#explanation for the back: i wanted to leave space for me to write book-specific notes | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

supremeinlilac · 4 years ago

Text

Three’s not a crowd, especially when it’s us (2)

Pairing: Cordelia Goode x Reader x Wilhelmina Venable

Word count: 4415

Warnings: Brief sexual imagery

A/n: total writers block but managed to finish it, longer than I thought it was going to be lmao. anyway don't know if the whole 'surprise' thing is written as well as I would have liked but fuck it :))

Part 1: HERE

You weren’t sure what the effect of your magic would be on Wilhemina; on all of the prior occasions the use of your gift had been an accident, your magic sparking out through your skin at the very briefest of contacts with another person, whether you’d wanted it to or not. Since then, you’d been taught to harness and wield and control your powers, you’d been able to touch people without the spark.

This time however, it had been a choice, a conscious decision to hold her hands within your own and let your magic flow into her. You’d seen the way her eyes had widened, and the way she’d jumped and tried to break contact. You’d persisted, not quite knowing the reason why you finally wanted to share your gift with another person, Ms Venable of all people.

When she’d finally been able to pry her hands away from your grasp, she’d stood and straightened, softness gone from her features as she’d smoothed down her skirt and stalk away, cane echoing harshly as she hit it against the ground. That night you lay awake and unable to sleep; sensitive to the sounds of the house- the creak of a floorboard and the hoot of an owl. You were listening for signs of movement from the master bedroom across the hall.

After your show earlier, Wilhelmina had kept herself to the confines of her shared room with Cordelia; you wondered if she’d told her what had happened or if she, like always, was keeping her worries stoic and to herself. Upon being greeted with silence, you finally allowed yourself to roll over towards the wall and drift into a restless sleep.

At breakfast the following day, the empty glasses had shattered when one of the girls had spilled milk across the table. Cordelia had risen from her seat and looked around at everyone, searching for a guilty face among the widen eyes emerging from under arms which they’d flinched under to escape the flying glass. No one had owned up.

You had to bite your lip to stop yourself from quipping about not crying over spilt milk, but you decided now wasn’t the right time. Especially seen as you seemed to be the only person who saw the deep flush and anxious eyes of Ms Venable across the table, before she managed to harden her face again and tap her cane insistently which sent some of the younger girls scurrying to clear the glass.

When the younger girls had all finished up and left with Zoe to get themselves ready for lessons, and only some of the older girls stayed, milling around with hushed whispers and laughter, you let your gaze fall to the two women, deep in conversation at the foot of the table. Cordelia looked anxious and deep in thought while Wilhemina spoke, her own posture back to one of defensiveness after her brief slip up. You slipped away from the table, glancing back at the pair momentarily feeling a surge of emotion at them simply enjoying each other’s company, faces now relaxed again as they spoke.

***

Having forgotten your spell book for your first lesson of the day, Zoe had sent you to quickly fetch it with a nonchalant wave of her hand. You were just about to go up the staircase to your room when someone tightly grasped at your wrist and pulled you through the nearest door, eliciting a startled yelp from you in surprise.

“What the fuck do you think you’re playing at?” Wilhemina seethed through gritted teeth, “what have you done to me?” Her face was hard and angry, but her eyes were wide and scared and darting back and forth between your own, as if searching them for answers that you weren’t even sure you had yourself. You tried to free yourself from her bruising grip but she held fast, shaking it for good measure when you neglected to answer her.

“I- I don’t- I don’t know” you stammered, words leaving your mouth jumbled and scattered as a reaction to her anger and close proximity. She’d never directed her frustrations at you before, she’d never had the need to as you always kept yourself to yourself and were respectful.

“Do you think this is some kind of joke? Turn me back right now.” She ordered, cane hitting against the wood impatiently. You stared dumbly at her, unsure of what exactly she was expecting you to do. At your blank expression she shook your arm again, making you wince and turn away, tears pricking in your eyes and blurring your vision.

“Are you an imbecile, I said turn me back now.”

Collecting yourself slightly, blinking away the tears and pulling your arm free, you forced yourself to stand tall and appear confident in front of the older woman. You turned back to face her, speaking clearly with as much conviction as you could muster: “I can’t, Ms Venable. I’ve never properly used my powers on anyone before, I don’t know how long they’ll last or if-” your words drifted off, a thought bubbling up which made you stop in fear, “or if they won’t fade at all.”

Your words caused her face to twitch, in anger or fear you weren’t sure, but it made you step back slightly. She looked shocked, as if it was an option she hadn’t considered, stepping towards you dangerously as you retreated.

Wilhemina Venable was a woman used to routine. She was used to being in control of everything in her life; she prided yourself on being the most punctual, organised and structured. When things happened that she hadn’t already worked into a plan; that she was not expecting or not wholly prepared for, she would bite back defensively. This was one of those times.

You thought she was going to strike you, instinctively flinching and curling inwards before the sound of the door opening made you both retract. Looking up, you saw Ms Venables knuckles drawn white against the wood of her cane and her steely glare on you unwavering, even as her girlfriends’ head poked round the door behind her.

“What’s going on in here?” Cordelia’s curious voice rang through the room, closing the door behind her as she entered. You had started to edge backwards into your own space where you didn’t feel so claustrophobic. Cordelia glanced quickly back and forth between the both of you before coming to stand by Wilhelmina’s side as she always did in tense situations, acting as a way to ground her girlfriend and offering a comforting hand on her back as a reminder to breathe.

Ms Venable’s eyes had not once left yours since you’d admitted she might be stuck in this new and powerful state that you’d given her. It was as if she was daring you to admit you were joking. Begging you silently with her eyes. They were hard and cold and unwavering next to your wide, intimidated ones, but you could see the flicker of fear that sparked within them.

Slowly Wilhemina turned her attention to Cordelia, expression and eyes immediately softening as she melted into her hold, closing her eyes and leaning her forehead against the Supremes. This was the most vulnerable and exposed you’d ever seen her, and the most anyone had been allowed to see of their relationship. A simple embrace.

Cordelia moved to balance her face in her hands delicately, gently guiding Wilhemina to look at her. She just allowed the supreme to move her head, tired eyes meeting worried ones and an attempt of a smile flickered against her lips like the ghost of a candles fleeting flame in the breeze.

You felt as if you were intruding on a moment that you shouldn’t be witnessing, awkwardly shuffling on the spot and wringing your hands together. You couldn’t bring yourself to tear your eyes away as much as you knew you should from them, keeping them fixated on how soft the pair of them were in each others arms.

Gentle touches and soothing hums.

As quickly as you saw the walls of Wilhemina’s impenetrable façade crumble into dust before you, she was clearing her throat and pawing roughly at dampened eyes with the back of her gloved fist. She pulled away from Cordelia and gave her hand a quick squeeze before letting that go too.

As Cordelia continued to look between the two of you again, eyes narrowed at you in suspicion after her girlfriend’s uncharacteristic outburst of raw emotion, you felt like it was now an appropriate time to talk, stammering out a broken explanation about what had been happening. You almost revealed the truth but Wilhemina was suddenly cracking her cane against wood and interrupting you loudly.

“Y/n, stop your stuttering and blubbering.” She snapped, widening her eyes and lifting her brows, head shaking as if she was silently asking you what the fuck you are doing, and to pull yourself together.

“Y/n had agreed to help me with paperwork when she has free lesson space a couple of days ago, this morning she left me a note saying ‘soz I don’t wanna do it anymore’, and yes she spelt it s. o. z.” Wilhemina explained, acting annoyed at the way you’d written your imaginary note to try to resign from the imaginary job you’d taken on.

“I was just reminding her that she can’t just drop the responsibilities she’s taken on when she feels like it. And trying to get it into her head that that isn’t how we write messages.” It was your turn to raise your eyebrows in question. Clenching your jaw you tried to remain unbothered by the way Mina flashed you a smirk of victory while Cordelia still looked just as confused as before.

“But you don’t like the students helping you, you specifically said they do more harm than good and that they mess up your system,” the supreme stated matter of factly, hand coming to rest on her hip so her elbow jutted out to the side. She looked like she was contemplating saying something to you, turning in your direction before stopping and going back to watch Wilhemina.

“It’s the principle dear, Y/n has to learn. She’ll meet me in my office this evening after her lessons and she won’t be late. I’m sure.” Addressing Cordelia the whole time, not once looking at you while she spoke blatantly about information that you supposed that you were suppose to ‘already know’.

Cordelia looked unconvinced, although she let it go nonetheless, reminding you of the lesson you were missing and sending you scrambling out of the room. Chancing a glance back into the room before you slipped out of the room, you caught Ms Venable’s eye as she watched you leave.

Your lessons dragged slowly, time slowed and you tried to keep your focus on the tasks you’d been given; the spells you had to practise. Spells. Wilhemina. Spells. Wilhemina. Your mind kept wondering to Ms Venable, what she had planned for this evening, and you couldn’t help but picture yourself bent over her desk with the pink stripes of her cane’s touch against your skin.

Shaking your head, you tried to focus on what Zoe was demonstrating, the image seeping into the front of your eyes and refusing to leave. You excused yourself from the lesson, gathering your things and fleeing the room.

You had to find her.

Throwing your spell book onto your bed you flew out of the room again, door slamming behind you. Descending the stairs, you swung yourself around the corner quickly using the edge of the banister to spin.

Running towards her office, you looked behind you to check for anyone in the hallway and ran straight into a body. Papers scattered, raining down around you and you lost your balance over the persons foot, tumbling awkwardly towards the ground.

“Woah there, slow down.” Cordelia exclaimed, surprised, hands flying out to stop your fall, gripping at your body. Realising it was you, and you her, you both quickly let go of the hard grip you had on various parts of the other, apologies spilling from you as the supreme smoothed down her dress at the waist. She couldn’t meet your eyes with hers, looking from the papers that framed you both on the ground, to her wrist and back to the floor.

“What are you doing out of lessons?” Cordelia’s voice rang out, unnecessarily loud in the empty hallway.

“I was just- I, nothing Ms Goode.” You mumbled, glancing subtly at the door of Ms Venables office, gritting your teeth and pursing your lips. You’d been so close. Cordelia cocked her head at you, seemingly amused at your answer, picking one of her brows up as if to challenge it as a barely disguised lie.

“Well you can help me set up for our lesson then.” She left no room for arguments, waving you to follow and then once more so the papers danced back to her waiting hands, perfectly organised once more. You followed her meekly, praying that she wouldn’t bring up that morning in your conversation.

As if sensing your thoughts, Cordelia opened the greenhouse door with her free hand, speaking as you went through with a smile of thanks. “Ms Venable has gone to complete the shopping this week. I assume that’s where you were off to in such a rush. Her office.”

“But-” you started, going to say that it’s always one of the girls that does the shopping, never Wilhemina as she deemed it a waste of her valuable time.

“She insisted” Cordelia interrupted shortly, pausing before smiling as she stacked the papers in a pile on one of the shelves, “you know how she gets.”

You nodded. You knew how stubborn the older woman could be, how it was nearly impossible to sway her path once she had chosen to walk it. You admired her but had to admit it could be somewhat excessive at times.

You fell into comfortable conversation. Despite the confrontation that morning, and the obvious tension, you appreciated how easy being around the supreme was. She never pushed you, always waiting for you to come to her. Even if it meant she suffered with the pain of knowing something was wrong and she couldn’t help. It was perhaps the thing you loved the most about her.

When the lesson began you did your best to stay on task, humming to yourself at one of the benches to keep your mind clear and on the glass in front of you. You could feel the Supremes eyes lingering on you as she made her rounds around the greenhouse, checking on everyone’s work.

The majority of the lesson went undisturbed, no unplanned surprises or accidents. It was calm. Silent bar from the gentle tinkle of the glass wear as everyone worked, murmur of papers turning every so often to break the peace.

Once again letting your mind wander uncontrollably, you let a low groan as the glass tubing you were using slipped from your grip to shatter against the floor of the greenhouse. Frustrated tears pricked at the corner of your eyes, as you crouched and attempted to scoop the shards into trembling hands, vision blurred and droplets falling to ricochet off the stone. You were too nervous to even notice how Cordelia had swept across the floor to help you, to stop you from cutting yourself trying to gather the glass.

Her hand came to rest on the small of your back, pulling you from your thoughts and prompting a rough hand to palm away the tears lest she saw them. Sitting back on your chair you watched how she effortlessly manipulated the glass with her magic, barely even needing to concentrate on such a menial task.

Staring at the wood of your workspace, you barely registered her floating back to her bench or dismissing the class, only standing when Madison pulled at the crook of your arm to jerk you into motion.

“Y/n, can I have a quick word please.” Cordelia called out to you as everyone shuffled out, Madison elbowing you in the ribs with a wink and mouthing ‘shit you’re in trouble’. She looked way too pleased about the prospect of you being in trouble.

You returned to the table that subbed as a desk for the supreme when she taught in the greenhouse, at the corner of the room, hovering behind it and tapping your fingers anxiously against the wood. Cordelia observed you through slightly worried eyes, knowing that you and Wilhemina were both keeping something from her. You’d been distracted all lesson, blank eyes staring out of the dirty windows and you’d occasionally startle yourself out of your thoughts, attention turning momentarily back to the task.

Cordelia, although happy to act as if that morning hadn’t happened, she was less ready to let your absent-mindedness during her lesson go without at least talking to you about it. She was worried. You, alongside Misty, naturally, were one of her best students, so seeing you so blank and dreamy was unwelcomed and unfamiliar.

It was one thing to be distracted in a potions lesson, where accidents were less likely under inexperienced mistakes and mishaps; but what if your mind wondered when in a lesson teaching transmutation. Cordelia had already seen Zoe impaled on the unforgiving spikes of the fence, she would not see another student like that.

“I’d like to think all my girls know that they can come to me with anything, any worries or issues they may have. You do know that you can talk to me, right?” She sounded wounded, as if she was saddened by the fact that you may not feel like you can, or even want to confide in her. The thought of her being upset because of your actions made you twinge with guilt. Not to mention the fact you were keeping something you probably should have revealed when you’d arrived at the school from her.

“Yes of course, I just didn’t sleep too well last night I guess,” you shrug nonchalantly, trying to seem natural in your response. You felt bad lying to her, but it truly wasn’t your place to run your mouth about something that she should really hear from her own girlfriend.

Cordelia looked unconvinced yet again, and she brought her hand up slowly as if to comfort you, before stopping and returning it to finger at the fabric of her flowing pants. You couldn’t meet her eyes, the familiar thawing feeling at your chest whenever you were close to her returning. You felt like you were being suffocated with the weight of her gaze, the smell of her perfume and the rhythmic sigh of her breaths. You had to get out of the greenhouse, being around her made you want to spill the truth.

Slipping away as quickly as you could without looking like you were running from the lingering questions of the Supreme, you shut yourself in your room with a hand on your chest to still your heightened breathing.

***

That evening you slipped out of the living room when the rest of the girls had huddled together to watch a movie, socked feet padding against the floorboards towards Ms Venable’s office. You’d never actually seen the inside of it, up until now counting yourself lucky because you weren’t summoned there unless

Usually, it was just Madison. Sometimes a teenage witch who got a little bit too cocky or mouthy, as they all do sometimes. They’d always come out with raw eyes and a sniffly nose that they’d wipe against their sleeves self-consciously. Madison would just be flushed and embarrassed that she’d been put in her place by the one person who knew just how to deliver blows with the sharp edge of her tongue better than she did.

Her head snapped up when you entered, she looked ready to bark at whoever it was for entering without knocking. Sighing when she realised it was you, she closed the planner that lay open on the desk and folded her hands atop it, as if in an important meeting.

“Y/n” she stated calmly, clearing having used the day to calm herself ready for this unavoidable conversation. Communication wasn’t exactly one of her strengths. She was quick to snap and judge, less so to think about the consequences of her words, or if she even meant them. She wasn’t one for honest and vulnerable conversations. Especially about things she was unsure about.

You felt like a child in trouble, small and anxious under a teachers disappointed stare. You supposed the feeling was justified. You should feel like that.

Shuffling into the seat that faced the desk, you folded your feet under you before remembering where you were and quickly straightening yourself back up. The silence was suffocating as you waited for her to scold you.

“I’m sorry.” Your head jolted to look at her as if you’d been electrified. She was sorry? You’d never heard Wilhemina admit she was in the wrong, never mind saying she was sorry. Catching your open mouth, you willed it to close, clearing your throat uncomfortably and in obvious confusion.

“I shouldn’t have been angry earlier today. I should have let you explain.” Her explanation for her apology had you tripping over your tongue in your haste to blabber out your own apologies. She looked mildly annoyed at your constant insistency to stutter and stumble over your words in her presence.

“No, no, I’m the one who should be sorry. I should never have used my powers on you without your permission.” She held her hand up, effectively silencing you as your eyes focused on your hands that were curled, nails pressing moons into the skin of your knees. Wilhemina waited until you built up the confidence to meet her eyes again before continuing.

