms everywhere around that place, keys nowhere to be found, and those which were open only held countless dangerous items the Men of Letters had collected in their time. Maybe something had just escaped a box. It wouldn't be the first time, really... wouldn't be that hard to put it back, too. A soft, frustrated sigh left his lips as he located the room he had been looking for. One of those damned locked doors.

"Of course."

Because he couldn't have some few hours of peace of mind.

Even so, he grabbed the doorknob just to give it a try, just to be sure anything would leave the room anytime soon- and to his surprise, it trummed under his fingers with pure power, unsettling and agonizing. Before he could step away the door slid open easily, as if it'd never been locked for the past 60 years or so. The music was louder and the words were clearer now, and for a few seconds Sam swore he had heard a couple of different voices, laughing and chatting as if it was completely normal. His eyes scanned the entire door, filled with ancient symbols he didn't recognize. Old, powerful magic, maybe. Something Rowena could talk about, if he felt like asking. Maybe he should... It was time to go back and check. Even so, no matter what he did, his fingers refused to let go of the doorknob, and the hunter felt his breath hitching in blind, stupid, drunk panic. What in heaven's name was going on now? He finally released the cursed thing, and just when he believed he had managed to step away of the magical door, the noises and voices engulfed him completely. Pure dread filled his entire, tall body at the sudden change.

For a long, painful second, Sam closed his eyes and forced not to listen. It was just a trick. He was too drunk, his mind was spinning and he just needed a long night of sleep and everything would be okay-

A loud, creepy laughter echoed right at his side and he jumped away as if Lucifer was right in front of him once more, heart beating too fast against his ribcage as his eyes fell on some kind of vending machine with a damned clown painted all over the thing. His breath got stuck on his throat as he stepped back, as far as he could from the cursed thing- and then felt himself hitting something, someone. He turned slowly, hands pocketing the gun long before his mind followed his movements. It was just too much to comprehend, too much-

"Hey! You okay, pal?" He had stumbled on a man. He was small, with a friendly, almost concerned face. His clothes, though... it seemed the kind of clothing his grandfather would've used during his adulthood. Too outdated. Sam simply gulped back whatever words dancing on his tongue, not trusting himself to say anything at that point. He needed to find out what the hell was going on, find a way back home and... "You look like you've seen a ghost or somethin'."

"I... S-something, I guess."

"You new around here, huh? Never seen your face before." The man just laughed, and the Winchester could do nothing but nod. He had no idea where 'here' was. He needed to think clearly, to pull a plan out of his pockets just like any other normal hunt and that'd be it. He'd be home sooner than later, he knew it. "I know how it feels. Livin' in a freakin' city at the bottom of ocean makes us all a little shaky at first."

Wait, what?

"What?"

But the man just patted his shoulder in a friendly gesture and left without another word.

Hazel eyes fixated on a newspaper vendor resting at the right side of the creepy machine, and he approached it too fast.

Rapture Tribune. December 02, 1958.

Later, he'd blame all the liquor he had drunk for passing out in that right moment.

[detectiveofhades]

Marie’s Mystery - 3: Murder

The evening passed rather pleasantly, despite the almost obvious plans for murder. Nico and Erik kept a fairly close eye on Estelle and Marcel while Dupin was keeping a close eye on Camille. But hours had gone by, and no move had been made towards Camille.

Sometime during the festivities, Marie Roget sang a few songs, and was accompanied once by Erik on the piano. Nico could tell that Erik enjoyed her singing by the way he tilted his head. She had a lovely voice for sure, and it accompanied Erik’s playing quite well. Nico nodded curtly, if Erik and Marie were to fall in love and Marie didn’t leave because of his deformity, then she would come to live with them. It would be nice to have a female around the house again. With that thought came a rush of memories of Nico’s mother and sister. Nico fought back the tears that threatened to fall from his eyes. He was at a party, the instant the tears came falling, everyone would be rushing to comfort him; at least Erik and probably Marie. Maybe even Dupin. But they had a mystery to solve, meaning the memories would have to be put aside for later. Though he did wonder why, in the four years since their deaths, was he thinking of them now? He shook the thoughts from his head and concentrated on the couples, Estelle and Marcel especially.

