#learned shit!!!! he makes the exact same mistake he made with twice without even thinking about it

[seethinglikeme]

once you start making up fan kids for a ship it’s over i fear

[radiorenjun]

 I Don't Need It

• Pairing: Na Jaemin x Reader

• Genre: Angst, Comedy, Fluff

• Na Jaemin despised the idea of soulmates, he wanted to fight against fate for choosing his soulmate for him. Even if it means his stubborn childhood best friend wouldn’t stop trying to make him accept about the similar tattoos on their wrists.

• Warnings: mental breakdowns, heartbreak, rejection, major angst, arguments, flashbacks, physical injuries, fighting, underaged drinking, panic attacks, slight mentions of death. things are going to get much better from this chapter on. Or is it?

• Wordcount : 9.2k

• Masterlist here!

• Chapters: XV, XVI

“Oh dear Lord. Na Jaemin once listened to What Is Love by Twice and took it way to heart,” Hyuck tsked, shaking his head in disappointment, earning a few threatening glares from his older friends as they watch the lovesick boy sulk in his seat on the lunch table. “What? Am I wrong?” he asked, lifting a brow at them with an innocent shrug. 

“Fuck off, Hyuck,” Jaemin groaned, waving his friend off as he stared back at his phone screen with an empty expression. “Damn, Captain out here using the government name. What’s up with him?” Younghoon asked, walking up to the sulking boy with a towel over his shoulder, passing the cloth to Jeno. “He got into a huge argument with y/n the other day at the library,” Donghyuck explained, sighing as he patted his friend’s back sympathetically. 

“Yikes, I take it that it didn’t go so well?” Jihoon asked, wincing as he examined Jaemin’s seemingly lifeless state. The boy in question currently resembled a kicked puppy, his eyes held no emotion other than sorrow and heartbreak. Jaemin looked so ‘down in the dumps’ (as their coach had said before giving him a small time out) you could see his soul slowly leaving his body.

“No shit, dude. She told him to fuck off,” Hyuck hissed, wincing at the thought of his own soulmate telling him to get out of his life. “Ouch, for real?” Younghoon scrunched his nose, looking down at his captain who’s expression darkened as he looked down at his dirty sneakers. “I didn’t know Y/n could say that to the Na Jaemin, himself. Are you sure you aren’t just hallucinating things, Capt?” he asked once again, looking down at the boy before him. 

“He had it coming, really. Have you seen the awkward moments we had to go through because of how they keep pulling and pushing each other away? Damn, it was like I was watching a shitty anime adaptation on netflix,” Hyuck shook his head, tutting under his breath. Jaemin slowly raised his head up at the two boys towering over him, staring daggers into their souls. 

“I would very much appreciate it if you guys could stop gossiping about me like I’m not listening right in front of you and fuck off. Let me mourn for the rest of my life in peace, please,” Jaemin rolled his eyes, leaning the side of his face against his knuckles as he propped his elbow up on the table. “He’s got it bad, huh?” Chani commented, walking up to the boys and leaning his arm over Hyuck’s shoulder. 

“Definitely,” Hyuck agreed, nodding. 

“Lee Haechan, you’re not helping either,” Jeno rolled his eyes, crossing his arms against his chest. “Well what am I supposed to do, man? I gave him advice and all he did was just talk and do little things. Jaemin, listen, to win a girl’s heart you gotta go big or go home,” Hyuck advised with an enthusiastic tone, receiving nothing else but a heavy sigh from the said boy. 

Jeno gave out an annoyed groan, snapping his head around to look at his best friend. “So what are you going to do now? Are you really going to leave her alone?” he asked hesitantly, watching Jaemin’s sulking state carefully. Jaemin hummed, shrugging nonchalantly, pursing his lips in thought. “Well, if that’s what she wants then, I guess I have no choice,” he mumbled.

“What? Really?” 

“Look, what do you want me to do? I fucked up. I tried to fix things by small actions and waited for her to be more comfortable with me and I still fucked that up because I couldn’t be patient and time is running out. We’re graduating soon, I tried to talk things out and I still lost control of my emotions and somehow managed to fuck it up without the slightest bit of effort,” Jaemin snapped, running a hand through his hair and tugging on the roots out of frustration. 

“I get it, I fucked up. I don’t need to be constantly reminded that I lost my soulmate and I’m going to be alone forever,” he raised his hands up in defeat, groaning. “The least I can do right now is to leave her alone to have some time to herself. Maybe if I do that she won’t hate me as much.”

Jaemin was really hopeless at this point. He didn’t know what to do. He knew he had to do something to try and make things better, but he fucked up too much this time. He believed that the relationship you two have now is unrepairable. He screwed up his chances of making it up to you once again, and now he’s just going to sulk around until he gets over it. 

Jeno and Hyuck exchanged similar glances of sympathy, sighing heavily. “You can’t just give up like that, dude. You just gotta try a bit harder,” Younghoon slung an arm over the younger boy’s shoulders, giving him an encouraging smile. Jaemin pursed his lips, hanging his head with his doe eyes staring holes into his shoes before shaking his head ‘no’. 

“I can’t. I really fucked up this one, you don’t even know,” Jaemin felt his heart ache at the memory of your exhausted expression that was now engraved into his skull. The way your eyes no longer held the adoration you had for him for so long. He internally wondered why he didn’t notice the sparkles in your eyes had faded whenever he came into your line of vision. Moreover, he regretted the fact that he didn’t cherish the moments when he could gaze into the adoration you held for him in your heart. 

“I made her turn into the old me. God, I fucked up bad,” he groaned, rubbing his face with his hand in distress. Younghoon sucked in his lips, gazing up at the two boys, widening his eyes and nodding at the distressed boy beside him, gesturing for them to help him comfort him. Jeno clicked his tongue, crossing his arms against his chest as he shook his head in disappointment.

“Are you really going to give up just because of that?” Jeno deadpanned, furrowing his brows. “What do you want me to do man?” Jaemin peered up at his best friend, letting out a puff of breath. “I really don’t know what to do anymore, at this point I should just fucking give up. She won’t even give me a chance, anyway. What’s the point anymore?” Jaemin claimed, his eyes half-lidded.

He felt tired. He just wanted to go back home and sleep until his problems go away. But he knew he couldn’t. He had to do something to fix this, he wanted to do something to fix this. But he was at loss, he didn’t know what he was supposed to do. He was already on thin ice, if he fucked up one more time, he wouldn’t know what’s going to happen next. And frankly he didn’t want to think or risk it. 

“No shit, sherlock.” Jeno scoffed, rolling his eyes incredulously. 

“You repeatedly hurt her for two years straight, asshole. I wouldn’t forgive you if I were her either,” he added with a heavy sigh, shaking his head at the younger boy who just gave him a glare in return. “Thanks for pointing that out, Captain Obvious. What else do you want me to do, huh? Climb the Eiffel tower?” Jaemin groaned, slumping against his seat. 

 “Then stop fucking sulking,” Jeno scolded. “You know very well sulking about your problems isn’t going to make anything better. You know that better than anyone, captain.” 

“Don’t use the ‘captain’ bullshit on me now, Jeno. I’m not in the mood,” Jaemin looked away from his friend, his eyes scanning the lockers in front of him. “Well, you better be in the mood sooner or later. The final game’s coming up, you better get your head straight before Coach actually gets serious and kicks you off the team.” Jeno scoffed, earning glares from Hyuck and Renjun. 

That finally put Jaemin back into his rightful state of mind. He had been working for the position all throughout his sophomore and junior year, he knew he wasn’t in the best state to focus on anything right now but he couldn’t give up the position he had been working oh-so-very hard for the past two years. ‘God. What the fuck am I suppose to do?’

Younghoon sighed, placing a hand on his friend’s knee, patting it. “The two of you are literally hopeless. But I’m happy that Y/n rejected your dumb ass,” he commented with a tight-lipped smile. Jaemin turned to his friend slowly, who wiggled his eyebrows at him in an attempt to lighten the mood. “I’m being serious, by the way.” Younghoon added, retracting his hand. 

“Gee, thank you for expressing your thoughts, Mr. Huang,” Hyuck chuckled, slinging an arm around the boy’s shoulders. “Hey, hear me out first!” Younghoon exclaimed, pushing his arm off of his shoulders with a roll of his eyes. “Listen, I’m happy she rejected you because it would be pretty stupid for her to just forgive you all of a sudden despite the fact that you haven’t learned from your mistakes.” He explained. 

Jaemin furrowed his brows in confusion at the boy’s words, “what’s that supposed to mean?” he retorted in an almost offended tone. “I don’t know if you realise this yet, Jaemin. But it seems that you truly haven’t learned from your stupid mistakes. She told you countless times she doesn’t want you to bother her and you did the exact opposite. You didn’t give her any time to slowly let you back into her life,” Jihoon shrugged simply, finally gathering the courage to speak up. 

“So what you’re saying is that it’s okay for her to barge into my life doing all that soulmate crap for the past two years and I’m not allowed to do the same?” Jaemin asked, raising a brow at him as a scowl stretched across his lips. Jeno groaned in frustration, raising a hand to rub his temples to keep himself from snapping at the oblivious boy. 

“See! He doesn’t even get it!” Jeno exclaimed, rubbing his forehead as he stared hopelessly at the boy sitting down in front of him. “Dude, you can’t just walk into someone’s life after hurting her twenty-four seven for two years straight, thinking that you would be forgiven in an instant. Hell, if we were Y/n we wouldn’t even want to look at you,” Jeno elaborated, taking a step back and crossing his arms against his chest. 

“You can’t blame the poor girl for being cautious. You’re supposed to be her soulmate, the one who’s supposed to make her happy. You’re doing a shitty job at doing so, if I say so myself. If anything I’m proud of her for saying no to you so kindly, if I were her I would tell you to get out of my life permanently. You’re making her lose her trust in you even more as time goes on. Get that through your thick skull, you asshole.” Jeno spat, his eyes narrowing at the younger boy with rage glossing over his pupils. 

Jaemin’s friends always considered you as their sister, they always cared about you and they always try to defend you and Jaemin whenever they can. But they knew this was getting a little bit too far. Your graduation ceremony was coming up soon. Prom was coming up. The final game is coming up. Not to mention the finals afterwards. 

Everyone was more than beyond stressed in their own problems. And the fact that Jaemin was sulking about his problems instead of doing something about it was pissing them off to no end. The fact that the two of you were visibly hurting because of it was pissing them off. They wanted things to go back to the way they used to. But they knew things can’t end that way. Not anymore. 

The least they can do now was to try and get Jaemin’s mind to think straight again. 

“By the way you’re acting got me thinking, are you actually doing this because you’re starting to like y/n or is it because you just want to hurt her even more?” Jeno asked (almost growled), his tone lowering as he glared daggers into Jaemin’s figure. 

“Jeno, wait, you’re-”

Jaemin shot up from his seat, standing up in front of his best friend with his eyes wide in shock. “What the fuck Jeno? You know very well I would never hurt y/n. At least on fucking purpose, you know that better than anyone. Why the hell are you even saying that?” Jaemin shot back, his eyes wide in shock at Jeno’s false assumption. Jeno’s gaze remained unwavering, taking a deep breath before continuing to speak again. 

“Are you sure about that Jaemin? Because it seems to me all you’ve done so far is hurting y/n. And by what you said about Y/n not forgiving you made it sound like you’re purposely doing this because you wanted revenge against Y/n for ‘bothering’ you the past two years. Tell me, Jaemin. Are you doing this because you feel bad? Are you doing this because you actually like her? Or are you doing this because you want pay back?” 

Every word that spilled out of Jeno’s mouth was like a slap from reality. Of course Jaemin likes you! Of course he feels bad! He just said those things because he was just furious with himself. Right? He was just frustrated that things haven’t been going very well lately with your relationship that he couldn’t help but make it sound like he was only doing this for revenge. 

Right? 

“Of course I fucking like her,” Jaemin shot back rather hesitantly, the anger in his eyes dissipating. Instead, sadness and confusion had taken place across his features. Truth be told, he was quite confused about his own feelings. He longed for your presence. He wanted to talk to you again. He wanted to give you soft cuddles again. He wanted to shower you with his love just like he always did back when the two of you were still kids. 

But yet again, he has been hurting you alot. No, scratch that, he’s been hurting you with every selfish step he made. Does he really feel something for you or is this his way of getting you a taste of your own medicine? He can’t possibly-

“Get your shit together, Jaemin. If all you’re going to do is hurt her, you might as well just leave her life the same way she left yours months ago. And if you want things to be on good terms again, you might want to think a bit more,” Jeno spat, walking away to his locker, leaving the boy lost in his thoughts. 

“Well, that was surely something unexpected.” 

“I know!” you groaned, spreading your arms out on the table with a frustrated groan, covering your face with your hands in embarrassment. “I don’t know what got into me. I was on the brink of crying that day. In a library too! Thank god it was empty, oh god.” you rambled, a look of pure horror spread across your features. 

“Okay, okay. Calm down, just- repeat what you said to him just one more time,” Hyunjin coaxed, showing you his index finger. “I refuse to repeat myself, I rather bask in the cringe of my own previous words. Good day,” you gave Hyunjin a bittersweet smile before frowning abruptly and leaned your chin on your arm, jutting out your bottom as you recalled your conversation with Jaemin last week. 

Speaking of Jaemin, he hasn’t made any efforts to talk to you again since then. He stopped sending you random chocolates in your lockers and small pebbles with small doodles drawn sloppily with a posca marker. He stopped trying to make small talk with you. And considering you were now avoiding him even more than you already are, you haven’t seen him much unless you pass by the school field to go to the teacher’s office to get something. 

Were you a bit too harsh with your words? This is what you wanted right? You wanted him to leave your relationship as it is before anything bad happens to ruin it even more than it already has. But yet again, what was the point? Your relationship with Jaemin now is almost as non-existent. And you didn’t know what to feel about it.

You tugged the sleeve of your sweater down to take a peek of your hidden tattoo, a small frown on your lips as your eyes scan the small drawing that lead to all of this mess. Did you make the right choice when you rejected him? Was yelling at him a bit too far? He is your soulmate after all, maybe you should’ve given him a chance?

“Stop it,” Renjun chuckled, reaching from across the table to flick your forehead 

You grimaced, looking up at your group of friends with a perplexed expression. “I’m literally just breathing right now,” you deadpanned, rubbing the spot he flicked with a small pout. “We can hear the gears inside your head, you’re thinking way too loud, y/n.” Yeeun commented with an amused smile, wrapping her arm around yours.

“Sorry, I was just thinking about Jaemin,” you sighed, giving her a half-hearted smile. “As usual,” your friend chuckled, rolling their eyes at you. You pursed your lips, “shut up. I kind of feel guilty for what happened back at the library now.” You pulled your arm away from Yeeun’s hold with a small pout on your face. 

“Why the hell would you feel guilty? You should feel proud of yourself,” Renjun furrowed his brows, opening the milk carton he bought earlier before school had started. “I don’t know, I just feel guilty? I never really snapped at Jaemin like that before. Or anyone else,” you shrugged, picking off the chocolate from Hyunjin’s dessert box with the spoon beside you. 

“Hey! Get your own!” Hyunjin exclaimed, slapping your spoon away from his box with his own. “Stealing from a friend tastes way better, sorry not sorry,” you grinned, shoving the spoon inside your mouth with a small hum. “We’re kinda proud of you for standing up for yourself like that though,” Renjun mumbled under his breath. 

You felt your heart ache slightly at the thought. “I mean,” you pulled the spoon out of your mouth and clicked your tongue in thought. “I’m not one to back out of confrontation, so I’m kind of proud of myself for saying no as well. But I just really feel guilty for doing so, is it because he’s my soulmate?” you frowned, leaning close to take another bite of Hyunjin’s dessert.

“It’s normal to feel bad. It shows that despite everything he’s done, you still like him. Whether it’d be because of the soulmate system or because of your own feelings, you still like him. It’s normal to be angry at someone and feel like shit about it afterwards. We’re here for you,” Yeeun leaned her head against your shoulder and rubbed your back affectionately. 

You looked up, watching as your friends gave you encouraging smiles, showing you that they’re here to back you up no matter what. “We won’t be mad either even if you did say yes. Because, let’s be real. If my soulmate finally realised they’re being a piece of shit, I would snap at them and forgive them when I’m ready,” Renjun chuckled, continuing on munching down his salad. “We’ll always be here to back you up, even if it doesn’t seem like it,” Hyunjin nodded in agreement. 

“Thanks guys, I really appreciate it,” you sighed, mustering up the strength to give them a genuine smile. But alas, the empty feeling in your chest didn’t disappear. Not even a bit. But it made you feel a bit at ease knowing you have someone to turn to whenever you need it. 

You missed him. It wasn’t a secret among you and your friends. You missed Jaemin even if you didn’t want to. You missed the happiness bubbling up inside of you whenever he comes into your line of vision, you missed the butterflies swarming in your stomach whenever you hear his voice. You missed how he would complain about how his tummy hurts when he accidentally drank milk at the most random of moments. 

You missed how despite how he found your affections and small antics extremely bothersome, he never failed to do the littlest things to show that he still cared about you. You couldn’t even count how many times you would fall asleep to the scent of his hoodie whenever he accidentally left it in your room. You couldn’t count how many times you wrote small love letters at the back of your notebook whenever he pops up in your head. 

You couldn’t count how many times you would crack a small smile whenever you caught a small glimpse of his. 

It hurts to think that you lost your chance of ever feeling the same happiness you did before. At least, not in real life considering you’ve been having too many dreams of Jaemin. You’d wake up all happy and hyper then in a minute your mood will spiral down like a toilet bowl when reality hits you smack on the face. Though, you knew very well that you should just move on considering college was just around the corner.

You didn’t want to think about this anymore. 

“Hey y/n, you got a minute?” 

Your head shot up from your phone, eyes wide in surprise to see none other than Lee Jeno himself. “Jeno?” you leaned your head to the side a bit, wondering why he was standing right in front of you when he was supposed to be in practice right now with Jaemin and the others. “Shouldn’t you be at practice?” you asked, pulling the strap of your bag that was slipping off your shoulder. 

“Coach cancelled today to cool us all off before the game next week,” Jeno shrugged, stuffing his hands in his pockets with a small shrug. “Right, the game! Good luck with that, by the way,” you beamed, eyes wide in realization when you realized that the last game for the guys was next week before exams starts. “You’re not coming?” he asked, leaning his head to the side in confusion. 

You wanted to. You really really do. You always had a front row seat so you can see Jaemin play at a close view. You remembered how you always cheered enthusiastically for him, Jeno and Hyuck back then, handing them cool water bottles afterwards. Putting up a bright smile as you watched Jaemin stare back at you with annoyance, his eyes showing how much he didn’t want you there. You remembered pretending to be oblivious to the sympathetic looks Jeno and Hyuck would always share whenever you attempted to make small talk with him. 

“Oh nope, I’m not. I’ll probably be napping or studying since finals are only a month away,” you lied, shaking your head with a small soft smile. You, knowing yourself, you’re probably going to watch one of your friend’s lives during the game and cheer in your room so you don’t have to see Jaemin in real life after the argument that went down last weekend. 

“You know you don’t need to lie right? I can’t count how many times you complain about how you studied a day before your exams,” Jeno chuckled, rolling his eyes as he nudged your shoulder with his teasingly. “Shut up, I spend most of my time doing last minute homework. I need breaks too sometimes, you know,” you scoffed, pushing on his arm with a dramatic huff. 

“Look at the bright side, no matter how little you study, you magically ace it without effort,” Jeno joked as you walked towards the vending machine in front of your school lobby. “There’s this thing called praying. Or satanic rituals a day before the exams,” you snickered, pulling your wallet out as you examined the food displayed through the transparent glass. 

“You want anything? I’ll pay,” you asked, turning to your taller friend with a soft smile, who shook his head ‘no’ at you. You shrugged as if to say ‘your loss’ before taking out a small bill and pushing it through the tiny slot. “So, what did you want to talk about, Lee Jeno?” you asked with a rather teasing tone. “You never talk to me in private unless there’s something you want,” you commented with a small snicker, pressing on the small button on the side of the machine. 

“Well, I hope you don’t mind me talking about this. It’s about Jaemin?” Jeno asked in a rather hesitant tone, sucking in his bottom lip nervously. 

You both heard the can drop into the opening slot at the bottom of the machine with a loud ‘clank!’ When he finished your sentence, you swore it sounded way too similar to how your heart dropped into your stomach at the mention of the brown boy. “Oh,” you replied almost inaudibly, kneeling down to grab your drink out of the slot. 

‘Say no. Are you seriously going to talk about the guy you just rejected after 2 years of pining for him to his best friend?’

You gulped silently, grabbing your drink as you took a deep breath to compose yourself. You stood up and gave him a weak smile, “what about him?” you asked, wincing internally at how weak your voice became at the thought of talking about the boy you were so whipped about. “You know you don’t have to if you don’t want to,” Jeno must’ve noticed how uncomfortable you felt when he brought him up as he cleared his throat. 

“No, no. It’s fine, I’m okay. I’m okay with talking about him. It’s just Jaemin,” you shrugged, trying to appear as nonchalant as you possibly could. “You sure?”Jeno asked, furrowing his brows as he stuck his hands in his pockets nervously. “It’s really okay if you don’t want to talk about it,” Jeno gave you a kind smile, one that almost made you take back what you said, however your pride got the best of you.

“It’s fine, really,” you nodded, giving him a reassuring smile as you internally yelled at yourself for not being honest to your dear friend. 

“I don’t want to invade on your personal issues with Jaemin or anything, but-” Jeno paused, furrowing his brows as he attempted to think of a nicer way to express his statement. “It’s pretty obvious that the two of you are in a rough patch and I don’t know if you noticed but Jaemin is pretty stressed out about this,” he grimaced as he realised that his words were leading to literally nowhere. 

“I’m sure you’re pretty stressed out as well, it’s pretty evident considering the tension between the two of you is way more than obvious and-”

“Jeno, where are you going with this?” your tone turned emotionless as you let out a heavy sigh, looking down at your shoes before looking up at your friend with eyes void of emotion, rubbing them with the palm of your hand. “I’m sure whatever you want to say is important but if you can’t tell I just want to go home and sleep until I have to get up,” you explained with a small smile. 

Jeno’s eyes widened a bit, surprised at how your bright demeanor vanished in a few minutes without leaving a single trace. ‘So Mrs. Dong was right about soulmates unrequited love being emotionally and mentally draining, then.’ Jeno thought to himself as he sucked his lips in to think of a way to express his thoughts without causing you to run off. 

‘Fuck it.’

“I know you probably don’t trust him anymore or you’re probably afraid of getting hurt after everything he’s done. But if- As if to say that Jaemin were to try woo-ing you over one more time, without fucking up that is, would you give him another chance?” he asked, his tone turning serious as his eyes hardened and stared into yours as if to spot any trace of you lying. 

‘Oh, so this is what this is about.’ you thought. 

“Did Jaemin put you up to this?” you asked, rubbing your palm against your temple as you felt the emptiness in your chest being replaced by non-other than the dull ache that is heartache. “Did he not get the message to leave our relationship, whatever’s left of it anyway, alone before it gets worse?” you sighed, chuckling slightly at the thought of Jaemin’s stubborn ass asking Jeno for a favor. Grimacing at how mean you sounded.

“No- no! Not at all, I asked you on my own accords. Jaemin has nothing to do with me asking you this-hell! He doesn’t even know that I’m here talking to you right now, trust me,” Jeno exclaimed, raising his hand up and using the other to cross his heart, symbolizing that he promised you that he was telling you the truth. You smiled a bit at this. 

“Why are you the one asking? Not to be rude, Jeno, but this doesn’t concern you,” you raised your brow, taking a step back as you twisted your drink open with curiosity. “I know, it’s none of my concern but honestly watching the two of you go on trying to solve this by yourselves is like watching the Twilight series except there’s no weird fantasy creatures and a werewolf falling in love with an infant child,” Jeno blurted out, scratching the back of his head, chuckling at his own little joke. 

“Oh,” you replied, letting out a small chuckle at his joke before your smile faltered. “Well what do you suggest I do? So far I’ve only been receiving advice from people that have heard only my side of the story. Considering you’ve heard Jaemin’s side of the story, what do you actually suggest I do?” you asked, stuffing your thumb in your pocket as you sipped your drink, lowering your gaze to your shoes nervously. 

“I suggest you follow my advice earlier. If Jaemin ever decides to try again and not fuck it up, I would advise you to consider giving him a chance,” Jeno shrugged. “I’m not saying that all the things he did were okay. Hell no, if I were you I would totally kick his ass for taking your kindness and affection for granted, I assure you. But Jaemin has been... trying really hard,” Jeno explained, sadness flashing against his eyes. 

“Trying hard?” you asked in a whispered tone, looking up at your friend with slight confusion. “Yeah!” he replied with a small bright smile. “You may not know this but Jaemin spends his time now wondering about what small cheesy things he could do to make you smile. Ever since you ghosted him, he’s been thinking about you alot. It was almost annoying.” he giggled, remembering the countless times Jaemin’s face would flush red whenever he realised he was thinking about you back when he was still in denial. 

“You may not notice it considering he always does this whenever you aren’t around. Despite the fact that Jaemin was always an asshole to you, he’s always think of you twenty four seven. It’s always ‘y/n would’ve liked this’, ‘this is something y/n would hate’, ‘y/n would’ve done this’, y/n this and y/n that. The idiot was whipped as hell but his stubborn ass didn’t realise how much he actually cares for you until now.” 

“Remember how you would leave him small letters in his locker or give it to him straight up before running off because you forgot to do your homework and you needed to do it before the bell rings? I swear, he always had this lovesick smile on his face when he watched you sprinting down the hall yelling at people to get out of the way,” Jeno chuckled, recalling the moments when he and Hyuck would spot Jaemin smiling to himself in front of his locker as he read the letters you send him every time you passed his locker. 

“That’s not- I don’t believe that,” you shook your head, not believing your ears. This couldn’t be the Jaemin you knew. You remembered vividly of how his eyes held no love whatsoever whenever you came into his line of vision, the way the happiness evaporated from his pupils the moment he turned his head at your figure. The angry glares he would give you whenever you do something small yet cheesy.

“Don’t you remember? When I gave one of my letters to him in person, he threw it away without a second thought. You saw it with your own eyes, Jeno. You can’t lie like that to me, that hurts, dude,” you frowned, clenching your fists as you recalled how he gave you the sweetest smile he could muster when you gave your small letter to him at one moment. And the next moment, you saw him crumpling it up in his hands and throwing it to the nearest trash can at the corner of your eyes. 

“Well, that was kind of our fault,” Jeno frowned, scratching the back of his neck nervously. “We swear, we didn’t know he would act like that in front of you. I swear he would have those wide smiles whenever he read your letters and occasionally Hyuck and I would tease the hell out of him. Usually he would just shove the letters back in his locker or something, we didn’t expect him to throw it out in front of you,” Jeno looked down, his expression filled with guilt as he gripped the saddle of his bag. 

“If we hadn’t teased him like that in front of you, maybe he wouldn’t have done that,” he mumbled under his breath. You stared at him in disbelief, it was like you were hearing about a completely different version of Jaemin. Yet you couldn’t be sure if Jeno was telling the truth. Jeno wasn’t one to tell lies, he was always the mature one in complicated situations. But you knew sometimes he would lie for the best. 

“I’m sorry, I find it very hard to believe you right now,” you bit your lip nervously, a dull ache appearing in your heart as you realised how sad you sounded. ‘Why is it so hard to believe that Jaemin would do something that nice? Why can’t I believe it? Jeno can’t be lying, right?’ you thought to yourself, feeling your heart sink at the fact that you couldn’t bring yourself to the fact that Jaemin could actually harbor feelings for you deep down even though he doesn’t realise it. 

“Hyuck took this picture a couple of months ago, that was before you stopped giving him letters, I think,” Jeno clicked his tongue, pulling out his phone and unlocking it before opening his chats with Donghyuck, scrolling up until he found the picture he sent before handing his phone to you. You furrowed your brows, holding his phone in your hand as you read their messages closely. 

It was indeed two months ago. Donghyuck had sent Jeno a picture of Jaemin’s locker. You zoomed in on the picture, spotting a stack of letters made from the pages of your notebook with dates on them at the corner of his messy locker. You could see a few were slightly crumpled as if the textbooks had something to do with it, but you could recognize that posca yellow marker anywhere. 

Your eyes widened slightly as you felt your heartbeat pick up its pace inside of your chest. “That’s pretty nice of him,” you mumbled, you didn’t have the strength to keep up your emotionless facade as you couldn’t help but crack up a small smile. Handing Jeno back his phone, you gave him a tight-lipped smile, leaning your head to the side in curiosity. “Why are you trying so hard to convince me to give him a chance, exactly?” you asked, letting out a small puff of breath. 

Jeno shrugged, giving you the same tight lipped smile as he shoved his phone in his pockets. “As I said before, I’m tired of watching this whole story slowly leading to an end where the two of you end up being miserable simps for the rest of your lives,” he joked, scratching the back of his head as he gave you one of his iconic eye smiles. You let out a small sad chuckle, looking down at your shoes in thought for a small moment before looking back up at your friend. 

“I’ll think about it. How about that?” you nodded sadly, you weren’t lying. You really did need time to think about all this. “Of course, I guess I’ll see you later?” Jeno nodded, sucking in his bottom lip as you waved him goodbye. “I’ll see you around, yeah,” you gave him a polite smile before walking away from the taller boy to the bus stop. Completely oblivious to the fact that Jeno had kept his fingers crossed behind his back while biting his lip, wishing desperately for Jaemin to not screw things up this time.

‘Well that’s definitely uncalled for,’ you thought as you fished your phone out of your bag to check the time. You didn’t know what to feel, you didn’t know what to think of this situation. You were confused to say the least.  If the y/n from two years ago was listening to this conversation right now, you know for a fact that she’d either be over the moon or she wouldn’t believe her own ears. But at this moment, you didn’t know what to think of this. 

Maybe, just maybe, if Jeno had told you this ages ago, maybe you would’ve still kept on going. Though, if he had told you this ages ago, would you still be willing to keep up your bright demeanor just so that Jaemin can step on you a lot longer? If you still kept going back then, if you just pretended that the fight between you and Jaemin didn’t happen like you always do, would things turn out differently? Would Jaemin agree to give you a chance? 

You didn’t know. Frankly you don’t want to. It’s best that some things are just left the way they are. 

“Honey, Jaemin’s outside of the door. He said he wants to talk to you,” your mom called you out from the front door. Your jaw dropped as you quickly placed the spoon back into your plate of your mom’s famous pasta, abruptly getting up from the couch and placing your plate on the coffee table before dusting any weird crumbs off of your clothes. 

Clearing your throat, you yelled out a quick ‘be right there!’ as you made sure to tidy yourself up to ensure that you look presentable enough to look humane and not like a body that just got pulled out of the river. Your heartbeat increased with every step you take towards the front door, your clammy hands tightened into balls of fists as your anxiety crept up inside of you. 

‘Jaemin? Why is he here? He hasn’t spoken to you ever since the fight you two had at the library. More importantly, does his parents know about said argument? The Na’s aren’t ones who would shove their noses up into other people’s business but oh dear god, what if Jaemin told his parents and his parents told yours? 

Safe to say you had a really terrible feeling about this. 

Feeling your heart ache at the memory of your argument, you felt your heart growing empty and cold. Shaking the thoughts out of your head, you took a deep breath before poking your head into the room where your mom was smiling up at a seemingly exhausted Na Jaemin. You grimaced at his appearance, feeling your heart ache even more by how much of a mess he looked right at that moment. 

