#//will edit time/date stamp out later

[simp-ly-writes]

Friend of the Captain (pt.2)

Pairing: Edward "Eddie" Horniman x afab!Reader

Summary: Years had past since you had last seen Eddie. Doctor, CEO and soon to be girlfriend of another man. You end up seeing him at Freddy and Tammy's wedding yet other forces keep pulling your both away from admitting to your feelings. What will it take for one of you to see the truth?- as Charlotte ever so indelicately puts it.

Warnings: 3755 words, utter jealousy, language, and light teasing, angst to potential fluff and lots and lots of pining.

A/N: I have watched an unhealthy amount of edits while on dinner break- I must be stopped (gods i'm supposed to be on break!)- this is way longer than I was expecting it to be, perhaps even a part three...

Masterlist | Taglist | somewhat un-edited.

(pt.1) (pt.2) (pt.3)

↳ Years had past since you had last seen Edward. You still kept in contact with his siblings and his mother, of course. Lady Sabrina refused to let you go- often sending various treats and letters towards your family's estate, you called her ever other week with updates to your studies, travels, and love life. Your mother teasingly voiced her jealousy towards her best friend choosing her own daughter over her best friend.

↳ You often joined the older ladies out for a dinner or lunch with Charlotte tagging along when she was not in school (yet you would never tell Charlotte's parents otherwise to you signing her out as a trusted guardian and taking her even out of the country some weekends). Clicking your glasses together while looking down upon the busy London streets, you smirked seeing someone wearing a piece of yours from across the street.

Tugging at your mothers dress-sleeve she trued around in her seat, grasping your hand in a tight squeeze of excitement and pride as her wrist glittered in your newest bracelet collection. After finishing your PHD of Business Administration you took a fake name to hide your identity for the public and papers for as long as you could. You often blushed now- seeing your face on gossip articles with your date of the evening.

Dinner tonight was a celebration of your recent contract with an up-and-coming movie star- he would be wearing your necklaces on the red carpet by the end of the week. A bottle of bubbly, bubbled your laughter to the surface as they all screamed in your ear, jumping up and down and clapping their hands in the restaurant as you ducked your head, trying to stray away from the attention.

↳ Unknowing to you though is that your's and Edward's mother collected all the gossip magazines, continuing their bet as Sabrinas heart fell every time you looked so in love with your new partner. Charlotte would often make side comments about your "slut era" she called it as you knocked her shoulder with your own, rolling your eyes before your mother swatted your shoulder at the dinner table and insisted on maintaining appearances in the public eye.

--

↳ When inside your studio-office space, drafting up new designs with your creative team. You spun around of your chair and became shocked when you eventually rolled back around to find a wax-sealed envelope with the Halstead crest so beautifully stamped. Peeling away the wax as carefully as you could, the thick, textured paper settled nicely between our hands as you read through the invitation. Tears beginning to well in your eyes before you were squealing in Freddy's ear through the desk-phone as he winced and handed the phone over to Tammy. Both laughing over your childish excitement to their own wedding.

↳ You called the brainstorming off early, rushing to help Tammy find just the right dress later that afternoon as she thanked you for assisting with the wedding planing (already fed up with Lady Sabrina's input into the event- though she was funding a large portion of it due to Freddys... interesting resume).

↳ Wedding dress shopping happened later that spring as you teared up seeing the woman in white. Helping her into your exclusively design accessories and veil. Later that day, you third-wheeled the couple during cake testing- eating double of your weight in sweets as your teeth ached afterwards.

↳ During the bridal party. You all got dressed up in small red dresses and matching heels as you style one another's hair and got your nails done for the evening. You all went to a bar to start of the week strong, you had never felt so carefree and young after the countless sleepless nights of being a CEO and Doctorate student- you really let yourself go that night. Waking up in the bed of a stranger who wrapped their muscled arm over your waist.

Trying to wiggle your way out of their grip and find your various articles of clothing spread round the downtown flat, you ended up stealing one of their shirts- not bothering to look at the design plastered on the front as you placed your phone on to charge and started breakfast.