“I was just shocked after the events of breakfast. I assume that was me, breaking the glasses?” She concluded, cocking her head in slight amusement. You weren’t sure if she was waiting for you to confirm her suspicions or not. You nodded anyway, deciding it was better to answer if she wasn’t expecting one than to ignore such a request.

You did appreciate that anyone would still be reeling weeks after the initial shock of suddenly becoming a witch and inheriting magical abilities. It could be trying and scary for anyone, but to be normal your whole life and over the space of a single breath you were changed was a lot, even for Wilhemina, such a stoic and confident woman. The knowledge that it may be a permanent change could have been the straw that broke the camel’s back. You hoped that she would be able to see the benefits of such a gift, be able to flourish and overcome this hurdle, embrace it even. Being a witch had certain advantages that a woman like Wilhemina should surely relish in.

She drew her lips tightly when you confirmed it, nodding, and you took her silence as an invitation to carry on with your explanation. She sat, looking more relaxed now that she had been, the twitch of her jaw had ceased and now she just looked interested in what you had to say.

“I figured my powers gave people certain, abilities, when I’d touch them. But they only used to last a few hours, mainly because it happened by accident. I wasn’t sure what would happen when I consciously wanted to give someone magic, you know? That was why I couldn’t show Ms Goode without you. You’re the only non-magical human in the house. I don’t think it would have worked on anyone else. I’m sorry.”

Wilhemina hummed, hand extending to reach her cane from where it was balanced against the desk, bringing it closer so she could thumb against the top of it. She appeared to be thinking deeply about something, and you couldn’t help but be fixated on how her fingers stroked the smooth wood of the cane in her grip.

Almost as if she knew, a momentary smirk graced her lips as she stilled her fingers. Breaking your trance and making you startle in the chair, she hit the base of the cane twice, echoingly loud in the room. Meeting your gaze, she piqued a brow before sitting back in her seat until her back rested against the leather.

“I do have one condition. Because you’re so sorry.”

“Anything Ms Venable.”

“If this could be a-” she paused momentarily, as though weighing up the options in her head, “a permanent change, then you’ll have to teach me. I can’t very well be a senior teacher here at the academy with no knowledge of how to use and control my own abilities. Whenever, wherever, that I don’t care. But you will teach me, and I will learn.”

Whatever you were expecting her to demand of you in compensation for turning her into a witch, it wasn’t that. A smile spread across your face and you had to fight the urge to jump from your seat and into her arms in thanks. Had Cordelia told her that you wanted to pursue magical teaching?

Whatever had made her choose you to teach her over the multiple other witches who were already gifted as teachers, you weren’t sure. Perhaps it was simply because you knew about her newly acquired skills. Shamelessly however, you were practically giddy with the prospect of spending more time alone with the redhead.

“Yes of course!” you explained, forgetting to keep your voice low as to not arouse suspicion, “I’ll teach you spells and Ms Goode can teach you potions!” you were practically bouncing in the chair, excitement bubbling over making you giddy and giggly. You missed how the mention of Ms Goode made Wilhemina’s smile faulter with a flicker of fear.

“Oh I just know you’re going to love spellcraft! I’ll go get her” you were getting slightly carried away in your blind enthusiasm, pushing yourself out of your chair and rushing towards the door.

The pound of her cane unforgivingly against the floor stilled your movements, whipping round to face her where she’d pushed herself to stand, making her appear more dangerous, a looming suffocating presence in the small room that made you twitch under her stare.

“You are not to tell Ms Goode” she scolded, tone severe and warning, “Not yet.”

PART 3

taglist : @pearplate @billiedeansbottom @pluied-ete @extraordinarilycelestrial @toujours-ensanglante@mssallymckenna @okpaulson @magnificent-paulsonn @shineestark @commanderspeach @grilledcheeseandguavajelly @amethyst-bitch @its-soph-xx @germansarechill ,if you want to be added just send me an ask :))

#sarah paulson #sarah paulson x reader #cordelia goode #cordelia goode x wilhemina venable x reader #Cordelia Goode x reader #Wilhelmina Venable #wilhelmina venable x reader

206 notes · View notes

another-tmnt-writer · 5 years ago

Text

You Fell From the Sky

Leonardo x Reader

Author: Admin Mo

Prompt: okay this'll sound real dumb bUT- this universe!reader meets bayverse boys? like maybe reader wakes up in the bayverse and is very aware about the turtles? i dunno it sounds confusing but maybe it's an interesting prompt?

Note: I love this concept. I’ve dipped my toes in the water before, but this time, I’m going all the way. Also, I know you didn’t specify a turtle, but I zoned it in on Leo. I can definitely write another if y’all want more because I’m obsessed with this idea. <3

Warnings: Some language…

Word Count: 1.9k

“Okay, guys, don’t crowd her. I’m sure she’s gonna be disoriented, and-”

“Donnie, is the angel alright? It must have hurt, falling from heaven.”

“Get outta the way, Mikey. Go wash the pizza off your hands.”

“Could we give her some room, please?”

The voices echoed around in your head, which was pounding painfully. You opened your eyes and everything was blurry. You were just about positive you were hallucinating, because when your vision finally started to come into focus, you were surrounded by four very tall, very familiar mutant turtles.

“No fucking way…” you murmured, looking up at each of them. They were even more detailed and lifelike than they were in the movies. Which was to say, very lifelike.

“Not the reaction I expected, but I’ll take it.” Mikey smiled, shifting to present himself to you. “The name’s Michelangelo, but the ladies call me—”

“Mikey, yeah, I know.” You cut him off and he gaped at you, his blue eyes wide.

“Are ya psychic or something?” Raph asked. You stared at him for a long second. His muscles were impossibly large, his eyes just as green as you thought they’d be.

“N-No, not exactly. I…well, I’m pretty sure I’m from an alternate universe. Or something.” You looked at Donnie, who was furiously taking notes and way taller than you expected him to be, and then to Leo, whose arms were crossed, his clear blue eyes analyzing everything you said. “Because where I come from, you guys are fictional.”

“Woah. I did not expect that.” Mikey said, looking at Raph for some sort of reaction from his older brother. “Bro, did you—”

“Shut up for like two seconds.” Raph snapped, his attention turning to you. “Can you say that one more time?”

“You guys are fictional. When I was growing up, I watched your cartoons, collected action figures, read your comics…This is unreal.”

“Comic books?” Donnie inquired.

“Cartoons?!” Mikey’s eyes widened.

You nodded.

“So…you know everything about us?” Leo asked, a twinkle of amusement working its way into his icy gaze. He wasn’t quite convinced yet, but he had to admit you were convincing at the very least.

“I mean, not really. Kind of. Maybe?” You shrugged. “I know you have a bonsai in your room.”

You didn’t think it was possible for them to blush, but after that comment, Leo proved you wrong, chuckling and rubbing the back of his neck.

“Just about everything then, yeah.”

“So what happened, Donnie? Why am I here?”

Donnie straightened up when you addressed him by name. “Uh, well, I was trying to figure that out, actually. We were out on patrol and there was a bright flash in the sky and you fell from it.”

“Leo caught you even though I called dibs.” Mikey pouted.

“You saved my life.” You gasped and looked up at Leo. “Thank you.”

“I couldn’t just let you fall, ma’am.”

“(Y/N).” You introduced. “My name is (Y/N).”

“Well, (Y/N), I hope ya like the smell of sewer.” Raph chuckled. “If not, you’ll get used to it.”

***

The turtles spent the rest of the day asking you lots of questions about your world and the representations of them that were in it. You told them that the universe they were in was closest to a series of movies by Michael Bay, which, Raph and Mikey found exciting given their love of the Transformers movies.

Leo didn’t say much, but he was always in the room, listening. When night came, Donnie was the first to leave the room, retreating to work in his lab. Then Leo went to his room to sharpen his swords and water his bonsai. Raph went to sleep next, and Mikey stayed up the latest, playing Mariokart with you until pretty close to dawn. You’d almost forgotten that the boys usually slept during the day.

When you were out alone in the living room, Leo came into the room, holding a large knitted blanket and a pillow, a tentative look on his face.

“Hey.” He approached you quietly. “I figured you’d need these. It gets kind of cold down here.”

“Thanks, Leo.” You tucked your hair behind your ear. “I really appreciate you guys letting me crash here.”

“Don’t mention it. It’s the least we could do.” He shook the blanket out and draped it over your legs. “If you need anything, my room is over there.” He pointed back towards where he’d come from.

“Thank you.” You smiled. “I’m sure Donnie will figure this all out soon enough and then I’ll be out of your hair.”

“Well, you’re welcome to stay for as long as that takes.” Leo smiled and then added, “Good night.”

“Night!”

Once he was gone, you laid down on the couch and stared up into the darkness for a little while, thinking about the events of the day. You were stranded in the Bayverse. And…well, actually, you weren’t all that upset about it.

***

When you opened your eyes the next morning, you half expected it to all have been a dream. I mean, that was the only logical explanation, right? Well, then you took a look around at your surroundings and realized that it was three in the afternoon and you were in the lair instead of your bedroom.

Once you stretched and got your bearings, you got up and walked to the kitchen, where Splinter was pouring tea from a teapot.

“And you must be the girl who fell from the sky.”

You had to stop and admire him for a second. Master Splinter, the boys’ dad, a wealth of endless support and wisdom. You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t looked up to him when you were young. Hell, you’d be lying if you said you didn’t look up to him now when you needed advice.

“It’s an honor to meet you, sir.” You were shaking. “I’m not sure if the boys told you where I’m from…”

“They have, yes.” He nodded. “Donatello told me of the alternate universe you came from.”

“You helped me through so much when I was growing up. You all did. It’s really surreal being here.”

Splinter smiled and stroked his beard, that wise twinkle in his eyes. “I’m glad you found your way to us, child. We’ll make your stay here as easy as possible.”

“Thank you.”

“(Y/N), I made eggs.” Leonardo’s voice from behind you scared the hell out of you.

You jumped and turned around, laughing as your racing heart slowed back down to normal.

“Sorry. Do you like eggs?”

“I do, yeah.” You chuckled. “Thank you, Leo.”

“Of course. They’re on the stove.”

“There’s cheese on the counter!!” Mikey added, already sitting at the table. “I saved you a chair over here, angelcakes.”

You had to admit, hearing him say that in person did make your heart flutter a little bit. You put some eggs and toast (with jam, provided by Donatello) on a plate, sprinkled some shredded cheddar on top and settled into the seat Mikey had saved, conveniently located between the youngest brother and the leader in blue.

“So every day, you guys wake up this late?” You asked, still a little bewildered that breakfast was at three in the afternoon.

“That’s just the downside of living in the shadows.” Raph shrugged. “But it ain’t so bad.”

“Right, of course. It’s just different than what I’m used to is all.”

“So what do you do, normally? Like, in your world, I mean.” Donatello asked. He didn’t have his notebook on hand, but you could tell he was taking mental notes.

“Well, I’m a student. I’m in college. I read comics and watch movies, and sometimes I write in my free time.”

“Comics about us?” Mikey raised an eyebrow, smiling knowingly.

Your cheeks burned red and you laughed. “Maaaaaaybe.”

Leo let out a little sigh and shook his head. “That’s still so weird to me.”

“Let me tell you, that’s a two way street.” You chuckled. Even thinking about it was still almost too weird to comprehend. You pulled out your phone, which still worked, fortunately, and went through your photos, scrolling all the way back to Halloween. You held it up to show them. “My roommates and I were you guys for Halloween.”

“And you were Leader Boy, huh?” Raph pointed out. “Noted.”

“I mean, yeah.” You didn’t think your face could get any more red.

“Wait, Leo’s your favorite?” Mikey pouted. “Aww…”

“I don’t think it’s fair to pick favorites. I like all of you guys for different reasons.”

“It’s alright if you admit you had a crush on Leo.” Raph whispered, cupping a hand around his mouth.

“Alright, alright, enough of that. She’s our guest. We’re not gonna grill her. She just got here.” Leo stepped in, a faint blush on his cheeks. He wasn’t sure why, but he couldn’t get the picture of you in a blue mask with little foam katanas out of his head.

“Right, there’s a two week minimum before we get to grill her.” Donnie added, grinning as he pushed his glasses up his nose.

“Aww, how considerate.” You laughed.

The rest of breakfast was pretty uneventful. You finished eating and then went out to the living room and settled onto the couch. Luckily, your backpack had made the trip over with you, so you had your laptop and some of your homework. Not that you could get online and get in touch with people from your universe, but at least you could get some writing done if you wanted to.

Leo wandered out, his muscular arms crossed over his chest, a soft look in his eyes. He hovered behind you for a few seconds before finally speaking. “Hey.”

Unaware that he had been there, you jumped. “Jesus! You guys are quiet, holy fuck.”

“Sorry about that.” He laughed, carefully sitting on the opposite end of the couch, giving you space, but still sitting close enough to make your heart flutter the teeniest bit. “And, uh, I’m sorry about them earlier. Raph specifically. I’m sorry if he made you uncomfortable or—”

“No, it’s fine. Really,” you said. “But thank you for checking. I appreciate it.”

“Of course.” He was quiet for a few moments before he asked. “Do you believe in fate?”

“Until yesterday, I’m not sure I did. But there’s gotta be something like that out there for me to end up here of all places.”

“For the record, I’m glad you ended up here, too.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He nodded. His blue, blue eyes met yours. “Is it selfish if I say I wouldn’t mind if you stuck around for a while?”

“Is it selfish if I agree?” You replied, causing him to laugh.

“Glad we’re on the same page, then.”

“Me too.” You smiled and just spent a few long moments admiring him. The movies truly didn’t do him justice. Honestly, it was the truth: you wouldn’t mind sticking around for a while. For a long while…

Part 2

#leonardo #leonardo x reader #leo #leo x reader #leonardo imagine #tmnt #tmnt imagine #tmnt 2016 #tmnt 2014 #bayverse

957 notes · View notes

jadelynlace · 4 years ago

Text

Non-Verbal Ways To Say I Love You / Ink Drinker Modern Vikings AU “Talks” [Ivar x F!Reader]

☞ catch up on the series here!

☞ currently, requests are closed

☞ requested by: @quantumlocked310

author’s note: I have a few requests from this prompt list, but most of them seem to fall under the category of explanation, verses writing an actual one-shot. So, take my hand and we will go on this journey together! Divider is by @firefly-graphics

“Buying something that reminds them of you.”

This got....long. Not sorry.

Despite your relationship with Ivar, that man is slowly buying you things all the time. And just buying things. And sometimes, that man just buys things he doesn’t need.

A hunting knife? The man gags when he touches raw hamburger meat. Collectors edition box set for a super hero franchise? He has it already. The same sweatshirt because he keeps losing it and he’s too lazy to actively search for it? It’s on the coat rack at the shop and Ivar swears it’s lost a sea.

Sometimes, you want to take the man’s credit card away from him.

Case in point: the “Twenty Five Days Of Christmas” slowly turned into the “Twenty Five Days Of Ivar Being Banned From The Lingerie Stores”.

Don’t even get me started on the hardware store when you two get a house together. He has great ideas a 3am, but reflooring the living room is not one of them.

You’re worried one day he’ll come home with a dog.

Alright, back on topic:

Ivar spends a few weeks every year in California for tattoo conventions. One in San Diego, and one in Los Angeles. He always comes back looking slightly more tanned, a little bit more toned. And there’s a reason for that: every time Ivar so thought about you, with his dick, he would go to the gym to burn off the steam. So yeah, he hardly ever leaves the gym. He brings things from the state; a specific hot sauce he’s only ever found there that you love, novelty tee shirts for his brother despite Ivar saying “this is the last time I’m buying you a stupid fucking shirt”. A piece of jewelry, a book he thinks you’ll like, anything really that he sees that reminds him of you, he’ll likely buy. You also get many, many videos of him from there, whether it be him under the needle (if he can find the space), or recordings of him in his element courtesy of Floki. Yes, you will get dick pics. Yes it’s the longest two weeks of your life.

Before you ask, yes, Ivar has a tattoo that he got because of you. It may or may not be your first initial on his chest.

Now, when it comes to Floki’s oldest son Phoenix (yes, I made up a name for him in this AU, you can fight me), you are lovingly known as Ivar’s “Lady Friend”. More specifically, Ivar’s “Super Hero Lady Friend” because to every child, being a firefighter/medic is pretty damn heroic. And, they’re not wrong. He’s always enthralled with what you and Hvitserk are doing at the station, you’ve shown him the ambulance, the fire trucks, you’ve shown him how their hoods come up. (Which, by the way friends, is amazing. Like I see it all the time when we do checks, and every time I’m cranking that thing up I am all heart eyes.) You might as well be a damn super hero when you walk through fire. Anyways; with the help of Ivar, Phoenix has gotten you, on more than one occasion, a super hero figurine, or sticker, or even a page he colored, because you are, like I said, Ivar’s “Super Hero Lady Friend”. The smiles the two of them have together? Fucking priceless.