A few minutes closer to midnight, Marcel went to get Camille some drinks while Dupin and Estelle went to the balcony to talk. Nico itched to listen in on their conversation, but resolved to wait until Dupin revealed the details of it later. He decided to turn his focus to Marcel, and realized with a start that the gentleman had not returned from gathering the drinks, as Camille still sat where he had left her on the couch. She did not have a drink yet, and was apparently looking around for Marcel, even though she was constantly interrupted by the other ladies sitting nearby. Where had he gone? Nico’s eyes scanned the room, looking for who he now suspected of plotting foul play. He could not find Marcel in the room, and Dupin was still talking with Estelle. Was the plan to poison Camille’s drink? Nico scanned the room for Erik, finding him chatting away with Marie, the two shooting furtive glances between Camille and the doorway to the balcony where Estelle was.

A moment later, Estelle emerged from the balcony, followed a few minutes later by Dupin. A minute later, Marcel appeared at Camille’s side with the drinks. But Nico noticed the furtive glances he was shooting between Dupin and Estelle. Did Marcel try to poison Dupin? If so, Dupin must have realized it as Nico noticed he glanced suspiciously at Marcel before turning to Gobelin and walking back out on the balcony. Curiosity at what they were talking about was gnawing away at Nico’s mind, but he dared not go to the balcony. It would leave Erik alone to watch over both Marie and Camille, and that would not be fair. Instead, he slowly made his way towards Camille, who had both Marcel and Estelle hovering around. When Nico reached Camille’s side and muttered something about needing to sit down to the pressing questions, Marcel and Estelle excused themselves and walked away. Nico began to get up to follow them out, but Erik and Marie were already on their way, pretending to be on a romantic stroll. Well, that’s what they made it seem like. Again, Nico’s imagination wandered towards the notion that maybe the romance wasn’t as fake as they made it out to be. At least, on Erik’s part, anyway. Perhaps Marie was pretending. But Nico had noticed her particular persistence on having Erik dance every dance with her and sought him out on musical opinions.

“I don’t know about that mask, but those two seem to have fallen in love at first sight!’ whispered one of the women sitting across from Camille and Nico on the sofa. Well, that confirmed that suspicion. At least he wasn’t the only one who noticed.

“It certainly seems that way. I’ve never seen Marie act like this around a man before! We met him and Seigneur di Angelo earlier today when my grandmother called them over to congratulate them on solving the mystery of her dear friend’s death, that of Madame L’Espanaye. I think it was most certainly then for Marie could not stop speaking of his mysterious masked butler!” Camille shot Nico a warm smile. Apparently it was a good thing Erik caught Marie’s eye. Did no other man attract her, or something? But then, what would she think when she saw the man beneath the mask?

“But what of what lies beneath the mask? Will she love him then?” asked the woman. Nico shot a glance at her, she had taken the words out of his mouth; at least, out of his mind.

Camille’s face became thoughtful for a moment before brightening. “Oh, I’m sure she will. See, like I said, no other man has caught Marie’s attention quite like this. She was fascinated with the young Seigneur for a bit,” stated Camille. Nico shot a startled glance at her. Say what? “But I think it might have something to do with the fact that Marie likes a little mystery. I do believe Erik has more of what she’s looking for in a man.”

The woman chuckled as she shot a glance at Nico. “Well, I don’t think the young Seignor is quite old enough to be considered a man.”

Nico frowned as he sat back and crossed his arms. What, did they really think Marie would be interested in him? But Nico was more upset at being referenced as being too young.

“Yes, I’m afraid that I do know Marie prefers older men,” replied Camille, shooting an apologetic smile at Nico.

Nico shrugged. “To each their own. At least she’s not after me for my money.”

“Oh, I’m sure some young lady will notice that soon enough,” remarked the woman with a wink and a grin.

“Yeah, sure,” muttered Nico. Oh great, what in the world made them think he wanted to get married? As if there was anyone who would be interested in him in the first place. Who would want to marry the son of Hades? But in the next instant he was on his feet. Dupin had rushed into the room with Gobelin with a worried look on his face. It eased up a bit when he saw Nico and Camille. Dupin jerked his head in the direction of the balcony before dashing back out with Gobelin. Nico rushed towards the balcony, his throat beginning to tighten as he realized what worried Dupin. Dupin must have heard a scream since, right as Nico reached the doorway, he sensed a soul leaving its body. They were already too late.

The trio rushed out to the yard, Dupin explaining what Nico already guessed. Dupin and Gobelin had heard a scream coming from the yard.