The oven dinged, the eggs were done as you put out a spread across the countertop before doing a light clean of last nights activities- doing your best to put away things where you thought they belonged and were stopped halfway by an arm pulling you back into their chest and placing a kiss against your forehead, "thank you, love. Didn't have to do any of this at all- I appreciate it very much."

A blush spread over your cheeks as you led them towards the still hots plates and ate together. There name was William from your foggy memories of last night. By the groaning the man in front of you was excepting while pouring himself a coffee, he seemed as well wasted as you were.

"Can I get you any Advil or orange juice?" William asks, placing a coffee in front of you with a smile as you wipe your mouth and take a small sip. "No, I'm alright." When washing up the dishes together, he offered to place your things in the wash while making small talk throughout and even going for a round three later that morning.

Becoming lost in the bubble you both formed for yourselves, hands casting through the short strands of dirty blonde hair that tickled your palms. Your heart dropped in the slightest bit when his phone rang as a show you were both listening to in the background was paused. He whispered a sorry towards you, patting your knee before taking a stand and walking over to the bedroom, you could only hear the start to the conversation, "Captain, everythin' alright?"

Deeming yourself overstaying your welcome, you walked towards the hall bathroom, preparing yourself for the next day and left a small note with your name attached, softly shutting the door behind you before leaning your forehead against it. A stupid smile showing itself across your features as your hands drifted through your contacts, landing on Charlottes picture as it dinged for a few moments.

"Girl, where the fuck have you been since last night?"

"I think I'm in love Char," you stated while the elevator doors closed behind you and the busy city streets awaited you.

--

↳ In the remaining days of the bridal party, you all rented out a vineyard, playing various lawn games with sunbathing by the pool. You subconsciously looked up towards the glass doors of the modern home- unknowing of what you were expecting before returning to your book, humming along to the radio as Tammy splashed you with her dive. Drawing a quick 10 score on your phones notes app and presenting it to her, Charlotte snorted and did a dive of her own as you all laughed and enjoyed the warm weather.

--

↳ Your did frown later that night when William had yet to text you, throwing your phone onto the bed. You really have to get yourself together, you thought to yourself- waiting here on some guy... some guy that treated me fairly. And in this day and age, it was a rare sight to find. Charlotte had already given you a major thumbs up as did the rest of your university friends and some of the past boyfriends you still kept in contact with. They all approved.

↳ Looking into your suitcase, you picked up Williams freshly washed shirt- you had forgotten to return it as your head drifted towards your phone. A perfect excuse to see him once more, your fingers drifted over the keys, breath paused on the send button before tapping the green arrow in a split second. Your adrenaline soared as you ruffled your hair, huffing out and looking at the shirt once more.

Your fingers drifted over the warn edges, pausing at the left breast pocket before your eyes went wide in shock. Displayed was the same coat of arms as Eddies regiment, FUCK, FUCK, FUCK. Was all you could think, hands now gripping at your roots as that text now burred your phone and your mind. It was the night before the wedding at by the looks of it, you were going to be up with your thoughts.

--

↳ The day of the wedding at arrived, you smoothed out your dress as you waited in front of the large wooden doors to the Halstead estate. The wedding was being held in the gardens- now in full bloom as the first week of summer sprang into season. The blush pink complimented your rosy cheeks as you sweated lightly in the blissful heat, everyone had already been partnered up and as the maid of honour- you were more than worried that Freddy's best man had yet to appear

Much to your shock, Edward slowed his steps, feet tripping over the blood red rug beneath your feet as he stumbled to a straight stand by your side. He dropped his gaze down towards your shoes, taking a long drag up of your form before casting you a charming smile. The voices around you soon became muffled as your gaze fell onto his broad shoulders, the scar against his chin and you wondered if the scar you left from throwing a rock at his head while children's was still behind his ear in the same place you remembered it to be.