But, I know you’re all not asking: what do we get for Ivar, Jade? Loves, let me tell you. Ivar can’t believe you’re real at times, he can’t believe you’re with him, and he will thank every God, every mystical being or random deity until he is dead. You may, or may not, have put together a photo album/scrapbook of your relationship with him. Beginning with the receipt from the first time you two went to the diner together after Ragnar’s gala. The first draft of your thigh tattoo, pictures of the two of you together, pictures you took of him, pictures he took of you. The notes he writes for you, movie tickets, concert tickets, art museum passes. Maybe a picture of him with his crutches, maybe a picture of him when he’s fully mobile again. Polaroids of you in lingerie, of the two of you making love. Ivar cries when he gets it; despite how many times he tells you he’s not crying. He looks through it when his head gets too loud.

You have also bought him:

tattoo cream, you saw it on an instagram ad.

leather bound sketchbooks.

mjolnir pendant(s).

glasses cases.

history books.

math books / math puzzle books.

rubik’s cubes

funko pops (yes, I went there again).

playlists that you burn onto a CD, or even better, an old record (you spent a long time finding someone capable of doing this) for him to listen to at the shop.

crayola washable markers for Phoenix to color in his tattoos with. sometimes you find really cool colors too.

comic books to please his inner 12-year-old.

a polaroid camera (yes, for the bedroom).

a second polaroid camera when he figures out he likes it and he uses this one outside of the bedroom.

You and Hvitserk have a private agreement that falls on every Friday or Saturday that the two of you work. Your hours are usually 24 hours on, 72 hours off (not like mine would be at the station at all, or anything), or every fourth day. So, when it’s a week of Monday/Friday, or Tuesday/Saturday, those second days you two go out to lunch. Regardless of anything. On the clock, you two get take away to eat at the station; or you’ll sit down and eat, sometimes easier said than done (your chief allows it if he gets a doggy bag), and you two just unload on to each other. About everything, work stress or life stress. He tells you how he’s nervous to ask the nurse at the ER out for coffee despite seeing her all the time.

Every other time the bill switches; you pay, or Hvitty pays. Other than that; you two don’t typically buy each other things. You’ll get him a cookbook every year, he collects them and uses them, and he looks forward to the weird ones you can find. He buys you something you need, but never use: anything to give you some “you time”. Whether it be a gift card for shopping, or the spa, you take care of everyone, but neglect yourself. But hell, shopping for Hvitserk is pretty damn simple (compared to Ivar, which can sometimes stump you), the man’s face lights up when you bring him a bag of chips. He’s....easy to please.

That was so much I apologize.

Ink Drinker Tags:

@smileysam13579 @dreamtherapy @heisentwerk @angelofthenightposts @youaremyfamiliar @unbetaedimagines @kathryn-jane @readsalot73 @lihikainanea @queen-sarang @anastasiaskarsgard @andmyannabellee @peachyboneless @heavenly1927 @istorkyou @victoria-styles @quantumlocked310 @xbellaxcarolinax @mighty-ragnarssons @alexhandersen-marcoilsoe-fandom @queen-of-upshur @nanahachikyuu @fandomlifeandeverythingelse @ivarhoegh @a5hl3y5ibley @hashimily @youbloodymadgenius @love-all-things-writing @theanxietyqueen17 @trip2themoon @tgrrose @synnersaint @kataphine @prepare4trouble @abbiii72 @not-another-viking-fanfic-blog @pixluru @93xdiagonxalley

*please message me to let me know if you would like to be added or removed from my tag list. specifications for series/etc. are also welcomed, as well as feedback.*

full masterlist can be found here.

36 notes · View notes

the-final-sif · 5 years ago

Text

BNHA Venom!AU (set in the US for ease of writing) where Izuku is a baby symbiote who accidentally ended up on earth. He ended up lucking into a host, an 8 year old Katsuki who’d been backpacking through the woods nearby where he landed.

Katsuki was always a bit of a weird kid. He didn’t get along well with any of the kids he knew, and his parents were rather distant, being high-end fashion designers meant they were always off across the world doing other things. As a result, when this weird alien attaches itself to him, he’s annoyed for sure, but he doesn’t panic, or call the police, or really do any of the normal things that a child should do in that situation.

He just kinda,,, puts up with Izuku. Sure, he’s pissed off and he tells Izuku to go away for awhile, but soon enough he learns to accept this weird alien that’s a part of his life.

Quickly, both he and Izuku discover that Izuku can help him do some pretty cool things, and Izuku needs lots of chocolate to stay healthy. Both things are just fine by Katsuki, and he ends up deciding that Izuku is actually alright in his books.

Some government agents snoop around, at least somewhat aware of an alien being in the area, and Katsuki quickly learns to hide Izuku from anyone else. He doesn’t want them to take his new friend and hurt him like they described. Katsuki manages to escape suspicion as not even his own parents know about his backpacking/hiking hobbies, and nobody really thinks a spoiled 8 year old kid of two fashion designers would be 10 miles out in the woods.

After that, life keeps going for Izuku and Katsuki. They learn to live together, how to adapt to all the various quirks of sharing a body, how to use the powers Izuku can give Katsuki, and how to keep Izuku well hidden.

It’s all going great, right up until Katsuki makes it into an extremely prestigious boarding school; UA. It’s his dream high school, but it’s so much harder to hide the fact he’s got an alien living in his body when he’s living with other teenagers, and the security at the school is much higher than what he’s used to. For fuck’s sake, the vice president’s kid goes to this school! There’s no way they aren’t getting caught.

Still, Izuku doesn’t want Katsuki to give up on his dream and encourages him, so Katsuki reluctantly goes to UA anyways, trying his best to keep Izuku hidden.

But there are... incidents. Not ones where anyone dies, but people seem intent on harassing Katsuki, from fellow classmates to muggers outside the school, and Izuku is very protective by nature. After a few of these ‘incidents’, a certain underground branch of the government starts getting suspicious again, launching an investigation into the school.

Meanwhile, Aizawa, Katsuki’s primary teacher, has started noticing lots of weird things about Katsuki. Like how he always has two columns in his notebooks, with one side full of carefully written notes and the other side filled with random excited musings in rushed handwriting. Or how sometimes he'll seem to become a different person for a moment, or how he seems to vanish at odd moments.

Weirdest of all is his homework/essays, where Aizawa would swear half the time it's a different person writing them (he only knows for a fact it's Katsuki doing both, since he's watched the kid write most of his essays at various stages in the library). The core ideals themselves seem to change between essays, and that’s what bothers him the most since he’s never seen that in a student before.

Being the good concerned teacher he is, Aizawa considered all the evidence before he called Katsuki into his office. Katsuki and Izuku are sure they've been caught.

Then Aizawa asks Katsuki if he's ever been tested to having multiple personalities.

And listen, Katsuki does not believe in faking mental disorders. But by this point, he's really worried that the government is gonna get Izuku, so when he sees the chance to excuse all his weird behaviors he latches on with everything he’s got.

So Katsuki explained, while trying to lie as little as possible, that he's never formally been tested (and he doesn't want to be), but there is another person living in his body named Izuku. Izuku is very shy though, and would prefer to not be mentioned/brought attention to. As such he asked Aizawa to not tell anyone else about him. Aizawa agreed easily, after all he doesn’t see any real risk from Izuku, and he’s happy that Katsuki was honest with him about the situation. He tells both of them that they can come talk to him any time if they need help, Katsuki agreed to that, and for a little while Izuku & Katsuki were safe.

I dunno exactly how the class finds out about Izuku, but I do know that Iida is one of the first ones during a tense situation. As a result, Katsuki and Izuku get to watch as straight laced goody two shoes Iida looks a government agent right in the eyes and lies his ass off to him to protect Izuku.

For this AU, the ‘Kidnapping’ happens when the government managed to catch onto Katsuki. They’re sure they’ve finally found the alien, and they move in to capture Katsuki.

Only, Katsuki gets wind of this ahead of time, so in a quick moment of desperation, he forces a weakened Izuku to transfer off of him and onto Shouto, since Enji is like the vice president in this AU and that makes Shouto much, much harder for a government agency to fuck with. Shouto is somewhat aware of what Izuku is, and he agrees to take the other to safety.

Poor Izuku can only watch as Katsuki is captured, while Shouto forces him to stay hidden for all their safety.

It's okay though, because the four people who know about Izuku and what happened (Shouto, Kirishima, Iida, and Momo) decide to break into the government base to get Katsuki back, with Izuku's help obviously.

They get most of the way through their super secret infiltration mission, but something goes wrong and they’re almost caught.

Until while they're hiding and the people search for them are a hair away from discovering them, an absolutely furious Aizawa just fucking waltzes in with the fucking president (All-Might for this AU) to demand his student back.

Now at this point, the agency has no actual proof of alien life. They have half connected incidents and eyewitness reports, but nothing definitive. When they took Katsuki into custody, they’d tested him immediately, sure that they were going to get their proof that way, but since Katsuki no longer has Izuku, the tests all came back negative. As such they have no real justification for having basically kidnapped him.

The agent guy or whoever has been chasing them tries to justify themselves by offering proof of 'Izuku' existence, specifically recordings of Katsuki talking to himself and referring to an ‘Izuku’ as well as written notes. Aizawa's responds that he was already aware of Izuku, that Katsuki had already discussed the other with him, and that he cannot believe they've detained a 16 year old on account of him having multiple personalities. All-Might backs Aizawa up, and shuts down the entire thing as there’s no evidence they’ve done anything but harass Katsuki.

That leaves the agents shit out of luck, so they have to let Katsuki go. The other kids sneak out the way they came in, before quietly joining Aizawa and Katsuki. Aizawa waits until everyone is outside and out of range of any cameras, and then he just turns on the entire group.

"Okay, so first of all, I'm extremely disappointed that you four decided to break into a government agency with armed guards before so much as texting me."

"I'm so sorry sir."

"We could've thought that through a little better, I'll admit."

"Katsuki was in trouble, but yeah, I guess we could've asked for help."

"I stand by what I did and I'd do it again."

Aizawa, actively chooses to ignore Shouto's comment for right now, but does still glare at him for it.

"Second of all, that man may be a fool, but I am not. Where's the alien?”

Everyone's quiet for a tense moment before Izuku makes his choice and pokes his head out from Shouto, introducing himself politely.

After getting a full explanation on what happened, Aizawa gives Katsuki a Look (tm) to which Katsuki defends himself.

“Listen, I did not lie, I just purposefully omitted that the person living in my body is also an actual alien from outer space.”

And Aizawa can’t really argue with that, so he just accepts that his class has an extra student in it from now on.

They let the rest of class 1-A in on the Izuku secret, since a lot of them had been coming close to figuring it out anyways, and so the entire class slowly adjusts to having an alien as one of them. It’s surprisingly easy to come to terms with, and as Izuku slowly starts coming out of his shell (ie hiding inside Katsuki whenever someone tries to talk to him), the entire class discovers he’s a total sweetheart & adore him.

#bakudeku #katsuki bakugou #midoriya izuku #shouto todoroki #aizawa shouta #symbiote #venom!au #bnha #mha #class 1-a #sif speaks #my headcanons #sif writes #mostly I just like the visual of Izuku getting embarassed and #then he just hides inside Katsuki #also Izuku is perfect for a symbiote #b/c he's also very clingy and wants to support others

846 notes · View notes

the-penguin-of-baskervilles · 4 years ago

Note

What happened to u? U okay?

Hello!

First off, thank you for your concern. I appreciate it and I needed it after the past two days. To answer your question - I'm doing great.

I don’t have a lot of context about your question, but I’m guessing your concern is due to my recent blocking spree. A day ago, I went through my followers list and found some minors. I’ve previously seen smut fanfic writers concerned by underage people interacting with their posts. Until I had to block a few of them, I wasn’t aware how uncomfortable it would make me feel.

Since the blocking spree, I've had a lot of thoughts. I'm about to spew them everywhere. You might regret asking me if I was okay. Sorry about that. No one needs to read this whole manifesto about my rollercoaster of emotions the past few days. But in the interest of transparency, I'm posting this very long note.

What I want my readers to know is the following:

Tumblr is both a place for fanfiction and a social media site.

When I interact with followers and write explicit content, I have to be careful about what I'm saying and who I'm saying it to.

I don't intend to block or purge my followers in the future.

As long as I appropriately tag and put warnings on my work, that is adequate protection for my blog. Everything I write containing explicit content is tagged.

However, I won't interact with users who don't have an age stated in their bio.

There have to be boundaries, given the content of my writing. But I've also come around to the realization that I'm not capable of policing every interaction. Tumblr is a public forum. Minors following me makes me uncomfortable. But by the same token, my work is clearly labeled at 18+ and so is my blog.

There's a lot of explicit content out there for minors if you really think about it. In my high school freshman English class we talked about the book "The Color Purple." Believe me, that was explicit and we were only 14. Any minor with a library card and a Google browser can access a lot more intense content than what I write. I hope they're all being safe, but I can't have a melt down blocking spree again.

I'm not a cop, I'm not a parent, and what minors consume is down to them and the adult responsible for them. If I know someone is a minor I'll block them, should I notice they're trying to interact with me. Otherwise, I'm not purging my followers ever again. It's too much drama. I'd rather leave Tumblr than do that twice. I'm tired and I'm starting to work on my post graduate classes, I work full time in a demanding job, I'm in the process of editing my novel, and trying to keep up with my personal life. Quite literally, I don't have time to block. Writing fanfic is supposed to be my fun time. Let's keep it that way.

Due to the fact that some people I blocked were later unblocked after I took a closer look at their blogs, I'm posting a full explanation below. A quick summary is this:

After only writing for three months, I'd amassed 500 followers. On Monday I blocked almost 200 of them. Then I reviewed my block list and editing down some people who were prematurely blocked. [I assume the anon is one of the unblocked who had me disappear from their dash. Sorry!] This blocking thing isn't sustainable. In the future I'll run my blog differently as far as interaction goes in an effort to be responsible.

Continue reading for the saga of:

The Great Blocking Spree and Existential Crisis of an Erotic Fanfic Writer.

The Blocking Spree:

On Monday I realized a thirteen year old was following me and interacting with my work. This creeped me out.

*Commence blocking spree*

Then I realized how daunting my followers list was. I had 500 followers prior to Monday. That day I blocked about 200 people (some of them prematurely - more on that later.) So after the daunting task of trying to assume, to check bios for ages, to review blog content and determine the user's age, I was tired. Today, I even took a moment to reconsider if I wanted to use Tumblr. Because if all this is my responsibility, maybe I don't have the time or dedication to manage it. When I can be chill, I try to be. This attitude also affected by blocking. It contributed to me unblocking people. When I was doing the blocking spree, I'd give people with no age in their bio a fair shot by reviewing their posts.

I blocked some bot accounts, then a bunch of blank blogs, some ambiguous people who very well could be of age. For the first 100 followers I was pretty aggressive. Then my attention span dropped off and I was a bit more ambivalent. I realized I was doing a crappy job of moderating and wondered what the point was.

The point was that the thirteen year old interacting with my work freaked me out. When I found two sixteen year old followers, it pushed me to continue the purge.

So on I go, blocking. I'm so responsible for doing this, right? But my methodology is crap. What is context for being an adult? Someone had posted about budgeting advice. I thought the budgeting advice was too good for it not to have come from an adult. But my father's a financial advisor and to be honest, I could have given that level of advice at fifteen just from osmosis. Someone had pictures of themselves entering their marijuana plants in the Oregon State Fair. Okay, you've got to be over 18. I didn't block them. Someone else complained about their stats professor and I didn't block them. But in retrospect, one of my high school friends got permission to take college level math courses when we were seniors. She was seventeen when she had a stats professor. The thought circles back - what am I accomplishing here? Next, I went back and unblocked someone who ranted about her Tinder matches being 60 year old men. I wondered if their post was even real. I've lied on the internet before. Nonetheless, I persisted and worked through all 500 followers. When I was done I had 312 followers left.

Post Blocking Spree Existential Crisis:

I know that all the blocking in the world can't stop a teenager who wants to read smut fanfic. I'm not much for posting on social media and I'm not used to a lot of anonymous interaction online. Honestly, I got rid of my SM accounts during college when I felt it was wasting my time. This is the first time I've really use a social media site to post content since college. My twitter account is unused, my Instagram is for close personal friends only, and my TikTok is for mindless consumption of cat videos. (I've trained the algorithm to feed me only cat videos, it's great and I highly recommend it.) I don't post on TikTok, so I don't consider it full use, just lurking.

Okay, Alice, get back to the point....