His hair was messy and disheveled, as if he had been tossing and turning in his for hours. There were heavy dark bags under his eyes, signifying his recent lack of sleep. He was in his casual attire: his iconic black nike’s sweatpants and a plain baggy white shirt and some random slippers that were probably a hand-me-down from his dad. 

Nonetheless, he looked really cozy. His appearance never failed to make your heart flutter in your chest, the small smile on his lips doing things to your stomach. You couldn’t help but dart your eyes down to the small (assumingly recycled) paper bag from Starbucks in his hand, furrowing your brows at this you attempted to walk towards them as casually as you can. 

“Mom?” you gulped, walking up towards her as you gripped your fists tightly behind you to hide your nerves. “Y/n, sweetie, look! Jaemin came to pay you a visit,” your mom exclaimed, smiling widely. It’s obvious that she’s using this opportunity to make the two of you finally talk face to face, clearly as she didn’t know anything that had happened after the dinner party your families had a couple months ago. 

Jaemin gave you an awkward smile, raising his free hand to give you a small wave, in which you returned with a small awkward wave of your own. “I’ll leave the two of you to catch up,” your mother nudged your arm and gave Jaemin a kind smile before walking back to the kitchen to give you two some privacy. Sucking in your bottom lip nervously, you watched your mom walk around the corner before looking back at the boy standing before you. 

“Hey,” he greeted in an attempt to make small talk. 

“Hi,” you responded breathily, putting your hands behind your back so he wouldn’t see you clenching your fists nervously. 

“I-Can we talk? Outside?” Jaemin spoke softly, biting his bottom lip nervously, nodding towards your front porch. Oh how those three words brought you so many unpleasant memories. Is this the same anxiety people in relationships feel? The two of you aren’t even together and you’ve gotten into so many fights in the past two years, it’s almost ironic. 

Before you could open your mouth to say something, Jaemin had already beat you to it. “I know you probably don’t want to, but I swear it won’t take much more than at least two minutes. But if you don’t want to it’s-” Jaemin spluttered out, stumbling over his own words as he looked down at his shoes to calm himself down. “Okay,” you agreed in a soft tone, nodding slightly at the older boy. 

“Are you sure?” Jaemin asked, looking up at you in slight surprise, relief evidently surging through his veins as you gave him a reassuring nod. He really did thought that you’d say no to him after your fight last weekend. “Yeah, it’s fine. Let’s talk outside,” you nodded, opening the front door, gesturing for him to walk out first. 

Kissing his teeth, Jaemin walked out of the door, watching you follow him and close the door behind you quietly before leaning your back against it. “I see you got a car?” Jaemin asked all of a sudden. Your gaze shot up from your feet to the brown headed boy in surprise, letting out a small ‘huh?’ in response, only to see that Jaemin was looking at your new white car. “Oh, yeah. I got my driver’s license recently and my aunt gifted me one to celebrate,” you nodded.

“Oh, that’s nice,” Jaemin nodded, sucking his lips in nervously. There was a pregnant pause between the two of you as your thoughts jumbled up to think about what to say next.  

“I’m sorry.” 

Your eyes went wide at him, your breathing hitched as Jaemin looked down with eyes filled with guilt and sorrow. “What?” you blurted out, confused at his sudden apology. “Look, I know you probably don’t want to see me right now and I know you told me you don’t want to see me anymore. But I can’t help it but try at least one more time. I promise I won’t waste your time anymore than I already have,” Jaemin ran a hand through his hair in distress, taking a deep breath before looking back up at you with eyes filled with regret and guilt, taking you aback by his sudden bold statement. 

“I’m sorry. About everything. The fight at the library, the dinner party with our parents, the music box, the gifts, everything I’ve ever done to hurt you. You didn’t deserve to be treated like shit by someone like me. You didn’t deserve to go through the mean bullshit I put you through the past two years, and you don’t have to forgive me for it. Because frankly, if I were you I won’t even bother forgiving myself either,” Jaemin started, letting all of his words pour out of his mouth from the heart. 

“I’m sorry for constantly embarrassing you in front of our friends and families whenever you show the slightest bit of affection towards me. I’m so sorry for throwing your gifts away right in front of you whenever our friends tease us a bit too much, that was a dick move of me and you didn’t deserve to have your efforts thrown into literal waste,” he grimace at the mention of throwing your heartfelt letters in the trash right in front of your eyes in front of his friends almost a year ago. 

He tightened his grip on the strings of the paper bag, biting this lip nervously  before continuing with his apology. “I swear I’m not making up any excuses for myself. I really do feel terrible for everything I did, I didn’t realize that I was hurting your feelings this bad for two whole years. You just wanted your soulmate to like you back, I should’ve at least tried to try,” he felt his heart getting even more heavier with every second that passed. 

“You really don’t have to forgive me and here’s something to make up for all the gifts I broke or threw away,” Jaemin outstretched his arm to hand you the paper bag, looking straight into your eyes with a small sad smile as you wordlessly grab the bag from him. “I-I don’t want to pressure you or anything but I would really like it if you come to the game next week, your usual spot feels empty without you there,” he chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. 

“I promise I’ll leave you alone for real if you really want me to. I know I probably don’t deserve it, but if you’re willing to give me a second chance, I would take it in a heartbeat and I would be willing to make everything up to you. You don’t have to go and you don’t have to decide right now. I just came to give you that- God, why am I so awkward,” he buried his red face in his hands for a brief moment before looking up at you with a flustered expression. 

You couldn’t help but let out a small chuckle at his embarrassed state. ‘So this is what it feels like when you’re not the one embarrassing your ass off to give a gift to your crush, huh?’ you thought to yourself with a small smile. ‘How ironic,’ you sucked in your lips slightly before looking back at Jaemin with a genuine expression. “I’ll see you later,” Jaemin waved, turning quickly as to not fuck things up anymore than he already has. 

You gave him a small wave, turning around and entering your house to walk back to your couch and finish your pasta, placing the paper bag on the coffee table as you took a large bite of your pasta and pulled the tape that sealed the bag shut. As you were thinking everything over as you mindlessly chewed on your food, you pulled the bag and leaned it over towards you to examine its contents. 

Inside were a couple bars of your favorite chocolate bar, a note folded in half, a big packet of honey flavored chips, a small gift wrapped in notebook paper tied with a red string and a small decorative box with Jaemin’s name attached to it. You bit your lip, pulling out the note first and unfolding it as you pulled out the small wrapped gift, reading it as you unpackaged whatever Jaemin had gifted you. 

‘Hey Y/n. I don’t know if you’re going to be reading this or not. But if you do, I just want to say hi just in case you didn’t want to talk face to face I would at least ask your mom to give you this so the letter could convey my apologies way better than I actually would in real life.’

You pulled the red string off slowly, placing it carefully on the table as you slowly peeled the paper away to reveal a small familiar porcelain figure that was no bigger than the size of your palm. Your eyebrows raised in surprise at this, this porcelain figure was the same figure that came along with the music box your grandmother gave you before she passed away. You turned it around to inspect it even more, spotting the same crack on the edge to conclude that it was indeed the porcelain from your old music box. 

‘I know you might be wondering how the small doll was still intact considering I broke the whole music box to the point it was unrepairable, but trust me, I was hella surprised to see that this little thing was still intact. Maybe my carpet floor had softened the impact? I don’t know it was still very pretty and I wanted to give you back something that was previously yours. I know, you gave it to me but I really want you to have a piece of your grandma left with you, so don’t fight with me on this one, y/n >:(’

You couldn’t help but grin at the small smiley face he drew on the edge of the paragraph, letting out a small giggle as you placed the porcelain doll gently on the table beside your plate, taking a spoonful of your food before digging your hand back in the paper bag to fish out the decorated box. It was quite heavy considering you had to use two hands to pull it out. 

With a small huff, you place the box on the couch beside you. Crossing your legs over the other and placing the letter on your lap, you pulled the lid off of the box and placed it beside the paper bag before looking back inside the box, shock coursing through your veins. You felt your heart warm up at the contents of the box, feeling your stomach do somersaults in your body as you slowly picked up the contents one by one. 

The box was filled with nothing but your childhood polaroids the two of you took throughout your whole youth, some aesthetic pictures Jaemin took of you without your knowledge or consent during your freshman and sophomore year of middle school and high school (hell you didn’t even know he still took pictures of you). There were a few polaroids decorated with small doodles and hearts with sharpie markers. You spotted a few old post-it notes you had used to give Jaemin cheesy pick up lines, but this time they had small responses. 

‘Hey Jaemin, are you a camera? Because every time I look at you I smile. :D’

‘Hey Y/n. You better check the mirror, you’re the reason why I’m smiling right now :D’

‘If I had a genie that could grant me three wish, I would use them all just so you can be with me’

‘Well I’m here now, what are you going to do with the other two wishes?’

‘Your hand looks heavy, let me hold it for you, Jaemin :D’

‘My heart feels heavy, can you hold it for me?’

Your grin grew inevitably wider with every pick up line he wrote, heart fluttering as your stomach swarmed with butterflies. Rubbing your face to keep yourself from combusting as you dug your hand through the box to see the old letters Jeno had been talking about. You opened one of the dirty letters which was covered in small stickers and doodles. (which you assume was Jaemin’s doing, considering he has a clear eye for aesthetics)

‘I knew you liked really cheesy romance stuff and considering I watch a lot of k-dramas and shows in my free time, you know very much I’m going to put my romantic expertise into good use. It felt nice being the one giving gifts, no wonder you like giving me stuff so much, this is actually fun. I hope this isn’t too much for you. I know this probably isn’t going to make up for all the damage I’ve done in the past two years but at least I tried my best.’ 

You liked to write the dates on your letters just in case things like this happen and you would have the opportunity to look back and cringe at your own cheesiness and mediocre writing. You honestly couldn’t believe your eyes or Jeno when he said Jaemin had kept your letters in his messy void of a locker. But now that you had a living proof that he actually cherished your letters. You couldn’t help but feel some sort of comforting hope in your chest.

Your heart no longer felt empty or void of emotions, it felt full again. Though, not completely filled, it was better than feeling complete nothingness. You were still very much scared of trusting Jaemin with your own heart again, you were still very much scared of getting hurt again. But there was something inside you that was begging you to trust Jaemin again and let him back in your life. It has been telling you to do so ever since you saw how genuine he was being. 

‘I probably didn’t tell you this when we were talking but believe it or not, I actually really really like you. And I really want to try where this all can lead to, and if you’re willing to trust me again I would try my best not to fuck it up this time. I don’t expect you to say yes or anything to me. If you decide not to come to the game, I totally understand and I’ll leave you alone just like you asked. I missed hanging out with you, Y/n. I missed my best friend. I miss having my soulmate around, and I’m sorry that it took me this long to realise how important you truly are to me’

He really isn’t giving up is he? Well, if he hasn’t given you up like you did with him. Are you willing to repeat his previous actions and stop listening to your head and start listening to your heart again? Are you willing to give him up again? 

I’m sure you know the answer to that already.

I feel like the end is quite rushed. i’m so sorry if so. I’ve been working on this for two weeks lmfao and it’s currently two am right now so Imma go to bed hehe. This series has like... what three chapters left? DAMN ITS BEEN A WHOLE YEAR SINCE I MADE THIS SERIES. DW I HAVE A HYUCK SERIES COMING UP SOONER OR LATER LMFAO.

T A G L I S T : @candiednickles @itlittlefangirl @cherrym4rk @gotoartistprofile @d-nghyck @kingjvngins @aconeptun @chaeshii @lixseu @morks-watermelon @12am-musings @cherrystay @lowkeyviv @btm-taeyong @gothmingguk @luvlyjaemin @cowward @smileyyuta @cakelyn @uncovermenow666 @comically-sleep-deprived @wtfhaechan @xcherrybbyx @wishing--butterfly​ @wordsgodeep @astroboy-lele @sweetmoonlight9 @chwenchew @stuckwithhyuck @yunoelea @angelrenjunie @dae-chan @jenseoull @marklexleaf @yasmini24 @cloudreads @sptegami​ @mango-bear​ @dumplingley​  @bereavedswallow​ @etherealbyeol​ @247byun​

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[chowtrolls]

Inferno

Length: 2155 Words TW: General Violence, brief mention of drugs. Brief: Boe causes problems for Bruuno. Credits: there's a reference to the Divine Comedy.

Google Docs

Bruuno knew the office building like the back of his hand. Walking in through the back cargo entrance was the easiest way in. The violet guard had basically watched Bruuno grow up and actually smiled as he passed. He towered over the violet at this point but always felt a small connection to the stranger, and made a point of smiling back. The elevator complained loudly when Bruuno stepped inside. The elevator only had twelve buttons. The thirteenth button was disguised as the emergency alarm. It was muscle memory by now, Bruuno held the alarm as it rang for fourty five seconds. The alarm stopped and the elevator started to go up.

It opened into a dimly lit hallway. Expensive art decorated the walls, each painting in the same exact spot as it had been the first time Bruuno walked past them. They always had a way of making him feel small. Chilly air encouraged him to stuff his hands into the pockets of his jacket. The secretary was gone, but the door to Boe's office was unlocked, so Bruuno invited himself inside.

"Hello, Bruuno. Always a treat to see you. How are you? It's been ages." Boe's voice filled the silence immediately. The jade had been waiting, standing in the center of his wide office. He always spoke too much. Despite being spoken to, Bruuno instantly knew something was wrong. There was a deafening silence. More notably, there was no fuchsia wriggler jumping up and bodyslamming him while laughing.

"Where's Shi?" Bruuno turned to the jade with a look of confusion. Boe's relaxed smile planted a seed of worry in the fuchsia's chest. His shoulders lifted slightly in a nonchalant shrug, as if they were discussing the location of a book and not a child.

"She's safe." Boe's voice, smooth as silk and honey, did nothing to ease the growing concern.

"I didn't ask if she was safe." Bruuno stepped closer to Boe, brow furrowed, "I asked where she was."

"And I asked how you were. You've been clean for a while, isn't that nice?" Boe closed the gap between him and his former charge. Bruuno's intimidation attempt went entirely ignored, the jade was seemingly unafraid of anything Bruuno may do. Boe's hands left his pockets so he could straighten the fuchsias' jacket, closing it slightly. "Your little moirails helped with that, right? Awfully sweet of them. You really owe them one."

"I don't owe anyone shit." Bruuno didn't stop Boe from touching him, but made no effort to hide the hostility in his voice. "Boznik, where is Shiloh?"

"Mmm, wrong there buddy. You still owe me." Boe smiled and patted Bruuno's chest, knowingly ignoring the constant pestering over Shiloh. Bruuno's expression must have been blatantly confused once again, because Boe laughed. The jade turned away from the conversation, walking over to his desk. He straightened out some papers as he continued.

"I only let you go because you became a liability. Became sloppy! Messy! Hard to fix your mistakes. You must've thought you were so smart, blaming that pesky little addiction problem on your matesprit. I knew what you were doing, Bru. You're not as clever as you think you are." Boe snickered softly as he spoke. Normally an unprofessional move, but Boe didn't care too much for the formalities when it came to his former charge. "I saw what you did to that other little fish, Klasha's brother. Both arms! Impressive! Ripped them off like they were nothing! Now Bruuno, that is the man I raised." Boe paused and looked up from his desk. Bruuno's silence was deafening as the horror started to sink in.

"I let you have your little fun. I helped you, even. You got to have your fifteen minutes of fame. You seadwellers live for so long...it really was just fifteen minutes out of that ancient lifespan of yours. And be honest with yourself Bru, who do you think helped you get there?" Boe's voice got softer, near a whisper, "I spared your life. I gave you fame. I let you have this glorious little life. And now you have to pay me back."

Each word that left Boe's mouth was a dash of salt on the ever growing wound. Anger started like milk on the stove, it always did. Slowly and slowly heating. One had to keep their eye on the pot every second it was there. It was so easy to just glance away for a moment, but doing so would cause the entire pot to boil over. Bruuno's anger was the same, growing slowly and unchecked until the pot boiled over and the contents burned everything around it.

"I never fuckin' asked you to spare me." Speaking between his teeth did little to hide the venom dripping from his voice. "I would've fuckin' preferred you didn't. But I didn't get a fuckin' say in any of this." Bruuno's fins pressed down flat like a cornered cat's ears.

"Well, that's unfortunate." Boe's smirk faded into an unamused frown. Any normal troll would've thought twice about being alone in a room with such a furious highblood. Boe knew better than anyone how catastrophic highblood rage could be. And yet, he stood before Bruuno, cool as a cucumber, collected as ever. He knew in his heart that Bruuno was a pushover, too soft to cause problems or stir the pot. Boe knew the troll he raised, how could he not?

Just as Boe knew Bruuno would never hurt him, Bruuno knew the jade would never harm Shiloh. There was an unspoken line between them that neither would dare to cross. Shiloh happened to stand directly on that line. Despite his rage, Bruuno knew Shiloh would be fine. She was most likely with Chowow, or Kamuuk, and they just hadn't told him. She certainly hadn't a single clue what was going on. Good, because this wasn't about her. His anger was less about Shiloh, and more the sheer audacity. The gall that Boe possessed to even dream of having that control over Bruuno's life. As the two stared each other down, Boe felt safe. Secure. He was certain that Bruuno would bend to his whim. After all, the fuchsia seemed to bend however someone wanted him to, why would he do any differently to Boe?

Boe's sense of security held Bruuno in his place. He felt small, smaller than he ever had in his entire life, because he knew what Boe thought of him. A passive troll who simply wishes to please everyone, who has no self worth beyond what he can present to others. He had done so much to get to where he was in life. Even if Boe really WAS pulling the strings, Bruuno was happy. He was genuinely happy with his life, the path he was heading down. For the first time in sweeps, Bruuno finally felt like he was healing. He no longer lamented over the torment he caused others, and the days spent awake wondering if karma would present itself with glittery fins once more seemed rare now. The pot of anger had boiled over moments ago, and was starting to burn in Bruuno's chest. One can never remember pain, brains aren't programmed to remember pain, but the raw burning in his lungs was so painstakingly familiar. It was an infection he covered up so well he started to believe it was really gone. An infection he had for so long that he almost felt empty when he covered it that well. Now that the anger fought through the makeshift gauze of happiness, Bruuno realized he missed it, in the same way someone misses a toxic friend or a migraine they had for too long. It had become a piece of him.

Bruuno remembered snippets from working under Boe, but more importantly he remembered how much he hated it. He hurt so many trolls for no reason beyond being told to. He was taught how to hold a gun before he was taught how to write. He learned the best methods of a hidden execution before he learned how to cook. The best took for pulling fingernails, pressure points to incapacitate someone, the direction to aim a weapon so it looked like an accident. From the best cleanup crew to call, to the safest places to dump a body, and the best excuses to tell a drone. Everything Boe taught him centered around pain and violence. Destroy lives and cause destruction for the sake of money and power. Breaking bones and shooting trolls at point blank did nothing but cause anxiety and depression, and created the insecurity that allowed Bubble to seep into his life like a virus. Bruuno was never happy with who he was or what he was doing. Who was Boe to decide if Bruuno got to be happy or not? Only Bruuno could decide that.

And Bruuno decided that he did deserve to be happy. That he didn't deserve this; not from Boe, or Bubble, Carina, the Empire, Shrivo, anyone else. He was worthy of being happy. And he didn't need to make himself valuable to others to be worthy of it.

By the time Bruuno had come to this mental conclusion, Boe had started and nearly finished another cheesy and demented monolog. He strolled right up to Bruuno once more, chattering away while folding some boring origami crane. At the end, he just crumpled the crane up in a dramatic show of power. It was apparent that he thought of himself as some kind of villain, that the hero in this story would do as every hero does. No hero would ever harm the villain, because that'd make them equal and just as evil.

But Bruuno was not Aeneas, nor was he Paul. There was hardly anything heroic about him.

"So, you see my point, Bru? Just a pawn in the game of life. An important pawn to some, sure. But you, too, can be so easily crushed." Boe's smile was sinister, but frankly Bruuno found it annoying. The burning anger had created the desire, no, the need to destroy, to break things.

The fuchsia silently looked at the crumpled paper in Boe's palm. After a moment, he gingerly took the crane from Boe. It was so small in his hand, so fragile, but he still craved to demolish it. Boe's smile returned, obviously pleased that his words stuck with his charge. That was, until Bruuno dropped the crane without a care and instead grabbed onto Boe's robotic wrist with one hand, and the opposite shoulder with his free hand. Without hesitating, Bruuno destroyed. He tore Boe's arm off, just as he had done with Meduza. The prosthetic came off like a breeze, but it was obviously never meant to, permanent prosthetics are so expensive and difficult to replace so they were secured in the socket so neatly. There was nothing neat about it now. Boe's expression was horrified. If he made a sound, Bruuno didn't hear it. All he heard was the crumbling of metal and the tear of flesh. The prosthetic may have been sturdy once but it bent and folded under the pressure of Bruuno's closing fist. The jagged parts of the metal cut his hand but the pain was a welcomed feeling, grounding almost.

The arm dropped unceremoniously to the floor, and Boe did too. Jade started to pool under him and stained his white button down. Boznik tried to prop himself up and move away, but was pushed back down by Bruuno's foot.

The weight of an 8 foot fuchsia on his chest was nothing compared to the weight of the trauma that hovers over Bruuno's heart constantly.

"How's that fer the man you raised? Still like 'im?" Bruuno's expression was deadpan as he spoke, with just enough weight on Boe's chest to hurt. "A real fuckin' asshole, ain't he? Takes after his lusus. Y'know how it is. Like lusus like son, eh?" A bitter laugh escaped, and only grew louder as more pressure was applied. Bruuno heard and felt a couple cracks, the pain being confirmed by Boe's strangled gasp of pain.

Boe was no stranger to pain, but the crushing weight on his chest and white hot burning from his arm had him fading in and out. Breathing was difficult, but not impossible, and was instantly better as Bruuno got off his former lusus.

"I hope we both rot, ya daft fuckin' jackass. Don't try this shit again." Bruuno wasn't certain if Boe even heard him, but he felt better saying it out loud.

He made sure to hit the emergency alarm on Boe's desk before he left out the way he came. The violet security guard was still at his post by the cargo entrance. The radio on his vest was going off with frantic chatter as Bruuno passed him.

He made sure to smile on his way out.

[nelllraiser]

garlic dread | milo & nell

TIMING: the middle of spring, before the portals opened. PARTIES: @wickedmilo & @nelllraiser. SUMMARY: milo just wants to help nell with her plants, but nell has other plans.

With spring coming into its prime, Nell’s garden had been thriving in addition to her greenhouse. During the time she’d been struggling to pay off her hospital debt, watching the numbers of new flowers in her garden dwindle had been one of the hardest cutbacks, the blooms and otherwise being one of her simpler joys in life. But now that her father had paid off the hospital without the witch’s permission, it meant that she was able to spend a little more money than usual on some new little plants and the like. Which was how she found herself walking home with a plethora of green and leafy friends in her arms, barely able to see over the lot of them as she made her way out of the plant nursery. She was nearly out of eyeshot from the other townies— which meant she was only steps away from being able to freely use her magic when another person caught the corner of her eye. Where the hell had he come from? She was instantly annoyed despite the fact that the young man couldn’t have any inkling of his unintentional meddling. Hopefully with any luck he’d disappear soon enough of his own accord, and then she’d be able to hover her new plants home with minimal effort. Another look towards the guy had her brow scrunching up in thought. He looked vaguely familiar, but she couldn’t quite place why.

Milo wasn’t sure he would ever get used to smelling people before he saw them. It was a strange, and uncomfortable instinct. Usually he discovered he wasn’t alone through sight, or through sound. The regular ways. But when the fresh scent of vegetation and potted soil managed to reach him on the evening breeze, he glanced upwards, curious to see where it was coming from. There was a woman on the other side of the road, walking towards him with her arms full. He could only assume she was an avid gardener, nobody else would buy quite so much when they knew they needed to carry it home. For a while, he was too distracted by her plants to pay any real attention to her face, but as she grew closer he began to recognise her from high school. What was her name? Was it Penelope? He felt sure it was, but he also had a feeling nobody ever actually called her that. Jeez, it was so difficult remembering back on a time where he had barely been present. Always high, or on the verge of inebriation. If somebody wasn’t his friend, they faded away almost immediately after graduation. Regardless, it felt rude not to offer his help. He had been meeting so many people from his past, as of late. This could be an opportunity to make a new friend, somebody who didn’t know what a mess he was. “Hey!” He called from where he was standing across the road, there were no cars, so he knew she would have no trouble hearing him. “Any chance you want some help?” 

Highschool maybe? Was it highschool that she knew him from? Nell didn’t really want to ask, not when she was trying to hurry home, and get this guy out of her hair so that she could get her magic up and going. “Yeah- no thanks,” she dropped her reply quickly, taking on a fairly dismissive tone, hoping he’d catch the hint and leave her alone. Still...it was nagging her that she couldn’t place his face. It was definitely from highschool, but she’d had barely a handful of friends back then, and everyone else knew well enough to just leave her alone. Even though the normies couldn’t have known she was actually a witch, that didn’t stop the age-old fear of things they didn’t understand from settling in when it came to Nell Vural.

At first, they’d been taught it by their parents at the hands of a disastrous childhood birthday party where a kindergarten aged Nell had accidentally summoned a swarm of Wolpertingers out of her birthday cake. From then on, all it’d taken for her schoolmates to avoid her was a couple of violent altercations born of shitty people and her temper, and a few more mystic incidents for them to steer clear and whisper behind her back. But they’d had no problems coming to her when they wanted something more salacious, hook-ups underneath and bleachers and in empty classrooms. Apparently it had been fine enough to screw the creepy magic girl, just not get on her nerves or be her friend.

Milo faltered as Penelope turned down his offer, both surprised and irritated by the way she casually brushed him off. He was trying to be friendly, not to mention the fact that he recognised her from high school. She had every right to say no, of course. But he felt like he had decent grounds to be annoyed. If anything, it was an opportunity for good company, a mutual opportunity. Crossing the road without looking, confident he would hear any cars if they got too close, he raised his eyebrows at her. “I’m going to assume you have no idea who I am.” He half teased. “But I swear I’m not a creeper about to follow you home. Come on, let me help.” He gestured to the plants in her arms, knowing he didn’t need to point out how overwhelmed she was by her load. “I’m trying this new thing where I’m not an asshole, you know? This would really help my credibility.” 

Nell. The name came back to him suddenly, along with the reputation she had once managed to build for herself. He had stayed largely out of her way, watching her arguments in the corridor from afar, listening when people whispered about her while making no move to acknowledge the rumours. Honestly, anybody willing to say ‘fuck you’ to societal standards and enjoy sex for what it was had his respect. But it made him wonder why he had never gotten to know her back then. Given what was so often said, she seemed very much like his kind of person. Had she changed since? He definitely had, in more ways than one. “Nell, right?” He asked, unable to help himself. “It’s Milo… Summers. I used to hang around with Kyle.” He had no idea whether she even knew who Kyle was, but given they had both spent most of their days filling the boy’s bathroom with smoke, he figured she had probably heard of him.

To be honest, Nell didn’t entirely mind if some random guy from highschool got caught in the crossfire of her impatience— especially when she was over eager to get home, and get her plants all settled in. Was it rude? Probably. Would she ever see the guy again, and did she really care when she hadn’t even known him well enough to properly attach a name to face? Probably not. She simply raised a brow as he confirmed that no- she couldn’t quite place him within the confines of her highschool memories. “I’m not worried about you following me home.” It most likely wouldn’t turn out great for someone anyway if they decided to follow a girl back to the house where three witches, a reanimated corpse, and a literal demon dog lived. He was trying not to be an asshole? Why did she have to be a part of that when she just wanted to get home as fast as possible? 

Popping her mouth open to give him another denying reply bordering on rude, surprise flit over her face when he managed to remember her name— which quickly turned to intrigue as he mentioned the name Milo in conjunction with Kyle. Oh shit, this was Milo. The same Milo that had been hanging around the werewolf during the time he’d been turned. Along with his name came a few more vague memories from her school days, finally recalling him to be someone along the lines of a stoner who was often in detention. “Oh- Milo, right,” her expression instantly shifted into one that was much more open now that she realized he was actually someone she wanted to talk to. “That’s funny- I was actually just talking to Kyle the other day, and he mentioned you.” Milo didn’t need to know that it had been in the middle of Nell’s moonsitting. Ugh, she supposed this meant she should let him carry a couple things. “Sorry- I was just excited to get home.” She could be perfectly amiable when she wanted something, and she definitely wanted to know more about Kyle during his days around being bitten.

Milo could pinpoint the exact moment Nell began to realise who he was. He had no doubt in his mind her memories were vague, or based primarily on hearsay, but it would be hypocritical of that to bother him when his memories of her were the very same. “That’s me.” He agreed. “If you ever caught me in any compromising positions, now is the time to forget- you know, for the sake of my dignity.” He teased, laughing at his own joke. “I’d rather be judged on my new mistakes, of which I’m sure there will be many.” Her expression was far more open now, almost warm as she observed him, he wondered what she was thinking. It didn’t take her long to sate his curiosity. “Oh, you were?” He asked, his smile growing at the mention of his friend. He had only recently learned of Kyle’s lycanthropy, but strangely he found the knowledge comforting. He felt closer to him now than he had when they were at school together, despite seeing him then on a near daily basis. “What did he say? Good things, I hope?” Grinning easily, he glanced down at the plants still balanced in her arms. “Excited to get home because of this? Isn’t it a little late to be buying vegetation?” Holding out his arms, insisting she pass over some of her items, he caught her eye again, hoping she could see that he was trustworthy, and being sincere in his offer. “Here, come on… I swear I really do just want to help.”

Had she caught him in compromising positions? Maybe once or twice when they’d shared a detention, but highschool seemed so far away by now that sometimes it felt like an entirely different lifetime all together. “Sure- the sake of your dignity,” Nell echoed, biting off a teasing remark about how she wasn’t sure she could spare something he didn’t have. But she was going to be nice, she reminded herself. People didn’t talk to women about their werewolf friends if they thought they were an asshole. “But yeah- I just saw him right around the full moon,” she dropped casually, wondering if the phrase would trigger anything in Milo. Did he know about Kyle and his wolfy tendencies? “Honestly, it was so late when we were talking I barely even remember what we were saying,” she lied easily, not missing a beat. “But I doubt it was anything good if you’re that concerned,” she teased, testing the waters of what she could get away with. While he held out his arms, she let out an internal sigh, knowing she’d have to let him help if she wanted to get information from him. “I have a greenhouse,” she explained while carefully handing him a few of the plants, already feeling rather overprotective about letting him carry them. “It’s not too far from here.”

Milo grinned, glad Nell was willing to play along with his joke. “Much appreciated.” He replied, nodding his head with mock sincerity. But his smile quickly faltered as the conversation circled back around to Kyle. The full moon. It was such a specific thing to say. It jumped out at him, almost startling him out of his lighthearted demeanour. Did she know? He couldn’t see any other reason for her to mention the lunar cycle. So was she testing him? Trying to figure out whether he had also been trusted with the information? Hurrying to compose himself, he could only hope she hadn’t noticed his expression slip. “That’s a weird fucking way to measure time.” He teased, doing everything he could to sound casual. “Do you not own a calendar? Like a normal one, without moons on it?” Forcing a quiet laugh, he actually wouldn’t be surprised if Kyle had nothing decent to say about him. He wasn’t particularly worried, the reason they got along so well was due to that very fact. 