“Erik and Marie should be out here!” blurted Nico before explaining that the two followed Estelle and Marcel outside.

“I hope they’re already on the scene, or prevented something from happening,” remarked Gobelin.

“I don’t think so,” muttered Nico. The two men paused and glanced at him questioningly. “Erik’s first mission would be to make sure Marie is alright,” Nico quickly explained. “He’d take care of her first.”

“Of course,” Dupin slowly agreed.

Nico gulped quietly, he knew Dupin didn’t quite believe him and was no doubt gathering every singly clue he could about Nico to figure him out. But they had more pressing matters to attend to. Nico was ever so grateful when a figure rushed up to them. It was Monsieur Beauvais.

“Oh, I thought I heard a scream,” stated Beauvais. “You did, Monsieur? And where were you?” asked Gobelin.

“Why, I was out taking a walk in the garden,” stated Beauvais.

“Were you with anyone?” asked Gobelin.

“No, I was alone. Is everything alright?”

“We don’t know yet,” replied Dupin.

“Is there anything I can help with?” asked Beauvais.

“No, thank you, Monsieur,” Dupin quickly replied before Gobelin had a chance.

“Thank you,” muttered Gobelin as Beauvais gavea slight bow of his head and walked away.

Dupin and Gobelin had been standing in front of Nico, and Beauvais did not seem to notice the young lord. Nico turned to looking through the brush behind them while the adults had their conversation. His heart nearly stopped when he found a clue. By then, Beauvais had retreated to the house.

“Dupin,” muttered Nico quietly as he showcased the clue to the two men.

“Why, isn’t that Marie Roget’s?” asked Gobelin as Dupin took the hand purse from Nico. On one side was embroidered the initials M. R.

“Erik was with her,” muttered Nico as his eyes widened. He turned back to the brush. “Erik!” he called out, panic seizing his chest. No, please, Dad, not Erik. “Erik!” he called out again as he waded through the brush, tears stinging his eyes.

“Nico!” called out Dupin as he and Gobelin followed.

But Nico didn’t listen, he had to find his butler, his only friend, his family. “Erik!” He couldn’t lose him too. “Erik!”

A moan reached his ears, and he took off towards the sound. Erik’s figure emerged from around a nearby tree, his hand on the tree as he toppled towards Nico.

“I’m sorry, my liege, I . . . I failed,” uttered Erik sadly.

Nico didn’t answer, he just ran towards Erik and wrapped his arms around him. He let the tears of relief fall, but didn’t utter a sound as Erik’s hand patted his head reassuringly.

“Would you look at that, he does have feelings!”

“Gobelin!” berated Dupin’s voice. The two men had caught up, but Nico didn’t glance at them. “Monsieur Erik, could you tell us what happened? We found Marie Roget’s purse.”

Erik let out a sad sigh. “Marie and I came out here to follow Marcel and Estelle. We figured they were going to be planning something real soon as they had not made a move as of yet, and the party was quickly coming to a close.” He paused, but when he did continue, there was a catch in his voice. Nico understood, and his heart just about broke. Erik had fallen for Marie. “When we, when got closer, to about here, in fact . . . she hit me on the head and knocked me out.”

Nico snapped his head up to glance at Erik with a sharp intake of air.

“You mean to tell me Marie was in on it the whole time?” exclaimed Gobelin.

Nico shot a glance at Dupin, something didn’t add up.

Dupin glanced down at the purse. “I don’t know, Gobelin, something’s off.”

“What do you mean, something’s off, Dupin? It makes sense now! Marie and Estelle were in this together!”

“But the scream we heard came no doubt from a woman,” stated Dupin.

“A scream?” muttered Erik.

“Yes, did you hear it?” asked Gobelin.

“I must have been coming to, I think I heard it faintly . . . followed not long by a splash,” replied Erik before he uttered a soft groan and rubbed the back of his head.

“The river!” shouted Gobelin before rushing towards the river bank, followed closely by Dupin.

Nico turned to Erik. “Are you alright?” he asked worriedly.

“I shall be fine, little master.”

“Your heart worse than your head?” asked Nico softly.

Erik let out a sigh. “You know me too well. But my heart is hoping that Marie cared enough for me that she was doing this to protect me.”

“Why? You could have protected her! You’re strong enough to have taken out both Marcel and Estelle!”