Right, being anonymous on social media. My blocks are a fence and it's based on self identification from the blogs that follow me. I have little faith in underage consumers to out themselves. I have even less faith in their honesty or respect for an adult's boundaries. They're at a stage in life where they want to push the boundaries. Telling them no is all but inviting them in. I did my blocking spree because I was worried about backlash from someone's parents. But what reasonable judge would come after a fanfic writer? Come on. Logical thoughts but me emotional distress was still brewing.

Why I am the one responsible for who clicks the follow button on my blog? I've always clearly identified what I write and tagged my work as smut.

That thought snapped me out of my whirlwind of anxious thoughts. So I started looking into the laws. My regular work involves medicine, not the legal profession, so I was lost. I found some state level laws that made me glad I'd gone on a blocking spree. California and Florida have specific language in their laws about 'providing minors with explicit content.' But what exactly is that? What I researched applied to the following activities: co-writing smut fanfic with other people, sexting, roleplaying and online messaging.

I run a fanfic blog with limited interaction. I've never done an ask. I don't roleplay on here and I don't want to.

The blocks weren't personal. They were partly based on the awareness that Tumblr is an interactive site and a place that's had a problem with child pornography in the past. But I'm not the smut police. I suck at blocking, and I doubt I did a good job of purging my followers list. This is when it hit me that boundaries are only what I can enforce. They've never been about how other people relate to me, only how I relate to them. (Wow. I've never sounded more like my mother in my life...) After this thought, I started considering what actions I ought to take if I wanted to keep posting fanfic on Tumblr.

My Post Blocking Spree Clarity...

It's up to me who I interact with. I don't have to reply to every comment and re-blog, but I'd like to. I'm stuck between wanting to write for everyone and handling interactions on a social media site that's mostly anonymous.

The fact remains: I can't be the smut police because I suck at it.

What I've decided is that I'll make it very clear on my blog that this is an 18+ space where I publish erotic fanfiction. Smut will always be appropriately marked. I'm not going to interact with reviews, re-blogs, and messages from accounts who don't have their age in their profile. I won't include them in my tag list either. The internet is a public forum. Just as with publishing erotica, once it's out there online for download, it's done. As a ghost writer and an author, I don't control who buys my original fiction, which is just as spicy as my fanfiction. (Trust me, it's explicit. I once had a romance editor tell me I should dial it back on the smutty parts of a novel because "it's a lot of sex for a non-erotica market.") The key difference on Tumblr is about interaction. And that's something I can control. I can decide when I reply to other users. What brought me around to this was the realization that even after the blocking spree, I can't review every single like I get. That's an amount of time and mental energy that's beyond me. Just the past two days have been exhausting and sapped my will to write. Which sucks because I need to go write the next chapter of "Restitution" before tomorrow.

I think the reasons I went on the blocking spree are nuanced. The thirteen year old freaked me out. So did the other underaged people who had ages in their bios. But it also relates to my work. In my job I've seen some nasty child abuse cases. Early on in my career, when I was a 23 year old new hire, I was working on an autopsy for a child abuse victim who'd been murdered by their parent. It was so terrible and graphic, I had to ask one of my older colleagues to take the case. This colleague didn't like me. But she took one look at my face and took the file. She closed out the review without a question and never brought it up again to anyone. I was very grateful. Where I used to work (and where this incident took place) was a major city that holds the unfortunate title of being the human trafficking capital of the US. And something I learned working there was that most human trafficking victims go with their captors willingly. In two years at that job, I never saw one who'd been kidnapped from a dark alley like you see on TV. They were all groomed on social media and thought they were escaping their families (who were often overbearing, toxic, or dysfunctional) for a get away with friends. It was a fun adventure with their internet buddies, until it wasn't.

In retrospect, the underage interaction I found on my blog made me react because of what I've been through. The autopsy case kept coming back to me today while I was at work and I've finally untangled my emotions enough to figure out what caused my melt down. When I was blocking, I was feeling an anxious motivation that I know can only stem from the stress I deal with at my job. Don't feel sorry for me about this - I know my work in medicine helps a lot of people and it's a tremendously satisfying career.

Our Saga's Resolution & How I'm Going to Deal With This In The Future...

- - - - -

In post block clarity, I offer this conclusion:

I'm writing on a public forum. My work is appropriately tagged as smut. In the future, I will also use the tag #no minors to help with filtering. I've always asked underage people not to interact. And on a public forum, what more can I reasonably do? Going forward I will only interact with those who have their age posted in their bio. But blocking sprees and policing every interaction isn't feasible.

I'll review how I'm going to run my tag lists as well. I need to think it over and let my followers know my decision as to if I'll continue using them. Because tagging is definitely interaction and my current tag list was not screened at all. *face palm*

Finally, to my readers who have blank blogs or don't have an age listed. I respect your right to privacy and I'm careful with my personal information as well. But I've also had an uncomfortable two days. If you've lasted through this venting session until now, you must understand that I'm upset by underage interaction. I'm setting my own boundaries and going forward, I'll own my side of the internet. No interaction from me, unless I know your age. Full stop - no exceptions. I think it is reasonable for me to suggest that you leave something on your blog that signifies you are not a minor, whatever that may be. Someone who I didn't block that stands out in my memory had a bio that said "90s baby." It was simple, direct, and left no doubt they were over 18. No age reveal and not even a name. If you put something like this on your blog it'll help explicit content creators feel more comfortable about their interactions.

I went on a spree this Monday and I admit to being heavy handed and aggressive about pruning followers. I had an emotional reaction due to work stress and I didn't think things through logically. I'm relieved for the chance explain myself and set new boundaries that I'm capable of sticking to in the future. But remember - the block button is on my side of the screen. At the end of the day, you might be unhappy with me for the block, but it's my button, it's my blog, and I'll use it as I see fit.

Thank you for reading.

#tw vent #tw child abuse #tw trauma #tw violence #tw human trafficking #penguin blog update #new rules #i'm sorry #its been a long week #I almost left tumblr over this #blocking spree #clarity #smut #no minors #smut fanfiction #smut writing #smut blog #I talk about my work trauma from medicine #boundaries

12 notes · View notes

goat-goth · 4 years ago

Note

Hi, you said essay on the not-love Victor and Elizabeth have?? I am fully invested, tell me EVERYTHING.

Im glad you’re curious!!! content warning for misogyny and arranged marriage

Ok here we go.

So to preface I am not going to use Victor (or Elizabeth’s) queer coding as a justification because while it is heavy as an osmium brick, it can still technically be dismissed as reading through a lens that would discredit my perception of the relationship between Victor Frankenstein and Elizabeth Lavenza. I would also like to mention that this is based on my reading of specifically the 1831 version of Frankenstein; or, The Modern Prometheus which was written by Mary Shelley.

Cool so the book begins with Victor explaining his life story, from the beginning, to a stranger named Robert Walton. He starts by explaining how his parents met and got married (which is its own whole can of problematique worms) and then moving on to explain how Elizabeth was adopted. In this version of the story they are not biologically related but are raised together as siblings and call each other ‘cousin’. I think we can agree that they very much consider each other close family. I think it's also important to note that when Victor was first introduced to Elizabeth she was presented to him as a gift and object ‘future trophy wife’ by his mother. As a kid he didn't interpret this as romantic but literal and just kind of accepted it as fact.

Years later their mother, Caroline, falls ill. She calls Victor and Elizabeth to see her on her deathbed and tells them, in no uncertain terms, that it is her dying wish for them to get married and that it is Elizabeth's job to become a parental figure to the other young Frankenstein's, William and Earnest.

They're still young though and Victor is sent off to school at Ingolstadt while Elizabeth stays home. While Victor is away we learn that Elizabeth has Grown Up and learned how to put her own feelings away to Be Strong for her family. It is made pretty clear that she now sees bottling her own feelings and doing whatever is deemed necessary to help the family to be her Responsibility as a mother figure and as a daughter.

While that is happening, Victor is out at Ingolstadt building his creature. To briefly summarize, he makes his creature, is struck by what he has done once faced with a living breathing Dude making baby noises at him at like 1 am (estimate), flees leaving his creature to wander out of the building, comes back and falls into a very rough sickness from sleep deprivation and general neglect + trauma, and is brought back to health by his good bro Henry Clerval. Henry gives him a letter from his family, who he all together stopped writing Months Ago, telling him to come back home at once because his brother was murdered.

Elizabeth is Very upset seeing a kid she was a mother figure to was killed and her friend Justine Moritz is being wrongly convicted, and Victor, thinking that his creature did it (based on no evidence btw) is Consumed with guilt and offers No comfort or explanation. A bit later after that Victor's father approaches him and goes, ‘you know, everyone's really really sad that your little brother was murdered. You know what would cheer them up???? Marrying your sister.’ and then Victor just kinda goes ‘ …. You're right, I need space though. First, can I take a two year trip out of the country? I promise I'll do it right after.’ and his father says yeah that would be cool, and Henry decides to go with him.

Victor, the way I see it, has two pretty big motives for leaving in this situation.

His creature has approached him demanding a wife, so he wants to get away so he can isolate and do that. This is the bigger and more pressing motive as well as victor’s priority.

He is literally being cornered and old that he could make everything better by marrying Elizabeth who, yes he is fond of as family, but who he has never once shown romantic interest in beyond ‘mom says that this is how it works and that I should think of you as an object so I guess that's fine with me’

This leaves us wondering how Elizabeth is feeling? We know that the last time tragedy hit, her response was to bottle up her feelings and do what she thought best for the family. You could argue that she did love Victor based on how she speaks to and of him but you have to understand that quite literally from day one she has been told over and over that her purpose is to love Victor and that it would make her parents happy if she loved Victor and that her mother, who she was close to, laid on her deathbed and told her that her dying wish was that she would marry her brother, Victor. From her perspective, logically the only next step would be to make everyone happy again by marrying her brother, right? It doesn't matter that he didn't write to her when he was away and was completely emotionally unavailable once he got back right? This Has to be the next step for her.

And so they do get married but no, I don't think there was any romantic intention. I think it was two people who felt obligated to their family and in Elizabeth's case, subconsciously sacrificial, and in Victors case, too preoccupied with his murder-child and horrendous mental health to think about what He wants personally.

#long post #tw mysogyny #tw arranged marriage #tw objectification #ask to tag #tw dysfunctional family #frankenstein #victor frankenstein #elizabeth lavenza #frankenstein essay #essay is a generous word for this #if you want a formal essay with citations you can pay me :)#my poor little ghost boy #ask

41 notes · View notes

madamebaggio · 5 years ago

Photo

Notes: Previously...

This one I’ll be dedicating to @msaudreyanne who didn’t pick anything as a request, but absolutely lvoes the sip ;)

It’s been a long while for this one, but here we are, and we had a time skip as I said ;)

Hope you enjoy it.

***

Chapter 4

4 years later…

“Lucy, have you seen Sansa?”

“She was in her office the last time I saw her.”

Arthur hummed. “Was she in a good mood?”

Lucy smirked at him. “Why? Are you planning on spoiling her day?”

Arthur gasped in fake outrage. “Lucy! Have I ever?”

Lucy rolled her eyes. “Please, you do it for fun, just because you can’t admit…”

“Oy.” He cut her. “Don’t start with me.”

“Go find Sansa and leave me alone.”

Arthur passed by the kitchen and grabbed tea and lemon cakes with Bridget, who gave him a knowing look.

He didn’t know what was wrong with everyone around this house acting as if he was some green boy with a crush.

Ridiculous.

One of the things that shocked him the most in the years since Sansa appeared in their lives was how fast she carved a space for herself in the house.

Arthur thought he’d have a hard time finding her a job at the brothel, and he’d been humoring her when he talked about keeping the house. The first week she spent sewing and helping the girls with clothes and things like that. Once she started looking at the books and their pantry, she learned way too fast.

In less than a year she had an office -a fucking office -there.

Arthur might take care of business outside, but the brothel was Sansa’s realm. Arthur became the public figure that took care of the girls’ safety, but Sansa was the one that controlled the money that came in and out. Nobody bought an apple there without her knowing about it.

She ruled the brothel with an iron hand -and Arthur absolutely adored it, since it gave him more time to take care of his things.

“Lady Stark.” He called with a charming grin as he stepped into her office.

“Get out. I’m busy.” She replied without even looking up from her book.

“Good morning to you too, love.” He huffed as he entered the place and put his tray down. “I brought you tea.”

Sansa sighed and looked at him. “The answer is ‘no’.”

“I wasn’t going to ask you anything.” He protested.

She gave the lemon cake on the table a meaningful look.

“Right…” He drawled. “I’ll admit. I want to throw a party.”

“No.” She said easily, her eyes going back to the book.

“You didn’t even ask why I want that.”

“I don’t care.”

“You should.”

“I do not…”

"It's for you.” He informed her.

Her hand froze, a droplet of ink falling on the book. “Oh no!” She cursed under her breath. “Look at this mess!”

Arthur groaned. “Sansa! Did you hear me? The party is for you.”

She gave up on trying to clean the spot where the ink had already messed her writing. “Why? My name day has already passed.”

“Yes. However, next week will be your anniversary. Four years since you came into our lives.”

Sansa looked at him, shock clearly written on her features. “I…”

“Have I made you speechless?” Arthur grinned. “Maybe I should write down this date to celebrate in the future.”

“Arthur!” She chided.

Arthur went around her table, then leaned his hip on it, close to her. “I’m serious, princess. Let me throw you a party.”

“Why?” She insisted.

“You deserve one.” He pointed out. “You’ve been an essential part of this household since you got here.”

“Yes, but…”

“We’ll close for the night…”

“Close for the night? Are you out of your mind? The loss…”

“Sh, now…” He covered her mouth with his hand, ignoring the dirty look she sent him. “I’m the boss, in case you have forgotten. One night, we call only the people that matter to us. No work, no intruders. We dance, we laugh, we drink, we pass out in the front hall.”

Sansa started laughing, so he uncovered her mouth. “That’s a really charming offer. But…” Her shoulders dropped. “You don’t need to do this for me.”

“I know I don’t. I want to.” He reached for her hand. “You drive me mad, princess, but I’m thankful you’re here.” He kissed the back of her hand. “Let me do something nice for you.”

Sansa bit her lower lip, her eyes searching for something on his face, until she shook her head, a grin on her lips. “You win. We can have a party.”

Arthur’s smile was positively blinding. “That’s my girl!” He celebrated. He leaned forward and dropped a quick kiss to her cheek. “I’ll make sure everything is perfect.”

Arthur was still grinning as he left the office, proud of his victory. When he turned the hallway he came face to face with Back Lack and Wet Stick, both grinning knowingly at him.

“Not a word.” He growled at his friends.

“Just admit you love her, mate.” Back Lack teased.

***

Sansa found Ada and Rose in Kay’s room, talking to the older woman. “Sansa.” Kay smiled at her. “Do you need something?”

“Do you know what’s wrong with Arthur?”

“Darling, you’ll have to be more specific. That boy took way too many punches to the face, so…”

Sansa snorted. “He wants to throw me a party.”

All the women turned to her, eyes like arrows fixed on her. “Tell us more.” Rose demanded.

“What more can I say? He wants to throw a party because I’ve been here for four years.”

Kay arched an eyebrow. “It’s that time of the year already?”

“And he remembered it on his own?” Ada gushed. “Oh that’s so…”

“Don’t say it.” Sansa asked.

“You don’t know what I was going to say.” Ada protested.

“So romantic.” Sansa finished, her voice sickeningly sweet, batting her eyelashes. Then she gave Ada a hard look. “Am I wrong?”

Kay chuckled. “Are you ever, darling? Let the boy throw you a party; it’s nice of him.”

“It’s suspicious.” Sansa insisted.

“Only because you won’t accept our explanation for it.” Rose pointed out.

“Because it’s a ridiculous one.” Sansa threw at them. “Arthur isn’t doing this to be romantic.”

The three women groaned in frustration.

“Sansa…” Rose started carefully. “If you aren’t interested, it’s fine, but you can’t be that blind. That man wants you to have redheaded babies with him.”

“Oh please…”

“It’s what she said.” Kay pressed. “And again; it’s fine if you aren’t interested. I’m just curious to know why you aren’t.”

Sansa sighed. “It’s… Complicated.”

Kay put a hand on her shoulder. “Does this have anything to do with what happened to you before?”

Sansa nodded. “It’s not as if I don’t trust him. It’s been a long time now, but…”

“Love is scary, isn’t it?” Rose guessed.

“I don’t even know what it’s like anymore.” Sansa confessed.

“That’s fair.” Ada offered softly. “We’re on your side. If Arthur is pressuring you, making you feel uncomfortable, we…” She paused to think about that one. “We’ll tell on him. To Bridget.”

That made Sansa laugh. “That is a cruel punishment.”

“She’d take care of him very fast.” Kay agreed. “But, if even for a second you want to take a chance on anyone… I do believe you should take a chance on him.”

“He is really good.” Ada agreed loyally.

“I know how good he is.” Sansa reminded them.