He wore a navy suit, crisp white shirt underneath as his tie held small pink flowers- perfectly matching your dress. He picked up your hand, maintaining eye contact as he pressed a light kiss to your gloved hand. You were ever-so thankful for purchasing the matching gloves in this moment, holding that the material hid your light shakes from his reassuring hold. His hand soon slipped up your arm. Breath hitching as strings began to play in the background.

His fingers drifted to the skin left uncovered by your tall gloves and dresses arm before looping his arm with your own. The doors soon opened as you both faced forward, smiles plastered on brightly as you walked in perfect rhythm down the isle. You looked towards one another, a few gasps being hear distantly in the crowd yet you couldn't bring your eyes to see where the sound came from. Arms dropping as you continued separately to your respective sides.

Looking up towards the clear blue skies, letting out a breath, your gaze turned to find Freddy looking at you, soft smile on his face as he gave you a singular nod before turning to his wife who began her walk down the isle. You took her bouquet, tears streaming down your eyes as you silently sobbed in happiness for the couple.

You clapped when they kissed, cheered as Freddy dipped her as Lady Sabrina tossed a comment on their outrageous display yet you haded her the bouquet as she shut her mouth abruptly, turning quickly behind to stare at your mother who was already watching as you and Eddie walked down the isle, arm and arm. Your gaze solely focused on the couple, unknowing to the man on your arm who stared at you the whole time- enamoured by your happiness as another stood in the back isle's, rose in hand they stole from the gardens as they waited for the festivities to start.

--

↳ As the first dance had finished and the cake had been cut, the DJ started to turn on the selected playlist and you headed straight to the bar in order to hug the newly weds who had a mission of getting absolutely wasted by the end of the night. After chatting with them for a few moments, a cough from behind you has your eyes going wide as does everyone else in the general area who stops to watch

You pause, drink slipping through your fingers as they catch it just in time with a smirk. "Hello, love," William speaks in hushed tones, knowing of the curious glances around you. Your eyes fly across the white warm-event weather uniform he wears. The sharp colour of his blue pants matching his eyes as your mouth soon falls agape. He takes a hand, lightly underneath your chin as he closes your mouth, pressing a kiss to the side of your lips.

Your eye's drift over to his shoulder, looking at his rank as you return a kiss to his cheek in greeting, now taking the barstool behind you as he leans against the bar top, taking his hat off and setting it between you. "Why hello there, Lieutenant," you say before taking a sip of your drink to gain some liquid courage as the eyes around you both begin to turn back to their personal conversations.

"You know my rank?" he questions with a raised brow as you shrug your shoulders. "Have close friends in the military as well, memorized all that chest candy," you state, eyes now darting across the metals he displays. Williams chuckles, ordering himself a drink as the bartender nods in confirmation as you both ease into conversation with one another.

--

↳ Eddie currently talks with his family as Freddy perks his interest. "Did you see that guy she's been talking to at the bar?- dude is seriously laying it on thick." Freddy rolls his eyes as you throw your head back in laughter, hand pressed against the white uniform as the man looks down to your touch with another teeth-filled smile. Charlotte shrugs, stealing a sip of Eddies drink as their mother quickly steals the wine glass from her and returns it to Eddies open hand who tries to peer over Freddys shoulder as he continues on and on about the bachelor party he had.

Eddies eyes go wide, seeing the white uniform, seeing you pressed up against another mans chest as he spins you lightly, eyeing you up and down and how your dress twirls at your feet as you get both of your glass topped off once more. His gaze hardens as he catches Williams face, his arm drifting around your waist, mouth pressed to your ear as he kisses your skin teasingly- eyes darting towards the door as you look up at him through your lashes.

Eddie's hands turn into fists, his eyebrows furrowed as he starts to take a step forward yet Freddy still mindlessly talks as nobody is now listening as Charlotte begins to fill their mother in as she looks towards her son with concern. Hand ghosting on his arm that he has yet to take notice of. He watches as you bite your lip, pulling at his collar as you trace the seams of his uniform. Eddie lets out a sharp breath of air as he seems your lipstick begin to stain his skin, his mothers hand now tight against his arm as he stares down at it.