“She must have had her reasons. It may just be my heart, but it may also be my instinct on this, but . . . not only do I think Marie is dead, I also think she is innocent.”

Nico nodded. “I think so too.”

“Well, look what we found,” remarked Gobelin as he and Dupin came back through the bushes. Nico and Erik walked towards them to see what it was. “It’s Camille’s,” remarked Gobelin as he took the clue to showcase to them. It was a white handkerchief.

“What are you suggesting?” asked Nico as Dupin took the handkerchief back and stuffed it in his coat pocket.

“Well, um . . .”

“That Camille is in on it? No wonder why you need Dupin’s help, you have no imagination!” blurted Nico, becoming rather furious.

“Now see here!” began Gobelin, but Dupin laid a hand on his arm.

“What are you suggesting, Seigneur?” asked Dupin.

“From the time Marcel and Estelle left, followed by Marie and Erik, I was with Camille the entire time,” muttered Nico with a soft growl. “Which means only one person would have had a handkerchief from Camille, Marcel!”

“Wait, they killed Marcel?” asked Gobelin.

“Didn’t Dupin just say not too long ago that the scream you heard was definitely from a female? No, most likely, Estelle and Marcel struck tonight, not at Camille as we all feared, but at Marie. She must have been trying to find evidence against Marcel and tonight, she got too close. Perhaps that is why she knocked Erik out, she feared for his life, perhaps knowing far better how the two of them would act.”

Dupin nodded. “That sounds reasonable. However, we need more evidence, and the body, before we can have a case.”

“So, now what?” asked Gobelin.

“Seigneur, may I suggest that you and your butler escort Camille home. Then you get Erik straight to bed, he needs plenty of rest after such loving protection.” Erik chuckled slightly. “Gobelin will get a diver over here and we shall search for the body. We’ll fill you in on any details in the morning.”

“A good plan. See you in the morning, Doctor, Prefect,” stated Nico with a bow. Erik mirrored his actions before following his young master back to the house. The two managed to get Camille away from the party without so much as a word about their suspicions. They got her home safely, but by that time she had practically wormed out of them that they feared for Marie, but that Dupin and Gobelin were taking care of it.

Once they got back to the James’ house, Nico did what Dupin ordered and promptly got Erik to bed. He did fuss over him for a little while, getting him water and making sure he was comfortable before heading to his own bed. But as Nico’s head hit the pillow, a sudden thought hit him that he had to fight in order to get to sleep, where was Estelle?

[royalnovels-blog]