“He is also very good looking.” Rose pointed out. “And has all his teeth.”

They all laughed at that.

“Fine.” Sansa conceded. “If it ever comes to that, I’ll keep it in mind.”

“Make sure to keep it in mind for your party, darling.” Kay smirked.

***

Arthur was feeling ridiculous.

Everyone thought he had a crush on Sansa.

No one understood that it wasn’t a crush; he was in love with her. He’d been for a while now.

It wasn’t from the beginning. She was a scared child when she started living with them, and for a long time she gave him a wide berth. After he started to understand her story better, it made a lot of sense.

It made him boil in anger every time he heard what had been done to her in her previous home. The abuse, the agressions, the forced marriage…

He despised the Lannisters and he’d never met them.

Arthur was happy that Sansa was with them now, so he could protect her. He felt a bit like a savage for wanting to do it, but he couldn’t help it. He didn’t want her to ever get hurt again.

He had no idea how she felt. Sansa was hard to read, and she easily hid whatever she felt.

In all the time she’d been with them, there had never been another man. She didn’t take lovers, she didn’t flirt with men or accepted anyone courting her.

Kay had wondered at some point if she had a preference for ladies, but it soon became clear that Sansa was just good at keeping people away.

Arthur came to realise that she wasn’t only trying to get him to trust her; she was also seeing if she could trust any of them.

It took some time for them all to come to an understanding, but once Sansa became a part of the house, she was always there. She was loyal and brave.

And smart.

And funny.

And fucking beautiful.

So, yes, he was in love. He hated when people thought it was just a crush. He wasn’t twelve.

However, he’d never managed to figure out what Sansa felt, and he didn’t want to pressure her. Besides, he was her boss, and he didn’t want to make her feel as if she had no choice but to accept his courting.

So he had a plan.

There was the party, he had a gift and a whole speech prepared.

Everything had to be perfect, so Sansa would believe him when he said he was in love, but that he’d accept whatever she chose to do about it.

He could get it done.

“Arthur.”

“George.” He shook hands with the man. “How’s it going?”

“Have you heard about the vikings?”

Arthur frowned. “Vikings? Here?”

“Yes. They arrived yesterday.”

Arthur groaned. “They always get in trouble when they come around.”

“I’m just letting you know, so you can organize your business.”

Arthur put his hand on the man’s shoulder. “Thank you for it. I’ll tell Wet Stick and Back Lack to keep their eyes open.”

Arthur thanked George, then hurried along. He had to pick up the present he bought for Sansa.

#madame baggio #crackship #CrossOver #Crossover Pairings #gifs not mine #fanfiction #posted on AO3 #AU #game of thrones #king arthur legend of the sword #Sansa Stark #Arthur Pendragon #Sansa x Arthur #a steely haven

37 notes · View notes

the-blind-assassin-12 · 5 years ago

Text

Core Drive - Clean: 1.04

A/N: Having conquered the tip of the iceberg, Zeke gets Logan to take a deeper dive beneath the surface, forcing him to face the things that he hadn’t even realize were stunting his progress. This one honestly took a lot out of me to write, but it’s nothing compared to the next- and last- two pieces in this first section. Yikes. Hang in there, folks.

Warning: mention of suicide, drug use and addiction, alcohol, depression and language.

Word Count: 7,000

“Did you want to end things that night, Logan?”

Ezekiel’s question cut through the static filling Logan’s ears, and drew his focus away from the wide leaves of the potted plant hanging behind the man’s desk. It’s called a nerve plant, Zeke had told him during one of their first one on one meetings. It had caught Logan’s eye then and had become a default focal point for him anytime he found himself occupying the purple armchair opposite his counselor. For him, it was easier to open up and answer difficult questions if half of his brain was busy following the weblike patterns branching off of the leaves’ sturdy midrib in thin wisps curling and reaching for the edges. It’s got some pretentious scientific name, Zeke had gone on, gesturing behind himself at the plant with the arm of his glasses pinched between thumb and forefinger. But I like “nerve plant”. You know, if I watered it with black water those veins would turn black. Interesting, isn’t it?

Logan blinked, the intricate network of spidery white veins winding through the dark green foliage vanishing with the memory of Zeke’s explanation of the plant. He glanced down at his left forearm where his own web of veins used to be much more visible; purplish blue threads unraveling under the skin. He thought about them turning black like Zeke’s plant and it made him cringe. With a shake of his head he looked back up to answer the question. “No.”

They’d been discussing the events that had sent Logan down his current path, specifically the night of his first overdose- the night of Juliet and William’s wedding. There were things that had proved easier to share in group meetings; the dynamics of his relationship with his father, the debaucherous things he’d gotten up to in the park, the fact that he’d first experimented with painkillers after the death of his mother had left a jagged hole in his heart that grew larger each day until the Vicodin he had leftover from having his wisdom teeth removed showed him a way to close it. Daddy issues. Promiscuity. Addiction via dentistry. All things that he had in common with many of the men and women he sat in group sessions with, and therefore safe and simple to share. But just as he suspected that he’d never know everything about Dawn or Brian or any of them- Not even Miguel- there were parts of his past and his recovery that belonged only to him, that he could share only when he sat where he was sitting now. Especially the parts that included you. He blinked again, the residual phantom wisps of the nerve plant’s veins disappearing behind his closed lids, your tear streaked face filling his memory instead.

I’ve never been that scared, Logan. Never.

Your voice filled his mind and reached down into his chest, just like it did when you spoke those words to him that night, and the corners of his eyes started to sting. I never meant to do that to you. I never meant for you to be hurt by this.

“I never meant to…”

He hadn’t realized that words were coming out of his mouth, and he trailed off as he lifted his face to lock eyes with Zeke. With a sigh he continued. “No, I didn’t want to die that night, I just…” He returned his gaze to the plant with a shake of his head as everything he felt that night surged to the surface. Fuck.

Across from Logan, Zeke uncrossed his long legs and leaned forward to brace his elbows on the desk. There was a near constant covering of handwritten notes, printed pages and drawings that littered Zeke’s workspace. At first Logan turned his nose up to see such clutter in an office- a space that was slated for productivity. In the beginning of his time here, he felt himself judging the man for his disorganized piles and non alphabetized book shelves bursting with more books than they were built to hold, but he quickly realized that he hadn’t a leg to stand on. My office at Delos is...was fucking pristine and it didn’t keep me in line. The pages beneath Zeke’s elbows rustled as he adjusted their position, removing his glasses and folding his arms. “Logan. You know I’m not gonna force you to talk about it. This isn’t some eat your peas or you can’t leave the table bullshit, you know that.”

That got a strangled chuckle from Logan. “Good. I always fuckin’ hated peas.”

Zeke blew air through his nostrils in a laugh and nodded. “Yeah, me too. My old man would always force me to eat every goddamn pea. Only made me hate them more.”

“There a point coming soon here, Zeke?” I know there is, so let’s get to it. Logan shifted his weight, leaning back in his chair and tilting his head to the side. “I know I’m not here to talk about vegetables.”

“Not unless vegetables were what tipped the scales that night, no.” Zeke was a professional at walking the thin line between sarcastic and asshole, directly down the narrow avenue to the capital T truth. “Look, Logan.” He pressed his hands together, lacing the fingers of his left with those of his right, pointers steepled and thumbs tucked into his palms. “You’ve been here four and a half months now. And you’re really doing great. I see it, and I know you see it too.”

Logan had to agree. Aside from the fact that he was in the best shape of his life, he was starting to allow himself the time and space and mess it took to heal. He was learning that asking for help wasn’t a weakness, and that feeling things- even the painful things- was part of what it meant to be alive. He learned that burying those things in bullshit only allowed the hurt to fester and spread into every other part of him. It was a short term solution, the relief as fleeting and dangerous as any other poison that he pumped himself full of. “Thanks, Zeke. I-”

Ezekiel pulled his palms apart and held one hand up, cutting Logan off. “You’re doing really great, but…” One eyebrow arched as he tilted his head, and Logan knew what was coming next. “But unless you get into the thick of it? The real thick of it?” He placed both hands back on his desktop, his piercing hazel-green eyes sharply focused on Logan’s. “You’re just spinnin’ your wheels. And I know that’s not you.”

Zeke was right again. Logan had also learned that Ezekiel and Miguel knew him better than almost anyone else in the world. Better than anyone who worked for him, better than his father- even better than Jules. Ache sliced through his chest as he added his sister to the list of strangers in his life. It wasn’t always like that. We used to… we were close once. He knew that there had been more than a few things that had driven wedges into the cracks in his relationship with Juliet, but he also knew that none of them were nearly as detrimental to it as William had been. The familiar stinging in the corner of his eyes and the tight clenching in his chest that always came along with thoughts of the seemingly innocuous blonde haired, blue-eyed shit bag that had destroyed what was left of his happiness threatened to take hold.

But just as quickly as the pain swept through his heart, your name floated through his mind and he closed his eyes. She knows me. He let that thought wash over him like a wave, quelling the smoldering embers that never seemed to cool completely. It had been almost five months since he’d seen or spoken to you. 136 days. He’d kept track of more than his progress since arriving in North Carolina’s Outer Banks, counting the days since the last time he’d felt your palm pressed to his chest or your lips brushing the skin behind his ear as you tried to keep him anchored in the moment with you.

That’s it, that’s what she...why she was… she was my anchor. It wasn’t clear to him in the beginning, because he wasn’t looking for something so solid, so grounding and stable. He wasn’t looking for understanding or acceptance when he met you, but he’d found all of those things just the same. I just didn’t know it then… not like… not like I do now. Not even when he added a photo of you to his pocket before venturing into the park. He closed his eyes, letting out a breath. I just couldn’t see it then.

.. .. .. .. .. .. ..

Logan ran the edge of his front teeth over his bottom lip as he stepped closer to where you sat, thumb and forefinger of his left hand slipping beneath the thin gold chain around your right ankle. Goddamn, she’s… He heard you suck in a breath as the rest of his digits bent to wrap around the base of your foot. Watching as the glow of the underwater lights shimmied over the skin of your submerged shins, he felt himself give into the trancelike pull you had on him whenever he touched you. His right palm emerged from the water to slide up your other leg, fingertips pressing lightly into the muscle of your calf before climbing over your knee. Can’t keep my hands off her. Your sigh turned into a hum as he gently squeezed your thigh. And she doesn’t want me to.

“What are you doing, Delos?” From your tone he could tell that you were smirking, and before he even looked back up at you, he could see the way you were looking at him.

Logan groaned quietly when he glanced up to find the exact expression on your face that he’d imagined. Eyes lingering on your lips as you pressed them together before letting them slowly part again, he eased his right hand up to your hip, thumb dragging along the elastic of your bathing suit bottoms. “You sure you don’t wanna join me for a swim?” He tightened the grip he had on your ankle and curled his fingers into the crease where your thigh met your hip.

Your lips fell open and one eyebrow arched high as you tilted your head. A breathy sigh slipped out and for a second you were speechless, completely at the mercy of his hands on your body. Fuck, she...when she… It was one of his favorite sounds, and knowing how to pull it from you was one of his favorite skills. He groaned again as you reached forward to sweep the damp hair from his face, and suddenly it was you who had the upper hand, mischief twinkling like stars in your eyes. “Wasn’t planning on getting wet tonight Logan.”

“That so?” You shook your head, biting your bottom lip. Goddamn. “And,” He moved the hand that was at your hip around to the small of your back. “What makes you think staying out of the pool means you’re not gonna get wet, hmm?” He still had your ankle wrapped in his left hand, and he used it to open your legs wider, stepping as far between them as he could as he pushed you closer to the edge of the pool. “You tellin’ me you came here tonight just to sit there’n-” He leaned in, brushing his nose along your throat before dragging his teeth along the sensitive skin there, your hand dropping from the back of his head to squeeze the top of his shoulder. “Tease me?”

You shrugged. “You tellin’ me you had something else in mind?”

Plenty. His answer came in the form of a tug on your ankle, the hand at your back sliding under you as he pulled you into the water and against his chest. Your surprised shout of his name only spurred him on more, and he knew that you actually weren’t surprised at all even as the splash soaked your hair. You laughed, eyes wide as you wound your legs around his waist and draped your arms around his neck, and he pushed away from the side of the pool and out into the middle. He adjusted his hold on you with one hand, bringing the other up to your face. Thumb trailing over your lips, he stared straight at them, speaking your name. “I was thinkin’ we start here and…” Without fully removing his thumb, he brought his lips to yours, stopping just shy of kissing you. He could feel the warmth of your sudden exhale and it caused his smile to grow devilish. “See what happens.” He didn’t wait then, resuming motion and crashing his lips to yours.

You responded immediately, kissing him hard as you gripped a fistful of his hair, twisting the strands around your knuckles. The hand he had on your cheek slid down to your throat, and he felt your moan vibrate against his palm. Jesus, I… Your thighs tightened around his body as you locked your ankles behind him, the water rippling as you rolled your hips into his. Fuck, she’s… this is… Your free hand pressed to the center of his chest, the tip of your middle finger tracing the dip of his clavicle, and he couldn’t hold back a groan. No one makes me feel like this.

In the three and a half months since he’d met you, Logan hadn’t stopped seeing other people. He’d even taken someone to a gallery opening earlier that same night. Being seen out with a different date all over town was what everyone expected of Logan Delos, L.A.s most famous bachelor, and it was what he’d come to expect of himself, so he’d chosen a reliable date for the evening. But he’s not here with me right now, he’s not… He hadn’t stopped seeing other people, but he had stopped sleeping with them, stopped inviting them back to the pool or the guest house. Because they don’t… none of them are… He pulled away then, looking into your eyes as you stared back. What is it about her that I…

“Hey.” You dropped your legs from his waist but kept your body flush to his. Logan kept both hands on you, keeping you close.

He grinned, dipping his chin down to catch your lips in another quick kiss. You gasped against his lips as he answered. “Hey.”

“So,” You reached behind yourself to untie the neck strap of your halter top, the dark material falling forward to expose your chest. Fuck me. He watched as you moved to the second strap, completely removing your bathing suit top and handing it to him. “What else did you have in mind?”

Logan had shown you exactly what else crossed his mind then, tossing your top aside and reaching under the water to remove your bottoms while never breaking eye contact. Within seconds of asking your question he’d given you his answer, covering your mouth with his to devour the sighs that his fingers coaxed out of you.

The two of you had stayed in the pool even after you’d collapsed into his shoulder, neither of you wanting to give up the way that the warm water felt as it lapped against your skin. The conversation had drifted through several topics before landing on his upcoming business trip. He mentioned that he would be taking some investors to the park for their first time. Wish I was takin’ her though...showin’ her around instead of…

“Does it ever scare you?” You straddled his waist, your arms draped over his shoulders as the two of you floated together. The bright silver light of the nearly full moon was muted behind a filmy cluster of clouds, but it reflected off of the cool water, shining on your wet skin and illuminating your eyes.

Logan tilted his head to the side, regripping your thigh and adjusting the arm that he had wrapped around your back to hold you more securely. “Does what scare me?”

You brought one hand up from his shoulder to the back of his head, water dripping from your fingertips as they threaded through his thick hair. He closed his eyes for half a second as your nails scratched lightly over his scalp, a breath escaping his slack smile as he blinked them back open again. Goddamn that’s fucking... “The park. How real it all is I mean.” What? He frowned and drew his eyebrows together questioningly, prompting you to continue. “That’s…” You sighed. “I mean, I know that’s the point, right? That it feels like you’re really…” you twirled your fingers absently in the hair at the base of his neck, your eyes focused somewhere in the sprawling darkness over his shoulder, teeth biting into your plump bottom lip. “That you’re really doing whatever it is you’re…”

Logan leaned back so that he could intercept your eye-line, taking his hand from your back to gently turn your face towards his own. “With the Hosts you mean?” He shook his head, his wet touch trailing down your throat to dip back under the water and find a home on your body. “They’re just dolls, they can’t hurt anyone so there’s nothin’ to be-”

“No, that’s not,” you let one hand slide down to the center of his chest, dropping your eyes down to follow your fingers as they spread out over his skin. “That’s not what I meant, Logan.” You brought your eyes back up and when you did he thought he saw a splash of concern coloring their depths. He squeezed your thigh, grip biting into your flesh with light pressure. “I mean… is it really good for it to feel that real? Does it scare you to think that it might be too realistic? That someone could get lost in it?”

Logan thought back to his first trip to the park; the way that the completely immersive experience blew his mind even knowing everything that he did about the Hosts and the synthetic world that they populated. He could still taste the adrenaline on his tongue, potent and pure like a shot of undiluted absinthe, put there by the click of a pistol hammer locking into place, the barrel aimed point blank at his chest. It felt like the bullet was swimming a slow backstroke through the hot, dusty desert air, and Logan felt his pupils double in size, felt himself tense up and brace for the impact. He swallowed that shot of adrenaline, and it set his teeth buzzing, sped up the tempo of his heartbeat. He knew it wasn’t real, but everything in his body was telling him that he was about to die. In that moment he froze, unable to even flinch as the smirking outlaw delivered some scripted line and pulled the trigger. A loud pop and a small cloud of gunpowder smoke registered with him just milliseconds before a blunt blow to his breastbone made him stumble backwards.