Feeling a strange sense of triumph when his company finally handed over some of her plants, despite not knowing much about her, he could see how much she cared for them. He made an effort to be gentle, holding them as though they were delicate, and breakable so that he wouldn’t cause any damage. Despite genuinely wanting to be of assistance, it would also help to earn her trust, and for some unknown reason, he found he really wanted to. “Define not too far?” He prompted. “Did I accidentally volunteer to walk miles with this stuff?” 

The hesitation in his smile was caught by Nell’s sharp eyes. She might not have noticed it if she hadn’t been looking for any hitch in Milo’s demeanor, but the falter was more than enough for Nell to continue her digging. “You know how White Crest is-” she began, careful to keep the levity in her words. “-always obsessed with the moon and her cycles along with ten million other weird things that wouldn’t fly in other towns. So what if my calendar has moons on it?” She didn’t need to get into the fact that Milo would be hard pressed to find a person that adored the moon more than a werewolf or spellcaster did. The two were generally unified in their waxing poetic of the big, powerful, and glowing lady in the sky. “Kyle didn’t think it was weird that I like the full moon.” Perhaps she was coming on a little too strongly, but if Milo didn’t know what she was referring to, it wouldn’t matter. Normies didn’t generally assume that any mention of the full moon and a person meant the guy in question was a werewolf. 

The greenhouse was Nell’s haven, a place that only a select group of people were allowed to enter, and she already had plans to leave Milo at the door of it once they arrived on property. “Are you gonna complain after you did this to yourself?” she teased back, her steps taking them further into the dense trees of the nearby woods. The Vural home was a part of the Outskirts and the forest that made up the less populated area. “It’s just through the woods a bit.”

Milo wanted to counter Nell’s point, to tell her she was being ridiculous, and laugh at how pretentious she sounded, like he might have once upon a time. But now he knew she was right, now he knew far too much about what happened below the surface of his sleepy, unassuming hometown, and he couldn’t bring himself to disagree. “Said you and every other tumblr girl obsessed with astrology.” He muttered, figuring that would have to be enough. If he abruptly dropped his teasing then she would notice, he knew she would. “Maybe Kyle is also a tumblr girl obsessed with astrology.” He countered, his mind still working to process the strange words leaving Nell’s mouth. It all felt calculated somehow, as though she was carefully choosing them to elicit some form of reaction. But what did she want from him? What was she expecting him to say?

“Oh, I complain no matter what.” He insisted. “Did Kyle not tell you? It’s one of my more favourable traits.” He followed her as she led him into the forest, wondering where her house was located. He only knew the houses in town, and maybe a few of the buildings on the outskirts. He felt stupid for not realising some people needed to walk through wooded areas to get to their homes. “It’s just through the woods a bit sounds like the last thing somebody hears before they’re murdered.” He pointed out, offering her a smile over the plants in his arms so that she would know he wasn’t being serious. Besides, he had already been murdered once. Surely that lowered his chances of being murdered for a second time. That or he had the worst luck in the history of mankind. “You aren’t luring me out here to kill me, are you?” 

Nell’s eyes rolled seemingly without command, all too used to being compared to the cottagecore girls that love to emulate spellcaster culture and teachings. The humans loved to play pretend until a real witch was staring them in the face, and they realized their fear of the unknown outweighed their desire for crystal and starry aesthetics. Subtly was not her aim while she continued on, wondering if she could simply pressure Milo into revealing whether he knew Kyle’s secret or not. “That’s why you think Kyle has a glowing moon lamp on his wall? He’s a tumblr girl? I wouldn’t be surprised if I caught him howling at it one day,” she finished with a laugh, still waiting to see whether Milo would connect the dots. 

“Kyle told me lots of things,” Nell answered cryptically, having quickly abandoned her ‘nice girl’ act. Not that she wasn’t being nice anymore, just that she was letting more of her edge shine through. After all, fear could be a decent motivator as well. Of course she wasn’t actually here to murder the young man. She just wanted to know more about the time Kyle had been turned. With a laugh she shot Milo a coy look over her shoulder before answering his next question. “Oh no, I’m out of the human sacrifice phase right now.” It’d only been once that she’d spilled a human’s blood for magic, and she’d do it again if the situation was as dire, but for the most part she had no interest in taking human lives in exchange for magical power. 

Milo laughed, unable to help himself. “I’ve never been to Kyle’s place so I have zero knowledge of moon lamps. I have, however, seen them advertised on Instagram, so it still fits with the aesthetic.” Keeping his expression neutral at the mention of howling, it was becoming very obvious to him that Nell knew Kyle was a werewolf. He almost wanted to ask her how she knew, but if he admitted to also knowing then he would come very close to outing himself as a part of the supernatural world. Nell wasn’t his friend, this was the most they had ever spoken, so he refused to willingly make himself vulnerable. Raising his eyebrows in a show of polite interest, despite attempting to seem casual, his gaze was sharp, watching Nell for any sign or tell that might imply she was aware of his ‘undead’ status.

“He did?” He asked, almost daring her to tell him what was said. Surely Kyle wouldn’t have confided in her like that. There seemed to be an unspoken rule among the people he had met so far; you never told somebody else what a person was if you didn’t have permission to do so. Maybe there were exceptions to the rule, things he didn’t understand just yet, but he trusted Kyle not to out him. In the same way he hoped Kyle knew he could be trusted not to tell people he was a werewolf. “Hm, good to know.” He muttered in response to the joke on human sacrifice. He was glad they were able to move back into familiar territory. He enjoyed teasing, he was good at teasing. And it carried them further away from both Kyle’s predicament, and his own. “Because I’m sure I’d be a pretty useless sacrifice. Whatever demon you worship would probably send me back and ask for a working replacement.” 

“Really? It sounded like you were good friends the way he told it,” Nell commented smoothly, not actually having all that much interest in the closeness of their friendship at the moment, but figuring she should at least pretend. But her patience was wearing thin, and either Milo knew what she was speaking of or he didn’t. So with a huff and turn of her heel, she would have folded her arms over her chest if she hadn’t been holding the plants. Fixing Milo with her hardest stare, she carried on nonetheless. “Look- you either know what I’m talking about or you don’t. So just tell me if you know or not, and then we can move on.” If he thought her weird and demanding he wouldn't be the first, and most certainly not the last, but she didn’t really care about the opinion a random person from highschool might form from this interaction as long as she got to ask the questions she wanted answers to. 

“He sure did,” Nell replied with the beginnings of a smirk, giving Milo nothing when he seemed determined to do the same. Let him wonder at what Kyle had shared. Maybe he’d reveal too much by asking his own questions. “Why? Were you worried he said something about you?” It was a stab in the dark, and she had no real reason to think Milo might be worried about things he’d rather keep private. But she knew most people had something they wanted to hide. Milo most likely wouldn’t be an exception. She let him laugh at what he perceived to be a joke, waiting with a natural face until he was done, making no effort to join in. “I’m glad you thought it was funny. Demons don’t work like that, though.” Still, she was somewhat amused that he'd managed to stumble onto the demon portion of her magic. Not that he knew that.

They were close to the Vural property now, and the moonlight could be seen glittering on the glass of her greenhouse in the backyard of the house as the woods began to open up. 

“We were.” Milo clarified. “Way back when we were at school. I ran into him the other day but… that was the first time in years.” He couldn’t understand why Nell was taking such an interest, but every word out of her mouth seemed to set him more on edge. There had to be an ulterior motive here, only he couldn’t understand what it might be. His eyes widening as she suddenly decided to take a direct approach, one he definitely hadn’t been expecting, his step faltered. He wasn’t able to hide his surprise, but he did everything he could to compose himself quickly. A few beats of silence passed before he managed to find his words again, and he knew it was essentially too late. But if he admitted he knew what Kyle was, he admitted to knowing about the supernatural. That was one step too close to her realising he was a part of that world too. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He snapped. “And you’re being really fucking weird.” He gripped at her plants, angry at himself for offering to carry them. If his hands were free he would be able to walk away from this, remove himself from the situation. 

Glaring at his company, his chest tightening at her words, he wondered whether Kyle really had told her what he was. For all he knew, she hated vampires. Maybe she really did intend to kill him out here in the middle of nowhere. Who knew of his location? Nobody, and he didn’t have time to shoot anyone a text. If he disappeared now, he disappeared forever. Only Nell would ever know what happened to him. The thought caused his stomach to churn uncomfortably. “Why should I be worried?” He demanded, kicking at brush, and brambles as he passed through them. “Forgive me for not knowing how demons work.” He added, more convinced than ever that this might actually be the end for him. Surely she wouldn’t risk hurting her plants though. At least he had that. She needed to wait until he put them down, and then he could reevaluate the situation. Maybe even make a break for it. 

“Really? Why’d you guys lose touch?” Did it have to do with the whole werewolf thing? Nell continued to pry, her nosiness knowing now bounds as she tried to learn more about Kyle around the time he was bitten. If she understood him and his control then, maybe it would help with teaching him control now. The second show of surprise on his face only made the witch feel even more confident about her choice to confront him, even if he wasn’t giving anything specific away. She supposed if there was one thing to be said about Milo— it was that he was loyal. Which was unfortunate for her in this situation. Still, it was good that Kyle had friends who wouldn’t easily out him. Not that she should care about Kyle and whether his friends were suitable. His snappy response had her lips pursing, her temper flaring for a moment even though she knew she’d been the cause of Milo’s new shortness. “And you’re being really fucking rude.”  She was used to being called weird, and though she’d set herself up for it, the word still held the gravity of all the times she’d been ostracized for being ‘weird’ while growing up— especially when coming from the mouth of an old classmate. “But if you wanna be a little shit about it, be my guest.”

She rolled her eyes at his comment about demons, no longer interested in curbing her words or being overtly nice now that it seemed he wasn’t going to give her any information. Nell hadn’t meant the words in a correctional way. They’d been more along the lines of informational. “Maybe you should be worried cause you’re acting exactly how people who have secrets would act.” Finally they’d arrived at her greenhouse, and she set her own plants on the ground so she could raise a charmed key to the door. If Milo hadn’t been here she would have used her magic to undo the lock that would respond only to her magical signature, but it’s be difficult to explain such a thing away. “You can put the plants down now,” she commented dryly, suddenly eager to get rid of the guy.

“We used to smoke in the bathrooms at school together. That’s not exactly something you keep doing after you graduate.” Milo pointed out. Not every friendship had a foundation strong enough to last. He knew Kyle because they shared a passion for breaking trivial school rules, and often wound up in the same detentions. Spending time together because you were essentially running on a schedule wasn’t quite the same as actively arranging to stay in contact. He was incredibly glad he had run into Kyle outside of the university, more than grateful considering Kyle was a part of his terrifying new world. But had they not crossed paths again, reaching out probably wouldn’t ever have crossed his mind. He wasn’t ashamed to admit that. “I’m being rude for pointing out you’re being weird?” He asked. “That’s bullshit.” Maybe he should feel guilty for being so cold, it was very possible Nell had good intentions. But until he knew for sure, he wasn’t giving in. And if he genuinely didn’t know about Kyle then this defensive anger would be coming very naturally to him. “I’m not being a little shit about anything, you’re the one demanding information I don’t fucking have.” 

Narrowing his eyes as Nell came to a halt in front of the door to a greenhouse, he couldn’t exactly tell her she was wrong. He did have secrets. But then again, so did everybody. He definitely wasn’t alone in that fact. “Or maybe you’re projecting.” He countered, though he had no reason to believe she was. Watching as she opened the door, it suddenly struck him that a greenhouse might count as a part of her private dwelling. There was little chance of him being able to set the plants down inside if she didn’t first invite him in. He wasn’t sure whether she would be content with him putting them down on the floor, so he hovered awkwardly in the doorway, realising after a few moments had passed that she really wasn’t about to invite him inside. Despite him carrying her plants for her, despite him trying to make polite conversation. He had only been met with a confrontational attitude, and apparently now a distinct lack of thanks. Finally putting down the plants in his arms, lining them up beside the doorway he was trapped in, when he straightened up again, he was more than ready to shoot his company a glare. “What?” He demanded, unable to help himself. “You really aren’t going to invite me in?”

“Yeah, it’s fucking rude,” Nell shot back, her own temper stoked by the appearance of Milo’s. “You think you can just go around calling people weird?” It was more the principle of the matter than anything, the fact that Milo seemingly thought he had a right to call her names and get away with it. She snorted at his claim of ignorance, still not entirely sold when it came to him knowing nothing. “I’m asking, you’re the one getting all offended about it. Which makes you a little shit,” she replied snarkily, a smugness entering her voice. 

A roll of Nell’s eyes, and she was fixing him with a withering glare from inside her greenhouse. “I don’t give a shit about people knowing stuff about me.” Or at least she specifically didn’t really mind if someone knew she was a witch. In honesty she thought it beneficial that people knew of her power. If people knew she and her sisters had power, they’d be less likely to mess with them. As for the more personal feelings in her life- those were the things she was bad at sharing, and letting people in on. She might have thanked him if she’d wanted his help in the first place, but now she wasn’t all that keen on giving him the satisfaction. At first she was pleased, and now surprised that he hadn’t walked into her greenhouse of his own accord. Had the guy finally decided to show some manners? The choice of his words were rather specific, and had her head cocking to the side with intrigue. He wanted her to invite him in? Arranging her new plants on a nearby worktable, a bulb of garlic caught her eye, and a flicker of connection fired in her brain. Well...there was only one way to find out if her newest suspicion was anything of substance. With a quick and easy flick of her wrist, she launched the garlic towards Milo without warning, savoring the flash of satisfaction she felt from the childish move. “No- I don’t think I will.”

“I mean, if they’re being weird then I don’t see an issue with it.” Milo countered, an edge to his voice to match the edge in Nell’s voice. He wasn’t exactly sure how they had ended up where they were but as far as he was concerned, she was entirely to blame. Maybe if she hadn’t pushed him, maybe if she wasn’t so desperate to talk about Kyle. “I’m not getting offended.” He added, crossing his arms over his chest as he continued to wait in the doorway. “I’m getting annoyed, there’s a distinct fucking difference.” Letting out a huff of breath, he didn’t care how she felt about people knowing her information. Even if she was projecting, he was hardly interested in learning her secrets. They were probably more akin to which manure makes the best fertilizer, anyway. Something he would be more than happy to tell her. 

In fact, he was in the process of opening his mouth to do so when he was distracted by her suddenly, and very pointedly throwing an object at him. Instinctively, he reached up to cover his face. But it wasn’t until the object hit him that he was able to discern what it was. If his body’s reaction to the plant wasn’t enough to give it away, the scent was very nearly overwhelming. It was a bulb of garlic. An actual bulb of garlic. Who even grew their own? He couldn’t understand why Nell would go to the effort when you could literally buy it pre-crushed in jars. Immediately feeling a jolt of disorientation, he scrambled to bat it away, fangs protruding, eyes flashing red as the skin it made contact with began to sting. “What the fuck?” He demanded, righting himself to stare at Nell with open disbelief. He wasn’t sure whether she had chosen the garlic on purpose, or accidentally stumbled upon what he was, but he wasn’t an idiot. He knew there was no point in trying to hide from her. Not now. “Are you fucking kidding me?” He raised his voice, his indignation only growing as he was given time to fully process what had happened. “Did you just- you just threw garlic at me!” 

You really aren’t going to invite me in? Milo’s words were thrown into clarity as she watched the flash of his fangs appear, and his apparent aversion for the plant became clear. “You’re a vampire.” Nell’s words weren’t so much a question as a means of telling him she’d seen the changes, and put the earlier and smaller hints together that she hadn’t thought to put as much stock in. Her stance took on an even more guarded pose, not knowing Milo well enough to feel confident in making a judgment on whether he was a vampire more along the lines of someone like Harsh, or someone more murderous or bloodthirsty. Either way she certainly wasn’t going to be inviting him into her greenhouse now. The witch’s arms folded across her chest, cocking her hip to the side as she gave the young man a thorough up and down, sizing him up in that same way she used to measure threats in the Ring. “So that’s why you were being so squirrely?” Did Milo being a vampire mean he was more likely to know of Kyle’s werewolf status?

“No shit. What gave it away?” Milo bit out, brushing himself down as he retracted his fangs, making a point of continuing to glare at Nell. He watched her as she shifted to take a more guarded stance, one that made it clear she was now actively scrutinizing him. He wasn’t entirely sure what she was looking for, but he felt himself shrink a little under her gaze regardless. It was impossible to know what she was capable of, it was impossible to know what anybody in White Crest was capable of. Though he wasn’t exactly holding a torch for self preservation, if she decided to attack, his only real option would be to run. So he opted to stay where he was for now, awkwardly rubbing at his wrist where it had come into contact with the garlic. All he could do was stay silent, and hope she wasn’t trying to figure out where best to plunge a wooden stake. His skin was no longer stinging but the ghost of the feeling was there, he tried not to let it distract him. “I wasn’t being squirrely. Fuck you. You’re the one asking weirdly specific questions about somebody who isn’t even here!” He pointed out, indignant in the face of the accusation. “I know why, by the way. You’re not being subtle.” 

Nell didn’t hesitate to return Milo’s glare, still not even entirely certain how they’d gotten to this point in the first place. Maybe she’d pushed too hard, but that wasn’t anything new for her. It was another one of the many reasons people in highschool had avoided the witch. There weren’t many people who took kindly to her abrasive personality, and it had been even more extreme back in those days. “Well most vampires walk like they have a stick up their ass so that was probably it.” Sorry Harsh. She made the mental apology to her friend, not actually believing the words, but wanting some childish way to retort Milo’s snark. Nell didn’t actually have anything against vampires so long as they weren’t witch hunters like Miriam, or lacked control in a way that made them a constant and active threat to others. “You were being squirrely. Basically dancing around my questions and shit, and getting all uppity.” Her eyes rolled again. “I gave up trying to be subtle about fifteen minutes ago, I’m not stupid enough to come on that strongly without being aware of it.” She’d learned that well enough through her time as a monster catcher and bounty hunter. “So you know Kyle’s a werewolf, then.” At least they’d gotten it out in the open. “Did you know when he was changed?” Now she could ask her questions point-blank.

Milo let out a huff of breath. “Oh, yeah? Have you ever thought maybe that’s just the vampires having to deal with you?” He countered. He wasn’t sure how they had managed to go from a genuine conversation to what could almost be considered an argument. But he wasn’t about to back down, it wasn’t in his nature. Honestly, he wasn’t even sure she wanted him to. “Because you were trying to get me to out a friend!” He explained, wondering whether she might be able to understand his reasoning, maybe even appreciate it. She had made it relatively clear she knew what Kyle was, but she could have been using him to get confirmation, to go behind his back. He would never forgive himself if he gave information to the wrong person, especially information that wasn’t his to give. “Without knowing what you know, did you honestly expect me to just come out and just say it? We aren’t friends, Nell. We said like two words together throughout the whole of high school.” 

Narrowing his eyes when she brushed off his comment, insisting she hadn’t been aiming for subtlety, he waited, wondering whether she was going to say the words out loud. Say what they both knew, what he was continuing to carefully dance around. And then she did, and it was as though a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. “Yes.” He said finally. “Did he tell you that?” It still felt strange, talking about it with a stranger. The least he could do was find out whether Kyle had confided in her, or if she had somehow pried the information out of him. If he had willingly been honest with her then he would begrudgingly accept the fact that she could be trusted. “Why?” He asked, some of his anger beginning to fade away. He was curious now, more so than anything else. “Do you mean did he tell me when it first happened? Or just… do I know when it happened in like, the timeline of our lives?” 

“No it’s definitely a you problem,” Nell quipped back, unwilling to take any responsibility. “And I wasn’t trying to get you to out a friend. I was seeing if you already knew. It should have been obvious that I knew by the way I was asking- so you wouldn’t have been ‘outing’. Unless you’re too clueless to connect the dots between me talking about the moon and Kyle. You literally just said I wasn’t being subtle, though.” She rolled her eyes at the mention of them not being friends. As if she cared about something like that when it came to the random guy from highschool. 

“Yeah, we talked about it.” That’s all Milo needed to know when it came to what she and Kyle had spoken of, the deeper conversation they’d gotten into with sleep still tugging at their eyes and the sun barely glinting over the horizon on Kyle’s patio. Her stubbornness made her balk at Milo’s request for why she wanted to know, but she doubted he’d answer her questions if she wholly refused to reply to his. “I’m trying to help him,” she supplied vaguely. “And I mean the second one- do you know when it happened in his life and stuff.”

Milo narrowed his eyes, but stayed quiet, allowing Nell to answer him despite her attitude making him want to interrupt. It would be so easy to cut her off, to argue, but he held his tongue. Resisting the urge so that he could hear what she had to say to him. It didn’t take long for his patience to falter, though. For his frustration to grow exponentially. Could she really be so oblivious? “You weren’t being subtle.” He bit out. “But for all I knew you only suspected Kyle. Isn’t that the oldest fucking trick in the book? Pretending someone confided in you so that you can get information on them from the people they actually trust?” Letting out a huff of breath when his company rolled her eyes, it was everything he could do not to turn around and leave. He only had two reasons to stay. He wanted to know more about Kyle, more about Nell, about the friendship they apparently shared. And he was also incredibly confident his continued presence would annoy her. If he left now he would only be giving her what she wanted, and he was petty. Undeniably so. 

“That’s all you’re giving me?” He asked. “You talked about it?” Coming to realise she was never going to give him the information he wanted solely because she knew he wanted it, he decided to focus on what she was telling him. Or more accurately what she was asking him. “Do you think he needs help?” He hadn’t considered the fact that maybe his friend wasn’t coping. His version of support usually consisted of sharing a drink, and talking until the sun began to rise. What if Kyle needed more than that? Mechanisms that were actually considered healthy by society. He wasn’t any good with those. “Yeah, I know when it happened. I mean, obviously I didn’t at the time. I knew something was up, but it was only after seeing him again that he told me why he started acting so shady way back...” 

“Oh my god, I know I wasn’t being subtle. I literally just said that was the point- that was I was doing it on purpose.” It was becoming rather apparent that something just wasn’t aligning all that properly between Nell and Milo, and the witch was starting to wonder if perhaps they were two people who simply tended to get along like water and oil. Or maybe it was just the conversation they’d chosen. Either way, she was annoyed. She mirrored Milo’s huff, while her eyes gave yet another roll. Nell had lost count of how many times she’d done it since their conversation had begun. “You’re the one who came up to me, remember? If I was actively trying to find out if Kyle was a werewolf, I would have orchestrated some way for us to meet. Not some stupid chance thing.” She’d done it countless times while she looked for bounties. 

“I’m not telling you what we talked about,” Nell replied haughtily. It wasn’t any of Milo’s business, and it wasn’t as if she was going to tell a guy who’d only annoyed the shit out her thus far about the traumas she and Kyle had shared. “It’d be shitty when it was just for Kyle and me.” As for Kyle needing help...that was a question Nell was more willing to answer. Even though Milo was unbearable, he was Kyle’s friend. Someone that might care to help. And Kyle needed all the help he could get. But she didn’t want to outrightly expose Kyle, and she remembered how he’d wanted to set the boundary of requesting help from others. But still...she worried. “It’s...not easy adjusting to being a werewolf on your own.” That was the most specific she could get without outrightly saying he suffered with control. “He hasn’t had anyone to teach him.” She was disappointed that Milo hadn’t known at the time, but intrigued by the mention of Kyle having acted differently. “He started acting shady, how?”

Milo set his jaw. He was over Nell’s attitude, much like he suspected she was over his own. And his desire to hear what she had left to say was infuriating. Why couldn’t he just turn and leave? It should be easy to abandon their ridiculous conversation. “Yeah, I was trying to be nice. That might be a foriegn concept to you.” He snapped. It wasn’t fair that he was being blamed for how their interaction had played out. He had approached her with good intentions, it was utterly undeniable. “How am I supposed to know what he’s told you and what he hasn’t? Jeez.” He ran a hand through his hair, doing his best to expel his agitated energy. “I don’t need to know what you talked about. I think I just need to get out of here.” The longer they spoke, the more apparent it was becoming that they weren’t going to find a common ground. Maybe in another situation, under a different circumstance. But certainly not here, and certainly not right now. 

He actually turned to leave, finally finding the motivation, before Nell hesitated. He noticed it, noticed the way she faltered at his question, and it made him wonder just how much he had yet to learn about Kyle. “No shit.” He muttered, stopping in his tracks. “It isn’t easy adjusting to being a vampire either.” His heart ached at the thought of Kyle, so young and scared. But there was nothing he could do to change the past. All he could do now was focus on the future, on being there for Kyle in any way he was able. “I know how that feels.” Pushing his glasses further up his nose, his expression momentarily softening, he caught Nell’s eye. Sharing in her concern, in her obvious affection for the werewolf. “It doesn’t matter.” He brushed off her request for him to elaborate, knowing the information wasn’t important. It wouldn’t help anybody now. “Just- I don’t know, be there for him, I guess. And I’ll do the same. We don’t have to like each other.” 

Nell didn’t bother even considering that he’d claimed to be making an attempt at being nice, past the point of caring either way. And if he wanted to leave she certainly wouldn’t stop him. But then again...she hasn’t quite gotten to ask everything she’d wanted to. And though she was more than willing to try and bully the answers from him, she tried to think of Kyle— how upset he might be if he heard that she’d done her best to force answers from his friend. So she bit her tongue— quite literally digging her teeth into it in an attempt to exercise the very limited restraint she held. “Then go,” she replied, trying her best not to reignite the animosity in their conversation. 

But then Milo had to go and insinuate that...perhaps he related a little more to Kyle than not. A reluctant prickle of sympathy flickered in her gut, and she did her best to squash it down for the time being. She was already barely treading water when it came to helping Kyle, and she shouldn’t add a vampire who had proven annoying as hell to her plate. Still...maybe she’d message him later, and try and figure out just how much Milo was like Kyle. But being there for Kyle was something she could do. And despite her argument with Milo— she was glad to hear it was something he was planning on as well. “Great. Then we’ll...watch out for Kyle.” Her stubbornness and petty nature made it hard to agree with the vampire who’d been a frustration. Still...in the end Kyle was more important. With a still angry shake of her head, she watched Milo as he left the property, and waited until he was out of sight to turn back to her greenhouse. She’d bother Milo later.

[mercuryislove]

Don’t hate me but… I kinda want you to answer all of the deep dive WIP asks 🥺 if that’s unreasonable tho, just 2, 9, and 10 please!

I am SORRY for the delay!!! i answered every question for BOTH projects so you're in for like.... several thousand words of shit that makes absolutely no sense, but i hope you you enjoy it! :)

1. Who are two characters that don't like each other? What do they reveal about each other to the readers? Will they ever learn to put aside their differences?

White Crane: okay this is hard because like. so many people do not like each other. (I know I made a post once about how terrible it would be to be one of twenty-eight people that have the power of dead gods but are trapped in stupid human bodies and you're all a thousand years old and hate each other so so so so so much because you all SUCK.) But for the sake of simplicity, I will talk about Ciaran and Sihla who never got along but only played nice to keep Anwei happy. They absolutely do NOT put aside their differences lmao once everything kind of, um, blows up between the three of them, all they want to do is KILL each other. She makes it her life's goal to make him suffer, and he basically loses his sanity in the process of trying to find a way to kill her for good. The beef is unbelievable. ANYWAY, what they reveal about each other is that Ciaran is not nearly as innocent in anything as he likes to pretend and Sihla is not as guilty as everyone says she is. I mean, she is still a terrible person in many ways, but that does not excuse the things he did to her all those years ago. She hates him for many, many good reasons.

Old Blood: Andhira HATES the entire Ekion family, but specifically the oldest son (who does not have an official name yet.... oops). He doesn't much care for her either but is usually too busy trying to better his social standing to worry too much about her. Except when they're in the same room together (which happens semi-regularly because her brother is kind of in love with him lmao). They hate each other for the exact same reason and it's that they're both SO arrogant. They look down on everyone around them (which in Andhira's case is like. fair. She's the firstborn of the two most powerful people on the planet, and the only person that comes close to that level of power is her twin brother who was born a mere fourteen minutes after her) but think the other is completely unjustified in their actions. Really all it reveals to a reader is that they both kind of suck and need to get over themselves because all that behavior does is make people resent you. They only put aside their differences because she does kind of need his help once or twice, but they would gladly spit in each other's face and/or push each other down a flight of stairs in the name of pettiness.

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2. What do you hope your readers will take away from your wip? Is there an intentional theme to the story?

These can be answered together! I started writing these stories because I wanted to have fun but they've both kind of morphed into a long-winded way of saying that like. it's okay to be messed up and hate yourself and have major internal struggles because there are people who still love you. I KNOW it doesn't sound like that from uhhhhhh literally everything I've ever said about this stuff but bear with me. The BIG theme is that love is EVERYTHING. All kinds of love. It's the reason to keep on going. You are never alone, even strangers can love you in their own way, etc etc etc etc. Also gay love fucking prevails always and forever.

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3. What do you love most about your protagonist?

Yixing is funny and weird and definitely a horse girl and he kind of sucks sometimes because he's stubborn as hell and has terrible people skills and maybe also a drinking problem, but he is kind and empathetic and despite the absolute hell he's lived through, he still sees the good in people and knows that it's easy to make mistakes and that most people deserve second chances in life. Also I like him because he is without a doubt the ideal man and I made him that way on purpose. And god I wish we could drink together. I'm talking stumbling drunk, crying on the bathroom floor, please-hold-my-hair-i'm-about-to-throw-up kind of drinking. We would have a great time being stupid together I think.

Vera is resilient and mean and stubborn and cold and off-putting and hard to get to know, and she sucks for those reasons but it's also why I love her so much. She has also lived through hell and it didn't make her try to see the good in people like Yixing does. It just made her bitter and resentful. She warms up over time, but she fights tooth and nail against it. I also love her so much because she is the archetype of like. the washed up former prodigy that has to return sort of against her will to her old life, and she realizes that she misses it in some ways but also remembers exactly why she left. I would Not want to drink with her (because she doesn't drink anymore), but I would love to take one of her art classes.

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4. Is there anything in the story that is implied but not directly stated? Will this become more relevant later on? How perceptive would a reader have to be to pick up on this?

White Crane: This is hard because I'm so invested in my own shit that it feels obvious to me, but I try to lay out a little candy trail that tells the reader that Ciaran and Anwei are Not What They Seem right from the start. It’s hard to explain without specific examples but it’s in the way they talk, they way they interact with other people, the way certain things they say don’t line up, etc etc etc. And there is a Big Hint of what will happen to Ciaran in the second and third installment, but idk if that counts. Also there are definitely implications that Yixing is trans but that's neither here nor there (honestly I’ve gone back and forth on whether or not he should be explicitly trans or if it should be left to reader interpretation because well... I don’t know if I'm capable of writing the nuance of transness because I'm not trans despite my complex and confusing relationship with gender but I'm also not a thirty-something year old Asian man NOR am I a god NOR am I a former vampire hunter NOR am I like. any of the things I write about other than a mean lesbian so. who knows?)

Old Blood: TRUE FANS already know this one, but regular degular readers that haven't participated in funny question friday or read my random late night posting would not immediately know that Josef and the Sovereign were once involved. Basically the only characters in the story that know are Josef, Luka, the Sovereign himself, and Tahire. But there are definitely some hints peppered throughout conversations and perhaps some photos and trinkets that Josef has kept after all this time... It has like no weight on the events of the story but I just think it's fun. Once again I am way too invested to know if it's easy to pick up on or not but I think it takes some theorizing about maybe? Other than that there aren’t any significant secrets.

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5. Which character has the most intricate backstory? Is this backstory common knowledge from the start, or is it revealed later on? How does the backstory affect the narrative?