PWE Chapter 221

Chapter 221: Quest Reward Ye Cang followed after Little Jesse and ran into an old acquaintance, “Brother SpyingBlade, you came to Black Rock City too?” SpyingBlade had just walked out of the assassin’s association. He nodded to Ye Cang and said, “Call me if anything comes up…” Then he directly left. “Really a cold guy…” Ye Cang watched his back and had the urge to shoot an arrow into it. SpyingBlade also felt the gaze on his back. This scum is definitely thinking of sneak attacking me again. Ye Cang called out to Little Jesse, “Let’s go, back to the store. Stop running around…” “Oh, I want to eat that!!” Little Jesse said pointing a nearby stall where an old grandpa was selling fried prawns. Ye Cang looked with disdain, “What’s so good about that? Let’s go back and I’ll make you my secret recipe…” Little Jesse’s face immediately paled. He shook his head furiously, “Just kill me…” Ye Cang speechlessly let him go. Then the two of them came to the fried prawn shop. The odor assailed their noses before they even got there. Ye Cang wanted to try it out. They were priced at a silver per prawn. Buying 5, Ye Cang took one and smelled it. It was really very fragrant. There was even a special spice covering it. Taking a bite, the outside was so crunchy! The inside was so soft and delicious that it made others want to cry out. Too delicious! He quickly asked, “Sir, please teach me your fried prawn recipe!!” The old man faintly smiled, then shouted like a tiger. “This old man’s cooking isn’t just fried prawn. You must know that everything under the heavens can be fried!” Ye Cang looked at the old man who now appeared like an outstanding expert. “Please teach me!” In the end, the old man was satisfied after Ye Cang purchased 5 gold worth and left after cleaning up his stall. Of course, Ye Cang also received his wish. His cooking skill now included deep frying. He gazed into the distance. I’ve taken another step forwards in the Art of Cooking. Perhaps this is only a small step when compared to the whole, but to me, this is a big step, blazing a new trail… Little Jesse, who was stuffing his face, looked at Ye Cang’s ambitious expression, and felt numb. Ye Cang looked at the pile of fried food. It would be difficult to finish, so he decided to give it away. He brought Little Jesse to the adventurers association. The elders, who were still playing monopoly, smelled the delicious fragrance. “It’s Erosa’s deep fried food. Not bad young man, you know to bring us gifts…” “You flatter me…” Ye Cang said, taking out various deep fried foods. Even Linda came down from the 2nd floor to eat. When she saw Little Jesse, she immediately liked him and put him on her lap. Those lethal weapons smashed into Little Jesse. “Here, let big sister feed you… Aaah~~…” “Umm, you can feed me like that too…” Ye Cang said enviously. Following which, Ye Cang was kicked out of the tree house. He sighed, standing by doorway. In any case, they would send Little Jesse home later. He decided to go find A’Xiong and the rest. The first to finish was FrozenCloud who had found the scissors and returned it to the barber shop. She had obtained 5 free haircut coupons as well as 500 experience. Although the reward wasn’t much, she had heard the barber shop’s boss speak about something. Outside the east gate, somewhere in the north part of the Carnot Grasslands, there was a hole he had fallen into when he was young. There were many tigers, inside. He was so scared, he pissed himself. Listening to the story, it didn’t seem fake, so she noted it down. It was just that they didn’t have accurate coordinates. She decided to wait for Little Tian to come back and tell her. With her strong analyzing ability, she should be able to do something. She looked up and saw Ye Cang coming over, so she took out the 5 coupons and handed it over. “Here, the quest reward…” Ye Cang took the coupons and nodded. “Good work. Let’s go use them once everyone gathers up.” Hah~ FrozenCloud just sighed. Little Ye Tian also finished the experiment. Lulu had rewarded her with an engineering blueprint - Shoddy Hand-Grenade, which Little Ye Tian was pretty satisfied with. Lulu had asked for her to become her permanent assistant and as well as apprentice. Little Ye Tian had quickly agreed, there was no reason to refuse. She got a reward, experience, and even a profession. She even got some prestige and more quests in the future. She had made a dozen or so shoddy grenade before coming to meet up. FrozenCloud learned that she had obtained a profession skill. Little Tian + Engineering… Eh… It’s fitting. She then took a grenade. This thing is a godly weapon for PVP at this point in the game. The damage is good, higher than a regular attack, more importantly it can be used as battlefield control and is a consumable… Small Grenade: Throw it and it will explode dealing 40 explosion damage to enemies targets within 4 meters. Has a chance to cause stun or knockback. “The cost to make them is high since it requires a bit of refined explosives. In this city, the price of explosives cost about as much as silver…” Little Ye Tian knew what FrozenCloud was thinking, and told her. FrozenCloud dispelled her thoughts. It really wasn’t something they could mass produce, but should still be pretty good. Ye Cang took 3 of them, then patted Little Ye Tian’s head, “Good job…” FrozenCloud looked at Little Ye Tian’s happy expression, and her heart softened. She turned as she noticed that Lin Le had also returned. Was Shaking Bear not done the quest to find the little puppy? “Brother Lil’White! Brother Lil’White! When I was digging up the weeds, when I suddenly found a treasure map!” Lin Le said, showing off his achievements. FrozenCloud and Little Ye Tian were stunned. That was possible!? Ye Cang quickly ran over, and snatched the map. His two eyes began to emit red light, “Lele’s still the best…” Little Ye Tian clenched her teeth as the two of them stared at each other. Then she turned away, in a bad mood. Lele, that bastard. She began stomping on the limestone floor… FrozenCloud watched, between laughter and tears. The four of them sat around a wooden desk and analyzed the treasure map. Little Ye Tian cross referenced the treasure map with her own created map and found the spot. It was somewhere in the mountains north of Black Rock City. She marked the coordinates on her own map. She then calculated the information FrozenCloud had given her. After a round of elimination, she marked a circle showing the possible area. “The place Lil’Dino mentioned should be in this area. According to the topography, this place has the highest chance of having a hole. It’s also the most hidden.” “A’Xiong that brat. He just has to find a little puppy, what’s taking him so long…” Ye Cang just finished his words when Zhang ZhengXiong’s sorry figure staggered in. “Bro! No way in hell that was a puppy! My god, it was 5 or 6 meters large! Not only that, it was damn fierce! I was chased so far by it, I almost couldn’t come back. However, that little girl’s older sister, Mary, is quite the beauty. Tsk~ Tsk~ that butt… Cough~ Cough~ Here’s the reward. It looks like some sort of egg. Mary gave it to me. She said it was something their pet dog picked up in the wilds…” Zhang ZhengXiong grumbled as he walked. When he spoke of Lily’s sister Mary, he became more spirited. At the end, he took out an egg. Previous       Main menu       Next Click to Post