Charlotte shakes her hand, Sabrina now walking away to talk to your mother sat in the corner conversing with Tammy's parents. Freddy had finally taken notice of the lack of attention, returning to his wife's side as they stole bites from the cake before the official cutting. When Eddie turns back to see where you went, the bar is empty the door swinging closed as he speedily walks towards the hall only to find it empty both ways. As he begins to walk, a cough has him turning around to find Charlotte taking off her heels as she leans against the wall next to a suit of armour.

"Thought that you two were not together, no feelings right?" she presses, gaze determined as she slips off the last of her heels and begins to walk towards her brother who's shoulders only rise in their tensed form. He shakes himself off as she stands directly in front of him, shaking off his suit as he adjusts his suit-cuffs. "No, still is the case- just worried for my childhood friend is all."

"Alright, then..." Charlotte takes notice as his eyes keep darting back down the hall behind her, hope and hatred bleeding through his eyes as she smirk's, going in for the jab. "...If thats all you care about, he's a good man- that not right Captain?- They fucked a few times..." Charlotte presses her heels into her brothers chest as he keeps them there. His sister signals him to follow her outside as they begin to stroll towards the gardens all those Christmas's ago.

"She even told me she's in love with him-"

"What?" Edward asks in a breathy tone, his heart dropping as his sister continues walking further into the gardens and towards the centre fountain. "I warned you before Edwina, she's too good to have to wait so others take action. You had your time with her it seems, now it is time for someone else to take your place." She ends with a bittersweet smile. "You know... I always hoped she would become my actual sister- mom too but a best friend is better than nothing at all, right?"

The sharpness of her words twists itself deep in Edwards heart as he staggers, shoes dropped to the gravel beneath his feet, hands clenching at his tie that now seems too tight, his breathing laboured as he starts to see blood flashing on his hand and across his face. He hears your laughter filling his ears, the smell of your conditioner flooding his nose as it drifts off with the evening air.

--

↳ When Eddie returns to his work on boarder patrol, checking various people and their cars through the checkpoint. He enters the change-room at the end of every night, giving a nod and handing off his gun towards another officer who would be taking over the night patrol that evening.

↳ He often see's William changing as he enters, his shift ending 30 minutes before his own. He looks at the mans back, the angry red ail marks clawing their way up to his shoulders as the muscles his his back flex when a shirt covers up majority of the markings yet this shirt is old and warn. Having lost a great deal of his green colour, now a muted muddy colour as the neck hands low.

↳ Edward see's the the hickeys you undoubtedly left across his collarbones and neck, he recognizes that bite from the occasional moment you both shared as teenagers. William nods towards his superior officer outside of working hours. Picking up his jacket before moving to the sleeping quarters. Eddie sits on the centre bench, elbows against his knees, hands in his head as he grips and tugs at his hair. Frustration eating him alive as he imagines your touch, your lips against his own, the taste of your skin-

↳ Every day the same, every vacation time taken at a similar point as he notices a year afterwards the diamond ring hanging off Williams dog tags. He constant has been looking at it underneath his uniform throughout shifts, smiling before his mask returns as another car pulls forward. Eddies brain was struggling to come to cope with the images of that small ring hanging off Williams neck. He cursed himself alive as Freddy punched him square across the face when he drunkly ranted towards his brother a weekend he spent back home

↳ When he returned back to base, the ring he had around his dog tags was gone. William nodded towards the Captain as usual, that little display now irking him- pouring more fire into the gaping wound he sustained as the lieutenant paused. Face turning over his shoulder as eh spoke out into the empty change room, "I have been requested by management to switch towards the front lines... It has been a pleasure working with you sir. I wish you the best."

"Thank you, William. Do take care of her," Eddie states, looking at him square in the eyes. "Till the day she loves me no longer and afterwards," William promises before gently closing the door behind himself. Eddie does now feel himself crying before he calls his mother, not saying a word as he cries, she cries, as he can feel his fathers disappointment, his sisters distaste, and Eddies side remarks.