White Crane: this is unfair because some of the characters are almost a thousand years old and some of them are like. 35. I DO have a full timeline written out of the thousand years of history that Ciaran and Anwei have lived through, if that counts as an answer. Like it doesn't have every single day and year, but it has all the big events for sure. Barring that, Yixing definitely has a pretty complex backstory. The man gets around lol and I try (and maybe fail?) to make him seem not too complex initially but then things get revealed and you learn more about him and are like “oh my god no wonder this man has Problems.” Also if he was like. “normal” and perhaps “well-adjusted” the story would not exist at all because he is the way he is and makes some of the stupid decisions he does because of his weird little life.

Old Blood: ONCE AGAIN, this is unfair because the Sovereign is like older than god. And Vera is 37. But like. I haven't fleshed him or any of the old ass vampires out nearly as much as Vera so there's your answer I guess? And I guess the important things are known from the start (that she was a prodigy, that she retired because terrible shit happened and she couldn't handle it, that she suffers from significant ptsd because of it, etc), but there is a lot of detail that doesn't come out until much later when she has to confront her Feelings (ewww feelings). Uh... the backstory affects the narrative because it wouldn't exist at all if Vera wasn't plagued by her fucked up blood nightmares lol

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6. Which two characters have the most complicated relationship? How does their relationship develop over time?

White Crane: Ciaran and Anwei totally. They love each other because they're brother and sister and were all the other had for a VERY long time (and even when they were still uh mortal, they relied on each other constantly), but also they hate each other because they're brother and sister. You know how it is with siblings. I love my brother and sister to pieces but I can't imagine being immortal and having to put up with the both of them for all eternity (sorry guys if you are reading this somehow.... I love you but we are all so annoying god bless). They handled their newfound godhood very, very, very differently and it kind of colors their relationship for the rest of time. There were times where they were extremely codependent and other times where they didn't speak to each other for DECADES. At the start of our story, they're on much better terms and have buried all their hatchets, but it doesn't take much for that to change....

Old Blood: Probably Vera and Andhira? They're only brought together because of their shared fucked up blood nightmares, and neither of them like that thought. They both resent the other for everything they are, and Vera is pretty much completely hostile to Andhira about it for a long time (and Andhira is only just barely cordial lol), but obviously a significant part of the plot revolves around them like. falling in love so they DO get over it after a while :)

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7. What is the most heart-wrenching scene in your wip? Why?

White Crane: When Yixing fucking DIES. I feel like this one should be self-explanatory. But I mean if you would like further explanation, it's unpleasant and slow and agonizing and nobody can do anything to stop it (haha....... unless?) so Ciaran gets to hold him for a long time and feel really bad about it lol

Old Blood: idk if there are any really heart-wrenching scenes but there are definitely some miserable and uncomfortable scenes like where Vera relives in vivid detail the days that she witnessed the gruesome deaths of her young apprentice and her last lover. They're upsetting because those are the two days that basically ruined her life (and one was the final straw that sent her spiraling completely out of control) and it's painful to watch her have to live with the guilt of what happened even if it wasn't her fault.

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8. What is a song that you associate with your wip? Explain.

White Crane: not to be basic but absolutely without a doubt in my stupid mind “Everybody Wants to Rule the World” by Tears for Fears lol it's because uh. well. Everybody wants to rule the world right? Basically way back in 2019 when I was crafting the ideas for the dnd campaign that became this thing instead, I was definitely having a metal gear moment (honestly I’m about to have a metal gear moment NOW lol) and was listening to a lot of like. mgs adjacent music and latched onto this song (and also promises, promises by naked eyes lmao) as some like thematic element. Like my brain making amvs. You know how it is. ANYWAY the point is. The concept was originally way different and was supposed to be more about the immediate aftermath of the so-called end of the world (yes Yixing was still there and yes he was still just some guy), and it focused a lot more on power struggles between all of these insane people that were granted godhood in the wake of the dying world. Which........ is something I'd like to write about at some point because it's intriguing in its own way but at the time I was unequipped to write about that when I really just wanted to write about people who are, for all intents and purposes, quite average getting caught up in the batshit drama of higher powers. (fun fact: Ciaran was supposed to be a tyrant king that ran a death cult and Anwei and Yixing were working together to figure out a way to kill him. Which is. Kind of what my dnd campaign is like now lol BASICALLY he's like if Big Boss was unkillable and could also rip souls out of people's bodies and eat them. I absolutely do not remember what this question originally was. Something about a song?)

Old Blood: THIS is the reason it took me so long to answer this whole thing. I thought long and hard and looked through all my playlists and listened to random songs that came to mind but it turns out the song I was looking for was right in front of me the whole time. DUH. It's “Golden Light” by Twin Shadow :) In my humble homo interpretation, I think it's a song about being afraid to fall in love and. Well. That's the whole point. Also #spoilers but the first time Vera sees Andhira and is like “oops I think I have feelings” is when they've just arrived at Andhira's home and the sun is rising and she looks over at her as they stand at the top of a hill and she has her eyes closed to the sun and she's bathed in golden light and OOUGGGGHGHHH poetic cinema. (honorable mention goes to “Groove is in the Heart” by Deee-lite because it’s quintessential early 90s music that Vera would be super into)

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9. What does your protagonist want most? What would they do to achieve this? What is something they wouldn't do to achieve this?

White Crane: Yixing wants to be happy for once. Like actually really happy instead of just. getting by. There's a scene where they're making wishes for the next seasons during the summer solstice and someone asks what he wants and he's like “uh I guess I want to still be alive at the end of the year?” and the other person is like “isn't that what everyone wants? Raise the fucking bar please. What do you REALLY want?” and he's stands there for a really long time and thinks about it before finally saying “I think I just want to be happy for once” and everyone else is like. wow. Way to kill the fucking mood dude. Anyway. He has had fleeting moments of happiness in his life but wants nothing more than to feel that way forever. It's kind of hard to say what he wouldn't do for that because like. there's not really much you CAN do in the first place, so I feel like there's even less you couldn't do. I guess he wouldn't like sell his soul to the devil or something lmao (though by being involved with Ciaran he's pretty much halfway there)

Old Blood: to be left alone. Vera just wants a normal life. She really truly does want to pretend that none of the horrible shit happened to her and that she was never a world-famous hunter. And she wants to teach art classes and live a quiet life!!! I mean, she is already mostly doing that exact thing when we first meet her, but obviously she has some hindrances (aka fucked up blood nightmares). She is begrudgingly helping Andhira because she assumes that will fix her problem and that she'll be able to get to that quiet living as soon as all is said and done. The only thing she really wouldn't do to get what she wants is like... live somewhere far away from Josef and Luka lol She likes having them close by more than she wants to be left alone.

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10. Within your story's world, were there any events that impacted every character (or most characters)? How would they be different if this event never happened? (Alternatively, erase an important even from on character's backstory and imagine where they'd be now.)

White Crane: well. If the stupid old gods didn't all kill themselves and almost end the world then I guess none of this story would exist lol But the actual answer is like. If Yixing had never run out on his girlfriend of ten years then he wouldn't have moved across the continent to Jengmi and wouldn't have made a name for himself way out there and wouldn't have been scouted and recruited and wouldn't have met Ciaran or Anwei and wouldn't have gotten in the middle of the batshit grudge between a bunch of ancient petty gay people and wouldn't have DIED and wouldn't have made one of the ancient petty gay people in particular lose his grip on his humanity via a lust for power in a desperate attempt to guarantee his safety and wouldn't have been the reason that tens of thousands of people die in his name and wouldn't have accidentally set off a chain of events that resulted in him having to hunt down and kill the Actual God that started it all in a fit of jealous rage. So like. maybe he should have just gone through with the wedding. All things considered, his life would have been way less stressful.

Old Blood: uhhh, that's tough because the stuff that happens only really has any effect on the mortal characters (I mean yeah people still try to kill the Sovereign but they're too dumb to know the ACTUAL way to kill him.... haha unless??), so it would be more like a what if Vera didn't witness the violent deaths of both her apprentice and her lover and have a full blown nervous breakdown and abandon her career? Well...... I think most things in the plot would transpire more or less the same, except she would be WAY less pissed off about it. In fact, she would probably be hyped as hell to get the chance to make the acquaintance of the Sovereign's family like Josef had before her. The thought of Vera being upbeat and not a sleep-deprived asshole that hates being dragged back to her old life..... ew. Not that I enjoy her suffering but you know what I mean. It just wouldn't be the same.

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11. What is something from your wip that you just really want to ramble about?

Are you sure you're ready for this. This is going to be so so so so long I'm sorry in advance. It's Saturday night and I'm alone and kind of sad so I'm just going to let loose.

As I hone down plot elements for next two installments in my little trilogy, I have kind of become obsessed with the passage of time and how different it must feel to someone that, well, lives forever. One of the ways I'd written (that has since been kind of changed) for Yixing to start to figure out what Ciaran really is was that he would casually be looking through his bookshelf and find an old photograph of Ciaran, Anwei, and their mom standing backstage together after one of his performances. And when he eventually asks Ciaran about it, he gets upset because how dare you touch the one thing I have left to remember my mother? To remember what my life used to be like? There are so many names and faces and places and foods and sensations that I've forgotten in the 940 years I've lived like this and I would give anything I have to see any of it just one more time because I didn't know that the last time I would ever speak to my mom we would have an argument on the phone about how I need to go to the temple and pray for good fortune on my birthday, or that the last time I would ever see my best friend would be at 6am when we both came into the studio to practice and he asked me to go out to breakfast and I said no because I thought a nap would be more important. And there are so many people that I've watched die whose names I never learned and whose faces I forgot the moment I turned away, and there are so many others that I loved so dearly that I had to leave behind because they grew old and I didn't. And I have lived lifetimes in solitude to keep myself a secret from other people and I have died more than any person should ever have to die and I have witnessed atrocities no one should ever witness and I hate everything about this life so much but I love everything about this life so much and I wouldn’t trade it for anything but I think I would give it all away in an instant if only to remember the scent of my mother's favorite perfume and I think I would give it all away in an instant if it meant I didn't have to watch you turn to dust in my arms.

ANYWAY. I think a lot about the agony of loving things that aren't permanent and how it really DOES drive you mad because lately I have been unbelievably nostalgic for certain things that weren't even that long ago but..... I didn't appreciate them at the time and I feel so guilty about it. (And like. I too would give up my entire life to be able to remember the scent of my grandmother's favorite perfume.) And all my pent-up sadness is for things that only happened in my childhood. I have pictures and videos and other people to share those memories with, but what does it feel like to be one of very few people that watched the entire world fall apart and rebuild itself and have nothing to hold onto from that time? What does it feel like to foster dozens of generations of children and outlive every single one of them? What does it feel like to have only fragments of memories of entire lifetimes? How lonely is it? I mean, Ciaran and Anwei have each other and that makes a difference but it still has to be the most isolating feeling. And then there's the pain that comes with memories that have faded or otherwise become hazy. I doubt either of them remember their father's face. They hadn't seen him in years even before it all happened. If it wasn't for that single photo he has, they wouldn't remember their mother's face either. Do they still remember her name? Or her birthday? Do they remember anyone else? Cousins, aunts, uncles, grandparents, friends, coworkers? If they do, do they even want to talk about it? One thing I worry about in my own life (and this is how I know I have Problems) is that I'm so afraid that talking about memories will alter them somehow. There are so many things that I don't even like to share because once the words are spoken the little vhs tape that has all my memories has been recorded over, even if it's just by a single frame. Something about it has been changed forever each time I talk about it. Do they feel the same way and keep things to themselves instead of sharing the sadness? I think maybe they used to talk about the “old days” or whatever much more often back in the past, but as the years went by.... they just learned to keep it to themselves.

I think maybe I have a lot of anxiety about the passage of time and of being forgotten!

Anyway again. The passage of time drives me insane. And I think it would make me even more insane if I had been chosen to carry the mantle of a dead god and would live forever. My dog died a year ago and I still cry like every single day thinking about her. If I was doomed to live forever I don't know how the sadness wouldn't swallow me whole! No wonder all the people in this book are fucking CRAZY!!

And don't even get me started on the Sovereign lol he's like “oh boo-hoo you've lived for not even a thousand years? Bitch they hadn't invented fucking GLASS yet when I was born. The horse wasn't domesticated yet. Cry harder!!”

[charliejrogers]

TENET (2020) - Review & Analysis

It’s hard to write about this movie without spoilers… so… fair warning… spoilers ahead. Though they don’t start til like halfway through the review.

One of my friends recently asked, “So how was TENET.” My answer: “When I read about the plot after I watched it, my mind was blown.” Therein lies the problem. This is a classic, “It’s better the second time” kind of movie, something Christopher Nolan isn’t a stranger to (I lovingly saw Inception twice in theaters and The Dark Knight a whopping three times in theaters… and both countless times since). The difference is, both of those movies were great the first time around too. They just got even better with subsequent viewings.

My personal problem too is that with rare exception (and especially as I’ve gotten older), I don’t like watching movies more than once. While there’s too much out there that I know I’ll never see, I still want to do my best and see as much as I can. Therefore, I don’t put too much credence into “It’s better the second time.” If it’s not good the first time around, I don’t care if might be better the second time.

TENET continues Christopher Nolan’s fascination with toying with time. It’s a theme and gimmick that’s been a staple since his ground-breaking major debut with 2001’s Memento, but featured heavily in both 2014’s black-hole-time-warping space opera Interstellar and 2017’s timeline jumping war epic Dunkirk. In some ways, this is Nolan’s most straightforward manipulation of time, it’s just time travel. Here, the central conceit of TENET is that scientists at some point in the distant future have figured out a way to get objects (and people) to travel backwards in time, and to do so in real time. In other words, whereas in Back to the Future, Marty and Doc flash back from 1985 to 1955 in a millisecond, in the world of TENET that time-travelling would occur only after Marty and Doc wandered about Earth for the equivalent of 30 years’ time. And, importantly, during those thirty years, Marty and Doc would exist in the same plane and realm as all other “forward-time” people. They can even interact with the world like anyone else… just the interaction would be… interesting to say the least. The backwards-time person would appear to be moving in reverse from the perspective of the forwards-time person, and vice versa.

This idea leads to the most interesting part of the movie: the visuals and effects. Characters in the movie hold guns that don’t shoot out bullets so much as just absorb bullets from environments which travel with the same momentum as if they had been shot out of a gun. Bombs that blow up a building in the world of the forwards-in-time people, are experienced as fallen buildings that spontaneously reassemble from the perspective of the backwards-in-time people. The result is a movie in which the director clearly relished the opportunity to create little clever puzzle boxes of scenes. I’m sure there are countless of YouTube videos that will happily show you why this movie is a masterpiece, and I agree from a design and plotting perspective, it was satisfying to watch many of the same sequences (a car chase, a vault heist) from two perspectives (one forward-in-time and one backward-in-time) and to notice all the little details about how actions in one timeline ultimately affected the other.

That said, my head legitimately hurt as I watched this movie. As Clémence Poésy puts it in perhaps the movie’s most famous line, “Don’t try to understand it; just feel it.” I wish I could. The temptation to try to wrap your mind around what is happening on screen is too large.

Perhaps what most threw me off (and both impressed and annoyed me) is how it deals with the central paradox of time travel. Namely, what happens when you change the past… and can you even do that? To put it briefly, it tackles this subject head-on without trying to cut corners or introduce alternate universes.  Other films, like Avengers: Endgame address this issue by just explaining that each time characters go back in time and mess with the past, they are creating an alternate and parallel universe. This makes sense to me… as much as time travel can make sense that is. But the parallel universe solution means that truly whatever happened happened. The Avengers can go back in time and stop Thanos, but there will always exist a timeline where he wins.

This movie doesn’t subscribe to the parallel universe theory. It outright rejects my linear understanding of time and seems to subscribe to the same circular notion of time that was (not introduced but) made popular by the 2016 film Arrival. In this view of time travel, someone can go back in time and influence the exact same reality the live in. AND furthermore, the fact that one has traveled back in time makes it so that it has always been like this. In other words, traveling back in time erases any previous universe where one hadn’t traveled back in time. I think of it this way. Imagine someone poisons my Mom’s box of Cheerios. She dies. I manage to go back in time and throw away her poisoned Cheerios before she could eat them. In the Avengers view of things, my mom would still be dead in the original timeline, but I created a new parallel universe where she’s now alive, having never been able to encounter the poisoned Cheerios. In the TENET view of the world, by travelling back in time to throw away the Cheerios, I effectively undo the fact that my Mom was ever in danger. Though I as a time-traveller may remember my harrowing Cheerios journey, she has no memory of the experience since I went back and prevented that reality from ever happening. What this does mean though is that as soon as I time-travel far back enough to get rid of the Cheerios, there are now two of me in the world. There is one who time-travelled and one who is unaware that his Mom was ever in danger. Time-traveller-me now cannot simply return to his home and normal life… as the other-me is living his life unaware that time travel was ever necessary (creating a Prestige-like scenario where maybe the time-traveller is better off just offing themselves, and honestly I wouldn’t have minded Nolan retreading themes from that superb movie).

It’s that last part about the time traveller being unable to return to his old life that marks the biggest difference from time travel in the vein of Back to the Future. In the Back to the Future model, after throwing away my Mom’s poisoned Cheerios, I can zap back to the moment in time I initially decided to time travel, and insert myself back in the correct time (technically there could still be two of me... but we’ll ignore that for now). However, in the TENET model, you cannot “zap” back to the future. The only to go back to the point when you first went backwards is just to live that amount of time. That’s why two of the same person will have to essentially co-exist. And since the movie stipulates that two of the same person cannot come into contact, the time-traveller is likely to live a life of exile.

It’s the sort of head-scratcher that makes sense on paper (and hopefully I clarified something for someone), but when watching this stuff play out on screen it made for a very unsatisfying movie. WARNING! SPOILERS AHEAD! We as the viewer are used to seeing things as they unfold in real time. What this movie doesn’t allow us to see are the countless times various characters fail to do something and going back to undo their mistakes. Instead, we are experiencing the new reality created by past timetravellers, unaware (til the end of the movie) that they were previously realities that were erased (or prevented from coming into existence). We learn at the end of the movie that our Protagonist (John David Washington who’s cleverly named just The Protagonist… ugh) is actually the founder of the elite, global para-military force called TENET which is designed to thwart efforts by the future to erase the past. Setting aside how illogical the future’s plan is (something which the movie acknowledges… which doesn’t necessarily help matters), the reveal that The Protagonist is the original founder of TENET means that there’s a whole lot more to the plot we don’t see in the movie. The original Protagonist clearly had a long life with life events that were very different from what we see in this movie. Namely and most importantly, he at one time lived in a world without TENET. Presumably, the initial Protagonist discovers the future’s scheme and fails to stop it. In order to undo his failure he goes back in time to form TENET. In doing so, he completely erases the TENET-less reality he had actually experienced. And interestingly, the Protagonist involves his younger self in his plan for the eventual of TENET. So as I said, the Protagonist we follow in this movie is NOT the original Protagonist, but instead one who lives a reality that was manufactured by an older version himself.

What I think is crucial, (and maybe I’m dead wrong here, who knows?) but at the end of the movie when it is revealed that the Protagonistis the founder of TENET, it is implied that our Protagonist (the one we follow in the movie) will go on to do the same acts as his prior self (namely, as an old man, he will travel back in time and found TENET again). But I don’t think this is true, and it’s here I think the movie approaches time travel in a unique way. A figure has already founded TENET, so there’s no need to do that again. What’s happened, happened. In essence, the Protagonist we see at the end of the movie is free to do whatever he wants. What’s happened has already happened and the TENET-founding Protagonist has already done his thing.

What I like about that is that it avoids the weird, paradox circular shit that infects time travel fiction. Take the third Harry Potter, for example. Harry is about to get destroyed by Dementors until a Patronus spell is fired. As we discover later in the movie, it was actually Harry who cast that spell. But how is that possible? If a future Harry is the only way to save Harry… then how does he get saved the first time? Maybe there’s an alternate reality we don’t see where Ron saves Harry last second and Ron dies so Harry goes back in time to prevent that reality from happening and we just never see that. Regardless, it’s a large plot hole that is unexplainable. What I give credit to Nolan and co. for is crafting an incredibly complex time travel tale that avoids any obvious plot holes and time paradoxes. We are left with a fairly intelligent piece of science fiction. Also it doesn’t chalk it all up to, “aliens think and speak in circles so time is circular”… you know that bullshit that Arrival pulled.

That’s more than I intended to write about the plot. The point is, as I said at the beginning, reading about and discussing the plot is superbly interesting and hats off to Nolan and crew for putting it together.

Watching the plot is a different story. Nolan is needlessly confusing in this picture. The fact that reading about the story offers a great deal of clarity should be a red flag. Not that every movie needs to or should be clearly understandable immediately… but it shouldn’t be so confusing that your head hurts.

I think the most disappointing thing is that I would be willing to set aside the confusing story for the pleasure of some well-choreographed, mind-bending action sequences. While the previously mentioned car chase is one such sequence, the grand finale invasion/battle was (for me) incredibly hard to follow. Shot to show two simultaneous operations, one team moving forward, one moving backward, I had no fucking clue what was happening.

And then once we start to actually think about the characters and humans who make up this story… it’s clear more work went into designing the action/set pieces than in developing the characters. I hated… HATED John David Washington’s performance as the Protagonist. He was written to sound like a quick-quipped, witty, charming Bond-like hero, and this just isn’t the movie for that. Though a former CIA agent, he’s not in a spy-thriller. And when the dialogue isn’t a showcase to show off how witty our hero is, it is just an excuse to explain boatloads and boatloads of exposition. I’ve become a real stickler as of late for how films do this. Classically, films use a newbie character as a stand-in for the audience as an excuse for other characters to explain the particulars of the world to them. It’s a little trite, but it’s perfectly functional. What isn’t functional is what this movie does. Half of the dialogue is the The Protagonist meeting someone and them asking him a question like, “What do you know about this Russian base?” and the Protagonist responding, “That Russian base? Well it’s… blah blah blah” and proceeds to talk for a minute answering the person’s question exactly. They reply, “Correct.” And the movie proceeds. It just doesn’t do much to make me care about any characters.

And then, yes, we have to talk about it, the way Nolan’s film deals with its lone female character, Kat Barton (Elizabeth Debicki). She’s the wife of the film’s villain, Andrei Sator (Kenneth Brannagh, doing his best impression of a Eastern European maniac since the last time he did this for 2014’s Jack Ryan: Shadow Recruit… which admittedly he does a good job of). The men in this film just don’t give a shit about this woman. But that would be OK if the movie was honest about this, or in particular made the Protagonist feel guilty about how he uses Kat, discards her, and gets her unnecessarily involved in her husband’s affairs. If you can’t tell, I hated the Protagonist, which is never a good sign when watching a movie. I didn’t much like Washington in BlacKkKlansmen either, so maybe he’s just not my guy. In both movies, he seems to have a confident swagger about him that doesn’t match the characters he plays.

Robert Pattinson is in this movie too. He’s good. I don’t know. Nothing special here from him. He doesn’t detract from anything, but he’s not a great addition. Same goes for the performance from Debicki. Branagh as the villain is good. He’s a good actor even if his beard/facial hair just looked off the whole time. Maybe a larger make-up budget would have helped? At least he was an interesting character, even if deeply flawed and the movie goes a bit too far to make him sympathetic.

So it’s not the complete mess that some people say it is online, and while I understand and appreciate and really like the complexity of the plot and time travel mechanics on paper… they are certainly not a joy to watch. If you do watching, then be prepared to do boatloads of mental gymnastics or just resign one’s self to not understanding what’s happening. While I’m happy to hand-waive some shady plot points or time paradoxes from a movie, when the whole movie is a time paradox, that becomes hard to do. Alas, this is still the best Nolan film for me since Inception, but still a far cry from the highs of his 2000s run of The Prestige, Batman Begins, The Dark Knight, and Inception. If some of the character moments were better developed, this would have been a better film. Instead, really, don’t try to understand and just be awash in this time-loopy, messy, but clever film.

**/ (Two and a half out of four stars)

[bananashemmo]

Soccer Boy (Part 2)

Pairing: Y/N/College!Football!Calum

Rating: All

Request: No

Words: 3.500+

Summary: Freezing cold and out of place, Y/N steals a hoodie that appears to be football and college boy Calum’s while she’s watching her first game at the college football field.

“And let’s not forget. Coffee isn’t the replacement of sleep. 8 hours a day keeps the dark circles under your eyes away.”

You rolled your eyes deeply and pushed the doors open to the hallway. Who decided that Smilla Gilbot was going to announce the morning news every morning over the speakers and adding a bit of ‘charm’ to the end with her great advice.

Throwing the finished iced coffee from Expresso House into the trashcan you couldn’t help but laugh to yourself. How ironic.

You were met by voices, tired morning yawns, doors opening and closing as well as people moving past each other. Their feet were echoing against the floor that was shiny and clean marble. The janitor must have been working hard this weekend.

Monday was impressively, apart from Friday, the most active day at college. If you divided the week into categories, you would usually see a pattern from student to student.

Tuesday was the day where people had grown tired and already regretted they met for classes on Monday. Wednesday was little Thursday where the parties would start to be hosted, some that were large and some there would only be served beers with less than 3% alcohol.

Thursday was always considered little Friday. If you weren’t partying on little Friday what were you even doing with your life? Not that you could relate, you didn’t even party on Fridays.

Friday was the ultimate day where everyone would meet. Not because they wanted to attend classes or because they wanted to learn something intellectually. It was basically their one-way ticket to get everyone invited and also getting the attention of those who weren’t. It was all about being seen and heard at River Falls College.

Saturday was the starter pack of hungover but with the replacement of just getting drunk again. This was where all the Fraternities held parties, knowing they would be even bigger than on Saturday.

If you weren’t full on hungover on Sunday, what did you even do the whole weekend?

You walked past the few students who were sharing cigarettes in between. They knew the school’s laws, smoking had to be past the fence. But nobody said they weren’t allowed to trade in between.

You stopped in track in front of the water foundation and looked at your reflection into the mirror having above.

Who wanted to look at yourself when drinking water? You didn’t understand why in the world they had decided to hang a mirror there. It was filled with stains from the water splashing.

Your hair bun had already gone lazy. It was still large and puffy, but hanging against the rest of the hair that was fighting a hard battle to escape from the dark brown elastic band.

No surprise you were in a rush this morning. You had fallen asleep still in your clothes, you had been studying for the whole night. Not because you had a test this morning but because the book was so exciting you couldn’t stop.

You did stop though when your eyes grew too tired. You hadn’t even noticed you had fallen asleep before the morning sun was rising through your window. Your lamp next to your bed was still on and burning in your face.

It was in such a rush you barely thought you would make it to first class. Your dorm was like, at least a kilometer away from the middle of campus. So much for living in one of the expensive ones. You just didn’t want to share a community kitchen with four others.

You yawned quietly and headed towards your locker. Pretty simple, 124. Nothing you needed to remember or write behind your ear.

What you hadn’t expected was getting a locker again. Since college you had always been disgusted by the lockers, they were filled with either mold or cobweb. You didn’t understand how those small bastards aka spiders managed to crawl into your old locker.

These were brand new and white with a black border edge. You had a lot more space and you were also able to hang your coats at the top because of the hook.

You dusted off your leather jacket from the small droplets of water that had fallen during the rain. It was like the rain never stopped in Sydney during Spring.

You looked over your shoulder to see Smilla walk out of the office room with a satisfied smile on her face. She probably assumed everyone had been listening.

You never understood why she wanted to meet up before she had classes. Nobody was ever listening to the news - especially not at college. It was rare they were fully awake to listen.

It just sounded like mumbles in the corners of the hallway where the speakers were positioned.

Today was easy. You only had one class and it was with the sophomores which, according to you, weren’t really on the same level as the freshmen. It was like your year just knew their shit better considering they had only been through half a semester.

You hung your leather jacket into your locker and shut it afterward. There was no reason to carry it around, you had just thrown it on so the hoodie you were wearing wouldn’t be wet.

There was nothing worse than sitting in class with your clothes completely wet. That stinking smell of wet clothes would carry you for the rest of the day and you wanted to be prepared.

You were actually in such a great time considering you were late. There was still 15 minutes left until it started and you would be sitting in the exact same spot as you always did.

Second row, fifth from the left.

It was a great spot because you could catch up with what was going on, but not necessary sit in front where all the aspires were sitting.

You liked it because you could stay quiet when you wanted without being noticed and be active in class if something was completely out of control.

You just managed to switch your books when you were met by a huge smile. And just a little shock going through your mind but you tried to shrug it off by not having wide eyes.

“Do you like it?”

Your mouth opened, yet you couldn’t form a proper sentence that wouldn’t sound like a lie.

You were a horrible lier.

“I uh-, I think it’s a change.” You managed to stutter, trying not to hurt Cassie’s feelings.

Short but detailed introduction. Cassie, alternatively known as Cassandra Goodfield. Your best classmate at college and she was aspiring to become a real state agent as well. You were having the same classes and saw each other every day.

You had been speaking to her yesterday but she just hadn’t mentioned the small detail about her hair.

“I dyed it myself. I know I’m not a professional but I think it went pretty well.” She looked into the dirty windows, wanting to see her reflection.

You glanced carefully at her. Now your eyes were wide because you didn’t want to ask if she had made mistakes. Her hair had always been pretty and long.

Before, a beautifully chestnut honey colored brown hair with a natural glow that could almost compare to Nina Dobrev’s role as Katherine Pierce in The Vampire Diaries.

Now, platin blond with a shine of urine color in which you almost felt attacked. Maybe your eyes were too sensitive.

“I thought I needed a change you know, breaking up with David was kind of harsh.” She ran a hand through her hair with her long fingernails, they were shining just as much as the hair but luckily in a lovely Bordeaux red color.

Harsh enough she needed to burn her scalp with bleaching?

“It’s different.” That was the first thing that came to your mind when she opened her locker diagonally opposite of yours.

“And you know I like a difference.”

She smiled all over her face and you returned it. Or you just imagined you looked really awkward because that was how it felt lying.

“So, have you seen Oscar today?” She asked and glanced towards the left. You followed your gaze to see Oscar Flane stand with his back facing you.

“I have now.” You said in a singing voice like it wasn’t obvious and sighed.

“Seems like he’s given up,” Cassie commented, staring at him almost in confusion.

Oscar was from the economy classes in which you sometimes shared classes. It was like he was attracted to being rejected. You couldn’t do anything without him being almost in your heels and almost every single day he had a new pickup line.

He was sweet you had to admit. But there was just something about his attitude that made you just want to put a paper bag over your head that said ‘no, thank you.

But today he wasn’t even standing ready to welcome you.

You noticed that he was looking weirdly towards your direction. Almost as if he felt prevented from approaching you. You didn’t want to invest your time in wondering why he was acting differently. You just changed the topic instead but Cassie came before you.

“You read today’s pages?” She asked, running fingers through her hair. It was like the curls, in the end, had gone missing and replaced with straight lines. Weird how changing your hair color could change the texture.

“So much I fell asleep. This is my attire from yesterday.” You nodded down at yourself and she furrowed her eyebrows.

She stared so much you were starting to grow confused. Were there stains on your shirt? You hadn’t been eating anything with sauce yesterday or something that could leave spots.

“What are you-,” You looked down at yourself and looked at the black hoodie. That was when the realization hit.

Oh my god.

She was quick to flip you 180 degrees, pressing your chest against the lockers.

“Shut up!” She mumbled, but twice. Second time louder.

“Please, no.” You almost wanted to whine out loud. This couldn’t be happening.

“You’re wearing Calum Hood’s hoodie!”