[chubsonthemoon]

Waiting for the Rain (Ch. 9)

chapter title: Sunlight

summary: Viktor Nikiforov is both a stranger and a friend. (Maybe someone more). Who then, is Yuuri Katsuki?

pairing: viktor/yuuri

words: 2382

also on ao3 (previous chapters are there as well!)

Viktor Nikiforov did not mean to mess up so badly.

(He also didn’t mean to fall in love, either, but he digresses. He “didn’t mean” a lot of the things he’s done in his life).

So instead of apologizing to ghosts, he stares at the water, toes nearly touching where pond turns to earth. His barely-there reflection ripples ever-so-slightly in the breeze, a memory more than a mirror. He feels, rather than hears, the footsteps behind him, but does not lift his head, not even until they come to a stop.

Too far away, he thinks.

Come closer, he does not say.

As if in reply—

“Hanarezumi sobaniite,” says a soft voice. “Stammi Vicino.” A pause. “Your free skate music from you last competitive season. You were...” Another pause. “Well.”

His reflection wavers.

“Yes. That is correct,” he says to the water, at the man who seems to smiling so, so sadly. (He doesn’t quite know why). After one last glance, he turns to face him. “I was a little surprised that you hadn’t heard of me. I mean, everyone in the skating community…knows.” He chuckles softly. “I suppose you’ve always been in your own world, Yuuri.”

Then, Viktor’s eyes widen at the bandages taped carefully over the other’s check. He has to restrain his hand from moving of its own accord. “What—?”

Yuuri’s hand goes to his check, almost like an afterthought. Viktor almost wants to hold it there. “Oh, this? I was acting like you, drank too much beer, and fell down while attempting a quad.” His eyes flicker up to meet Viktor’s, and Viktor knows almost immediately that he is lying. Still, the curve of Yuuri’s mouth is enough to tug at the corners of his own, so he complies.

“Really, now?” he laughs quietly. “Did that fall also end your career?”

Yuuri looks him straight in the face, calmly. Viktor has to look away. “Sorry. I didn’t mean—”

A strong gust of wind drowns out the rest of his words, whatever they were supposed to be. It swirls through the trees, tears across the lake, makes the wooden arches above them creak and strain. Lighting cracks the sky apart in one fell swoop, reverberating through their bones.

It begins to rain.

But unlike the rain that he’s used to, the rain that comes in the brief space between the explosion of life during spring, and the long, dry days of summer, this rain is cold. As cold as ice.

How ironic.

As the rain begins to mist and steam along the banks, he and Yuuri make a run for it, towards the shaded area he now knows like the back of his hand. He follows Yuuri’s dark hair, and lets loose a breathless laugh into the air.

Still, no matter how fast he runs, the rain quickly seeps into his hair, his clothes, cold and creeping. By the time they’re under real cover, he’s soaked to the bone.

“Wow,” says Yuuri, voice muffled as he looks out at the howling storm. He sneezes. His teeth are chattering rather adorably.

Viktor watches him. “Wow,” he agrees.

They both laugh as the world turns to water around them.

~

Over the bridge.

Past the gates.

At the traffic light. (It says it’s alright to cross).

Up the set of worn stairs, to an apartment door tucked away on the seventh floor.

It’s been awhile since Makkachin has been this excited, Viktor says. Please excuse the mess. Come in, let’s dry off.

He busies himself with racking the eggs, cutting the onions into neat, precise wedges, the way Mari taught him. He feels like if he doesn’t focus entirely at the task at hand, he may end up saying something he regrets.

A glance over his shoulder. Viktor is ironing their damp shirts, his back turned to Yuuri. He can’t see his face, but he can imagine the little crease between his brows, the silver bangs falling in his eyes. The face he made when he listened to Yuuri’s words in the garden, words of complaint about some drill, of fear of not being good enough, of their mutual love for the sport they’ve dedicated their lives to.