“It’s designed to make you think,” he squeezed the bottoms of your thighs, “make you feel like it’s all... real. But it only works if everyone accepts that it isn’t. It’s,” he licked his lips and squinted his eyes. “Sure, it’s probably not good for everyone. But when the stakes feel… when they seem like they really matter? That’s when people find out who they really are.”

.. .. .. .. .. .. ..

He didn’t tell you then that he safeguarded himself every time he set foot in the park by smuggling in a photo of someone close to him, someone that he could focus on to remind himself of what was actually real. Usually, it was a photo of his sister, the person that Logan felt closest to for most of his life. He didn’t tell you that he planned to bring a second picture on his next trip- one you’d sent him just a week prior, smiling at him from in front of the Golden Gate Bridge.

It was the same photo he continued to take with him on every subsequent trip. It was the photo that he needed out in the desert, the realization that it was still in the pocket of his coat causing hysterical, tearless sobs to rip from his chest. It was the photo that he kept on his bedside table now. She was my…

Hey, asshole, she’s not what we’re here to talk about, is she?

Logan blinked, looking past Zeke’s potted plants to the slender figure leaning against the window sill, jacket unbuttoned, cut crystal tumbler of amber liquid in hand. Shit.

He asked if you wanted to kill yourself that night. The figure pushed away from the window, gesturing with his glass, thumb and three fingers wrapped around it as he pointed at Logan. You know, the night of Juliet’s wedding? The night she fished you outta your damn pool ‘cause you- he took his pointed finger and jabbed it into the crook of his opposite elbow, droplets of dark brown liquor splashing onto his sleeve. And I’m lookin’ forward to this answer, cause I-

“I didn’t want to fucking die, I just… I wanted to forget how I… how everything felt. I wanted to erase it but I couldn’t. I-” Logan didn’t realize he’d gotten to his feet, didn’t realize that the abrupt action cleared the room of his personal phantom, but he was left speaking only to Ezekiel, and speaking only what he knew to be true. Shaking his head, he pushed his hair back and paced around to stand behind the chair he’d been occupying during the session. “That night was… it was one of the worst nights of my life, Zeke.” He gripped the backrest and leaned forward. “My own sister’s fucking wedding night. Do you know, can you… do you know how that made me feel? That the entire time I was there, I wished I was anywhere fucking else, because my skin was crawling at the idea of that...that piece of shit crawling into my family, but I fucked up my chances at getting Jules to listen to me so… Fuck, Zeke, I… it felt how it did after my mom died, like I was alone, like no one would...and I wanted to feel anything other than the… the fucking pain.”

He spat the last word with disdain as his voice wavered. Ezekiel sat quietly, eyes trained on Logan as he went on. “So I found what I needed and I fuckin… I got high, and I got drunk, and I would have died that night, whether it was what I wanted or not. I know that. I know that she…” Fuck. He swallowed a hard lump so he wouldn’t choke when he spoke your name, wanting it to come out clear. “I know she saved my life that night.”

He shuddered as the most vivid moments from that night flashed in his memory- stumbling into a car with you, stripping off his jacket and shoving it over your shoulders as he cycled from deep chills to fiery sweats. He’d forgotten that his pocket held the empty vial, the nearly empty pill bottle. Somehow, you’d gotten him home, into his place, and he recalled tears- yours and his own. He refused to stay inside, that he remembered, too. I wanted to hear the ocean, I think. You had gone inside to get him a glass of water and… an aspirin, maybe?...apparently happy enough that you’d gotten him to lay down on one of the lounge chairs to leave him out of your sight. Dizzy...and slow...everything was slower than it should have been. He recalled the way his heart beat grew lazier. Then he heard a crash from inside, the sound of glass shattering ringing in his ear to jolt him from the nearly hypnotic state he was falling into. You, there you were, in the doorway, but when he tried to get to you his legs gave out and he fell. Your panicked shout of his name, and then the bright lights of the hospital.

There was more, of course, more that he’d been told because there were giant gaps in his memory. A fight with Jim, William’s smug face as his arm wrapped around Juliet’s shoulder to pull her away from the scene her brother and father were causing, Juliet’s disappointed glance as you talked Logan into leaving. He was told, because he didn’t remember, that when he had stood from the lounge chair and fallen, he’d hit his head on the concrete and plunged into the pool, unconscious and bleeding. If you hadn’t been there, he would have drowned and the poison swimming through his bloodstream wouldn’t have mattered.

But the rest of the night was burned into his brain, the details coming to him in cascades. Logan sat back down in the chair he’d paced around, head falling into his hands. “Logan?” Zeke was trying to prompt him to continue, but he didn’t need it, the rest playing out in high definition- you, sitting in a chair beside his bed, the same terrified look on your face that he first saw when you’d flown to the medical facility at the Mesa to be there for him after he’d been extracted from the desert. Jesus, she fuckin’...she...

.. .. .. .. .. .. .. ..

“I…” your breath hitched as your eyes fell closed, and you brought your free hand up to swipe away the tears you could no longer hold back. When you blinked them open again, Logan saw everything he never wanted to put there- fear and hurt, uncertainty, and a sadness that didn’t belong where he was used to seeing such warmth. “I felt something in the pocket so I pulled it out and-” You closed your eyes and sucked in a breath, opening them as you released the air through your nose. “As soon as I realized what it was...and then that it was empty?” You shook your head and winced. “I didn’t think, Logan, I just… I knew I had to get to you. Fast, and…”

That’s when I heard the glass break… She must have dropped it when... He tried to force his focus and recall the rest of the details so you wouldn’t have to go through it again.

“God, Logan, I was sc-“ your voice broke, splintering into a ragged breath and you shook your head swallowing hard. Without unlacing your fingers from his, you brought your linked hands up to wipe at your exhausted, puffy pinkish eyes, dampening his skin with your stray tears. “I was terrified. I thought... I thought I was too late. I thought that you were-“ you took a breath and he saw your chest shake as you let it back out. I know. I know what you thought. At first he didn’t think you were going to finish your sentence, but then your eyes locked on to his and you continued. “I thought you were d-“ you took another brief pause while you shuffled through your vocabulary, looking for a word that presented less of a choking hazard. “Gone, Logan. I’ve never…” You dissolved into tears again, head going back and forth as though you could banish the emotions. When you spoke again your voice was barely a whisper, but the pain in it echoed in his heart. “I’ve never been that scared, Logan. Never.”

Though you’d returned your hand and his to the bed, he felt more of your tears falling fat and wet on his knuckles, rolling over and between his fingers. “Hey.” His throat was raw and dry, the single word burning on its way out. But I have to… she needs to hear this. He rubbed his thumb lightly against the underside of your wrist and as he did, everything you’d been holding together came undone. “Hey,” he said again, this time adding your name. “I know… I know. But you weren’t, okay? You weren’t too late and I’m-“ He glanced at his free hand, the back of it stuck with needles for IVs, a pulse oximeter clamped over one finger, wires and tubes attaching to machines and bags. The nurse had warned him that moving too much would cause the needle to shift under the skin of his bony hand. Fuck it, I don’t care if it hurts. He lifted it and brought that hand up to wipe beneath your eyes so he could keep the other one wrapped in yours. The sharp prick and uncomfortable tug of the tubing attached to the needle vanished as he felt your breath hit his fingertips. He said your name again, fighting to keep his tone as even as possible. “Hey, come here.” I need to… need her to… He rallied against the thick, heavy feeling in his limbs and slid over making room in the small bed.

“What are you… are you sure, Logan? I-“ your forehead creased with worry as he moved but he nodded and squeezed the hand he still held, and it was all you needed. You stood and carefully climbed into the bed with him, both of you turned on your hips and faces only inches apart.

Logan rested the side of his nose against yours as you closed your eyes, his palm laying to the side of your head. A small whine left your throat and he felt a fresh stream of tears starting up. He wanted to tell you that it was alright; that you weren’t too late, that everything was okay and that he would be fine. But it’s not. She never should have had to… He felt his eyes sting as his tears ran to mix with yours, and in lieu of the words he wanted to say, he pressed his lips over your wet cheeks, whispering your name and stroking your hair until you fell asleep.

Once he felt your chest stop shuddering and the strained, painful, torn sound of each exhale had faded into a more rhythmic pattern, Logan looked down at your hand over his heart. She deserves better than this. But even as he had the thought he could hear you telling him that he did too. You had been his lifeline in the weeks since his last trip, and while he knew that you deserved more of him than the broken down version that came back from the desert, he knew that no one deserved the torture he’d been dealt, the lies that had been spun, the damage that had taken a sledgehammer to the things he worked so hard for so long to keep in check. And he knew that you understood. He knew that you seemed to be the only one that did. Could she…

His door opened then, a nurse entering the room to change the bag of fluids attached to his I.V. and he quickly changed his thoughts, shutting them down before they had a chance to cause any more trouble. No.

.. .. .. .. .. .. ..

But he knew now that you did. You loved him. There was no other conceivable reason for you to have been there for as much as you had been if you didn’t love him, unconditionally and without expectation. “She… Jesus, Zeke, she loved me and I was too blind to see it, I...I made myself too blind to see it, I…” Fuck. “I missed it and now…” Logan looked back up at the man sitting on the opposite side of the cluttered desk, the long green tendrils of his plant collection hanging behind him like a thin curtain as late afternoon sunlight filtered in. Say something, tell me how to-

“You don’t talk about her much, Logan. Almost five months in, and this is maybe the,” Ezekiel shrugged, scrunching his nose to make his glasses ride up. “Third?” He looked up to the ceiling then back down at Logan nodding. “Yeah, this is only the third time I’ve heard you talk about her. See,” he leaned on the points of his elbows, palms bladed and directed at Logan. “I’ve heard you talk about your father. And I’ve heard you talk about your sister and her husband.” Logan felt his top lip curl and he knew Zeke picked up on it. “You do a real good job, Logan, at talkin about the people who hurt you. And I think that’s part of why you’ve been able to come so far, I really do.” Alright, but what do they have to do with- “But talkin about the people that mean something to you? That seems harder for you. His eyes narrowed and he folded his arms on top of his desk. “I don’t think you missed it, Logan. I think you knew that she...and if you ever gave her just a fraction of what I see when you do talk about her, there’s no way she missed it either.”

Logan’s breath came out in a strangled sigh as he nodded. It was still uncomfortable for him to have to rehash all of the things he’d kept buried for so long, uncomfortable to have someone so able to read and anticipate and guide him through it, but Zeke was right about this just as he was right about most things. “That’s why I didn’t...I wasn’t trying to kill myself, Zeke. I knew I wasn’t alone. I knew I had her even if I wasn’t… even if I didn’t…” he shook his head slowly. “I didn’t let myself think that I deserved her. I didn’t let myself have her, not like she… not like I should have, because I was fucking scared of what would happen when I...when I lost her.” Shit, that’s...I never fucking said that before but it’s…

“It's easier for you to believe what everyone else says about you than it is for you to believe that you can prove them wrong.” What? Logan gripped the arms of the chair he sat in, sweaty palms slipping over the smooth wood. “At least, that’s what I think.” Ezekiel tilted his head and sat back. “What do you think about that?”

Initially Logan wanted to argue, to deny the unflattering truth that Ezekiel had uncovered. But he’s right I… Surprising himself, a hollow laugh slipped from his lips, his shaking hand swiping downward over his bearded chin. “No that’s...that’s right. I… when its a fight I know I can win, I’m fucking relentless. I fight like hell on business deals and shit that ultimately means fuckall. But when it’s something I can lose I just…” He trailed off, thoughts drifting to the point in time when he decided that Juliet had become a losing battle.

.. .. .. .. .. .. ..

Logan stood staring at his sister, heart dropping as he watched his words of warning about William, about their father, fall flat on Juliet’s face. Again.

She scoffed, looking away. “Don’t be ridiculous, Logan.” Raising her left hand, she laid her palm to her forehead and scrubbed it harshly backwards over the crown of her head, fingers curling to grip a fistful of hair. Her head shook from side to side, and the cold, white light of the moon struck the many facets of the emerald cut diamond that she wore. He winced as the light bounced off of her ring and into his eyes, burning her engagement to William and everything that it stood for into them. “Dad wouldn’t…” Dad wouldn’t. There’s nothing that man wouldn’t do, Juliet. She dropped her hand from her head, letting it slap against the alabaster railing, the band of her ring clinking when it hit the stone. She shook her head again and turned to face him, leaning back against the banister. “He’s my father, Logan. I know you two have had your problems, but-” What?

“Had our problems?! Jules, come on you know it-”

She cut him right back off, stepping away from the banister and towards him. “Don’t call me Jules, Logan. We're not kids anymore.” The anger and frustration that he’d been hiding behind proved thinner than he thought, her words splintering it like cheap plywood, the hurt he’d tried to tuck away seeping through the cracks. He swallowed and took a staggering step backwards. No. No we’re not.

Juliet sighed and closed her eyes, looking at least half sorry for the biting tone she’d just used. She opened them and when she did he saw sheer exhaustion in them- exhaustion from dealing with him, with the way that things had been going since he’d last been to the park and the relentless way that he kept poking and pulling at her relationship. Not how anyone should look the week before their wedding. “Look. I know that you think Dad is some,” she blinked slowly, twirling her hand- her right this time, no twelve carat rock to catch the icy light. “Some monster. But he’s...he lo-”

Tears had started forming in Logan’s eyes but he hadn’t noticed them until they’d fallen on his curled top lip. ”He doesn’t love anything but his company! He doesn’t love me, he didn’t love mom,” she opened her mouth but he didn’t let her get a word out. “And if you think he loves you, after giving you his blessing to marry him, you’re-”

“What do you mean, he doesn’t love you?” Her voice had quieted, and where she’d been frustrated and frantic before, he watched his sister deflate, the exhaustion spilling from her eyes to wash over her entire face. “Of course he-”

“He told me to get the fuck out of his house, Juliet. Did you know that? When I… after,” he narrowed his eyes and exhaled through his nose. Just say it. “The first time? After mom?” He saw pain flash through his sister’s eyes and he knew it was just as multifaceted as the rock on her hand. She hadn’t been home when their mother silently slipped away, and while Logan had to carry the weight of telling Juliet, she had to carry the guilt of not being there in those final moments. And then when she did get home, she had hardly any time to grieve before she’d found her brother slumped over and barely breathing in the pool house. I know it hurts, Jul. But you have to listen. Please. “I tried to ask him for help. And you know what he said?” He didn’t wait for her to answer. He knew she didn’t know because he knew he never told her. “He said he wouldn’t waste his time on a junkie like me.” He shook his head. “That’s not love. That’s not a father thats-”

The door slid open behind them and Logan stiffened, his back straightening. Fuck. He looked to Juliet, begging her with his eyes to tell the other man to go back inside, to give them more time. To fuck off. But he saw it in her face- saw the moment that she decided that it wasn’t worth the fight, that choosing William and Jim here meant choosing the easiest path through rough terrain. It was the moment he gave up that fight, too.

“Everything okay out here?” Syrupy sweet like condensed milk, the voice that tormented him in the desert hit Logan’s ear and all the fight in him drained out. He chanced one last look at Juliet only to see her staring at her feet as William’s hand curled around her bicep, tugging her to his side. Logan heard the man press a smacking kiss to his sister’s temple and he winced, remembering how maniacally infatuated he had become with a Host in the park, how easily he’d tossed his sister aside then only to use her as a prop now. “Logan, I didn’t know you were here.” He snapped his head up then, eyes locking with the icy blue pair staring back at him. “To what do we owe the-”

“I was just fuckin leaving, Billy.” His eyes moved from William’s to Juliet’s, the slightest bit of satisfaction from the man’s distaste of the nickname not eclipsing the fact that his sister was still choosing the ground instead of him. Ouch, Jules...damn. “You two have a good fuckin night.”

.. .. .. .. .. ..

“When it’s something I can lose… I don’t even fight.” The words felt heavy and hard as he spoke them, a buzzing in his brain that wasn’t there when he’d first sat down in Zeke’s office. Shit. “I give up...I...I gave up on, on myself.” I didn’t want to lose everything- my place at Delos, Juliet… your name swirled through his mind then, right up there with the other things that he cared enough about to be wounded by. So I just...quit. That’s...fuck that’s not… “That’s not who I am.”

The revelation came quietly as he looked down at his forearm. That’s not...that doesn’t define you. A shiver ran down his spine as he felt your fingertips brush over the bruising on the inside of his elbow. That’s not who you are, Logan. When he’d finally told you everything about his ongoing struggle with addiction, all you’d done was try to make him see that he was worth the fight. That he, Logan Delos, was worth saving.