You knew she didn’t do it on purpose but it was said so loud it was like you caught attention on the whole hallway.

“Cassie!” You whisper-yelled, trying to stay low-key. God this was such a mistake of yours.

You didn’t know it was his when you put it on last night. Or you were aware, but after you had put it on. It was laying on your chair by your desk and it was black you assumed it was yours. When you had put it on you didn’t want to take it off because it didn’t matter and nobody was around to see.

But being in such a rush you hadn’t noticed the ‘Hood 25’ standing on your back.

“It’s no big deal.” You were trying to calm her down. She was beyond excited and you didn’t even understand. Last week you didn’t even know who he was and she was treating him like a celebrity.

“No big deal?” She questioned like you were insane, “It’s a huge deal! We’re talking about the Calum Hood who is left center-forward on our football team!”

You talk like I’m supposed to be impressed?” You weren’t trying to be harsh, but she knew your relationship when it came to football. Sports in general. The only thing you would do is run.

“I am impressed, fuck your opinion.” She said the last bit with a wink and stuck her tongue out.

“Do you know what that means-,” Before Cassie could continue her question, she was interrupted by Lara standing a few lockers away.

“Oh hell no.” Lara mumbled under her breath in disbelief. Her lips turned into a tight line and with a harsh smack, she closed her locker.

“Run, run, run.” Cassie repeated with wide eyes but you were both standing still.

Lara had never seemed like the intimidating one. But inside she was a true devil. It wasn’t just that she was a part of the cheerleaders and represent for the newspaper club. She was everywhere and if something didn’t go her way, you would hear for it.

She didn’t push you, you distanced yourself and accidentally connected to the lockers. She seemed so intimidating you just reacted from her actions.

You weren’t the one to judge but since she was wearing a cheerleading uniform, you already understood what kind of class she was coming from. It was too easy stating that college didn’t have groups and classes of people with the same interests.

Not that you didn’t know who she was. Everyone had heard of Lara, not because they were talking about her but because she was making sure everyone remembered her name.

“Where did you steal that, Y/L/N?” She questioned, crossing her arms.

You were pretty surprised she even remembered your last name. She never really seemed like she cared you were walking past her around campus.

“I didn’t steal it?” You answered. Okay, a little bit of a lie but you were allowed to wear it now.

She scoffed loudly and rolled her eyes. You looked over at Cassie who stood with wide eyes. She was even surprised Lara walked over to you in the first place. She must have eyes of a hawk since she noticed the hoodie.

“How did you get it?” Lara asked instead, thinking you were dumb.

“Why the sudden interrogation?” You didn’t understand where this was going and you were tripping.

“Because I need to know!” She sounded desperate, you were trying not to laugh.

You had no idea why the sudden fuss but she wasn’t leaving until she got her answers. You were still standing with your back pressed against the white lockers. How could she be so intimidating and only being 5′4?

“Looks who’s already far up in your ass.”

You both looked towards the sudden sound of Calum, watching him approach you with a smirk spreading on his face.

Lara took a step back just in reaction and placed a hand to her hip. You weren’t sure what was going on through her mind but it wasn’t just græshopper.

“I’m not far up in her ass.” Lara was quick to disagree and Calum crossed his arms.

“I see you all over her. She hasn’t even done anything.” Calum explained and stood next to you, deciding to lean against the lockers as well so it wasn’t that intimidating.

“She’s wearing your hoodie!” It was like she was trying to use it as an argument but it came out weak.

“Yes?” Calum answered in question, “Because I gave it to her?”

“But,” Lara seemed frustrated, almost wanting to rip out the strands of hair from her ponytail.

“I never got the chance to wea-,”

“Lara, find someone else to comment on.” Calum stopped her from finishing her sentence and crossed his arms.

Lara opened her mouth again, not caring about what he said. She never took orders from anyone unless her lead captain of the team was in charge. That way, you would see her make honors when getting instructions.

She was about to open her mouth again but Calum silenced her just by looking at her.

“Lara.” Calum looked at her with serious eyes, “Leave.”

Lara’s mouth shut close and she looked at Calum angrily but still obeyed to his demand.

She flicked her hair as she turned around and disappeared down the hallway.

You looked up at Calum who couldn’t help but laugh, his eyes adverting down to yours.

Cassie bit her lip excitedly and started to back away. You looked towards her with wide eyes because why did she have to leave at such an intense moment like this.

“See you later, Y/N.” She mouthed and started to make body motions that made your cheeks turn red. You almost wanted to yell for her to ‘cut it’ but it would cause Calum to look over his shoulder and you definitely didn’t want that to happen.

“I feel like I’ve seen that before,” He commented and grabbed the hem of the sleeve.

You looked down at his hand that was actually tattooed and glanced back at him.

“I acquired the hoodie.” You sounded so serious, probably not intended and the way you were looking at him he couldn’t help but laugh.

“I assume you’ve been given stares all morning,” He casually said and started to walk. You didn’t know why but your feet carried you away before you could think.

“Is that why people are looking at me?” You asked as a joke, “I just assumed I had mascara below my eyes.”

“Well, also that.” He answered and you stopped in track.

“What?” You asked and looked up at him. You hadn’t noticed when taking a look in the mirror.

“I’m just kidding.” He smiled, “You don’t have anything.”

You silently breathed out in relief. You didn’t want to look like a fool, you felt just leaving the shower behind this morning was enough. There was nothing like being addicted to washing your hair.

“Is this my queue to say you look pretty cute in it?” He asked, catching your attention again.

“Stop, I’m allergic to compliments. Seriously. Deathly allergic.” You answered and he quivered an eyebrow with a smile.

“You know you’re pretty funny, Y/L/N.” He opened the door to one of the gardens that were placed around the hallways. You both walked outside and stopped by one of the rose bushes.

“I’m calling myself a human party bus.” You almost said it in monotone and he laughed again.

“Is this the time for me to return it back? I mean, people won’t talk to me while wearing this apparently.”

“Who won’t talk to you?” Calum lifted an eyebrow and leaned his long body against of the outdoor tables.

You bit down on your lip and shrugged your shoulders, “I don’t even know if you’re familiar with Oscar Flane.”

“Champagne socialist? I know him.” Calum nodded his head, “You can see his white Ralph Lauren shirt ironed from meters apart.”

You furrowed your eyebrows by the name he gave Oscar but shrugged it off. That was a time for another story.

“He’s kind of-, I don’t even know what he’s onto or if he’s crushing on me but he wouldn’t even speak to me this morning. He was just glancing weirdly.”

Calum suddenly understood what was going on and licked his lips.

“You don’t know about the boy codex at River Falls?” He asked and you shook your head.

There were so many intern rules at this place you couldn’t keep along. It was hard trying to understand if people took it seriously or just shrugged it off unless it came to their benefit.

“It’s this old rule meaning that if a girl is wearing a football hoodie by one of the college players’ she’s a territory. Meaning every other boy trying to talk to her in any sort of romantic flirtatious way will break the bro code. It doesn’t matter if they’re popular or not. Many of the boys know.”

You widened your eyes and felt how it was getting a little bit hotter suddenly wearing the hoodie. You weren’t sure if your red cheeks heated the rest of your body.

“So as long as you’re wearing mine. It’ll keep you safe.”

It was weird thinking that a piece of fabric would have such a connection. It wasn’t just the fact that hearing the rules made it special. You already felt protected just by wearing it in general.

You looked up at Calum and watched him smile gently. There were no intentions behind this. He was pure, polite and sweet.

You looked down at your phone and your eyes widened realizing the time.

“Shit,” You cursed, “I have to get to class.”

You almost had to push past him to get inside, hurrying towards the hallwasy but not before watching him over your shoulder smiling. 

[salty-star-child]

Tell Me Lies, Tell Me Lies

[so my brain is torturing me for three reasons. Reason 1: I’m obscenely late with the last four Michael Guerin Week fics. Reason 2: I’m have the very last prompt finished, but my brain decided I need to do a complete overhaul of the other three so they’ll be even later if I wait. Reason 3: I’m posting out of order because fuck it. oops.]

read on ao3

             Max was dead.

             Really, truly, can’t-wake-him-up-but-try-it-anyway dead.

             Michael can’t sleep anymore. Not without seeing his mother behind glass in a building about to explode, and Noah and Max facing off in the hallway in front of her. His mom’s words echo in his head, a constant stream of ‘I love you’s, a stark contrast to Michael’s desperate begging to Max that he needs to get the hell out before everything goes kaboom. But Max always ignores him (or maybe he could never hear Michael in the first place). Then Max would defeat Noah and turn to Michael with a smile.

             That’s where everything always goes up in smoke. The detonation has reached zero, the building shakes and Michael’s ears ring, and everything is too warm and numb. Michael always survives the explosion, for no reason other than it’s a nightmare. He’d pick himself up off the ground and the first thing he really sees is Max. Lifeless and prone among the wreckage, next to his mother, like he’d been one of the prisoners the entire time.

             So, yeah, Michael can’t sleep. Sue him.

             Instead, he decided to do what he always does: drink and forget.

             He made sure to come during the usual rush because Maria wants to talk, which is the last thing Michael wanted to do. He just wanted to get drunk, flirt a little some other guy’s girl and have a reason to fight after the guy throws the first punch. It’s Michael’s MO.

             He downed three tequila shots, a couple glasses of whiskey neat, six beers, and a raspberry lemon drop cocktail by the time Sheriff Valenti arrived to escort him and the tourists he’d fought with out of the bar. Michael has a split lip, his nose is bleeding, his knuckles bruised, and he can still taste blood in his mouth no matter how much he spits. He may or may not have bit his tongue at some point. The other guys look about as well off as he is. He knew for a fact he broke one of their noses—he’d made a smartass comment about it when he’d heard the crunch and groan.

             Michael’s the only one thrown in the drunk tank though; another drunk and disorderly on the books. The tourists aren’t nearly as fucked up as he is and instead pay a sizeable fine. The sheriff is clearly disappointed in him. He’d managed to stay out of the tank for long enough that she’d hoped meant he got his act together. The sheriff’s lecture is brief and stiff.

             It reminded him of Max.

             The sheriff largely ignores him after her lecture, tells him to sleep he’ll have to sleep off the alcohol unless he has someone else that she can call, because Max and Isobel aren’t around to take him home. She, like everyone else in town, believe Max is off helping Isobel through the devastating and sudden loss of her husband. Isobel suggested the cover and Michael had rolled with it, because it meant getting Max back…somehow. He needed to believe they could and if the damn cover story helped him do that, so be it.

             He’s half-conscious still when he heard the sheriff talking on the phone, and a tinny, slightly distorted, version of Maria’s voice coming through it. Great. She did not sound too pleased with him. She was definitely leaving him here for the night. He doesn’t really register the meanings of the words that are being spoken until the sheriff glanced over at him, confused and intrigued, and Michael catches the name.

             Alex.

             That got through his drunk addled mind, fog lifting just enough for the pleasant anticipation of seeing Alex to be squashed by the dread of seeing Alex. Michael was at his lowest, surliest, ugliest…he didn’t want the other man to see him like this. He wanted him to see him at his best, or at least better than this.

             The call with Maria ends, but Sheriff Valenti doesn’t put down the phone. Instead she started dialing another number and Michael feels his stomach twist with the need to throw up. He dry heaves, trying desperately not to throw up on the floor of the drunk tank.

             A trash can was thrusted under his nose. He doesn’t think twice about gripping the sides and letting the mix of alcohol and bile burn the back of his throat. His eyes water and nose stings. He retches, and retches, until there’s nothing more to expel. He used the back of his hand to wipe at his mouth.

             “Two calls? I thought criminals only got the one,” Michael said weakly, attempting a smirk. The sheriff raised an unimpressed eyebrow.

             “All I had to do was say you were drunk before Captain Manes said he’d on his way,” she said. Her voice was that careful kind of emotionless that makes Michael suspicious. He can’t tell if her lack of further questioning sets him at ease or pushes him to the edge.

             It seemed she was waiting for him to respond, and he was waiting for her to just ask her goddamn question. The result was sitting in a tense silence. Michael decided to lay back on the bench and covered his eyes with his arm. One of many avoidance tactics he’d learned over the years.

             Then, before Michael could realize time was still passing, Alex was there. Alex was there, with a gentle hand pushing sweaty curls back from his forehead and helping him sit up. His vision was spotted as he reorients himself. He pushed himself to his feet, unsteady but upright, and avoided Alex’s worried gaze. Alex’s hand never leaves his shoulder, acting as a guide and reassurance. The hand feels cool to his overheated skin, even through the fabric of his shirt.

             “C’mon, Guerin,” Alex mumbled into his ear. “Let’s get you to the car.”

             Michael insisted on walking on his own two feet, that he’s fine, but Alex and Sheriff Valenti hover anyway. It annoyed him and he told them as much. Alex had snarked back, the words going in one ear and out the other, but the general meaning of suck it up ringing loud and clear. His foot ends up slipping while he pulled himself into the passenger seat, and he fell backwards into Alex. A grunt and sharp intake of breath was enough to even let a drunk Michael know he’d hurt the airman. No doubt the sudden additional weight put too much pressure on the prosthetic.

             But Alex doesn’t say anything about the pain. Neither does Sheriff Valenti as she helps adjust most of Michael’s weight off Alex and into the seat. Alex started to try to buckle him in, but he tugged the belt out of his hands and mumbled that he’d do it himself. The other man sighed but nodded and made sure all limbs were inside the vehicle and away from the door so he could shut it firmly.

             The window was rolled up, which made the conversation the sheriff started muffled and mostly incomprehensible, but she dismissed something which made Alex’s shoulders drop in relief. Michael hadn’t even really noticed how tense the man had been until he’d relaxed.

             Alex got in the car, buckled up, and drove out of the small parking lot without a word. The radio wasn’t even on to fill the heavy air between them. It was a deliberate choice, Michael knew, because Alex loved listening to music and letting it fill the silence. This was stifling, suffocating in a way to induce conversation. He hated that it worked, because he rolled his head to the side to look at the airman’s profile as he pleaded:

             “Tell me that you hate me.”

             Alex glanced at him two, three times, trying to get a good look at Michael’s face and keep his eyes on the road at the same time.

             “What? No, Guerin,” he said incredulously. “Hate is…the exact opposite of how I feel about you. I’m angry and upset with you, but—I don’t think I could ever hate you.”

             “Why? You should,” Michael grumbled, looking down at his should-be-scarred hand. “How many times’ve I lied to you? Pushed you away jus’ as much as you walked ‘n I never—I never thought about tryin’ to follow…”

             “Guerin,” Alex sighed. His voice was sad, defeated.

             Michael hated it.

             “’n I said we’d talk ‘n stuff, made you wait but then I ditched ya. I went and kissed your best friend. You should hate me. Why can’t you just hate me?”

             “Because I love you, Michael,” Alex answered, voice still sad and defeated but with a confidence behind the words that took Michael by surprise. “I would’ve preferred you to be sober when I said it, but I think you really need to hear it right now. I don’t care how you think I should feel about you because I know how I feel about you. I don’t hate you, not for pushing me away. Not for lying. Not for leaving me waiting all damn day, and not even for Maria.

             “We both make mistakes. We’re only people—we aren’t faultless, or perfect. Maria’s my best friend, and she’s wonderful, and I can see why anyone attracted to women would be attracted to her. I don’t hate you for it. Just…angry and hurt.”

             “You really should hate me…because that was the point.”

             That has Alex pulling over to the side of the road and putting the car in park. He doesn’t turn to look at Michael, just stares ahead, but his hands are still on the wheel and his knuckles are turning a bright white. He’s quiet, waiting.

             “I really do like her, ‘m attracted and stuff, but…I also knew it’d hurt you. I was so fucked up and broken and empty that night, everything was just too much, and…and all I could think about was Caulfield ‘n you ‘n some shit Max said when he decided to heal my fucking hand…everything just hurt, and all I could think about was making you hurt too. How fucked up is that, right? I love you so much and all I could think about was what was going to hit you the hardest and make you feel the way I was feelin’.”

             Michael isn’t sure when he started crying, just knew that he was. Alex, however, has his eyes squeezed shut, mouth in a firm, thin line, and jaw clenched. He’s taking deep breaths, and they’re both shaking.

             “Yell at me, hit me. Something, anything,” Michael whispered into the air, voice rough and cracking. “Tell me you hate me, please, just—say that you hate me. Just, just lie ‘n say you do, I don’t care…I don’t care if it’s a lie.”

             Alex doesn’t say anything at all, just turns the car off and unbuckles his seat belt. He opened the door and walked around the front of the car to open Michael’s too. He doesn’t look at Michael as he gestures for him to get out and follow him into the desert. Honestly, he probably shouldn’t. But it’s Alex, so he followed. Only once they’re surrounded by nothing, the car a long way off and barely in view, does the airman turn and look at him.

             “We’re going to scream, same time, at the universe,” he said with such finality. “The world is cruel, and so are people, and life’s not fair. Sometimes, you just gotta scream about it and let it all out on the universe so you don’t let it out on the people who love you.”

             Michael eyed him warily but nodded anyway.

             Three…two…one—

             They scream. They scream until their lungs hurt, scream some more until their voices are hoarse and throats sore. They scream; about Max, about Jesse, about psycho alien serial killers, about faulty Wi-Fi, about misplaced car parts, about forgetting to get another box of his favorite cereal. They scream until they’re a hysterical mess of giggles, serious frustrations dwindling to minor annoyances and trying to see who could think of the silliest reason to scream at the universe.

             By the time they finish screaming, drawing in heavy breaths and holding their sides, Michael is feeling much less intoxicated. Still in no shape to drive or make any thought out decisions, but in enough control of himself again that he’s aware and here and, more importantly, able to stand on his own two feet without the world spinning out from underneath him. Which is good, because Alex is starting to very noticeably favor one leg over the other. But Alex is as stubborn as he is and denies the offered help (though he doesn’t complain when Michael helps him anyway).

             The walk back to the car is slow—he kept his eyes on the stars, using his peripherals to watch for any increased pain in Alex’s micro expressions. While screaming had certainly relaxed him, it made him no less frustrated or confused. The airman’s quiet presence soothed his tumultuous emotions as much as it furthered his frustration.

             Because Alex should hate him. But he doesn’t.

             When Michael finally gets back to the airstream and he’s laid back on the small bed, he tells himself that he doesn’t believe Alex. He tells himself that Alex really does hate him. He lets his lies become a lullaby for hours until eventually his eyes are too tired to stay open.

             He fell asleep and entered the same nightmare he���d been having since Max died. Only, there’s a new addition.

             Alex is there, behind glass the way his mother is, and his voice overlaps hers as the countdown begins.

             I love you.

             But you’re mine!

             I love you.

             You’re a miserable liar, Guerin

             I love you.

             Noah. Max. Kaboom!

             Michael jerked awake, shaking and gasping. He can feel the dried tear tracks on his cheeks. His chest and lungs burned. Alex had been right after all; he really was a miserable liar.

[blackasteriia]

Isa

@lunsai​ ☾

He didn’t want to tell anyone about this but when you’re sick with what feels like bronchitis for a month it’s hard to hide away and have no one but the most important person to you notice. Xion found out long before Lea did, which Isa was sure bruised his poor heart, about Isa being stuck sick & once word traveled they were all like one united, powerful force to get him to finally see the doctor. He wish he hadn’t seen the damn doctor. 

After they had gotten home, after Xemnas and Isa had their moment of self-reflection and resolution, Xion was the first to know again. This time it wasn’t happenstance but because she had a precious skill that Xemnas urged Isa to utilize, but the idea of Isa asking Xion to save his life after the destruction he caused to her own heart seemed so laughably ironic. Ironic, and yet he did it anyways.

He would beg her, even get on his knees if he had to, just so he had the chance to breath again just like everyone else. He didn’t even know if her powers could replace scar tissue and mend an unbending ventricle, if she could erase the damage of having his body ripped apart twice over as well as the genetic trap he was trapped inside of along with his father. 

His father had died of a heart attack at 40, Isa was ten years younger than that -- if he had lived a normal life, how long could it have lasted? With a harsh swallow he cleared his throat, blinking away tears for his unfortunate circumstances, and turned to look away from Xion. 

“Please,” Isa let out, attempting to smother the way it croaked out and remained resolved even when he was begging to live. “If you could help me, then please, help me. I have... I can’t, die. I can’t.” 

He stops, biting his lip and looking at her finally. “It’ s only been a few years since got it back, I have so much I need to do. So much that I’ve built with hi--” He swallows harshly. “No one wants to die, you know? I don’t want to.”

Xion noticed first. The coughing, the physical weakness and pain, the way strength and vigor seeped from Isa’s body as though he were poisoned. Xion dealt primarily with trauma injuries: broken arms, cuts, wounds, sprains, lodged objects, etc. As per the the requirements of the infirmary. She left the difficult diagnostic and prognosis work to Even; Often following his guidance. By no means Xion’s training was complete, but she was learning and as Even put it, she had an eye for detail. Perhaps she had encouraged Lea to encourage Isa to the doctor. Then Xemnas’ request to her and then Lea’s request, and then this. 

Xion sat at her desk in the infirmary, papers spread-out, files spilled and a half-drunk mug of coffee sitting cold by her computer. One arm draped over the back of her chair, looking-up to where Isa loomed over her. He was near dead on his feet and about to fall over at any second. 

Saïx was five years away. The final scar, a gift from his claymore, stretched still over the skin of her back. On rainy days it stretched painful; But blank ink flourished in flowers and delicate lines hid it. In that time she met isa, a quiet, pitiful man; Who was in many ways gentle, filled with regret and fear. She watched Lea and Xemnas fall in love in part; Could see the fractures in their still new hearts to see Isa’s literally break. Forget all that shit, forget the occasional nightmares that haunted her, even if compassion did not move Xion, reason would. 

Even made her promise, even as he renewed his own vow, to do no harm. Beneficence, maximize pleasure, minimize suffering. Xion was proof of the wrong path that medicine could turn down. Even as a little girl, still playing with cures and crying over hurting wounds, Xion had always known her intentions. The world was cruel to her, she knew what it was like to have a back turned to her, a door closed in her face. She would never turn someone away, never let her pride swallow her tongue: Never say no to those she could help.

She stood, chair sliding out from beneath her.  

“Of course, you know,” Xion began. “That the left side of your heart is failing. The left ventricle pulls oxygen enriched blood from the lungs for the rest of the body to use.  Because it is weakened and not doing its damn job, blood will build in your lungs, causing your coughing fits. It will cause edema, swelling in your joints and ankles. Overtime the chance of your mortality will increase, decreasing your quality of life. If nothing is done? You will die an early death.”

She repeated what Even told him. All so they were on the same page. Xion glanced down at her desk. Her old knife, attained during her first journey after leaving the Organization was laid by her keyboard. She had been using it to clean her fingernails earlier. A little black steel thing with a sharp edge and worn blade. She picked it up, sheath and all; Perhaps her arming herself didn’t make Isa feel much better, but she was thinking of a point.

“Now, if we made a list,” Xion said, her hip braced against the edge of her desk. “Of impossible things that could never happen when we met eight years ago at Castle Oblivion, me helping you recover from heart failure would probably be right at the top of it. Here’s what I’d put at second--”

Xion unsheathed the knife and for a second regarded the blade, eyes half-lidded. Then she touched the edge to her palm and nicked her skin. A short slit that bled crimson blood. Xion pulled a tissue from a box on her desk and wiped off the blade before laying it back on the table. She presented her hand to Isa, she felt no pain and continued casually:

“You saw me,” She murmured. “I had no eyes. No bones, no organs, no blood; I was just human shaped magic. When you called me a puppet, you were right. And yet, here we are, I am bleeding.”

Now she met his eyes, emerald green to black obsidian. Her hair was cropped and styled by a professional, dressed fashionably in a halter top, dress pants, and a lab coat. She appeared twenty-one but she was actually no older than eight. Somewhere in the midst of a college degree, apprenticed to the most intelligent men and women of the generation, and a guardian of light. It was quite the resume. Xion took pride where she could.

Only looking back did she acknowledge that there were a lot of places where she got lucky. Where kindness helped her along. All those people who stepped-up after the end of Xehanort’s plans to guide and take care of her. People who opened their doors to her, people who taught her what it meant to be human. Isa was one of them, as absurd as it was, the way he reached-out, tried to grow and change, make-up for his past mistakes. He learned to love, and it was beautiful, and Xion’s smile glowed when she looked at him-- because she had seen all that. 

“And now, after all I’ve learned,” Xion whispered. “I can also do this.” 

She turned-out her palm for him to see. She weaved gold and white cure between her fingers, sophisticated, delicate but exact, smelling of the rain and flowers, sweet but gentle. Before his eyes the cut healed, closing, leaving not even a mark. She departed from his side and to a nearby sink, where she watched her hands of blood. Drying her hands on a towel she returned to Isa’s side. 

“Magic is not a miracle,” Xion said. “It can’t just fix you, I can’t just fix you. Only you can do that. I won’t promise you’ll live to ninety, but sixty? Seventy, even? We can manage that, absolutely. Everyone has to die but you don’t have to die now. And maybe soon, you could walk again, even run. I’m glad you told me you don’t want to die, because that’s where we need to start. You must have the will to fight, without it you might as well keel over now.”

Xion reached-out to take his hand in hers. Just as she once did at the kitchen table. His fingers was still so thin, but weaker now, his grip evaporated, strength stolen by this disease that afflicted his heart.  Xion was once so weak, incapable of bearing the weight of even one, tiny little heart that she grew in her chest like a petri dish. Eight years, when her time in the Organization was but a sliver of her past and she was older than she was ever intended to be, she was stronger. Taller too, so much so that her gaze leveled with his. Isa could take everything she gave and run with it, never look back to say thanks, and she’d be alright with that.

“I will help you,” Xion said. “So long, as you are willing to be helped.”

[teuvoterafinen]

Not the Same - Part 2 (Auston Matthews)

Author’s Note: Well, so that trade happened and I’m distressed. So here’s a filler chapter that took me a dumb amount of time to write. 

Word Count: 2092

Warnings: Bar creeps, drinking

Part 1

The boys had planned to help you move in before playoffs started, but that plan was only as good as your work schedule was allowing. And your car hadn’t started this afternoon, so you’d been forced to take the bus. A light sheen of sweat was slowly melting the makeup off your face as you hustled behind the bar, preparing cocktail after cocktail for an unexpected wedding party. You hadn’t dared to glance at your watch, but you knew you would be disappointed the minute you did.

This was a small bar in comparison to the one that you worked at in Raleigh, but it made up for its lack in size by the quality and price of its drinks. Though it was slightly divey, it often attracted the upper echelon of Toronto society, in need of a taste of how the other half lived. Dive bars were very in.

Greeting customer after customer turned into a routine of fake smiles and laughter, your flirtatious bar ego drowning out your own personality. I deserve a Grammy for all the bullshitting I do on a regular basis, you thought to yourself as you tried to remember the ingredients for a Mai Tai. Rum, coconut rum, pineapple juice, grenadine, shit, you focused on the drink in front of you but your mind was starting to wander, as it often did on long shifts like this one. Auston said he would come over to the apartment tomorrow to help you grab boxes, but it would have to be early, before their morning skate. It had to be nearly 1am at this point and you hadn’t even started cleaning.

“Hey beautiful,” one of the men from the party called, attempting to get your attention.

“I’ll be right with you,” you responded, barely looking up from your work, giving a drink to an already drunk bridesmaid. At least their dresses were a decent color, unlike the awful floral bowties that the groomsmen had been forced to wear. You had joked earlier to the cocktail waitress that the men would have a hard time picking up anyone with those collars on.

“You don’t have to be so rude. Smile for me why don’t you?” I would rather have all my teeth knocked out than smile at you right now.

“How about I make your drink instead? Good compromise?” You said politely, not wanting to start anything you might regret, though your filter was wearing thin.

“I like feisty women, they’re more fun to break in.” You almost visibly gagged and turned to walk away to the next customer, signaling to the other, male bartender to deal with the man.

“You do realize that she’s a person and not a horse,” a deep, angered voice came from behind the groomsman that had been harassing you. “I think you should accept the drink and go sit down.” It wasn’t often that customers stood up for you when it came to the assholes that were regulars at the bar, so you looked over, slightly surprised, to find Auston, looking especially menacing.

“Oh, man, Auston Matthews, I’m a huge fan,” you heard him say with a broken voice, attempting to eat his words. Auston simply scowled letting the man take the hint to walk away. He made no move to ask for a drink, but you opened a beer for him anyway, placing it gently on the bar.

“I can’t believe men actually act like that,” he mumbled, glancing behind him. “I mean I’ve been known to hit on a girl or two, but if they aren’t interested…”

“Shit happens, I try not to let it get to me.” You sighed, taking the moment of conversation to catch your breath. People were slowing down and choosing to sit at tables as last call approached quickly. “What brought you down to your humble neighborhood dive tonight?”

“Just the humble neighborhood bartender. Kappy told me your car broke down, so I thought I would ask if you wanted some company on your trip home.” Thankful for the dim lighting, you blushed a little. You honestly hadn’t even thought about your 3 am commute and the potential danger for a young woman, especially while tired and distracted. “I would drive you, but I’ve already had a few.” He didn’t look anywhere near drunk, but you did notice a slight flush to his tan skin.

“You really don’t mind staying that late? It takes a little while to close.”

“Not at all. The place we were at was getting pretty boring anyway. I’d rather have a conversation than be at the club right now.”

“Well, thank you. You’ll get to see all the fun stuff that I get to do. Like put up with drunk assholes and make weird fruity drinks.” If it wasn’t a Saturday night you probably would have asked if you could leave just a little early. Tim, the other bartender had it under control, but you never knew what could roll in right before close. He gave you a wink and a raised eyebrow as he poured beer for the few people at the bar, gesturing towards Auston. Boy, were you glad eye rolls weren’t audible.

“I always wanted to try bartending, actually. You should teach me how to make one of those weird fruity drinks.” Downing the entirety of his beer, Auston pushed the bottle towards you. “I’ll drink and pay for whatever you make as long as you tell me what’s in it.”

“That’s a dangerous proposition, Matthews. You sure you’re ready for it?”

“Do your worst,” he challenged. It was tempting to make him drink something completely ridiculous and blue, but you liked him too much.

“How about I just teach you one of the basics. How do you feel about a Martini?”

It was his turn to blush this time. “I’ve actually never had one…”

“Even better. Do you like olives?” Smirking, you grabbed your shaker and other tools, filling it up with ice.

“Sure.” He was so focused you wouldn’t have been surprised if he took out a pen to take notes and you found yourself noticing the way his eyes narrowed in slightly drunk concentration, leaning back in his seat with one of his long legs propped against the stool next to him. Trying not to let it soak in how attractive you thought that was, you turned to grab a bottle of gin, going with the top shelf for good measure. You weren’t putting shitty liquor in Auston Matthews’ first martini.

“Alright,” you placed the stemmed glass in front of him, quickly adding ice and a splash of soda water.”

“Is that it?”

“No, that’s just to chill the glass,” you chuckled at his fleeting dejected look.

“Oh, good, I thought you were trying to tell me something for a second…”

“I picked a good gin for you, I hope you don’t mind.”

“I’m a classy guy, you know. I only drink top shelf.” The smile he threw you prompted you to turn around yet again to take a deep breath. He had to know what he was doing. No tabloid rumor could have prepared you for this amount of casual charm. Cursing yourself and your racing heart wouldn’t keep you from catching feelings. It had been a personal rule of yours for a while now to not get involved with any of the men you met through hockey. Live and learn they said. Don’t make the same mistakes twice they said. Whoever “they” were had obviously never met a hockey boy.