How funny that he knows this man, inside and out, but he is still a stranger. Full of surprises.

Who are you? he wants to ask.

But when Viktor turns around inquisitively, he quickly asks which cabinet the extra measuring cup is in instead.

“Food’s ready!” he calls whenever the last plate is finished. He sets down their food on the low table adjacent to the kitchen as Viktor clears it of their freshly pressed clothes, now hung elsewhere in the apartment. Viktor’s shirt, slightly too big for Yuuri, hangs off his shoulder, and tugs at his drawstring pants rolled at the cuffs when he sits down.

“Let’s eat.”

Makkachin rests his head in Yuuri’s lap, and they eat. Laughter against rain, no different than usual, except, perhaps, there are no lies between this time, the usual air of mysteriousness replaced with the smell of a home-cooked meal, the flowers they know so well now the pale walls of Viktor’s apartment. It’s nice.

After their plates are empty, their stomachs filled, Viktor asks, “Would you like some coffee?” Yuuri nods gratefully in reply, moving over to sit between the couch and Viktor’s balcony window, where he can watch the rain. (And perhaps something else). Makkachin follows suit.

He takes the steaming cup with a nod of thanks, trails his fingers along its rim. Viktor goes back to the kitchen counter, no doubt to pour his own cup, completely devoid of any cream, just like Yuuri knows he prefers it.

Outside, the sun filters weakly through the disappearing storm clouds, warming the tile where Yuuri’s feet shift softly, followed closely by thumping of Makkachin’s tail. The lazy rise of steam, the faint tapping of the rain’s fingers on the window, the peaceful silence that wraps around the apartment. It’s comforting, almost in the way the ice rink or his hometown is.

I think this might be—he thinks, fingers twirling idly around Makkachin’s fur,

—the happiest—thinks another, lips smiling softly as he leans against the counter to watch them,

—time of my life. (Makkachin nuzzles against Yuuri, as if in agreement with the both of them).

Viktor, in turn, takes a sip of his coffee and wonders—how he could be so lucky?

And perhaps it is precisely he is so warm and comfortable and—right—that he says, voice quiet. “Yuuri.”

Yuuri looks up from his mug, face open. “Hmm?”

“I really, really like you.” Perhaps not love just yet, but its natural precursor.

(In another universe, perhaps, if they were younger and more carefree, it would be love, but not here).

Plip.

A heartbeat passes. Then two. By the third, there is a faint pink making its way across Yuuri’s face, and his eyes are so wide Viktor thinks he could get lost in them. He waits, patient.

Strangely, Yuuri’s facial expression does not change any further. Instead, Makkachin starts whining, and lifts his head in distress at the change in the air.

Knowing he may not get an answer, Viktor moves to sit in the chair beside the window, across from Yuuri. “I think…I was practicing how to walk on my own. In that place.” They both know the place he’s referencing. “Even if I’m no longer what I used to be, I…”

Yuuri finally looks up. “You…?”

“I would just like to thank you, Yuuri.”

He waits another moment before he says, “You know, when I came here, I didn’t think I would find myself again.” Find myself in you he doesn’t say. “I would…it would be my pleasure to be there for you, always. As your coach. If you would like.”

Yuuri’s, lips part slightly. Coach? Me? “I—”

Yuuri thinks of every word he’s ever shared with him, and every word he’s left for the rain instead. He remembers that he is still a novice, and that this is Viktor Nikiforov, world-record holder, master of his sport, willing to impede his recovery to coach a late bloomer who has never seen international competition.

He thinks, and he remembers, and he realizes that there is nothing he can do to lessen the pain of all that Viktor’s lost, no matter how much he’s willing to give to take it all away.

After all, rain and gardens of words may be enough to fall in love, but not for reality.

And the reality is, Viktor Nikiforov was—is—always meant to be something, while Yuuri is nothing.

(He never was particularly good with these kinds of things).

“I’m sorry,” he says, voice distant. “I know that…you have your whole career waiting for you back home,” Wrong, wrong, wrong. “So I won’t hold you back.” He sets his cup of coffee down and stands up quietly. “Thank you for lending me these clothes.”