↳ But why stop at that? Eddie was soon being called back for your engagement photo, he glared at the ring on your finger. It's small for a jeweller, he thinks to himself yet had already bought the ticket, a gift and written a card voicing his congratulations to you both.

--

↳ Edward was beyond confused to walk into the empty venue space a few months later. Handmade stars hug above his head, a tray of champagne by his feet as the lights were dimmed, the afternoon sun finding its way through the blinds casting patterns onto the hardwood floors beneath. In his steps, the floors creaked as your tearstained face meet his eyes. He walked faster, taking a kneel beside you as you flung yourself into his chest as he dropped the gift, kicking it aside and held you tightly to himself. Hands beginning to drift through your hair as he pressed a kiss to the crown of your head.

He felt your tears staining his sweater, the rapid spikes of your shoulders as you sharply breathed between sobs. "H-He, He cheated on me! I fuckin' love another man and he cheats on me!" you wail, shaking your head into his neck as he rubs your back. Eddie holds himself from question the slight hope at, love another man.

"I am sorry to hear that darling, you are the most underserving person of such treatment I know. Downright motherfucker," Eddie whispers into your hair before you fall backwards, tugging Eddie by his shoulders to join you laying on the floors. You both stare up into the various stars coating the ceiling as you squeeze your hand in his own larger one.

A few moments pass as you listen to each other breathe in the empty room. Rain slowly begins to fall against the window panes as you turn your head to already find Eddie look at you with a soft smile. "Thank you, Eddie, for staying here with me... you're the best friend I could ever ask for," you speak out softly, hand resting on his cheek as he turns his head to kiss your palm.

"Always."

(pt.1) (pt.2) (pt.3)

↳ Taglist: @daffodilstark @leavemeslowly

[thesherrinfordfacility]

timeline rundown

tbh this is mainly just for my reference and i will probably come back to it at a later date; a lot of other much cleverer people are spotting some scenes that appear to be out of order, and before deep-diving into scrutinising each scene and frame, i decided to (for the first run, anyway - im sure others have gotten much further ahead, but i personally like to do my own research) just go with a surface-level, basic approach of looking for time indicators.

edit 02/01: additions!!!✨

couple of notes:

this is initially going with the assumption that no fuckery is going on, and only highlights where things appear to be consistent or inconsistent

on the clockhands, and which way round to read them, this caused me no end of headache. for example, reading the ornate hand as the hour makes ep6 sensical, but then makes ep1 gibberish (and vice versa). so, im doing both! and colour coding them!

blue: ornate hand is the hour, other hand is the minute

orange: ornate hand is the minute, other hand is the hour

green: a timestamp that isn't shown by the clock, or has been surmised/hypothesised.

you can make your own conclusion as to which reads make the most sense, but i'll be adding commentary anyway!!!✨

episode 1:

aziraphale gets maggie's letter: the only thing we know is that the bookshop is closed which, given aziraphale's stunning opening hours policy, doesn't mean a whole lot but for the most part, he seems on average to open the shop between 9.30-10am, and close at 3.30pm

shostakovich: aziraphale gets the records and heads off to listen to them, saying that he will be doing so for the next 21 minutes. i know there have been theories out there stemming from mismatched serial number on the record - but for my money, the explanation is a bit more watsonian than that; that aziraphale has a certain amount of free time to chill out to some music before something else happens (ie., to me, before crowley arrives to the shop). therefore, i would say that it logically follows that the previous scene, and this one, is late afternoon after the shop closes.

crowley in st james' park: as the camera sweeps past buckingham palace, you can hear bell chimes in the background, likely posed as coming from big ben. it starts with the cambridge chimes melody, falls silent, and then rings the number of tolls for the hour. when the agent joins crowley on the bench, i can hear a count of five tolls, for 5pm. example of the 5pm toll here.

gabriel/jim arrives: when aziraphale pauses the record, it appears to be 4.20pm.

when jim is handed the hot chocolate, the main bookshop clock reads as 5.20pm, or 4.25pm. seems odd that there would be such a gap for the former, (albeit plausible given that aziraphale gets jim settled and fitted with a blanket etc.), but the latter is more likely.