“Yeah, top shelf and Corona,” you chirped, attempting to recover as quickly as possible. This was really the first time the two of you had spent time together without the other guys around and you were surprised at how easy the conversation was flowing. You were in your own bubble, as much as you could be while trying to keep your eyes on the rest of the bar.

“And what do you drink that’s so much better? Natty Light?” He poked back, hitting a bit too close to home. You had indeed been that kind of party jock for most of your freshman year.

You shrugged, brushing off the comment, “There’s nothing wrong with cheap.” There was almost definitely a 2-4 of Bud Light in your fridge at home, but he didn’t need to know that. With the ingredients in the shaker, you pulled out your bar spoon to stir the cocktail, only to notice a slightly confused look on his face.

“I thought you were supposed to shake it? Like in James Bond?”

“Are you James Bond?” you said, raising an eyebrow. It was kind of nice to have someone paying attention to your work, showing interest. “James Bond drinks vodka. Gin bruises when you shake it and it affects the taste,” you eventually explained after emptying the glass and pouring the finished product in with just a dash of dry vermouth. “And there you go. One gin martini, dry and dirty.

You wanted to take a picture, he just looked so contradictory in his jeans and a t-shirt, holding a stemmed martini glass like he was sporting a full tux. It turned out Auston was thinking the exact same thing. “Do you mind?” he said, unlocking his phone and handing it to you. The lighting wasn’t on your side, but you managed a couple posed pictures and a few candids before he took a sip.

“Huh, that’s not at all what I expected.”

“Good or bad?” Slightly worried he would hate it, you handed his phone back.

“I kind of like it. I wouldn’t drink them all the time, but I feel…swanky.” He sat in silence, slowly enjoying his drink as you restocked glasses and cleaned the bar. That strange serenity of a bar after closing time sinking in.

“So, what do you think? Going to ditch your hockey career and become a bartender?” The quiet chiming of glasses served to occupy the silence as he laughed quietly, harmonizing perfectly with his deep tenor.

“Wouldn’t that be the drama of the decade?” he kept smiling, staring distracted at you as your deft hands handled and polished glass after glass. “Do a shot with me,” he demanded calmly. A hint of skepticism and reluctance crept into your features. It was way out of character for you to drink with customers.

“I don’t know, Auston…”

“Get out of here and do a shot with him,” Tim whispered behind you, picking up the slack that you had been leaving all night. “I can tell you want to.” So much for hiding your feelings. The perception of a bartender was never to be underestimated.

“I don’t know, I just thought it would be nice…” Auston mumbled, trailing off toward the end. “You really don’t have to.”

“No, no way, it’s not that I don’t want to, I just, you know.” You stopped, pulling yourself together. The nervous rambling was so typical, how did you manage to be so smooth when you didn’t care and then absolutely fall apart when you wanted to play it cool. The universe just liked to play tricks. “Let me just finish up. I’ll be done in just a minute,” you said, your words catching in your throat, nearly making you stutter. That shot would definitely help to calm the raging nerves right now. You dashed quickly from behind the bar, grabbing your coat and keys from the back room. Deep breaths, you’re totally cool, you’re totally pretty in your own slightly hot mess sort of way. Taking a peek in the mirror, you wiped the excess eyeliner away from your bottom lid. He’s just like any other guy. Fuck, no he’s not, he’s amazing.

He was standing with his back against the edge of the bar when you got back, looking at his phone. “These pictures are great, Y/N. Can I tag you?”

“Sure, get the fans going. I live for drama,” you joked, before actually thinking about it. It was probably not a great idea to subject yourself to more public criticism. “My account is private anyway.”

“Here,” he said, handing you a shot. “I asked Tim what your favorite was. I never would have pegged you as a tequila girl, you’re too calm and cool.” Nearly laughing out loud, you accepted the glass. At least one person in the room was fooled.

“Cheers to tequila girls, the Toronto Maple Leafs, and to getting up in five hours?” All smiles, he rolled his eyes and lifted his glass.

“Cheers.”

[buckyscrystalqueen]

The Ring and The Cure: Part 5

Pairings: Crowley x Reader

Warnings: Swearing, angst, fluff

Word Count: 2,467

A/N: Repost to spread it out the way it should be.

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4

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

“Daddy! Daddy!” Crowley had just enough time to spin on the spot before the little girl leapt off the stairs in the throne room and into his arms. “It's park day!” She squealed as her father grunted at the impact of his four year old slamming into his ribcage. 

“Yes, my little Candi Cane, we are going to the park today.” He huffed as he caught his breath and settled Candice on his hip. She giggled at the sound of her nickname and waved bye to the couple demons that had been in the throne room as her and her father headed back toward your bedroom. 

Crowley absolutely adored his daughter, giving her everything she could ever want or need in spades and he never once mentioned her true lineage nor did he let on to the few and far between moments that he saw when he would look at her and see a hint of your past mistake for a couple seconds. You had both been grateful that Candice was nearly your spitting image and that the only major thing that wasn’t yours was her eyes. If you were to judge by her eye color alone; however, you would think she was Sam’s daughter.

“Mommy it's park day!” Candice called out as your daughter and husband walked into the room; chatting up a storm about slides and swings. You looked up at her from the day bag you had been packing with a laugh.

“Yea baby, we are going to the park.” She squealed in joy and threw her little arms in the air in celebration for a full day out of your home in hell.

“What are you feeding her? She nearly knocked me on my bloody arse.” He chuckled as he set his daughter down on your bed, holding her hand in his knowing full well that she was going to jump on the bed like she always did no matter how many times you both told her not to.

“Oh, you know… c-a-k-e and i-c-e c-r-e-a-m.” You spelled out, not wanting to start a 4 year old hissy fit over not getting her favorite desserts at that exact moment. Crowley chuckled as he turned his body slightly to make sure his little girl didn’t accidentally jump off the edge of the bed and you pointed at him and picked up the bag. “You spoil her rotten.”

“I do nothing of the sort. I treat her as a princess should be treated.”

“Yeah, yeah. You tell me the same thing and you still won’t let me eat chocolate in bed.” He glared at you as he picked up Candice in his arms to take you all to the park.

“That is because for the sake of everything unholy, you cannot eat chocolates in bed without feeling the need to wipe your smudgy little fingers all over my pillow case because you find it amusing.” He smirked and walked over to you and you looked at the ceiling with a shit eating grin on your face. “Yes, that would be you, my Queen. Do not attempt to deny it.”

“I plead the 5th on that one your Majesty.” He laughed whole-heartedly as he pulled you into his chest; his hand coming to rest on your back side and he leaned down to whisper in your ear.

“Plead the 5th all you wish. You know if I really wanted to I could fuck the answer out of you right here and now.” He stood up immediately and forced a cough to cover up the moan that escaped your lips. “Ready my little monkey?” He asked. Candice crinkled her nose the same way you did for a moment and gave him the only thing she inherited from her biological father; the signature Winchester pout. 

“I not em monkey, daddy!” She told him as her bottom lip poked out. Crowley didn’t draw any attention to the face no matter how much it stung and he thumbed her bottom lip to make her smile instead.

“Do this.” He said as he puffed out his cheeks with air. Not knowing what she was getting herself into, Candice mimicked her father. Crowley let his cheeks fall flat and smiled at her. “See you're a monkey.”

“No daddy. You’re em monkey.” Crowley scrunched up his nose at her, making Candice giggle adorably as he put his arm around your shoulder. He gently blew in his daughters face to get her to close her eyes so she wouldn’t be sick. She squealed in laughter at the slightly weightless feeling she got as Crowley brought the three of you to a random park by a lake. When he stopped blowing, Candice looked around, screeched like a monkey as she always did twice a month on park days and began to wiggle out of her father’s arms. He had just enough time to drop her “special park necklace” (a pink hex bag) around her neck before she dashed off to the playground to enjoy the beautiful day.

“You’re an idiot.” You told him as the two of you walked over to a bench to enjoy a day without phones or distractions with each other.

“She set herself up for it.” He chuckled and you laughed and looked at him.

“Baby, she’s four! Of course, she set herself up for it.” Crowley simply shrugged and draped his arm over your shoulder.

“She will learn one day.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

“What do you want for dinner, princess?” Your husband asked as he held the children’s coloring menu up and you smiled at him lovingly as he pointed out the various food choices. This was your favorite part about park days; sitting down at a local diner as a regular family. It was your way of keeping a sense of normality in your daughter’s otherwise extravagant life and to keep her humble. She pointed at her choice politely and held her hand out for her crayons, taking only a moment to remember to say ‘pwease’ when her daddy held the crayons just out of her reach.

“What are you havin’ baby?” You inquired as you stretched your legs under the table and rested them on the booth in front of you between your husband’s thighs. He pursed his lips as he looked over the menu and his free hand fell into his lap to lazily rub your ankles.

“Darling you know I am not a fan of diner food.” He said as he read over the menu with a smirk. He looked up at you through his lashes. “I must watch my girlish figure after all.” You laughed and tapped your foot gently on his thigh. You sighed in contentment and leaned back against the booth as the love of your life gently massaged the back of your leg while you waited for the waitress to come over to take your orders.

“Part of me wishes we could do this every night but the other part of me could never give up real Italian pasta or fresh Turkish baklava… You spoil me, baby.” He smiled at you and opened his mouth to respond when the happiness fell from his face and was replaced by pure rage.

“Well it’s always interesting to see you outside of business hours, Crowley and in a shitty diner, no less.” Dean mocked as he leaned against the back of your booth. You sat up straight, dropped your feet to the floor and looked up at him; unsure of how you felt about his sudden appearance. His mouth dropped open when his eyes fell on Candice and you watched the color drain from his face. You didn’t even get the chance to blink before Crowley jumped up and grabbed Dean’s arm to drag him from the restaurant; his eyes bright red in anger.

“Daddy, where you goin’?!” Candice squeaked with terror in her voice. She was a daddy’s girl through and through and hated being left behind. Crowley forced himself to put a calm mask on to not scare his child and turned back to look at her with calming brown eyes.

“Daddy has to go talk to his friend, sweetheart. I’m coming back; don’t you worry, little one.” She nodded, satisfied with his answer and went back to her coloring. His eyes flooded red once more and he turned back to Dean. “Walk. Moose; stay with them.” As Crowley dragged a terrified, angry and mortified Dean out of the diner, Sam stepped around them and came over to you.

“Well that ought to be a fun talk.” He said, relieving a smidge of the tension that lingered at your table. You stood up, gave him a hug and shrugged your shoulder.

“I take it he doesn’t talk about her when he’s around y’all, does he?” Sam shook his head as he looked at your daughter with a small smile on his face.

“She looks a lot like you.” You nodded and sighed softly.

“She has your hazel eyes.” Sam looked down at you and you smiled. “I know. I was surprised too.” He hummed and looked back at the little girl trying to commit her to memory. “Don’t tell Dean or Crowley that I told you because it would only hurt one or both of them but you have the right to know. Her name is Candice MacLeod. Her birthday is Christmas day so she will be turning 5 this year.”

“Has it really been that long?” He asked and you nodded slowly. The both of you stood in silence for a moment before Sam cleared his throat. “Thank you.” You nodded with pursed lips and glanced up at him.

“You don't have to thank me, Sam. Shit, we had only met twice and we made the agreement together because of that. Dean was too drunk to remember not doing it and with the Mark and their budding bromance it was the smarter move to make. We both knew I would go back eventually, both knew that you and Crowley weren't on good terms and we both agreed that if this was the outcome of your one night stand with the future Queen of Hell, it would have gone over a lot smoother with Dean as the culprit over you."

“Are you ever going to tell him she’s mine?” He whispered and you shook your head.

“No, it’s too late for that. But just so you know, he does right by her. He's treated her like she was his from day one. I know that doesn't make this situation any easier for you but I figured you would feel a little better knowing your daughter was healthy, happy and loved.” Sam nodded and brushed a stray tear off his cheek.

"Honestly, (Y/N) for what it's worth... with everything Dean and I have gone through in the past 5 years, it is actually comforting to know that she is safer with you and Crowley. That's all I ever wanted; to know that my child was safe from the evils of this world and didn't have to be raised in this lifestyle like I was. I could never give her that." You gave him a weak smile before both of you turned back to Candice. You had an idea pop into your head and you took his hand, stepped toward the table and crouched down, pulling Sam down with you.

"Hey Candi Cane..." You said gently and she looked at you and smiled. You heard Sam breathe deeply at getting to see his daughter's face and his eyes completely for the first time and you squeezed his hand in support. "This is mommy's friend from a long time ago. His name is Sam. Can you do mommy a favor?" You asked your daughter, knowing that this move would be risky but worth it. She nodded and you squeezed Sam's hand in an attempt to prepare him. "Can you look him in the eye and tell him that you love him for me. He doesn't believe mommy when I told him you loved everyone in the whole world." Sam squeezed your hand tightly as a giant smile lit up his little girl's face and her eyes changed slightly from a total hazel brown to a slightly more bluish color the same way Sam's did as she looked at him.

"You gots ta listen to my mommy, Sam. I luv all the peoples in the whole wide world; specly you cuz your mommy and daddy's fwiend!" He smiled broadly at her; lost for words and visibly fighting back tears. With a smile, you told her to go back to coloring her picture for daddy as you and Sam stood up.

"Fuck... that… thank you." Was all he managed to get out before you stepped in and gave him a hug.

"I hope that didn't make this harder." You said as you pulled away and he shook his head as a few tears fell from his beautiful kaleidoscope eyes.

"Seeing her so happy with both of you proves to me that we were right in what we did. I would love to be in her life, but I know this way she's happy and safe and that's all that matters to me in the end.” 

“Sammy, let’s go!” Dean shouted as he ripped open the diner door, a look of terror and anger on his face as a very smug Crowley strolled past him. You and Sam exchanged a quick smile that said everything it needed to and he took a second to wipe away a couple stray tears before he looked at his daughter one last time. With an appreciative pat on your shoulder, he turned around and left the diner and you forced yourself to tuck your thoughts about that night to the recesses of your mind once more.

“Have a nice chat?” You asked, with a smile on your face as you and Crowley sat back down in the booth. He nodded and kissed the top of Candice’s head who was thankfully lost in her coloring once more.

“Just had to remind him of his choices is all.” You huffed a laugh and glanced out the window as the Impala pulled out of the parking lot. You caught Sam’s eye immediately and with an appreciative nod from him, the two of you said your silent goodbyes. You looked back at your husband and put your feet back up between his knees on the booth, feeling a little freer despite the lie that was told all those years ago.

“So what is Mr. Girlish figure having?” You teased as you picked up your menu again; already forgetting about the real one night stand you had in Costa Rica.

Part 6

[keplercryptids]

gone, gone, gone

(read on ao3)

Chapter 1: cumulus

Magnus falls in love with Julia a thousand times.

He falls in love with her the first night they talk until the suns rise. He falls in love with her hands: the way they tuck a curl behind her ear as effortlessly as they hoist a ladder. He falls in love with her when they’re feeding ducks at the park. A few mallards pick on the smallest one in the flock, and it makes Julia cry. “I don’t know why,” she says as she wipes her face. “Sometimes I just get like this.” And he wraps his arms around her, loving her more than he did a minute ago.

He’s young, but he never knew love could be like this. Constant growth, an expansion without end. His heart grows kinder and braver and better every day he spends with her.

He falls in love with her when he asks her to marry him, and she replies, “Shit, really?”

Laughing, he asks, “Is that a yes?” and she throws her arms around his neck.

“You’re twenty,” his mother says later, as he and Julia share the news. “Are you sure you’re ready for marriage, Magnus?”

He smiles. He’s sure.

He falls in love with her on their wedding day, underneath the gazebo that he and her father built. They say “I do” at twilight, just as the fireflies start winking and waltzing around them. Later, under the lantern-light, after they’ve eaten and danced their fill, Magnus gives Julia a wooden duck. “I carved it right after our date in the park,” he says.

She kisses him. “Your love makes me better,” she says, and—learning that it’s true for her, too—he falls in love with her again.

It’ll be a difficult two months, they know. But the money is too good to turn down. It’s the kind of money Magnus never dreamed of making; the kind of money that could turn their life around. He and Julia sit at the kitchen table, reading over the contract from the Institute. “How exactly did you get this job?” she teases, but Magnus knows it’s an honest question, one he’s asked himself many times.

“Apparently, the ship runs on the bonds of the crew,” he explains, shooting her a cheesy grin. “And I guess I just get along with everybody. I’m so damn lovable.”

“Well, I already knew that,” she says, smiling.

So they agree. Magnus will go into space for a couple months. He’ll come home with a vault-load of gold, and they’ll start over. They’ll build a cabin in the mountains. They’ll raise goats. They’ll get a few hound dogs, and they’ll start a family.

Magnus won’t let himself cry at the take-off point. It’s just two months, he thinks repeatedly. Julia walks him to the gangplank, and he squeezes her hands tightly, memorizing the feel of them, the weight of them in his. Tears glisten in her eyes, but she’s smiling. “I’m proud of you,” she says.

“I’m gonna miss you like crazy,” he tells her.

“I know. Kick some alien ass for me.”

He laughs. “I told you, that isn’t in the job description.”

“Head security officer on a spaceship, Mags? Sounds like you’ll be beating up aliens to me.”

He kisses her. “I love you, Jules.”

“Love you too. Now hurry up, before it starts raining.” She glances up at the darkening sky. An eerily motionless storm has been building overhead all morning. Later, Magnus will think the storm is what made him step onto the ship. If it had been a beautiful day, he might have stayed. If the suns had been shining down on them, warm and golden, he might not have had the strength to go. But with the threat of an approaching storm, and the way the color seems to be bleeding out of the world, as if it’s pining for them, already—he moves quickly toward the Starblaster. He glances back at Julia right before he steps inside.

It’s the last time Magnus will see her alive.

But it’s not the last time he’ll see her.

As he stands on the deck of the ship to watch their ascent, he expects to think of Julia’s hands, strong and warm. He expects to think of goats and gazebos and babies with jet-black curls.

Instead, he stands beside six people he barely knows, and he watches his world get destroyed. Tendrils of darkness shoot down from the sky. The captain’s hands are white-knuckled on the wheel as he maneuvers the ship around the columns, flying higher, higher. The storm thickens as they retreat, completely obscuring the planet within a few minutes. Magnus hears someone sobbing quietly nearby, and he thinks nothing. His mind is blank. Numb.

He turns to the captain. Words leave his mouth, coming from nowhere. “Go back.”

“I can’t get hold of the Institute,” Davenport says, as if talking to himself. His fingers are twisting the communication dials, a stony expression locked on his face.

Magnus walks over, grabs the gnome’s shoulder, giving him one quick shake. “Land,” he says.

“We don’t know what that thing is,” Davenport retorts. “There’s no way I’m flying straight into—”

“My wife is back there.” Magnus doesn’t recognize his own voice. It tears itself from his throat like a wild animal bursting free from a trap.

“We’ve all got people we care about, pal,” Davenport snaps, and he looks angry now. “If I can’t get hold of the Institute to confirm—”

“Fuck you,” Magnus snarls, and he cocks his fist. Suddenly, he’s being grabbed, yanked backwards. The Bluejeans guy and one of the elves—he can’t tell them apart yet—grab him by the arms. Merle grabs his legs. It takes all three of them to hold him back.

“I’m calling it,” Davenport says. He’s not shouting, he doesn’t even sound angry anymore, but his tone is final. Resolute. “We’re leaving.” He looks at Magnus, still fighting, struggling against the hands that hold him. “We’ll go back when it’s safe,” he says. “We’ll regroup, and we’ll go back.”

Magnus hounds Davenport for weeks. He has no interest in the animal planet, the language that Barry and the twins are learning, or the light of creation. He only cares about getting back to Julia.

Every day, for weeks, is the same. He wakes up early and approaches the captain with a rigid command. “Try again.”

Davenport sighs. “We keep trying and nothing changes,” he says. “We can’t leave. It’s not gonna work, Magnus.”

“Try. Again.”

Davenport humors him for awhile: taking off and landing a few minutes later when the sky gives them no purchase. Finally, though, he makes another executive decision. “We’ll leave when we’re able to,” he says, “but I’m not wasting fuel and time trying every day. I’m sorry.” Magnus doesn’t say a word. He retreats to his bunk. He only participates in teamwork if he’s asked. Otherwise, he keeps to himself.

One evening that year, he’s called to a meeting so they can discuss what they’ve learned so far.

“The animals have these idols,” Taako explains. “We think they’re real, y’know, actual living creatures. But it’s possible they’re just—well, the mongoose equivalent of a metaphor.”

“There’s an owl that represents wisdom,” Lup continues, “a wolf that represents instinct, and a bear that represents power. If anybody knows about the light of creation, we think it’s probably them.” She glances at Barry, who nods in agreement.

Magnus clears his throat. “You said there’s a power bear?” Lup nods. He stands up, clapping his hands. “Let’s go then,” he says.

They all look at him with surprise. Magnus hasn’t left the ship much. He’s hardly left his bunk. There are long stretches where nobody sees him, and until now, he has seemed perfectly content to let that continue.

“I think that’s a good idea,” Davenport says carefully. “We can learn a little bit more about this world, at least.”

“Whatever,” Magnus says. “I just wanna fight that bear.”

What is strength?

Strength is not leaving. Strength is never giving an inch. Refusing to budge.

What does strength mean, Magnus?

Strength means staying put.

The bear’s paw comes down like a meteor, clobbering him in the shoulder, sending him reeling and gasping in pain. As if to prove him wrong. As if to tell him, You need to move sometimes.

But Magnus can’t. He’s stuck. And the lesson about asking for help misses its mark. Needing help is pointless when the only person who can help him, who can erase his scars with a touch of her hand, can’t reach him. Isn’t here. Might be dead.

When the Hunger descends on this world—when the columns of darkness plummet down from the sky—Magnus actually sighs with relief. As if he’s been waiting for it to happen, just biding time until this world fell apart, too. Except now, he does what he didn’t do for Julia. He stays, tries to help. He scoops up wolf puppies as the rest of the crew takes off running toward the ship. He watches them go, but he won’t make the same mistake twice. He won’t leave.

With a pup under each arm, he starts running toward the nearest cliff-face, searching for a cave, a den, any shelter at all—and that’s when it happens. A black column, flickering inside with opalescent light, slams down right next to him. He barely dodges out of the way in time, and then he sees her.

Julia steps toward him. She looks different, of course. Her body is made out of shadow, her black hair swirling unnaturally around her head. Her eyes are dark, sunken, with pupils that flash bright blue, then green, then red. She looks different, but Magnus would know her in any form. He’d sense her even if he was unconscious, dreaming.

She comes closer, silent and spectral. He stops running. He forgets himself entirely. The moment of his first death is spent reaching, fingers straining, trying to touch his wife’s face.

When he opens his eyes to find himself on the Starblaster, in the exact spot where this nightmare began, he unleashes cusses at everyone in sight. He relishes how the relief on their faces turns to confusion, then sadness.

“Fuck all of you,” he says. “It’s your fault I left her. Twice. It’s this damn ship’s fault. It’s this whole fucking mission. Fuck it. I’m done.”

But of course, he can’t be.

The next cycle, he’s utterly useless until the year approaches its end. He almost never leaves his bunk; he only speaks when spoken to. But a week before the anniversary of Julia’s death, he emerges. He starts going outside regularly to look up at the sky. He waits for an apocalypse the same way some children await Candlenights.

As soon as the sky darkens and the landscape drains of its color, Magnus launches himself off the ship. Lup and Davenport try to stop him. They grab the back of his jacket, but he wriggles out of it and runs. He keeps running until he sees the Starblaster streak off into the sky, and then he stops. He stands still and waits for his wife.

He finally sees her, in the final moment before he dies. “Julia!” he screams, but the shadows seem to absorb the sound. Julia doesn’t react, doesn’t even look. Then darkness takes him.

And then he’s back on the ship. He punches the nearest wall, breaks two of his fingers, and won’t let Merle heal them.

His grief and the Hunger become interchangeable in his mind. He can’t separate the two. A few cycles pass before Barry suggests that he leave with them this time, that he occasionally try to avoid death. “We don’t know what ramifications all this dying will have on us,” Barry points out.

Magnus nods. But when the end of the year comes, he takes up his regular position outside, in the open, where the pillars of Hunger deposit their ghosts. Looking for Julia. Waiting for the end as his friends fly away. He can’t escape the stranglehold of his grief. It follows him everywhere; he can’t step onto a spaceship and leave it behind.

He doesn’t always see Julia in the Hunger. Most of the time, he doesn’t even glimpse her through the army of shadows, the descending darkness, the thick twisting tendrils filled with shifting light. But he doesn’t stay to see her. He stays as penance. He stays because this is how Julia died. The Hunger was the last thing she ever saw. What right does he have to avoid it?

He’ll die ninety-seven times this way. The one and only time he returns to the ship is while clutching a baby jellyfish to his chest, humming under his breath as he runs, dodging ghosts.

On the robot planet, he stands next to Lup in front of the soul crystal. He faces the others with clenched fists, a twitching muscle in his jaw.

“This doesn’t feel right,” Lup tells them.

Taako throws up his hands in frustration. “Why am I always the only pragmatist with you people? This world is boned!” he says.

“Go fuck yourself, Taako,” Magnus tells him. “We’re not doing this. We don’t destroy worlds. Not ever.”

And when Lup points out that they don’t know what happens to the consumed worlds, that she’s holding out hope they can reverse what the Hunger does, Magnus breaks down and hugs her.

“Maybe Julia gets regenerated each time, too,” Lucretia says to him one evening, quietly, after the others have gone to bed. Her white hair has spilled out of its usual bun, and she looks tired. She hasn’t aged, not technically. But over the past forty cycles, they all look older. He and Lucretia, the babies of the crew, most of all.

With a jolt, Magnus realizes he’s been with his new family ten times longer than he was with Julia.

He nods at Lucretia, saying nothing. If what she says is true, even more reason for him to face the Hunger each year. As many times as it takes. If Julia has to, so should he.

(Towards the end of the century, as they plot how to defeat the Hunger once and for all, Magnus will take Lucretia’s side. He’ll prefer a shield over a weapon. They’ll both be overruled by their friends, but he’s not there. Not yet.)

Merle teaches him how to meditate. They sit, cross-legged and quiet, on the deck of the Starblaster each morning. The silence between them makes a sound Magnus is certain, after a few cycles, he’d recognize anywhere. Taako asks about the meals Julia used to make, and then cooks them regularly. He tweaks them until they’re as close to perfect as they’ll get. Lucretia writes down every detail Magnus shares about Julia. “Maybe someday, reading it back will help,” she tells him. Barry and Lup write a song they title “Jules,” a melancholy tune that lilts hopefully towards the end. They perform it for Magnus whenever he asks. And every so often, Davenport tries to fly home, accelerating uselessly toward the immovable stars, and Magnus knows this is mostly for him.

In other words, his friends develop ways of honoring Julia. The person Magnus loves. A person they’ll never meet.

Magnus carves wooden ducks for Fisher, and that’s a way to honor her, too. He honors her by getting out of bed on each new planet, trying to leave it better than he found it. Trying to keep it in one piece. Looking for the light of creation to minimize the death toll. He honors her by kicking alien ass, by pocketing sprigs of lavender whenever he finds them, by sacrificing himself.

He honors her by dying, as fruitless as it seems to be.

One cycle, Taako—who usually bolts back to the ship immediately when the Hunger arrives—stays with him. Stands next to him and looks up at the darkening sky with a surprising amount of patience.

“What’re you doing?” Magnus asks.

Taako smirks at him sideways and says, “You shouldn’t be the only one to die, my dude. Not every time.” Then he grabs Magnus’ hand and holds it tight as they wait for the wave of shadows to crash against them.

He finds new ways to fall in love with Julia.

He falls in love with her every time he carves a duck for Fisher. He falls in love with her when he stargazes with the twins, as they come up with ridiculous names for constellations, because he can imagine how this would have made Julia laugh. (That’s Turducken, Lup says. Over there is Gepetto’s Biggest Mistake, says Taako.)  He falls in love with her when he leaps to the defense of someone weaker, someone he wants to protect. He falls in love with her each day that he’s forced to grieve, mourn, find a creative new way to honor her.

He even falls in love with her ghost, the glimpses he catches of it, marching in an army that stretches across the universe. At least he still gets to see her face, after all. That makes him luckier than most. He tries to love that luck, and the fact that he loved at all. He tries to hold onto his love, let it guide and shape him. He tries to love the places he ends up because of it.

And he still does penance. Nearly a century after losing his wife, Magnus still attempts to balance the scales.

His relic is about atonement. Most of the others aren’t very interested in the items they create; after all, they wield the very power that they imbue into their relics. Merle is already as connected to nature as he can be. Lup shoots fire out of her hands to light the stove in the morning. Davenport can build whole illusory cityscapes just for kicks. Barry’s skills helped him and Lup achieve actual eternal life. And Taako is the best transmutation wizard the universe has ever seen, or at least has the confidence of one. None of them are actually tempted by the objects they create.

It’s different for Magnus and Lucretia. Lucretia practiced for years to create a shield spell powerful enough to challenge the Hunger. It’s sacred, for her, this ability—and it’s one she can only wield with the help of the light of creation. It’s a Plan B, Magnus knows. A failsafe.

And Magnus—he deliberately creates an item that tempts him. An item that taunts him. An item that he’s dreamed of for a hundred years: control over time, the power to go back. All so he can resist it, refute it. This resistance, this atonement—it’s yet another way to honor Julia.

It’s taken nearly a century, but Magnus has accepted his path. The reason he left home, the reason Julia died, was so that the Hunger could be defeated and the multiverse could be saved. This reality brings him no comfort, no joy or pride. He doesn’t feel good about Fate. He merely tolerates it, lets it settle like cement inside him, the way truth often does.

The chalice is a reminder that no decision is easy. The chalice is a vow to Julia that he’ll never stop trying to do good. The chalice is a grieving husband, standing alone in a storm of shadows, choosing death because he can’t save his wife. The chalice pulls at him so that he can say, Yes, I want you. I remember. Thank you for reminding me. And then keep trudging along down this path.

A year passes. The Hunger doesn’t come. The relics wreak havoc on a world that isn’t theirs.

Lucretia comes to his room late one night. She doesn’t say hello when he opens the door, doesn’t say anything at all as she pushes past him. She’s buzzing with an unfamiliar energy, and it makes him nervous.

He’s come to think of Lucretia as a sister, as though they’re twins of a different kind. Not synchronous and mirrored, like Taako and Lup. Not half as celebratory in each other’s existence as that. But he and Lucretia share a quiet kinship all the same, a somber harmony with one another. So much of it is because of how the rest of the crew has seen them. How they’re still viewed as the babies of the group, while at the same time shouldering the heaviest burdens. Lucretia, to chronicle their lives, document their trials and triumphs, immortalize them so that maybe—just maybe—one day they’ll be remembered. And Magnus, to remember his wife. To make sure she’s never forgotten, at least by seven people in the universe. To carry the weight of her memory, all on his own.

As soon as he closes the door again, Lucretia turns to face him. “I have a plan.”

“Regarding…?”

“You know.” She stares, her gaze as intense as he’s ever seen it. “Taking back the relics. Putting up a shield. Starving the Hunger.”

Magnus thinks to argue, at first. They made a deal with the others. They got overruled. They’ve enacted this plan; they have to live with the consequences of it. But then he thinks about the war raging below. Just yesterday, another village was decimated. He thinks about the chalice. The way it haunts him. It was supposed to tempt him. He took for granted that it would tempt others. That it might actually be used. That it might be used and he will never know.