Viktor looks like he wants to bolt from his seat, but he doesn’t. “But they’re not dry, yet…” he trails off, turning to watch as Yuuri disappears to change. No reply. Then, he faces Makkachin, still curled up next to the window forlornly, and looks at his coffee cup. He brings it to his lips, as if in a daze. Sets it back down. His hair falls around him.

It continues to rain.

Yuuri reemerges with his still-damp clothes on. He inclines his head. A formality. “Excuse me…I’m going home. Thank you for your hospitality.”

Viktor stands up abruptly. He almost says something.

He doesn’t.

Yuuri leaves, the metal door creaking as it closes, then giving a resounding bang when it shuts.

Viktor sits back down slowly. Watches the water from outside reflect on their mugs. Watches the rain fall.

He buries his face in his hands.

~

Yuuri walks like the flowers do: swaying, prone to blowing over at the slightest touch of wind, dying in the vestiges of summer. He flower-walks in the hallway, then past the first landing, then onto the second. Then the third.

He’s at the entrance of the apartment complex before he realizes it, and looks up at the view of the sky from here one last time, through the pouring rain. He doesn’t even have an umbrella with him.

Oh, right. He left it at home. Which was why he got soaked, and had to come here. With Viktor.

Viktor.

“Two figure skaters in the same park. Imagine that!"

“I would love to help.”

“Oh, Nikiforov? Don’t worry about him. He’s no one.”

“Hanarezumi sobaniite.”

“Did you find your inspiration?”

“Stammi Vicino.”

“Did you find what you were looking for, by any chance?”

“Stay Close to Me.”

“It would be my pleasure to be there for you, always. If you would like.”

“I think I’ve fallen in love with you.”

Viktor.

He turns from the sky to instead stare at the window on the seventh floor, the one he was just sitting at.

“Yuuri.” And then he’s running. Running faster and harder than he’s ever run in his life, up the stairs from whence he came, past the first landing, not caring about the rain, or how he trips and bruises his knees, or how his muscles protest as he takes the steps two at a time, because now he’s on the third floor, up and up and up, until finally—

He stops dead and sees Viktor, who, if possible, looks even more out of breath than he does, like he just ran six flights of stairs, too, and suddenly, he’s angry.

“You!” he yells, hands braced against his knees. “You knew! You knew who you were, you knew what you went through, and you knew what I wanted to be!” The words tumble from Yuuri’s mouth, months and months of words that were never said. “So why didn’t you say anything? Is it because I’m not good enough? Just tell me, then! Tell me I shouldn’t even bother, because I’m too weak, because I started skating late, because I don’t even know who Viktor Nikiforov is, because I’ve never been in a real competition.”

Viktor simply watches at him from three steps above, his eyes dangerously close to mirroring the weeping sky.

“Tell me now, because if you would’ve just said something, then maybe I wouldn’t have wasted your time! You have so much you could do, so much you could be, so why me? You knew everything from the very beginning. So why would you want to be with someone like me?” Yuuri shouts the last question with all of his breath, almost desperately. Why me?

Perhaps it’s fate mocking him—but as soon as the words are out of his mouth, the rain stops, leaving them to echo in the space between them.

But only for a moment.

Because then, when his voice has just died away, the sun comes alive, bright and blinding through the clouds, flinging sparks of gold across Viktor’s face.

And as the world explodes with color, Viktor takes one step and closes the gap so fast it’s like they were never even separated.

Although he’s taller, he bends to fit into Yuuri’s arms, and suddenly, they’re both crying.

“Every morning,” Viktor chokes, and there’s something lodged in his throat that makes it hard to breathe. “Every morning, I would get up to go to the rink. I would put on my skates, and look at the ice…but I was scared. I was so, so scared, Yuuri. I just…couldn’t.” He holds himself against Yuuri’s chest, like he’s trying to keep the seams of himself together. Yuuri raises trembling arms to help him, and squeezes tight.

“Because I’ve been lost for a long, long time, and it’s my own burden to bear, not anyone else’s. Not yours. Back there, in that place…” Viktor says, voice wobbling.

Yuuri’s eyes fill with a summer’s worth of rain as he starts shaking, and he moves to stroke soft, silver hair.

“You saved me.”

They stay there like that for a long, long time, as the rain continues to fall through the sunlight, through their muffled crying, through their already-soaked clothes.

It rains and rains and rains—and it’s like it will never, ever stop.