I didn’t see it then. But I… I see it now.

“Well then you better start fighting again, Logan.” Ezekiel called him back to the present, the man calmly removing his glasses to clean the lenses. “You better start fighting for what you know you deserve, because if you do? If you fight the way I know you can, the way that she knows you can...the way you know you can?” He inspected his glasses before perching them back on his nose. “If you fight and you keep fighting? There’s no way you can lose, Logan. No damn way.”

@something-tofightfor @its-my-little-dumpster-fire @malionnes @suchatinyinfinity @gollyderek @thesumofmychoices @belladonnarey @ymariejp @obscurilicious @songtoyou @traeumerinwitzhelden @drinix @jigsawlover10 @getlostinyourparadise @nananananananananananabatman @vetseras @qhostboyyy @pheedraws @alraedesigns @valkblue @dearmarii

#core drive #clean 1.04 #logan delos #logan delos westworld #logan delos x you #logan delos x reader #logan delos law school au #(hang in there we are ALMOST in law school)#law school logan au #we are very close to rolled up sleeves and pencil chewing my friends i promise you #please read the warnings #zeke is the best #william can fuck all the way off #logan delos deserved better #and he finally sees that

31 notes · View notes

daisiesforlacey · 5 years ago

Text

clouds - chapter 1 : cumulus

Pair: Julie x alive!Luke

Summary: After her mother’s death, Julie Molina moved away from LA, across the country, to Ithaca, New York. She’s left behind her two loves in life: her best friend, Luke, and her music. There, she finds new friends and enemies, new experiences and joys, she might even find herself. Every night, Luke calls Julie to talk about the clouds. But what if Luke is hiding something?

Word Count: 1,301

Warnings: N/A

Note: I am super stoked to be writing this series! I’m planning on it being around 6 chapters long. There will be angst and fluff and all around wonderfulness. I’ve been meaning to write something like this for a while! Note that the rest of the characters will show up later on. I really hope y’all like it! Please please comment, like, reblog; I would love some feedback!

Masterlist

Taglist

---

Julie had been gazing at the sky for hours now. The warmth of midday had long drawn away and it was now starting to get dark. She had noted all of the shapes she had seen in the clouds in her notebook: a butterfly, a chair, a house, an ice cream cone, and many more. She had sworn she had seen a rainbow somewhere in the distance, but it hadn’t rained in some time.

The clock at the center of town chimed and Julie jumped with a start, she hadn’t realized it was 6 o’clock already. She grabbed her phone, bag, and notebook before unlocking the combination lock on her bike and taking it off the rack.

Riding back to her house, she kept noting clouds, scissors, a guitar, and a light bulb, before seeing an airplane soar overhead. She passed many shops along the way, waving to her classmates as they studied outside of a cafe. Already, she knew the way back to her house: left, right, left, left, stop sign, past Carries gated house, and down two hills. Julie pulled into the driveway, tossed her bike on the ground, unlocked the red front door, and ran up the stairs. Her bedroom door whipped open and she dropped all over her stuff on her desk unceremoniously before sitting down at her computer.

It was 6:23.

She sighed and threw her head back, realizing she had missed the premiere of her favorite show, hopefully it would be uploaded to YouTube soon. She got up and watered the plants on her windowsill before she heard a loud bang from below.

Julie opened her curtains and looked down to see her neighbor and friend fixing their fence. The divider had long been in disrepair, but no one really cared enough to fix it. Yanking open the window she yelled down, “Flynn! Why are you, of all people, doing housework?” She had known Flynn long enough to know that the other girl wouldn’t do anything requiring physical work if her life depended on it.

Flynn looked up and waved, her cornrows whipping around her face, “Hey! You’re back!” She dropped the hammer, narrowly avoiding her sneaker clad food, seeming to forget about her work, “I’ll be right up.”

After moving a few months ago, Julie had become quick friends with Flynn when she realized that their bedroom windows faced each other. At first, it had been a little weird; Julie could see almost all of Flynn’s blue room if her curtains were open, and she was sure the same went for her. But after they got over the initial awkwardness, the two were like super glue. They would spend all day chatting about nothing and everything. Flynn had turned out to be one of Julie’s saving graces; she was caring and was always supportive of whatever she wanted to pursue. Julie pulled her silver desk chair to her window and waited until Flynn had done the same.

“You were out all day and you didn’t bring me back a slice of cake from Tia’s Bakery? I missed my brother's baseball game for that!” Flynn laughed, propping her feet on the windowsill.

Julie rolled her eyes, “That wasn’t the first thing on my mind as I rushed out the door this morning. Anyways, the frosting would have melted, it’s not as if I carry around a refrigerator.”

Her phone rang loudly, her ringtone “Grenade” by Bruno Mars filling the space. She silenced it, already knowing that she didn’t want to talk to the caller at the moment. Her face dropped; every day she dreaded the conversation, not because of the caller, but because of the situation.

She shook her head, wishing the thoughts away before racing to get her twine tied notebook and pencil that she brought with her to the park. She tossed them over the gap between the houses to Flynn, who opened it and started reading today’s findings aloud.

“Football, dog, lion,” Her brows furrowed, “Superman? Are you sure? Or did you just really wish it was?” A smirk pulled at her lips.

“Maybe it could have been a bird or a plane, but you never know.” Julie shrugged.

Suddenly, Flynn’s eyebrows shot to the sky. She jumped up and rushed to grab a sheet of paper from her book bag, “Oh! Oh! Look! Look at this!” She waved it around wildly and jumped around, almost too fast for Julie to see, but she did make out the big red 97 on it.

Julie shot up from her chair, almost tripping, “Your math test! Oh my god! You aced it! I knew you would!”

“Only because you,” Flynn pointed at her, “Helped me with polynomials after I talked your ears off!”

Julie rolled her eyes, but had an ear splitting grin “Yeah, yeah, you would have gotten it eventually, you just needed a little push.”

After calming down, the two then launched into conversations about their days until it was too dark to see each other. They would bounce off each other with flying force, her father had said it was impossible to keep up.

Flynn’s family had arrived home and she had to leave, promising to talk tomorrow morning as she gave Julie back her notebook. Julie picked up her phone, calling her silenced call back. He picked up after the first ring.

“I was wondering how long it’d be before you got back to me.” The other person said.

Julie smiled sadly as she started tidying up her room, “I wouldn’t miss it for the world, Luke.”

Ever since she moved, her and her best friend had promised to call each other everyday and report on the shapes of the clouds they saw. Some of her favorite memories were of her and Luke spending hours laying in the grass, just wasting time. Maybe it was an attempt to hold on to each other, even when she was half way around the country. Clouds were something that stayed the same, yet always changed.

“What shapes did you see today?”

She heard a rustling of paper over the speaker, “I saw a couple ghosts, a pair of pants, a school building, and a car. I didn’t really get a chance to look too much today.” He replied. She could imagine him dragging his finger across the page; a habit he never broke after elementary school

Julie laughed, “A school building, not just any other building? Not a factory? Not an office?”

“No, no, no, it was specifically a school. It was dark and gloomy and somehow square. You would have said the same thing.”

“I somehow doubt that.” Julie moved to flop down on her bed, she sat for a second, thinking about what she would have seen in the so-called school cloud. She suddenly became more homesick than ever; she wished she could have been there, with Luke.

She wished she could be anywhere with Luke, she thought. Her face flushed as she pushed the thought away. They sat in a comfortable silence for some time.

Luke cleared his throat, “How’d Flynn’s test go?”

Julie grinned as she shot up, sitting straight up on her bed, “She killed it! Stabbed-it-in-the-heart killed it, set-fire-to-it killed it, absolutely bulldozed it!” She grabbed a pillow and hugged it. Julie appreciated that Luke listened to her about her new friends, but he rarely talked about his friends.

“Of course she did, with a math wiz like you to help, how could she not!” He snorted, “Although should we start worrying about all of those violent metaphors?”

“I think we should be more worried that I have metaphors.” Julie’s smile turned into a wince. Sometimes she didn’t think before she spoke; probably a trait she picked up from Luke.

Luke groaned, “What does that even mean? At least it’s nice to know that your bad comebacks haven’t changed.” He paused, hesitant, almost as if he knew what he was about to ask already had an answer.

“Have you played any music yet?”

He was right, they both already knew the answer to the question.

“No.”

Julie hugged the pillow tighter to her.

There was no explanation, none was needed.

There was a pause as Julie changed the subject and picked at the loose strings on her pillow. “I went to the park for most of the day, like we used to do. The weather was nice enough, kinda chilly, and I probably saw more shapes than I could count. You probably would have seen so much more. You were always more imaginative.”

Luke chuckled, she knew he was rolling his eyes, “We both know that’s not true. We work best as a team, even if we are 2,789 miles apart.”

Julie had wanted to tell him that she wished she could go back home, even for a day, but she knew it would have only made things worse. She would end up crying again and he, ever wonderful, would comfort her, saying that they’d see each other soon. They both knew that was a lie. She didn’t know if she’d ever see Luke again.

She heard the door open downstairs as her father came back from work. “I gotta go, you’ll call tomorrow?” She rushed out and hopped off of her bed, throwing her pillow down.

“Yeah, always.” He replied, she could hear his soft smile. Keeping with their routine, he said, “I’ll see you soon.”

“I’ll see you soon.” She sighed.

26 notes · View notes

captain-aralias · 5 years ago

Text

“This is why he’s never had a girlfriend”- Carry On chapter 60, timeline and map

One final week to order @goldendayszine !

We got an email today that said: Please help us continue to spread the word about the zine. We have created a preview post for every contributor on all three of our social channels. Feel free to share these posts and/or repost them. You could post something completely different, too!

So I thought I’d post some bonus material I’d been thinking about.

My zine fic, The sweet fruit of a palm tree, is set in chapter 60 of ‘Carry On’. Specifically, it’s an explanation of these lines:

“We have time to kill after we leave his aunt’s, so we go to a library - the big one - and then to the reading room and the British Museum where Baz steals at least a half dozen books ... When the museums all close, we walk around a park, then find a place where I can eat a curry while he looks through his stolen books.”

I live in London. I’ve read this chapter many times and never thought anything odd about what Simon says happened. When I started to try and write a fic, though, it started to unravel.

Incidentally, none of what I’m about to say matters, because none of it changes the fact that Chapter 60 rocks.

Nonetheless, here is an approximate timeline based on the facts, as well as some notes from me ...

3-4pm-ish: Baz drives to Fiona’s from Hampshire. Fiona tells us there’s still enough light to bother Baz, but this implies that the light is fading. In December, sunset in London is generally around 4.30pm, so I put this scene at around 3pm. I don’t think it makes any sense to move it earlier because then they have longer in London together and not enough to do. It does feel like the early evening.

Fiona says she’ll take Baz back to Chelsea to get sozzled in ‘Carry On’, but Baz refers to a flat in Camberwell in ‘Wayward Son’, so I’ve assumed this is where the two of them live and Fiona says ‘back to Chelsea’ merely meaning that they will be leaving Watford and heading back to London.

Baz drives 30 minutes into London, incurring the congestion charge. He parks in car park near the British Library, and walks 13 minutes back to the Library.

4pm: British Library, but they don’t stay long because there’s nothing to see at the British Library.

4.30pm: Baz does not pick up his car because it would take them another 13 minutes to get the car, and then he’d need to find somewhere else to park it near the Museum. He and Simon walk to the British Museum, which is still open, but only until 5.30pm. It’s open late on Fridays (until 8.30) - if Carry On is set in 2015 (Simon is 18, born in 1997) then the 23rd December is a Wednesday. In my fic I claim that it’s open late over Christmas to give our heroes more time in the museum, but this, alas, is ‘dramatic licence’ and not based on reality, as far as I know.

The British Library incidentally is the opposite - open late Monday-Thursday, closes early on Friday.

5.30pm: The Museum is closed.

N.B. As I say, in my fic all of this happens several hours later, assuming the Museum is open late. The action in the fic takes place at 7pm.

They walk back to the car park, pick up Baz’s car and drive to a park. I’ve assumed Hyde Park. They walk around for a while, then go to one of the many many curry houses that surround this area.

11.30pm: Curry house closes. “We wait until after midnight to go looking for the vampires.” Baz tells Simon to get in the car (so they must have brought it with them) and they drive 10 minutes back to Covent Garden/Soho.

2am: Meet vampires after two hours of walking around.

Some notes on the real London:

Cars:

It’s not that you can’t drive in London, it’s just not a very good idea. Baz must really really like driving - and expensive parking, because after Camberwell to central London (reasonable if you assume he couldn’t bear to take the 176 bus which would take him directly into Covent Garden), everywhere they go is about a 5 minute drive or a 10 minute walk ... and if Baz doesn’t want to waste time, he won’t drive because all the parking is about 10-15 minutes away from their destination.

This is because there aren’t really areas that you can park on the street in Central London, although there are car parks. (N.B. You may have noticed that in Hang the Moon, Daphne makes him take the train - this is because it makes much more sense from Hampshire.)

If I was Baz and I’d brought a car to London, I’d park up in Covent Garden, which I know I have to come back to later, and then spend the rest of the evening walking around with Simon. Yet we know Baz takes the car with him to the park - and then drives back to Covent Garden, where he must leave the car somewhere on the street, which probably is plausible at this time of night.

What’s less plausible, actually, is that the road is so busy that he needs to spell it clear. London is a busy city during the day, but thinking about it the streets are empty after midnight.

British Museum/British Library:

We’ve already talked about opening hours and how these work. Let’s talk about the setting.

This is the reading room at the British Museum -

The one thing that became very obvious to me once I started writing a fic set in this chapter is that the British Museum’s reading room stopped being used to house books in 2007 - they were all shipped to the British Library. As discussed, ‘Carry On’ probably takes place in 2015ish.

By this time the reading room was completely closed.

It was used until 2014 as an exhibition space, though, so this is what I went with. Given that I already knew it was closed, you’d think it wouldn’t matter that it wasn’t being used as a library, but I figured 2014 was much closer than 2007.

The Shakespeare exhibition they visit in my fic was actually staged in 2012. You can read more about it in The Guardian. I can’t work out whether I went to it (I remember the Brutus coin they mention in the article, but possibly it was re-used in another exhibition). Again - the reality seems to be that there weren’t many books in this exhibition, either, but there are enough, and I tell you what, Baz steals them all.

It would have been much easier if he’d stolen books from the British Library.

Why Hyde Park?

The vampires have a bar in what Simon euphemistically refers to as ‘Covent Garden’. I expect the bar is actually in Soho - which is a famously gay area.

Hyde Park is a famous gay-cruise area. Baz could also have taken Simon to Hampstead Heath, which would have justified the drive, to the same effect.

Although - as I say - none of this actually matters. But it’s stuff that was going on in my head while I was writing.

Enjoy the fic.

And please buy @goldendayszine

Incidentally, I realised after this preview went up, that my fic was set on the 23rd of December, rather than the 24th ... That’s how qualified I am to lay down the law about this stuff i.e. not at all.

Apparently it’s not likely there are bells over the doors of shops in Las Vegas - I don’t care. I’m leaving them in ‘Greener Grass’. It’s worth it for the gag.

#my meta #carry on #my content

135 notes · View notes

rulesofromance · 4 years ago

Text

the flatshare, beth o’leary

OFFICIAL RATING: ★★☆☆☆

first read: 2/01/21

i’ve been putting this review off because, if i can be upfront, this book just really fell flat for me. i went into it with mediocre expectations and really wanted to give it a fighting chance but i just could not for the life of me get into it.

also, not that this is important, but i usually pick books based on how nice i think the cover looks. i included the cover that was on my copy, but my favorite is this one.

alright i know i broke structure for the hating game, but thats because my brain was still fried. i’m gonna go back to the positives/negatives thing because i think it works well and it helps me keep my thoughts organized

the positives:

⇢ the premise! seriously i did really like the premise of this. it was unique, fresh, i felt like it had the potential to be done extremely well. unfortunately, in my opinion i think it fell a little short.

⇢ the portrayal of abuse, and specifically gaslighting. i think one thing this book does insanely right is the way abuse, and leaving an abusive relationship, is portrayed. at first, we feel kind of iffy about tiffy’s asshole of an ex, but she doesn’t yet recognize that he was abusive, and so neither do we. the only hints we get are from her friends, who don’t say anything explicit but refer to him being controlling. but slowly, as the book progresses and there’s more space in between tiffy and her ex, she starts to realize that her relationship was not okay. that he would actively make her question herself, that he would gaslight her. AND SHE GOES TO THERAPY!

⇢ uhhhh honestly. i don’t know. that’s it. like, genuinely.

the mediocre:

⇢ this novel is closed-door, meaning no sex actually happens on the page. it’s fade to black, cut away, etc. etc. and this written v well! i felt like there were always smooth transitions, and it wasn’t as abrupt as some other closed door novels can be.