So instead of arguing, he hears himself say, “I can’t believe I put that cup into the world.”

And Lucretia is silent for a little while, before she blurts out, slightly breathless, “I kept the staff.”

Magnus inhales deeply, slowly. He feels the dizzying sensation of being on the cusp of something. Of teetering on a ledge with no way down but to jump. He has the briefest flash of a memory. Dark clouds overhead, a silver ship waiting. Warm hands in his. He exhales.

“Tell me your plan.”

[jeremichal-archive]

and if you weren't him, would that be such a bad thing

honestly, i just missed writing for my boys and i had to live up to my username, so here’s some good old angsty jeremichael. i hope y’all enjoy & don’t forget to let me know what you think! 

WARNINGS: Swearing PAIRING: Jeremichael, past Raychael

Michael hates him in the exact same way he hates Ray.

No note. No warning. A missing car and an empty apartment. It’s two years ago all over again, and Michael can’t help but wonder if it’s his fault; if he’s the problem. Once is just shit luck, but twice means Michael’s just made to be left behind.

He made a mistake with Ray. That much he knows. He didn’t chase, didn’t see the need to when he was so fucking sure he’d come back. Blind faith; blind hope - all it got him was heartbreak and an after-thought message from Barbara saying that Ray’s new girlfriend is “super amazing, Michael. You need to meet her!”

So yeah, this time, Michael does everything he can. He calls his mobile; disconnected. He calls his burner phone; abandoned. He asks Gavin to track him; gone. He sends out a message to everyone in Los Santos and prays for something back.

Find Rimmy Tim, and bring him back alive.

&&&

It’s three days after, when Jack asks, “Maybe he got himself into trouble?” As if Jeremy’s a cat stuck up a tree.

“And he left to protect us?” Gavin adds, and Michael desperately hopes that he doesn’t crack a molar from the way he’s clenching his jaw so fucking hard.

Ryan leans across the kitchen table. His mask is off, but then again, his face paint does a good enough job replacing the loss. “It’s possible,” he hums and Michael’s pushing himself out of his chair before he realises it. The legs scrape against the hardwood floor - a sound not unlike nails down a chalkboard - and four sets of eyes snap to him.

Afterwards, he’ll regret not just keeping his mouth shut. But in the moment, the words tumble out before he can stop them.

“You’re all fucking idiots if you think he cared about us for even one damn second.”

&&&

His old apartment smells like Ray.

It’s why he sleeps at the penthouse. It’s why he still pays its rent. It’s why he hasn’t set foot in the place in about a year.

The last time he was there, he wasn’t alone. Now, the thought just makes him feel sick.

“You sure I should be here, Michael?”

“You don’t have to stay.”

“But you want me too…?”

Jeremy looks so much smaller than normal, hovering uncertainly just outside the doorway. Michael stares back at him, wishing he could tell what was going on inside his head.

“You’re not his replacement, you know,” he mutters, just in case, and Jeremy rears back as if he’s been hit. “You smell nothing like him, for one.”

“Oh…”

His old apartment smells like Ray. The penthouse smells like Jeremy. Michael just can’t seem to catch a fucking break.

&&&

Five days after, it’s obvious that Geoff picks the short straw, mainly because he shoulders his way into Michael’s room at 5 pm. His suit jacket is off, and the top three buttons of his shirt are popped, but he’s still everything that Michael looks up too.

“You’re taking this the hardest, aren’t you Michael.”

“And what, you’re not?” he hisses back, tucking his legs back up and under his blankets. If Geoff thought to look hard enough, he’d see Jeremy’s stupid purple and orange doona peaking out; but either he doesn’t see it, or he lets Michael have this one because he doesn’t comment.

“We are, Michael. Of course, we are… but it’s just- I’ve seen you like this before-”

“Shut up,” he growls. The air around them crackles and Geoff levels him with a look full of pity. “Get the fuck out of my room, Geoff.”

He does, but not without hitting him where it hurts the most. “He’s coming back. We’ll get him back, Michael. It’ll be different this time,” and Michael hates the hope that blossoms in his chest.

&&&

Michael’s smart enough to know that it won’t work, but the pathetic side of him? Well, it’s desperate enough to demand that he still tries. So he puts in the number. He hits call.

It rings.

It rings.

It rings.

Someone picks up.

There’s a moment where he’s stuck in limbo. Sat outside on the pier, head tipped back to face the sun with his phone clutched between his fingers. He pretends it’s both of them, or that it’s neither of them, waiting for him to speak first. Schrodinger’s phone call.

“Where are you?” he asks, because he’s desperate and tired, and so fucking alone. He’s still got Gavin and the others - but they were both something so different, something else and Michael misses them so fucking desperately.

No one answers, but Michael can hear the steady sound of breathing on the other side.

“Are you safe?” he whispers, because he’d throw himself into the damn ocean right now if it meant Jeremy would come back. If it meant Ray would call him. If it meant he wouldn’t have to keep losing the people he loves.

There’s no answer again, and something inside him snaps a little bit. He clenches his hands into fists by his sides, pressing them down against the old wooden pier.

“Did I do something wrong?” he pleads, because once is just shit luck, but twice means there’s something wrong with him, there’s something wrong with him, there's something fucking wrong with him-

“No,” Jeremy whispers and Michael slumps back, feeling his head collide with the hard floor at the same time the line goes dead.

&&&

Seven days after, Michael wonders how he managed to survive the first time.

Ray leaves in Spring and it’s sometime around Autumn when it finally sinks in. He’s not coming back. Ray’s not coming back tomorrow, today or in three weeks time. Ray’s gone, and so are all the promises he made.

“You want to get married one day?”

“No.”

“... Not even if it was to me?”

Ray glances at him over the top of his DS and his eyes look pitch black without the screen illuminating them. Michael does his best to hold a straight face because laughing would give Ray the opportunity to take his words as a joke and he doesn’t want that.

“If we’re not dead by the time we’re thirty, then sure.”

“Sounds like a good plan to me.”

It would be funny, something that he could look back on and joke about with Gavin or even Jack, if it weren’t for the ring he’d purchased, buried in the back of his closet once upon a time ago.  

&&&

In a way, Michael hates Gavin too.

It wouldn’t be hard to add him to the list - the godforsaken list of damaged people that Michael loves - but then again, ignorance is bliss and Michael would rather just keep pretending.

At least this way, when Gavin shows up to the penthouse covered in lipstick marks and that goddamn lovestruck smile on his face, he can pretend it doesn’t hurt. When Gavin asks him if he wants to get bevs, only for Lindsay and Meg to be there when he shows up, Michael can pretend he’s not jealous.

Because Gavin was almost a mistake; he was almost a mistake in the same way Ray was. The same was Jeremy currently is. A habit he can’t seem to break, falling for someone who doesn’t have the emotional capacity to love him back.

It his own brand of torture, one more effective than anything Ryan could ever think to dream up himself.

&&&

Two weeks after, Michael gives up.

It’s three am when he crawls under Jeremy’s empty bed sheets, pulling them up and around him - suffocating himself in Jeremy’s scent. It’s three am when he shoves his face into Jeremy’s purple pillow, letting his tears turn the colours more black than purple. It’s three am when Michael loses all hope that Jeremy will ever come back.

It’s like losing a part of himself. A perfect 5”4 hole. Open, raw and destroying him from the inside out.

But.

But.

It hurt so much more this time.

Why does it hurt so much more this time?

Ray’s hurt. Ray’s still fucking hurts. His best friend left him. His best friend up and fucking left him, with no warning, two days after Michael took a bullet to his shoulder. There was nothing, no explanation, no apology. It was just Michael, a few empty promises and a cheap kiss that didn’t mean as much as he thought it fucking did.

But Jeremy’s? Jeremy’s fucking kills. Jeremy’s tears him apart. There was something there; he was so sure of it. It was an almost. An almost lover, and almost boyfriend. A person Michael thought he could trust. A person Michael told everything. From the reason why he keeps his old apartment, to the fucking ring he brought six weeks after Ray made that promise. He was almost everything he needed, but then he fucking left.

So Michael gives up. Jeremy’s not coming back. Ray’s not coming back.

Maybe he’s just built to be left behind.

&&&

He gets a text message from a burner phone. Gavin tracks it for him and he learns very little, but it’s enough. Purchased in Austin, Texas; paid for in cash.

Can we meet?

Impulse makes him want to text back ‘no’, but he doesn’t. He just stares at it, as the rest of his crew stare at him. No one dares to interrupt the silence that’s settled around them, but Michael wishes they would. The kitchen’s never been so eerily silent before and it makes him uneasy.

Geoff puts a hand over his hand; Michael manages not to flinch. “You don’t have to go. We can send someone else, if it- if it’s too much.”

“It might not be him…” Ryan mutters and Michael can hear how much it hurts him to say that. He knows they’re all hurting too. Being apart of the crew means being apart of a family, so Jeremy leaving hits deep in all of them.

He stares back down at the phone. There’s a slightly visible tremble to his hands that he doesn’t bother trying to hide. “I gotta try,” he whispers and Geoff slowly pulls his hand back, “doesn’t matter how small the odds are, I gotta see if it’s him.”

Where?

&&&

His apartment, ironically enough, sits on Innocence Boulevard. It’s a four-story building, with one dodgy fire escape and a back alleyway that Michael absolutely hates.

It’s the last place he broke something, his fist after punching the fucking brick wall. It’s where he and Ray kissed for the first time. It’s where he had to explain to Jeremy that his place in the crew? it wasn’t merely temporary. Bad things happen in that alleyway, which is exactly why he sits on the front steps of his building and waits for Jeremy, an ambush, whoever’s coming to meet him there.

At five to three, Michael stands. There’s a slight tremor to his whole being, but it makes itself known the most in his legs. They shake, and it’s enough to force him to lean against the wall.

At five past three, a car pulls up at the curb. Michael knows that car. He’s ran heists in that car. He’s joy ridden in that car. He’s crashed that godforsaken fucking car before. He’s the reason why the back bumper is black and not orange. He’s the reason it has a stain on the back seat.

And he’s never been happier to see that stupid fucking car.

At least… he was, up until the moment two bodies climb out of it and Michael’s heart stops beating.

&&&

Jeremy makes the first move.

He approaches the steps slowly, like he’s approaching a wild animal ready to run, and Michael doesn’t blame him. Especially since he’s got one hand on the door handle and the other out in front of him, trying to tell the world to stop.

“Just… give it ten minutes?” he whispers, coming to a stop on the bottom step. Michael stares at him. It’s only been two and a half weeks since he saw him last, but God, it’s felt like years. He looks the same, but somehow entirely different and Michael realises it's because of the look in his eyes.

Fear, apprehension, insecurity and a little bit of guilt. It’s like he’s just joined the crew all over again and Michael hates it. He opens his mouth, ready to say something, but the words die on his tongue. It doesn't help that Jeremy’s already stepping back, making room for Ray, who's stuck hovering awkwardly by the car.

Neither of them makes a move. It's a stalemate. Both of them not quite sure where they stand with the other.

“You flew all the way out here with me, Ray,” Jeremy mutters in the end, cutting through the tension in a way only he could, “and I know you didn’t do it just to stand on the sidewalk the whole time.”

Ray turns his gaze to Jeremy.

“Maybe not,” he mutters, “but it would be a hell of a lot more easier if I did.”

&&&

The second the door swings shut behind Ray, Michael’s moving towards the kitchen. He doesn’t care if Ray follows. He doesn’t care if turns around and walks right back out onto the street. All Michael cares about is dousing the fire that’s ignited inside him with alcohol. It’ll make things worse, he knows, but he can’t fucking find it in himself to care.

He pours himself a glass of whiskey and downs it in one swallow. Ray makes a face. Michael pours himself another.

“So Jeremy left, to go get you,” he hisses, sipping it this time. The alcohol does a good job of masking Ray’s scent; both the one that lingers in his apartment and the entirely different one that belongs to him now.

“He told me that you needed- you needed me.”

“He lied. You can leave. Sorry for wasting your time.”

“Michael.”

Something catches inside him, and the burning in his veins turns into a full-blown forest fire. “You don’t get to ‘Michael’ me,” he hisses, spinning around to meet Ray head on, “you left. You fucking left. No note! No reason! You left me all alone and I-” his voice cracks. Ray looks guilty, for what Michael guesses must be the first time in his entire life.

“I didn’t think you’d take it this hard...”

He sets the glass down just a little bit too hard, and the sound resonates through the room. Sharp and obnoxious, just like the anger inside of him. His face feels hot, and it’s either the anger or the alcohol that’s staining his cheeks red.

“Don’t lie to me. You knew exactly what would happen, how I’d feel.” He leans his hip against the counter. “You aren’t stupid Ray, but you are selfish and cruel. I always pretended you weren’t, but we both know who you are and what you’re capable of.”

It only takes a second for Ray’s posture to change and Michael watches him snap upright. He picks at the fabric of the couch lazily, from where he’s balanced on the arm precariously. “We were killing each other-”

“Try again.”

Ray sighs. “Okay. You were killing me. You expected so much from me Michael. You wanted so much. You wanted a happy family, you wanted a boyfriend and a husband and the whole shebang. I couldn’t give you that and I knew you wouldn’t take no for an answer.”

“You think I would have forced you to be with me?” he asks, frowning slightly. The anger drains out of him slowly, and then all that’s left is that all too familiar hollow feeling.  

“No, not in the way you’re thinking,” he mutters, looking up at Michael, “you wouldn’t have made me be with you, but you would have made me stay with you, Michael. I couldn’t do that. I couldn’t stay- I couldn’t-”

“Yeah. I can see that now.”

&&&

He tells Ray to send Jeremy up and in after him and pointedly ignores the look that flashes in his eyes. He waits for him on the couch at first, but the nerves get to him and he ends up pacing around the apartment. When the door opens, he’s halfway to pouring himself another glass of whiskey, just to do something with his fucking hands.

Jeremy hovers in the doorway again and deja vu washes over him. He stops. Jeremy licks his lips. Neither of them move.

“You-” he tries, but the words fail and Michael has to look away to keep himself from crying. He sucks in a deep breath, staring at the tattered wallpaper while he pretends he’s alight.

“You left-”

“-I-I was coming back!” Jeremy interjects and Michael holds up a hand.

“You left… to go find Ray… for me?” he finishes. Jeremy slowly nods and Michael takes one step forward. “Why?”

“You brought a ring for him, Michael. You’re in love with him. I was just trying- I wanted-” he looks away, gazing dropping to the floor like he’s waiting to be scolded. Michael swallows around the lump in his throat.

“You could have told me…”

“And what?” Jeremy replies, shrugging slightly, “leave you disappointed when I inevitably failed? Have you tell me not to stick my damn nose in places where it doesn’t fucking belong? I didn't know if-” he stops. Michael takes another step forward. It’s a year ago all over again, but this time Michael’s more prepared.

“You didn’t know what?” he asks, sucking in a breath and holding it. Jeremy shuffles on the spot, looking anywhere but him.

“I didn’t know if I was allowed-” he sneaks a glance a Michael- “no, I mean- I didn’t want to- Michael, you have to understand,” he pleads. He runs a hand over his head and Michael can see the red scratches he leaves behind in wake of his fingernails. “I just didn’t want to overstep any boundaries, and I know I should have asked, but- but you were just so- and I wanted to help! And- and- I’m so fucking sorry,” he babbles, his breath coming out in quick huffs.

“I messed this up, didn’t I?” he whispers, like it’s a secret. Like it’s the end of the world. Like he’s just realised what he’s done. “I shouldn’t have tried to- I just wanted to- I thought it would work. Fucking hell, fuck, fuck!”

He makes the move to do it again, ready to drag his nails across the top of his head and Michael can tell it’s going to draw blood this time. He wants to stop him, wants to stop Jeremy from hurting himself.

So he does.

He reaches out and catches Jeremy’s wrists, holding them down gently. Jeremy instantly freezes, and whether it’s from the touch or the proximity, Michael doesn’t know.

“You’re not his replacement, you know,” he whispers and Jeremy squeezes his eyes shut, face scrunching up. It’s a tell and one that screams to Michael that he’s hit Jeremy so close to home. “I know you think you are, and I’m honestly terrified that you still believe that if Ray comes back, we’ll get rid of you… but we won’t.”

“Michael…”

“Listen to me,” he pleads, squeezing Jeremy’s wrists and waiting for him to open his eyes first before continuing. “Yeah, I brought him a ring. And yeah, I was gonna ask him to marry me. But Jeremy, three days after I told you about it, I realised I didn’t need it anymore and I threw that fucking thing off the pier. Do you know why?” he asks. Jeremy stares back at him with wide eyes as he shakes his head, and Michael licks his lips slowly.

“Cause of you.”

“What? I- I don’t-”

“I- I know I loved him, and maybe I still do-” Jeremy flinches- “but not in the same anymore. He’s different and I'm different, and it doesn't matter how many times you bring him back for me, he’s still going to leave again. The thing is, yeah it hurt like hell when he left, but Jeremy, it felt so much fucking worse when you did.”

He lets the words sink in. He waits for Jeremy to react, but all he does is stare down at Michael’s hands, eyebrows furrowed. “I didn’t think you’d…” he mumbles, words trailing off.

“What?” he whispers back, “notice? Care? Of course, I care, Jeremy. Of course, I fucking care about you…”

He waits for a moment. Jeremy’s chest rises and falls in quick succession and Michael runs his hands up Jeremy’s arms, settling just below the elbow. “I don’t want to do this wrong again,” he continues, “I don’t want to make the same mistakes twice, so if I’m being too much or if I’m ‘killing you’ then please tell me-”

“You’re not,” Jeremy hisses, head instantly snapping up, “you couldn’t.”

He lets out a harsh breath. “You’re not his replacement,” he says again, and Jeremy sways on his feet, gravitating ever so slightly to Michael. “You smell nothing like him, for one.”

“And that's a good thing?” Jeremy asks, and the look on his face is so open and vulnerable that Michael feels his heart skip a beat.

“Yeah, it is,” he mumbles, and then he’s surging forward to kiss him and Jeremy happily meets him halfway.

&&&

Michael wakes up with a body lying along the length of his, and a face pressed into the crook of his neck.

He doesn’t dare move.

It’s much nicer just to enjoy the moment. The way Jeremy’s breath skitters across his skin. The way he can feel the other man’s heart beating steadily against his. There’s no worry that he’ll wake up to an empty room. There’s no threat of heartbreak when he’s got Jeremy right there, sapping his warmth from his body like the thief he is.

He lets his hand move slowly, tracing the length of Jeremy’s spine; following along all the bumps and dips. It’s only when he moves in to kiss the shell of Jeremy’s ear that he gets a reaction.

“Go back to sleep,” Jeremy slurs and Michael laughs softly.

“What time is it?” he questions, turning his gaze towards the window. Light seeps through the gaps in the curtains, but it’s not enough for Michael to believe it’s time to get up. Plus, even if it was, he wouldn’t dare disturb Jeremy. He waits for a reply, and when it doesn’t come, he slides his hand down Jeremy’s side to rest on his hip. The gentle lulling of Jeremy’s breathing makes him close his eyes, and it's hard not to give into Jeremy’s advice.

Before he completely goes under though, he presses his nose into Jeremy’s neck and breathes in.

He smells like apples and gunpowder. Michael loves it.

[cc-kouga-blog]

These Are The Days 4/9

For @quietrook

Adam got swept into Orientation Days so it was two days later that he found the box shoved under his bed. He thought it was an empty one he forgot to put away, but as he pulled it out, he noticed that it was heavy. Adam gasped in delighted surprise when he saw the contents of the box. He took them out and marveled at each one.

A metal pencil case which contained mechanical pencils, pens and highlighters of all colors. A white mug with a raven in flight printed on the side. Stack of notebooks and writing pads. The toy car from Ronan’s bedroom. Several jars of the hand cream Ronan dreamt up for him. A photo album which he set aside to look at later. A leather messenger bag. A gray zip up hoodie. A set of deep green bed linens with a matching quilt that smelled like forest after the rain. And at the very bottom, a black box with a note attached on the lid.

Adam opened the note and grinned as he read it.

‘Something to help you sleep. I know you’re not gonna get much of it since you’ll be up all night doing shit.’

Adam lifted the lid and laughed. Inside, were Ronan’s sleep shirts. He took one out and brought it to his face. It smelled like Ronan and Adam had to fight back the tears prickling at his eyes. He shrugged out of his shirt and put on one of Ronan’s instead. He grabbed the photo album and started to look through them.

The first page only had a picture of a forest. It took Adam a while to recognize it as the forest surrounding The Barns. It was a reminiscence of Cabeswater and it gave Adam a twinge of loss. The next page had a group pic of the five of them. Adam couldn’t remember when the pic was taken, but in there Gansey had one arm slung around Blue’s shoulder while Henry clung to the other. The three of them were sporting cheerful smile and facing the camera. Ronan were standing next to Blue with his arms crossed over his chest. He was scowling at something off camera. And next to Ronan was Adam.

Oh.

Adam had to take a deep breath as he saw himself. He was looking at Ronan with an expression he didn’t think he could make. He had a soft smile on his face and there was no mistaking the adoration in his eyes. Adam looked at Ronan as if he hung the moon. Honestly, it was embarrassing to look at, but Ronan looked at him the exact same way, so Adam guessed they were even.

The next page finally made Adam shed a tear. It was an old and faded picture of Noah, taken when he was still alive and vibrant and more. Noah was wearing his Aglionby uniform and for once it was unwrinkled. There was no smudge on his face. His eyes still held youthful innocence and his smile was a happy one. This was Noah before.

Adam ran his fingertips across Noah’s face. ‘Remembered’ he thought hard, hoping it would somehow reach Noah.

The following pages were full of faces Adam held dear. Opal, Ronan and Chainsaw in front of the Barns. Blue with her hair clips and colorful skirt. Gansey reading a book. Henry wearing a Madonna shirt. More pictures of Opal and Chainsaw, more pictures of Ronan, there was even one where he was sleeping, his mouth slightly open, face relaxed. More pictures of the gang doing various things with various expressions. A laughing Blue, a scowling Gansey, a pensive Henry, a pouting Opal, a flying Chainsaw and a smiling Ronan. Pictures of the Fox Way ladies, of Matthew grinning while holding a sign ‘You’re the best Adam!!’ with Declan in the background talking on the phone.

There were pictures of Nino’s, Boyd’s, Aglionby Academy, 300 Fox Way, Monmouth and St. Agnes. Pictures of the abandoned parking lot where Ronan and Adam pulled their reckless stunts, the Dollar City where they did their groceries, the gas station, the stretch of dirt road where Ronan taught Adam how to drive stick. There was a picture of the Hondayota parked between the Pig and the BMW. A picture of a moving dolly and a shopping cart. And on the last page was the picture of Henrietta’s welcome sign side by side with a picture of Widener Library. Underneath both, Ronan had written; ‘What matters isn’t where you’re from. It’s where you’re going.’

Adam closed the album and held it close to his heart. Inside this album were Adam’s home and family. Inside this album were all of the good memories he had of Henrietta. Above all that, it was something Ronan did for him. He imagined Ronan running around Henrietta, collecting pictures and taking some of his own. He might have even dreamt up some of them. In that moment, Adam Parrish realized that the one standing at the centre stage of Ronan’s attention was himself. This was what it felt like to be the object of Ronan’s affection. Such gentle devotion and selfless loyalty.

Adam picked up his phone and send a single text to Ronan.

‘Thx for the box. Loved it.’

Adam didn’t wait for a reply. He put away everything that was inside the box then went to sleep surrounded by Ronan’s smell and happy memories. When he woke up in the morning, there was a text waiting for him. He opened it and smiled. It was a selfie of Ronan in bed, wearing Adam’s shirt. His visible hand had the middle finger raised.

‘Whatever Parrish.’

As it turned out, apart from the photo album, everything else were dream things. The pencil never ran out of lead, the pens and highlighters never ran out of ink. The notebooks and writing pads were stain resistant, Adam once spilled coffee over his notes and had three seconds of panic before realizing that they were as pristine as before. The messenger bag never got full no matter how many books Adam shoved inside, but it still got heavy so Adam tried no to carry too many. The mug kept whatever liquid inside warm throughout the day, which was very convenient during the cold days. The hoodie kept him warm even in the middle of winter, same with the quilt. And the shirts never lost their Ronan’s smell.

It might not look like much, but Ronan’s dream things made Adam’s college life so much easier.

***

The first month after Adam left for college, Ronan spent most of his time dreaming up new Cabeswater. It was still a seedling, not big enough to really be anything. Ronan refrained from pulling it out of his dreams. He didn’t want to rush either, he wanted it to be better and safer than the previous one.

But he couldn’t spend all his time dreaming and since he was already living in a farm, he decided to look into the farming business. In some ways, it was easy enough. He had the land and the funds. In other ways, it was complicated. He had no real knowledge of how to properly run a farm.

So between late night Skype calls with Adam, dreaming a new Cabeswater and teaching Opal the English language, Ronan signed up for an online Farmer’s Academy. He did well enough, since he could learn at his own leisure. There wasn’t any boring classroom where he had to sit and listen to the teacher drone on and on about topics that didn’t interest him. It was another plus that he could do it while lounging shirtless on his comfy couch with a bottle of cold beer within reach.

He had a plan to start a farm and Adam was enthusiastically supportive. Ronan knew that Adam was honestly excited for him, because few days after he brought it up, his boyfriend sent him a reading list suggestion and links to some online resources.

‘Nerd.’ He texted.

‘Farmer boy.’ Adam replied.

***

Adam was qualified for the need based financial aid that Harvard offered and it reduced his tuition greatly. He didn’t have to pick up three jobs just to get by. He still needed income though, so he picked up a part time job at the library and another at a small café not far from campus. Once or twice, he helped his entryway buddies who had car trouble. Words got around and Adam found himself to be the go to guy whenever a car emergency cropped up on campus. He declined monetary payment, but happy to accept book store coupons or box of pizza. One of the student he helped hooked him up with her uncle who owned an auto shop where Adam was able to pick up some shifts on the weekend.

His jobs took most of his free time, but he still had some left for social life. Sometimes he hung around the common room with his dorm mates or played frisbee on the quad. Sometimes he went out to watch movies with his new friends. Mostly, he stayed in his room to Skype with Ronan and Opal.

On one outing with his friends, they went to a hole in the wall burger joint. It was situated between a video game store and a tiny shop that sold candles and incenses. Adam felt a gentle tug in his belly when he passed the candle shop. Out of curiosity, Adam followed it all the way to the back of the shop. He ended up in front of a shelf full of small jars, delicate glass bottles and other trinkets.

On the middle row, was a deck of Tarot cards. A rising tide of nostalgia washed over Adam. Memories of Persephone’s wild hair and soft voice filled his mind. With trembling fingers, Adam touched the deck.

There was a spark.

Without hesitation, Adam picked up the deck and brought it up front to pay. The man behind the register was slightly older than Adam. His whiskey brown eyes widened slightly as he took in Adam.

“You have the spark.” He smiled knowingly as he rang up Adam’s purchase.

Something in the man’s demeanor told Adam that this man familiar with magic.

“Uh, yeah.” Adam replied as he paid, not entirely comfortable with the admission.

The man took out a black velvet pouch from a drawer and gently slide Adam’s deck inside. He put the velvet pouch, a small candle and a business card inside a paper bag.

“The candle’s on the house. It’s great for calm and concentration.” He nodded sagely to Adam.

“Thanks.” Adam took the bag and his change.

“Thanks for your patronage.” The man grinned.

“Anytime.” Adam half smiled and exited the shop.

When he got back to his room, he took out the velvet pouch and just held it in his palm. He had returned Persephone’s deck to Maura and Calla, thinking that it was of no use to him anymore. But this deck. It had felt right in his hands. Like it was meant to be handled by his bony fingers.

Adam took the deck out and went through the cards carefully. The back of the card was a deep emerald green. The illustrations weren’t elaborate, only minimal drawings, clean lines and neat fonts. There weren’t many colors either, only varying shades of green and brown.

This deck was simple, Adam could get on board with that. He concentrated for a moment, focusing on a question, then he shuffled the card and fanned them out. He let his right hand hovered the spread and deftly pulled out three cards that felt right.

He turned them, one by one. The Fool, The Magician and The Lovers.

Adam smiled and packed up the deck. It seemed like he still had a touch of magic left in him.

[syll-simpsss]

Okay, so first of all, I apologize for posting this, because this isn’t exactly related to this blog and is more of a personal thing, but I just badly needed an outlet right now. This is pretty long and can be triggering for some (maybe), so please please keep off if necessary.

So, here it goes. When I was in my high school (not gonna mention the year, but that year was the best in the beginning - my favorite, actually - but it spiraled down at the end), our class got divided because of an issue involving the level’s top student, Mitch (obviously not her real name) and something critical that I already forgot. I should remember it because it also involved me, but now that I think about it, I can’t seem to remember the reason. Mitch was close to everyone, the entire school to be exact. She was so outspoken and free-spirited that it could be pretty annoying sometimes because you just couldn’t follow her lead (especially for someone like me who spends 36 hours a day fantasizing about my fictional boyfriends and their boyfriends). The people in our class didn’t exactly like her. They would say mean things behind her back, organize class meetings without her, etc. She wasn’t even elected as class officer, because there was some sort of rivalry between her and one of my other classmate, Cam (a nickname) who was her friend since they were elementary students). Cam was also close to everyone, but only to those in the same year as us. There came a time when Mitch became particularly close to me, despite us having different circle of friends. Not really close close, we’d just talk about books (she was not into animes and mangas), the past lessons, school competitions, exams, and anything academic related (god we’re such nerds). She would push me and my friends to join intraschool competitions, would sometimes study with us before our exams, spend lunch with us, etc. She was really loud and could be distracting sometimes. 

Later on that year, the class openly went up against her. I think it was some love rivalry thing that sparked it. It could’ve been before of after our Christmas party. I’m not really sure about the exact date, but I remember it was that season. I think she liked someone who was already dating another person. The people in my class said she was bullying the girl through texts, and that girl was in my circle of friends and the guy was in Cam’s. Then, one day, this issue got outed during one of our class meetings (Mitch wasn’t there of course, we were told not to inform her about it). It was petty how we were ganging up on her. I wouldn’t go into details about that meeting, because I couldn’t remember what we actually talked about during that time, nor if we actually talked about something important. But after that meeting, I began to feel like everyone was giving me these weird looks, even those from my circle of friends. And then I learned from my best friend that the others were blaming me about Mitch knowing that the guy was dating my friend, because I was “close” to her, so of course I was the only one who could’ve told her. I didn’t know how to react at that very moment. It was lunch, we were in the comfort room (aka where every girl’s secret gets outed). I felt so lost and I was waiting for my best friend to like blast it off as a joke, but she didn’t. Mitch hadn’t been spending much time with us, because she was preparing for the school elections (for our next year) in which she ran for president. (To clarify things, we elect the student government officers at the end of the year, and they serve the office the following year.)

Everything escalated later on. My classmates would ignore me, even my friends wouldn’t look me in the eye, only some of them actually remained with me. The class would have secret meetings without Mitch, but the next day she would know about it, and everyone would blame me for being the tattletale. I don’t even talk that much in person, nor do I ever use my phone. The only person I was most comfortable with that time (and always) was my best friend. There also came a time when everyone became forward and verbal. One time we were getting our books from our shared shelf. One of my classmates asked my friend if she could get hers, because she couldn’t reach it from where she was. When my friend gave it to her, she told her thanks and added: “Unlike someone here, who has a really bad personality.” And then my friend looked at me, and I met her eyes, and I knew at that very moment that my classmate was referring to me and that my friend also knew that it was me being referred to. Up to this day, those words still haunt me, and whenever I see that person (even once or twice at the church), I would feel this hate creeping up in me because I didn’t even do her wrong, and I would hate myself for hating someone because I don’t want to feel like that. I don’t want to be like them. Some of Cam’s friends would also ask me questions (though not in straightforward manner) about the matter. Our teachers also sided with them. During those secret meetings, our adviser would mention about the “telltale” (she even gave it a nickname which I decided to just keep to myself) who looked like an angel but is actually a devil telling those who weren’t present about what was happening. I tried my best not to let them get through me. I needed to maintain my class standing, because that was all I could do to lessen my parents’ burden of paying for my tuition fees. I was second in the entire year by a small margin, because I’ve always hated participating in class recitations. I hate speaking a lot, and I love writing more, so I made up with what I lack using that. Although, later on, when the year was about to end, one time our teacher got mad, she told us that who she was referring to all those times were those who couldn’t keep to themselves (pointing particularly to Cam and her friends) those who blame others for their own mistakes. But I didn’t believe her, because the very first time she mentioned the telltale, I was looking at her for confirmation that it wasn’t me like how the others were telling, that I was just being paranoid as fuck or some shit like that, but when she met my eyes, she immediately averted them from mine, and never looked at me again. I remember hoping for a hole to just open up under me and swallow me whole, so I could just disappear. And when I was home I just locked myself up in my room and cried as quietly as I could, because I didn’t want my mom to worry about such a stupid thing.

The following year, we got this weird arrangement where the 3 - 5 students with the highest score would help the teachers check the others’ papers. I would always get the highest in my homeroom teacher’s subject and a few others. I really enjoyed that class, because there were activities which made me think and actually participate in recitation (because it was necessary or else we would stand during the entire class as punishment lol). Then there was this guy on Cam’s group (he was gay and straightforward, and he was the first and only gay person I hated in my entire life, because I always end up crushing on gay guys tbh but that’s not the point-) sitting behind me who would blatantly gossip with his seatmate about how I only got good grades because I suck up to that teacher, how I don’t deserve being 2nd best, and how the one next to me (another from my circle of friends, but we were not really that close) deserved the position more. I was so so close to punching him straight to his face screaming at him about how he should just study instead of wasting his time with his disgusting way of thinking and making up rumors. Though, those weird thoughts would sometimes circle my head: like if I actually deserved it or not. I got some of my confidence back when the guy got moved to a different section the following year. 

On our last year, I couldn’t and wouldn’t look them in the eye (Cam’s group including her), and pushed through the entire year thinking about how I wouldn’t see them anymore after that year. And didn’t see them I did.

There were a lot more that I wanted to add but these were some of the points that mentally and emotionally affected me greatly, that even up to this day I would create different scenarios in my head about how everything would’ve gotten if I just spoke up. It could go wrong or it could go right, but at the very least I could’ve fought and stood my ground, I could’ve not felt defeated. But I didn’t. I was afraid. I was a coward. I thought more about becoming the person the people around me wanted me to be. Even now, there’s still that suppressing part of me. I also developed this weird habit of calculating if a person is real or not the first time I meet them through their expressions, the way they talk, their gestures, etc. I had told my college friends about this. That day, I had a panic attack and went home. They accompanied me to the railway station and was about to accompany me home, but I told them no and guilt-tripped them about how they’d be cutting class if they did. XD I could still remember the way my hands shook, my voice, and the cold sweat when I recounted everything to them. The next day, they welcomed me as if nothing happened, just asked how I was feeling, and I realized that there are those people who just don’t give a fuck about your lame backstory and just accepts you for who you are. (I haven’t told my parents about this yet, and I don’t know if I could, but I definitely would. I should. I knew they’d stand by me, but I just don’t want them to hate people in my behalf.)

[ts-akhmim]

Episode 9 | “Autumn's World”- Jakey

ok i really wasnt going to make a post tribal confessional because my last one was so long but like i have to get this off my chest... can i just say the irony is NOT lost on me that im the one who got the power to visit the pre jurors and plead my case on who i think they should vote for and......they voted for ME???? at least that's what my common sense is telling me because almost no one said anything to me during my trip there so... i doubt they voted amir because im pretty sure liam did? like..... this game is REALLY starting to make me extremely self conscious like wtf i literally havent even met half of these people and the majority of them voted for me without even knowing me.... has my whole life been a lie? am i not actually the bomb dot com?? like i dont think im this amazing person or anything and obviously i know not everyone is gonna like me but WHAT is it about me that's clearly so polarizing with people and NOT in a good way... first people in the game i didnt know wanted to vote me out now people i dont know want me out too do i have a sticker on my forehead that says hate on me? like trust and believe i hate myself enough i dont need yalls negativity too ! maybe im just too ahead of the times for certain people.. at this point i dont care, im a tough cookie and i guess im a little mean and judgemental so this is just my karma but whatever, pity party over, i guess you know you that bitch when you cause all this conversation zzzzzz

okay so i filmed two video confessionals while walking the dog but i think i just flipped the captain vote?! i truly do think i just flipped the captain vote while walking the dog which is so exciting. i knew voting jordan was stupid to scorn him for no reason, so i decided tj would be better, spoke to who i needed to speak to, and now its happening hehe [the two videos i filmed should explain why i did what i did]. this is the first time this game i felt like montenegro ali is not gone completely - i set a goal for myself and i made it happen. now no matter what this season i can be proud that i made something happen hehe. tj's target is gonna inflate like a balloon now hehe. the way i did it was i spoke to autumn first, who i knew also had the connections with the beauties who would need to be flipped, then talked about my reservations with jake/devon/augusto. i knew autumn would push tj, and i just got to sit back and here them all say tj to me?! i feel so proud that i made that happen tm, now we have a scapegoat set up. i think update so: Ideal Bootlist: Kendall > TJ > Jordan/Augusto > Jordan/Augusto > Duncan > Amir > F5: Me/Autumn/Jake/Devon/Adam Ranking as a Juror: autumn > jake > amir > duncan > jordan > augusto > devon > adam > tj > kendall

okay so... i think as a consequence of the trust rankings, i think i'm now set up very well to be shielded by both my closest allies, jake for his idol play and autumn for the perception of her as someone who runs the tribe. ideally next two votes are maybe kendall then tj? idek

im gonna say something, that i NEVER say and im gonna OWN IT. . . .. .... IM A DUMB BITCH. ok i say that a lot but THISSS time i really mean it, ive been playing this game so short sighted and completely narrowly, focused on getting these old beautys out for almost voting me out in the beginning, and today i find out, that little old ME is the one who's actually been the president of the clown academy smh obviously, i do still think i was semi valid in not trusting any of those 3 at first, but today, amir approached me finally to clear the air, because like i said before, the reason ive had no interest in working with like him or augusto was because i knew what they were plotting against me, HOWEVER .... i guess i lacked some common sense that shouldve told me well look at it from their perspective, it's just very hard for me to trust when i was lied to so, i know for a fact someone went to amir and probably told him i wanted him out last round instead of liam, and i also learn that the REAL CLOWN OF ALL THE LANDS IS DUNCAN. I had a call with jordan today, and he basically spilled the beans that duncan wants my head on a silver platter?? first of all, duncan, you're a fool. I was completely on your side and actually trusted you, so thanks for nothing! I would not be surprised if he was trying to go to amir to plan to vote me out I also talked to autumn on call today and she confirmed that to me as well, and it made me feel a lot better because i think duncan thinks that IM overconfident in the game which is NOT THE CASE...have yall seen my confessionals??? is it or is it not tea that all i do is sit and guess multiple scenarios for my paranoia...granted i KNOW im a diva and i have fits and my moments, but i genuinely try not to get comfortable, so the fact that HE thinks he can get comfty and get me out, boy you got another thing coming because i may not know what the HELL im doing 85% of the time but i think that's one of my best traits, im a wildcard and elusive and adaptability is what i try to go for more so than being that person in charge, because clearly anytime i think im in charge, thats NEVER the case... and congratulations because now there's an angry adam on the loose and duncan is now my biggest target out of no where. Funny how so much can change in less than a day huh? at this point i literally trust no one i feel like im at the liar convention of the century, i want to say i trust autumn, jordan, and kinda ali the most but idk anymore. I feel like Jakey is 100% in with duncan to get me out too but idk i dont have any proof, just a conspiracy because they both messaged me at the exact same time after ignoring me for hours so it made me think they had a call together of some sort and talked about me I'm kinda upset with myself because every time i play i do this stupid thing where i refuse to look at the bigger picture, and im glad there's still enough game left i can kinda start to snap out of it and see where it takes me from here, even though ive played twice and done decent placement wise both times i feel like i have a lot to prove as far as people just thinking im an idiot and will never catch on to things, and i definitely think duncan thinks im an idiot now but you know what, ill let him think that because the fact that people are letting me in on things, shows me i must be doing at least something right ....although it could get tricky, because i really do love autumn and me and her both agreed jordan is a huge threat down the road, but jordan is also on my side right now so i need to treat carefully with that i also need to get to WORK on connecting and mending my relationships with amir/augusto, at this point all i can do is try and be honest with them about whats been going on and hopefully they dont rule me out, BUT ... in my slight defense i never wouldve been so against them if they just owned up to it and not lied to me over and over again in the beginning xoxo but i do hereby take away all the SHIT ive talked since like..... day 7 dajfks ok last thing i want to touch on is im STILL confused why no one trusts me in this immunity challenge i got second to last after KENDALL..... like all shade at myself yall are giving me WAY too much credit... they all still think im stacked with idols and advtantages and even though i MAY have cracked the pyramid im not good at solving shit so FUCK 2048 FOR GETTING MY WAY OF GETTING THIS IDOL 

just called with amir for ages and he was 100% misting me but i'm at peace with it he is super sweet.

Adam, welcome to your tape. im not even sure where to begin .... ive never YELLED at a gay in my life like this... that gay being ME.... so here i am, having a breakdown going boo hoo hoo for me thinking people must just HATE me for whatever unknown reason, only for me to find out I UNKNOWINGLY GAVE EVERYONE A REASON DHAJKFDHAJKD rewind back to survivor auction....obviously i knew with an anonymous auction people were ALL gonna start lying about what they really got and what not ... however, im sure none of them were STUPID ENOUGH TO TELL A BLATANTLY OBVIOUSLY FALSE FABRICATION LIKE ME I LITERALLY DIDNT EVEN THINK ABOUT IT ... SO I JUST WANTED PEOPLE TO THINK I WAS AT LEAST TRYING FOR IMMUNITY SO I TOLD EVERYONE I BID ON THE IMMUNITY NECKLACES THEN WHEN I DIDNT GET THEM I WENT FOR THE ADVANTAGE, MEANWHILE NOT USING COMMON SENSE AND REALIZING IF I BID ON THE NECKLACES....I WOULDNT BE ABLE TO BID ON THE CHALLENGE ADVANTAGE i literally pulled a cirie trying to play officer sarah's own steal a vote against her but no not really because cirie is a LEGEND and im just a DUMB DUMB. AT LEAST CIRIE CAN SAY SHE WAS PHYSICALLY AND MENTALLY EXHAUSTED WHICH IS WHY SHE MESSED UP BUT WHAT CAN I SAY?? ive never made such an idiotic mistake so obvious before.... i was probably high so ill blame the weed for some of it but mostly just me being dumb. ive been sitting around DRAGGING people for lying to me and now here i am lying right to everyone BUT IN MY DEFENSE.....it really is such a MINUSCULE lie but considering i devoted my entire first part of my game to being against people for telling me the tiniest of lies, i must look like SUCH a hyprocrite but one thing about me is at least ill own it, however, im now one of the biggest and easiest targets in the game because of what ive done so it's time to come up with something real quick (but not another lie NO MORE....) i completely deserved #9 in that challenge but dhfakj its time to completely change my game because now no one is gonna want to work with me and it's my own fault, im a dead fish being asked to come back to life, im gonna have to find a way to play this off or even just come clean and hope it doesnt completely screw me.... but wait..... i just got 9th on all these people's lists and completely lied to everyone and.....somehow they decided to let me have immunity??? what the HELL is going on? i mean logically speaking if im the biggest target here now why not keep me around because im so stupid, at first i was just trying to ACT dumb but that i actually am just dumb, it makes it a lot easier that's for sure! so yeah .... gonna lay low for a bit and not dig myself in more holes

tj and jordan really. really. think they can vote autumn out to scoop me up? like do i look like a sheep, do i look like a clown? because i do not have wool nor do i have a clown wig on. im so done with jordan he can pretend and preach till the cows come home that we are working together and that threats need to stick together.... but actions 100% speak louder than words, and his actions are nothing but shady so

yall: confess! me, who's already made 10 confessionals per round and the 1 person yall weren't talking to: ok sure ! anyway im still an idiot just a tiny update, ive decided to come clean about that damn auction even though everyone already knew oop, lying clearly wasnt working for me even tho i got immunity so maybe it did work in some sick and twisted way??? I really just tried to play it up by telling everyone that i only did it because i have trust issues and didnt know who i could really trust until after the vote, which is kinda true, but obviously my lie was just stupid nonetheless like GOD i literally couldve been in a better spot by being honest all along, but its like.....i willingly stopped in the middle of the race to put a hurdle in front of myself.... but anywho, as long as i have immunity this round, it gives me time to do damage control and see if i can salvage any of my game dafshkj I also talked with amir and augusto finally both on calls separately, to bury the unnecessary hatchet ive been holding onto, amir really did make me feel better about everything between us because he actually apologized because he was able to admit that everything that happened....was literally their own fault ctfu, like had they just been honest with me, we wouldve moved on, but i NO longer hold any ill will towards them about it from a game point, i liked being able to talk with augusto again too because i really did genuinely feel like he was someone i really wanted to play with, and i just dont want to be against the only other 3 brown gays in the game like me and autumn had such a long and great talk about the RACIAL bias in survivor YEAH i said it. I think we should have that conversation. As far as the vote goes it's actually kinda crazy to me....autumn was just talking to me earlier about wanting jordan out because he is definitely a threat, and she's somehow single handedly gotten everyone on board to do it which is scary but im just like....in awe of watching her play like i truly believe talking with her is the reason i won immunity, and i truly think if i didnt have this immunity i would be the one leaving because of my damn big mouth and my own antics. but jordan's kinda been on my side giving me select tea, however i know for a fact he's been holding out on me, but voting him out is still absolutely gonna suck for me tbh, im gonna feel like a bad person, but if there's anything ive learned the last 24 hours of this game is that whatever, this is truly just a game and i need to stop being so overtly sensitive to everything and play smart from here on out. I cant beat jordan in the end. He also just has more loyalties to other people than me so, the plan right now might be to vote him out and he might think it's autumn so he doesnt do anything crazy? i mean part of me WANTS to let him in on the tea just so he can cause chaos but it would get back to me....and im not sure him staying would benefit me enough to piss everyone off, so for ONCE watch while i sit back and shut up

I should have done this yesterday, but I guess I'll spill now. So yesterday was easily the worst day of this game so far for me. I was taking the LSAT, which I thought would give me some amount of a break from being talked about, but it turns out that everyone is going to vote me to be Captain. That part doesn't bother me AS much. What bothers me more is that Duncan and Autumn, who pent so much time genuinely connecting with, apparently turned on us to work with the Beauties over the alliance me and Jordan had with them. I understand that Autumn and Ali are close, yes, but I really thought the connection I had made with those two would allow them to at least stand up for me when people threw my name out there for Captain and have Adam voted as Captain WHEN HE WANTED TO BE IT! And then I choose to save the Bottoms. I wanted to do this not out of revenge, but in order to have a potential in with the Beauty trio of Augusto/Amir/Kendall (on top of if I save the Tops, there is no way I win immunity). So I go with my gut, and then Jakey tells me there was a chat made with the Tops about how to get Adam/Amir/Augusto or some duo of those three safe in spite of my choice. So Autumn of all people, who we went to the same fucking university, decides to vote me out of spite. That just sucks so much to know because I genuinely thought I was going to work with her and Duncan. I truly thought there was something there. And now I feel I have to start back from square one. The day has come where I think I want to work with the Beauty trio; three people I've never been on the same tribe as, but at least they understand the situation I'm in since they have a similar one. Now we can hopefully prevent this stupid Brawn vs. Beauty grudge match that the Brains had created. No more. The Ginger is done being Mr. Nice Guy. I won't sit around any more and let people take advantage of my kindness. I want to win this fucking game, and I intend to do exactly that.

This is likely the most 'dangerous' round I have been apart of. Jordan/Duncan/Autumn/TJ have been involved in an alliance for quite some time. At 8:58pm EST (2 mins before the deadline), I jumped on and asked who I should eliminate. Instead of anyone telling me publicly who to eliminate, it was Duncan of all people who privately messaged me and said to eliminate his buddy Jordan. Since then, I have had the opportunity to talk to a lot of people. I exposed the alliance to those I knew could play a role in breaking it up. For now, the plan seems to be Jordan. However, almost everyone knows about it, and idols/advantages could come into play at any point. Duncan should be safe for now, but his time is coming. I just need to be able to time everything. 

Kendall, if you see this I just want you to know that I love you so so so so so much! I know these people for whatever reason don’t give you the time of day but it’s because of that that they don’t see just how amazing you are! Your crown is slipping ma’am, but don’t let it because you’re a queen and I love you tons <3

If I had to sum up this round, I would say that overconfidence is a weakness in this game. Just look at the MESS that has transpired this round. 1) Autumn pushed for Jordan a LOT as she was in a power position 2) It ended up falling on TJ due to Duncan initially voting that way and Autumn telling others to do that 3) TJ decided to save the bottoms instead of his alliance members for some reason 4) Duncan thought he could do the most and veto my immunity to “save” Jordan only to get Devon to do it instead so his hands are clean 5) Autumn and Duncan tried to control the entire round 6) Jordan thought he could pull a fast one on Autumn by approaching people to blindside her despite not building connections with a lot of players… BASICALLY, people need to humble themselves a bit. I understand that in these games, everyone thinks they are the smartest person here but like… these people tried to have their cake, ate it too, and then threw it up and caused a mess. It’s just… wow (‘:

While I would love to blindside Autumn soon, I’ve wanted Jordan Pines out since I got to the merge because he is a dangerous player. Going into the round, I didn’t see it as a possibility given that I alongside Autumn and Amir were the only people to feel like Jordan should leave. But now? He’s Public Enemy #1 and I’m all for it. Getting Jordan out helps me a lot because now I can possibly have TJ on my side, Autumn trusts me now more than ever, Jakey and I are getting closer, Duncan did all this craziness only to have the person he tried to save leave so he’s a target, and yeah… it just is in my best interest to do so so that’s what I plan on doing.

Ngl, I played victim this round because everything that has happened to me has been because of me being scapegoated in one way or another. Granted, I did tell Kendall and Amir to place me low on their lists but I’m sure I was #8 because of the Beauty trio. In a way, I’m using that to my advantage. Even Duncan deciding to veto my immunity and not Jordan’s has been something I’ve capitalized on a lot this round and I think that decision by Duncan is what turned the tides against him ultimately. Strangely, this round has been super amazing for me? yay?

The amount of TEA I have been given this round is insane. I know Amir has an idol, Devon has a double vote, Adam has a challenge advantage & he got to talk to the prejury, the existence of the TJ/Jordan/Duncan/Autumn alliance, I was the first Beauty Jordan approached to get Autumn out, Autumn told me that if she leaves she wants Amir or I to win, I was pulled into an alliance with Autumn/Devon/Amir/myself, Adam and I agreed Amir is dangerous so Adam wants me here more than Amir, and Jakey told me about the Tops group chat when it was made and told me everything that happened there (same with Autumn). I’ve been a tea collector this round and I’m not mad at all. While I love Amir, I do fear that our games are a little too intertwined and that if I sit next to him at the end, I’ll lose badly… but I think people also seem him as a major target so in a way he’s a shield? I need to find a way to separate myself gameplay-wise. I do think I’ve done a lot for our partnership (it was my connection to Devon and my connection to Autumn that got us in these good positions) so yeah we’ll see… I just want to win yknow ;-; love Amir sooooooo much tho

im gonna write a longer one in a bit but the summary rn is jordan pines can legit go peace out and send his white male rage somewhere else im not about to listen to him get mad at me when he wanted to blindside me this round like... get that energy somewhere else im not the one

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH THEY WERE GONNA MAKE ADAM CAPTAIN AND WE PUSHED FOR IT TO A BRAWN AND NOW BRAWN IS MAD AT BRAIN IM GOING TO TRY AND FINESSE IMMUNITY OUT OF THIS

okay okay so basically, ewkjfnekwfnew i spent all morning not wanting them to vote adam as a captain, and then for my list, i basically got multiple people to rig my position, aka devon jakey and augusto to put me mid low, and tried to make ppl put brain + ali at the top. now the lists are exposed, adam wants to work with me again, and ppl are scared of brawn + ali. I am trying to make that i can win immunity this round, and then i can shut my mouth and these people can fuck each other up so PLEASAAAAAAASEEEE LET ME WIN IMMUNITY

So here we go let me spill some tea about these people, so last round, I had devon come to me and tell me that Adam said my name, Liam was the vote for me, and many people were entertaining it and were purposely leaving me on read. Like for the entire first round, Adam liam tj jordan and Ali all didn’t make a single effort to talk any game with me. This round comes around, and it’s a damn trust list when I’m currently in the most notorious beauty threesome of all time, and Ik it’s not gonna go well cuz everyone wants us out cuz me kendall and Augusto are so prettty and they r jealous But early on in the morning, autumn wants to call, and we do, and she’s like let’s make Jordan the captain vote, which makes sense cuz that’s what jakey and Augusto told me the night prior, so like all good I agree to make the captain Jordan. Basically, being the captain in this, SUCKS, cuz u won’t win immunity and u piss off 4 people, so miss autumn, hangs up on me to call other people and suddenly tj, who mind you is doing his LSAT exam, comes back to autumn and Duncan making him the vote for the captain. They fucked him OVER LMAO, and then the trust list comes out, and allllll the beauties and jordan on the bottom, and alllll the brains at the top with Ali and jakey . So suddenly, tj has a change of heart and he messaged me about how wants to get to know the beauties better, and he cuts the tops and the bottoms live. But like, Duncan autumn tj and Jordan literallt had an alliance and the they fucked him over so like Dkndkdndkd Anyway, the immunity challenge is happening, jakey and Devon help me win immunity discretely, And now I’m IMMUNEEEEE I suddenly love this crackhead competition , and with the list order, everyone can tell the brains are playing ALL SIDES. So adam and I finally decide to talk cuz we’re both at the bottom, and I’m like okay sis are we good, and he’s like I heard some shit and I was just really honest about early hathor and I think him and I are okay rn?? So like that’s good for me, So me and adam are safe, and all hell breaks loose, cuz Jordan apparently was super convinced with his safety but autumn and Duncan cut them out of the competition. Duncan was so shady about it, he actually asked devon to do it, and he decided to do Augusto, so like Duncan’s way of being loyal to Jordan is to tell someone else to do it so he’s being extremely messy. He’s not telling me about his alliance STILL, playing dumb with me, So autumn calls me and she IS POPPINGGGGG OFFFFFFF and dragging the 2 white boys from brawn to FILTH, and organizes this entire plan for them to think it’s between tj and Duncan, but we tell them autumn, and then we all vote Jordan. Jakey tried to make it duncan but I refuse, because Duncan is necessary to be against Ali and Duncan’s whole ass game is blown up now. No one trusts him, so I want him here. and jakey was like fine hehe and honestly okay I love jakey so much, like I plan on being loyal for as long as he’s loyal to me but I feel like he’d cut me in a couple rounds. Rn we are tight tho and we tell each other everything. Augusto and Kendall AND I MIGHT MAKE IT ANOTHER ROUND LMFAOOO DKDJDKNDD, And the MESSIEST PART OF TODAY IS HOW AUTUMN GOT US FROM POINT A TO POINT B. Like she literally woke up, fucked over tj, then cut the brawn out of the comp, and then felt betrayed by them, for her fucking them over, and has now taken control of the game. Like I’m just gonna say, she betrayed her alliance with brawn and she’s starting to work with me and Augusto and for that I fuckin love her. She’s also super cool I’ll do a merge cast analysis next round Anyway yeah good night love y’all xoxoxox

okay so today jordan calls me and hes like heyyyyyy sisterrrr lets all vote autumn and i say ok ok lets do it, but in my head im like nonononoonon, cuz jordan has spent 5 days talking about getting my out, and he literally doesnt even have the votes so i cant consider this cuz jakey isnt down at all, he simply doesnt have the numbers, so the plan is me tj jakey augusto kendall jordan vote autumn but we all rat on jordan, so everyone is suppose to split on jordan and tj but someone ratted to them and now no one is paying attention to me as much LMFAOOOOOOOOOOOO ps, jordan pines, i really really do like u and enjoy talking to u and i would love to get to know u after the game <3 , im still gonna slit your throat tho, sorry for that

okay so tonight jordan pines is going to jury. drew in my host chat said "i hate when my faves fight" and let it be known. im not going to fight jordan, im going to send him to jury so he can complain there. his rage and aggression im not in the mood to deal with. its crazy how jordan brought the tribe together and his reign of terror tribe calls are not working. you cant come at people with rage, when your whole strategy has revolved around treating people like your pawns. like you treated this like chess but the one in checkmate is you. cut to me being voted out but im sick of jordan and his attitude, this is a game in a serious time in the world. its coronavirus quarantine and portraying everyone as literal satan is fucked up and i have zero time for it so. he can take his bad energy to being the world's most bitter juror. i really liked jordan, but this was a really toxic ugly side that came out tonight and i hate it

this lil challenge yall came up with it? I'm not with it https://drive.google.com/open?id=1K3cO8KqOtvKoz6bPPlZ1IoTgrBWY5-7-

if yall dont come get Jordan Pines so I don't beat his ass because I wish he would pipe up to me. He got all the kids scared but not me. Bitch this vote is solid and you wouldn't be doing the most if you could save yourself so bloop. Ali ain't flipping, Devon ain't flipping, Jakey ain't flipping, and the POC's ain't flipping so you can have TJ and the little vote steal cause that's all you got. Wait til Duncan walks in and find out Jordan is trying to put the vote on him he'll really vote his ass out Fuck an idol- if it gets played it gets played but it's not like he's getting to the end so if I walk into jury, so be it. Maybe I'll actually get to finish Cagayan since every time I get hooked in an episode, some fuckery goes down in Akhmim. ALSO WHO THE FUCK SNITCHED???? WE HAD TWO AND A HALF HOURS TO GO YOU SNAKE. I bet it was Duncan or Kendall cause they're the only ones messy enough to still be up Jordan's ass after aaaaaallll of this. Devon really thought about flipping because Jordan promised him he'd reveal the rat if Devon voted with him. Girl really?? https://giphy.com/gifs/oxygenmedia-bad-girls-club-bgc-bgc10-10hUQ2QszsZ75S I'm so sick of these white boys I don't know what to do. Get back in line!!! You don't want the smoke and you know it!!! That's why Jordan's dumbass is trying to switch targets cause it's rock. solid. over here. And it's gonna stay that way too! We can kill Duncan on Thursday but tonight?? We ARE doing Jordan Pines, no I'm not taking any questions at this time. Fuck you mean "I'm tempted?" Bitch I'll end you right here right now. Tribal is minutes away so for fuck's sake stick to the damn plan. And when he goes, we got some things to discuss

today was such a hot mess, first someone leaks the plan to vote jordan out, to jordan, first of all how DARE them because THEY BEAT ME TO IT......ok i dont know if i actually wouldve but i was considering spilling the beans which is why im surprised someone else did, as soon as this happens gorl MY messages were blowing up me and autumn messaged each other at the same time like BITCH DO YOU SEE THIS HASFDKJ but anywho it was actually sad, jordan gave me good tea in the game, so i did try and create a new plan to vote duncan out, because at first jordan wanted to do autumn but i said i didnt want to do that now, maybe eventually, but not now. She helped me win the immunity so i think she genuinely wants to work with me at least for now, but im no dummy i know she's a huge threat, and im well aware that's a move that ill eventually most likely need to make even though she is easily my favorite person to talk to next to augusto/devon/amir/jakey just on like personal levels, but.... ask jakey, im loyal as long as youre not a threat to me, but the minute you become a threat, their aint no team in i ... or whatever the saying is, but yeah i said no to autumn NOW, and i said if you want me to vote with you, help me get the votes to get DUNCAN since i know he's playing everyone and targetting me directly... it almost worked, but jordan making some of the other people feel some type of way hurt him and my chances of pulling this off because in the end i couldnt risk making that move without some of those people on board because i wouldnt want to sever my loyalties to them let alone blindside them (just yet at least), and that would have also forced me on a side with tj and kendall whom i just havent completely clicked with in the game nothing against them tho, but we'll see if im next out then i deserve it for not making a move i just hope i have time to make my move still i think im doing maybe decent at trying to recover from the stupidest move of the game thus far being my POORLY thought out lie, me always quoting sandra "ill lie, but ill make up a GOOD lie.." in my head 24/7 really did not come through on that one... but anywho, devon has told me some piping hot tea, that he has the extra vote, ali has since he told me he has the nullifier, even kendall has made amends with me and ive never had a true problem with anyone personally but kendall was against me strategically and i think on call we at least cleaned the slate for now? ill probably still vote her out next round but at least i wont feel as bad but duncan....oh duncan, sweet duncan, while i adore you as a person, i dont adore you lying right to my face when i straight up asked if you wanted me out originally, when both jordan AND autumn have told me what you been up to sis.... ask my fellow beautys i can hold a grudge so dont poke the bear! and not only that but i will start plotting getting you out and that's 100% the move i want to make next if i have any say in it. Because i think everyone sees now that he's trying to play everyone and recover from his own foolish move of getting exposed from his alliance... so now that i cant believe a word you say, you can no longer believe a word i say! We can keep chatting it up and acting like bestie boos and i do genuinely like him, but from a game point his usefulness has run up. but who knows, im just the local town fool to these people, which is fine because at least i can acknowledge i am but ill probably just be voted out next fajdsk especially if my theory about duncan/jakey being in kahoots is true but guess we'll see

Okayyyyy soooo I have been socializing! It's pretty hit or miss! Ali and I talked briefly in the morning he showed me his doggo, she was absolutely precious. 10 out of 10 lost beauty tribe member will sacrifice my game for her. I talked it out with Jakey, while I don't trust him as far as I can throw him, I feel better about our relationship. Like I said I have better things to do then hate someone because of a game and I feel better knowing that he doesn't hate me on a personal level and vice versa. My call with Duncan was very informative. Turns out Scott and Duncan were the duo rather than Autumn and Duncan and the entire Devon situation wasn't as convolutedly stupid as I had initially thought. Devon I'm so sorry I called you stupid many times in these confessionals I meant it affectionally but I guess you really aren't lol. I am so sorry you are not stupid maybe game botty but you aren't dumb!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! He also agreed to work with us, I don't know if that means he's going to vote out a Brawn this round but he will probably keep me around if only for a spare vote. I tried messaging Liam to see if we can call... he hasn't message me back. It's been day... goddamnit Liam... Adam has been talking smack about me, Augusto, and Amir. Which fair enough I guess, we did try to kill him early in the game. But between us and the NuHathor, you'd think we'd be the better option to work with? Idk, Duncan said he'd talk to him but I don't hold out too much hope. I like talking to TJ quite a bit, he reminds me of Jimmy from Malaysia. He's pretty quick witted and a fun conversationalist. God I miss Jimmy :(. If worst comes to worse I really hope my fantastic personality will help me get out of this shit hole.