⇢ the johnny white subplot. it was cute, and possibly one of the only things i cared about for the entire novel. but it felt kind of ... abandoned on the side of the road? it was pushed off and then given like a 3 sentence resolution.

the negatives:

⇢ oh boy. where do we begin. leons inner voice, probably? i know, i know there are people who have written countless defenses for his inner voice, and for the writing style on leons point of views. i get it. i see your arguments. i do not care. his chapters are written with very few personal pronouns, and even fewer complete sentences. it’s disjointed and a bit hard to read, and it robs leon of any real personality. i understand if during dialogue, he was more reserved as the point is supposed to be that he’s a reserved person, but when his ENTIRE inner voice is written like that, it’s hard to actually see him as a character.

⇢ the notes. the notes. the notes. ARGHHHH i wish they had been done.. better. i wish most of this book had been done better. leon and tiffy do most of their communicating through the notes, which would be a very cute idea but unfortunately there was usually no description or thought process in between notes, and leon stuck to maybe one sentence. so, we get a long wordy note from tiffy, not explanation, and then a short note from leon that conveys no personality or emotion. for most of the book, we’re stuck reading them correspond through notes with leon saying almost nothing and then all of a sudden hes into her now?

⇢ they had such little chemistry. it felt like neither character was fleshed out fully beyond their independent plot points. and i didnt find that they had chemistry, at all? i think bottom line i just didn’t care about their relationship. they didn’t pull you in, and because most of there talking was done through the notes and leon mainly said nothing, we had so little to go on. and when they finally did meet, it felt like we were seeing the author speedrun a relationship.

⇢ the side characters. they were annoying, i dont know how else to say it. most of the time gerty just came off as rude, like, that’s it. and her entire existence was solely because she was a lawyer, and leon needed a lawyer for his brother. mo existed to.... i dont know? be a therapist? but not tiffy’s therapist? be gerty’s secret lover? be the “soft” to gerty’s “hard”. we only heard from mo and gerty when tiffy was going to them for advice, and they lacked .. depth... purpose. and then you have rachel, who i guess was there to be devils advocate? she was tiffy’s OTHER best friend who gerty hates, because jealousy ofc. all rachel is there to do is to talk about sex, and encourage tiffy to get back out there.

⇢ this is probably a me specific thing but, i had personal issues with the way tiffy was described? it seemed like more than once tiffy was described as TALL but not fat, never fat. there was even a point where leon specifies that he thought she would be “dumpier” but was happy she wasn’t. it just felt... eh. i dont know. whats the point in making sure we know shes not fat?

overall, i don’t know. i really wanted to like it, but i cannot help the fact that i didn’t. i definitely understand the appeal, for some people, but for me it just felt.... odd. the premise was cool, the execution was bad, case closed bring in the dancing lobsters.

2 notes · View notes

tiramisiyu · 4 years ago

Text

【未定事件簿】 Tears of Themis: 【夏彦拜访剧情】 Xia Yan’s Personal Story 2-9 Translation

Translated parts: Xia Yan’s Personal Story Chapter 2: 2-1 / 2-2 / 2-4 / 2-5 / 2-7 / 2-8 / 2-9 / 2-10 / 2-11 / 2-13 / 2-14 Translation Masterlist: here

Video: https://www.bilibili.com/video/BV1xV411m79T?p=7

A quick explanation of how this feature works is that each boy has their own section that you can “Visit”! Part of it is like MLQC’s GSH feature, where you can talk to the boys (with Live2D!) and raise intimacy by interacting with them. The other part of it is a storyline that centers on the MC running around with the respective boy to deal with a certain case or situation.

Basement

After the topic of living alone ended, Xia Yan and I started a new round of searching in the basement.

Soon, I noticed a very exquisite box.

It was very out of place compared to the other, outdated items in the basement. All it was missing was “I’m very special” written on top.

MC: Xia Yan! There’s a box here!

I opened the box. There was a journal in it.

Journal Contents

MC: So Zero’s owner was called Marivisa. They fell in love!

MC: The riddle on the notebook just now was the confession event all along.

I swept my gaze over the journal’s first line, and couldn’t help thinking of an image.

A flower garden at night, specks of fireflies; the same time that the young man said “kiss”, the young lady kissed his lips.

It… no, I think I should use “he” to address him.

MC: And then, the calendar picture records their first meeting, and the alarm clock picture records their daily interactions.

MC: Zero wrote a journal because he feared that if there ever was an accident, it would cause problems on his memory chip’s data.

MC: How romantic…

Xia Yan: But… this isn’t scientific.

Xia Yan: Though AI robots can do deep academic learning, it’s not possible for them to produce emotions, and emotions of love are even less likely.

Xia Yan: Based on the Turing test…

MC: …

MC: Xia Yan! Do you have a single romantic cell in your body!

MC: The Tin Man in “The Wizard of Oz” had feelings! There are lots of AI robots with emotions in anime and movies!

Xia Yan: Why did you get angry… I was just saying…

Cover

MC: Looking at the signature, this is Zero’s journal.

Xia Yan: The memories that Zero wants to find might be this.

MC: Although, why does an AI robot need to write a journal to record events? Wouldn’t it be enough to just save it in his memory?

Xia Yan and I continued to look through the contents of the journal.

Halfway through the journal, the romantic feelings between Zero and Lady Marivisa took a sharp turn.

MC: Not long after Zero and Lady Marivisa fell in love, Lady Marivisa got a serious illness.

MC: The doctor said that an optimistic estimate was that she had three years left…

MC: Lady Marivisa wanted to have Zero delete all memories about the two of them, to have Zero forget that they had fallen in love…

Xia Yan: …

MC: …

Xia Yan: As an AI robot, Zero had no way of disobeying the command of his master, but he didn’t want to forget Lady Marivisa.

Xia Yan: He used the computer virus to interfere with the deletion command, left clues for himself, wanting to use these to remind himself to find his lost memories.

MC: So we received the commission. We just need to give this journal to Zero…

Xia Yan sunk into silence for a moment.

Xia Yan: The commission letter from earlier had a postmark for 2046, but the last date on this journal is 2043.

Xia Yan: Three years… Lady Marivisa already…

MC: Medical science might have improved and Lady Marivisa might still be alive!

This was only a game, only a setup made of countless pieces. Lady Marivisa could not have gone against this setup.

But I still unconsciously looked for a reason, not wanting to let this story end in this way.

Xia Yan did not refute me. He seemed to have been infected by my mood, following my words to quietly explain it.

Xia Yan: Even so, she doesn’t have much time anyways. Otherwise, she would have returned to look for Zero.

Xia Yan: And Zero… wouldn’t still be in a state of memory loss throughout the three years.

MC: Why didn’t Zero restore his memories in the three years? He should have…

Xia Yan: Lady Marivisa probably made some other arrangements.

Xia Yan: There are many ways to hide things from someone…

MC: …

Is it really like this…

Lady Marivisa used every method possible to have her lover forget her and leave her…

MC: Why does it have to be like this…

MC: Why couldn’t she have let Zero accompany her by her side – Zero would definitely…

Xia Yan: …

Xia Yan: Because… Zero would be happier this way.

Xia Yan: He wouldn’t feel sorrow, he wouldn’t be sad, and he could happily start a new life.

He seemed to be comforting me, saying this gently.

Xia Yan: A story of two people where only one person has a sorrowful ending, but the other person can have a happy ending.

Xia Yan: If you think about it like this, is it a bit more acceptable?

>It’s not good at all! >Do you really think that?

MC: It’s not good at all! If I were Zero, I wouldn’t be happy at all!

MC: If someone important was silently bearing everything on their back, while I knew nothing while benefiting from her sacrifice – how could I be happy!

Xia Yan: …

Xia Yan: She wasn’t sacrificing herself. She was just using her own methods to let Zero be happy.

MC: But Zero’s happiness is her.

Xia Yan: She already has no way to give Zero happiness.

Xia Yan: Rather than hurting him at the end, this way would instead be somewhat good…

I didn’t know if it was because of the story, or if it was Xia Yan’s opinion that “as long as one person was happy, then it would be fine”, but I suddenly got a little angry.

MC: Why do you always say this kind of thing! Could it be that you plan to hide things from me throughout your whole life if you ever encounter some sort of bad situation!

Xia Yan: I…!

Xia Yan: … I’m sorry…

Xia Yan’s expression was hard to look at for a moment. In a panic, I apologized.

MC: I’m sorry, Xia Yan, that’s not what I mean…

MC: I just got a little anxious…

>It’s not good at all!

>Do you really think that?

MC: Do you really think that?

Xia Yan: …

Xia Yan’s eyelashes fluttered slightly, and he didn’t speak. I knew that this was his admission by silence.

MC: Then what if I got some terminal illness one day and also quietly –

Xia Yan: What nonsense are you talking about!

Xia Yan lifted his hand, blocking my mouth in an instant. I pushed a few times before finally getting his hand off.

MC: Xia Yan, why did you cover me so tightly? Did you want to choke me to death?!

Xia Yan: …

Xia Yan’s rapid breathing took a while before stabilizing. I subconsciously felt some guilt.

MC: Don’t be so agitated, I’m just talking about it.

MC: Look, you also wouldn’t be willing for me to not tell you if I encountered some situation and went off quietly on my own.

MC: I’m the same. If you encounter some sort of situation in the future and disappeared on your own, I would be very sad.

MC: I know that this kind of method is to let the other person be happy, but I don’t think that it will really let the other person be happy.

Xia Yan: I…

The space between Xia Yan and I fell into silence for a moment.

MC: I’m sorry, I reacted a little too severely…

Xia Yan: … I know…

Xia Yan: I know that you hate sorrowful endings the most.

Xia Yan: So I…

Xia Yan suddenly held his words.

MC: Xia Yan…?

Xia Yan: I wanted to say, so we should hurry out of here. Let’s not get sad over a story!

Xia Yan: Don’t you always say that desserts are the best cure? I’ll bring you to eat something delicious, how about ice cream cake?

Xia Yan: Let’s go, let’s go!

Laughing, Xia Yan pulled at my hand, bringing me towards the outside.

I turned my head to look at that journal. The pictures that hinted at the love between two people in this riddle swept around in my head, one by one.

Suddenly, something among them flashed—

MC: Wait, Xia Yan! It’s not the last memory! We still have a clue we haven’t used!

I promptly pulled out those five pictures and placed them together again.

Back

MC: Outside the gaps, there are three numbers – 800, 3, and 2. All our riddle solutions earlier haven’t used them.

MC: But if these numbers were specifically printed on here, then they shouldn’t be meaningless.

MC: The numbers lay on top of the patterns, or you could say that they were printed after the patterns.

Xia Yan: The patterns relate to the escape room’s floorboard mechanism.

Xia Yan: Your meaning is that these numbers are the floorboard mechanism’s next riddle.

MC: That’s exactly my meaning!

Front

MC: Before, our attention was all focused on reading the text on the front of the pictures.

MC: We thought that the symbols on the gaps on the back were related to riddles afterwards, so we ignored them temporarily.

Xia Yan: 800, 3, 2. Something here that relates to having three numbers is…

MC: It’s the shelves! I just saw that the side of a shelf had a tag with 800!

Xia Yan: If so, then 2 and 3 might mean the row and column of the shelf.

We found the number 800 shelf, then found a wooden box and a book from the drawer on row 2, column 3.

The wood box was locked up by a 4-digit password lock. On it, there was placed Isaac Asimov’s short sci-fi fiction novel, “I, Robot”.

Xia Yan: Since this book was placed with the wooden box, then the wooden box’s password should be related to it.

MC: But where is its relation to the password?

I held up the book and flipped through it. The book was very new – there were no ripped pages, no paper notes inside, and no sketch marks.

The book spine’s bottom area had a blank white label stuck to it.

MC: Places in the book relating to numbers is – price, page count, or the book number like the one from the last riddle.

Xia Yan: Aside from this, the book name or the author name’s abbreviation letters can also be converted to numbers using the order of the alphabet.

MC: Then I’ll try them all!

I entered the price, page count, book number, abbreviated name’s converted pattern numbers in one after another, but the password lock did not respond.

MC: It won’t work…

Xia Yan: Don’t get disheartened. We’ve already excluded several types of incorrect methods, right?

Xia Yan: Look, this book’s spine has an empty label. If it’s specially placed on, it can’t be irrelevant information.

Xia Yan: And the other strange place is the shelf’s number.

Xia Yan: The quantity of the bookshelves is only in the tens, so why is this shelf numbered 800?

MC: You mean, the riddle’s answer is related to these two things?

Xia Yan: Right. Usually only library books will have labels stuck on them, but this book isn’t from a library’s collection.

Xia Yan: Bringing it back to the point, looking at these shelves and these books, do you feel some déjà vu?

I looked at the shelves in the basement. Under the dim lighting, for a while, I actually did think that it was a bit like a library.

MC: Is it a library? Right! The book shelves at the library all are numbered!

Xia Yan: That’s right!

Xia Yan: Library books all follow the library classification system’s class numbers to distinguish them all!

MC: Library classification system, huh… I know nothing about this…

Xia Yan: Did you forget that you’ve got me?

Xia Yan: There are a lot of library classification systems in the world. Among them, the most widely used, with the largest influence, is the “International Dewey* Decimal System”.

Xia Yan: I’ve looked at it. The shelves here, the files and the books’ placement in them, should be following this classification system.

Xia Yan: “I, Robot” is a short sci-fi fiction novel by American author Isaac Asimov.

Xia Yan: According to the Dewey Decimal System, the classification number for short fictions is 82-32.

I immediately entered 8232 into the password lock. With a “click” sound, it opened.

MC: It opened!

In the wooden box was yet another journal.

I opened the journal. There was a computer chip inside.

Journal Text

MC: September 15, 2043!

MC: The last journal’s final date was May 7, 2043. This is a new journal entry!

I quickly read it.

“Day 66. I found my journal back.”

“But what makes me happier is the thing you sent to me today.”

“It turns out that before you had me delete my memories, you quietly made a backup.”

MC: Lady Marivisa also really missed Zero.

Xia Yan: …

Xia Yan looked at the end of the journal, and quietly read it aloud.

Xia Yan: “Three years, 36 months, 1096 days, 26,304 hours, 1,578,240 minutes, 94,694,400 seconds.”

Xia Yan: “For all time, I will accompany you, and pass these days in laughter.”

Computer Chip

MC: A computer chip?

Xia Yan: The “memories” that Zero is looking for should be here.

Cover

MC: The signature on the cover is Zero’s – it’s Zero’s journal!

Seeing that the two of them were together in the end, I let out a long breath.

MC: That really is great.

Xia Yan: But… in three years, they will still…

Xia Yan: Just for love… they can’t change anything, and there’s no use in it…

MC: It’s not necessarily true that there’s not use in it.

MC: As the old saying goes, people can encounter disaster and happiness within a short time. Something might happen tomorrow to the healthiest of people.

MC: If one chooses to give up because of one moment of difficulty and fear, in the end, they will definitely be even sadder.

MC: Just like it says in here, in three years, there are 36 months, 1096 days, so many hours.

MC: If one can love for one more day, if one can love for a little more, isn’t that better?

Xia Yan: But… in the end their heart will still hurt.

MC: Yes. But this is also the choice of the two people, and the feelings are the matters of those two people.

MC: Whether it’s happiness or sadness, they should be shared.

MC: No matter what the future is like, both people should see it together. No matter what their thoughts are, they should communicate it with each other.

MC: The two people can make a decision together. No matter what the result is, at least they won’t regret it.

Xia Yan: …

Xia Yan’s eyelashes lightly fluttered. In the middle of the half-light and half-dark, light and shadow intertwined in his eyes.

MC: Eh? The depth of the wood box’s interior is a lot less than it should be – it’s two-layered!

I pried open the second layer. There was a strip of paper in it, with two rows of typing printed on it.

“Three years later, Marivisa left a message: “If you are willing, then miss me. If you are willing, then forget me”.”

“Zero responded by using his own methods to input this into his heart: “For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.” – Sphinx”

MC: Sphinx! He came here!

Xia Yan: Places like this all have visitor commemoration registers. We just need to see it to know when he came.

Xia Yan: There’s a ladder there, I’ll carry it over.

TL Note:

* “Dewey” is apparently not included in the Chinese name for it, but I stuck it in so Western readers would know it. Pretty sure it’s the correct one.

#tot translation #weiding shijian bu #tears of themis #未定事件簿 #xia yan #夏彦拜访剧情 #夏彦 #Why’d Xia Yan bring a ladder over when they had the rope ladder though LOL #Anyways I don’t like that Marivisa actually ends up dying :’(#I also cried nonstop while translating/rereading this chapter so yeah #prep your tissues and water #especially if you’re seeing the gameplay

6 notes · View notes