- capture of the two preceding timestamps

shax and crowley again: crowley's phone reads as 10.35am which, needless to say, does not fit in the above and below timeline at all.

jim and aziraphale conversation continues: the main bookshop clock reads as 6.20pm, or 4.30pm. again, given that aziraphale immediately looks in the box after retrieving it from outside, makes the latter more likely. it also makes sense taking into account the following hypothesised timestamps.

aziraphale calls crowley: not time-stamped, but crowley notes that he is 'two minutes' away when aziraphale calls. jim doesn't appear to have moved, so presumably the call is made soon after the last scene, and when they are both in the café, it still seems to be fully open and running. if we accept that the start of ep1 is most likely around 4pm, and the aziraphale/jim conversation wraps up around 4.30pm-ish, this would make sense - that crowley arrives to the café around 4.40pm. they then obviously leave, and it cuts to:

maggie gives nina the record: same as the above; maggie remarks that she wants a little something "for the end of the day", and nina says she has to finish closing up. nina has cleared away the dishes from the boys' table, the café is has just emptied, and nina's colleague is getting ready to leave. if we treat this scene as concurrent with the "ah! gabriel!" scene, probably around 4.45pm.

crowley lightning strike: maggie is chucking away her tea bag, and nina is upending chairs. if we say that the "ah! gabriel!" and "so did i!" scenes together take maybe 5-10 minutes in-universe, could hazard that the lightning strike is around 4.50pm - 4.55pm.

interlude, where we then return to crowley getting back to his bentley, and it's nighttime. then gets abducted by beelzebub, before squealing off at 110mph+ back to the bookshop. there isn't a timestamp until:

from @katalina27ua (thank you!), crowley restores power: nina's phone reads as 9:02. this would suggest the morning, but i would suggest that given phones can be set to either the 12- or 24-hour clock, and coupled with darkness and emptiness outside, it's 9:02pm.

the dance: the main bookshop clock reads 1.45am, or 9.05pm.

episode 2:

"what comes after 'K'?": when aziraphale gets startled by jim, the main bookshop clock reads as around 6.53am, or 10.35am.

archangels arrive: the main bookshop clock reads as 09.55am, or 11.45am.

aziraphale starts playing the record: as has been pointed out by @canarybell, this scene is so clearly cut in half from the muriel-arrival scene* in ep3. possibly for timing issues, but still out of sequence of the above; im very tentatively putting the time of the main bookshop clock as somewhere around 11.40am or 8am... only the former could work in the ep2 timeline, but again, it is reasonably certain that this is cut from the beginning of ep3 where, in the context of that scene, it is most likely 8am*, and this scene's place in ep2 is just a continuity issue/post-filming to make up timings.

dirty donkey: no time-stamp, but going on face value of how packed the pub is, seems to be at least mid-late afternoon, or post-lunch weekend. im erring towards the former - that people have come in post-work, and it's somewhere around 3.30pm onwards.

jim remembers: the above makes sense with this scene in context, as the main bookshop clock reads 5.20pm or 4.28pm.

post-job flashback: when we return to aziraphale in modern day, and he calls for crowley, the main bookshop clock reads as 6.30pm.

crowley/nina conversation: the record store is still be open in this scene, which would be odd for 6.30pm onwards, albeit not impossible. the café is definitely closed (it's empty and you can see chairs on tables), and nina is only just leaving/finishing up the close. in which case, it makes sense that aziraphale dozed off for a couple of hours, crowley to have wandered off, and nina to have closed up (if her café closing time is, say, 6pm). so, im going with this being around 6.30pm also.

episode 3:

note: i miss out a fair few scenes in this episode and ep4, because a lot is so flimsy in the speculation. with scenes in the bookshop, we can help gauge time with the shops/crowds around it etc, but in ep3 - eg. when aziraphale is in the bentley - i don't think i have enough surrounding data to make a reliable estimate on when it is... so essentially, im just going on what timestamps we do have.

returning to *the muriel arrival scene from ep2: if we accept that this is meant to be joined with the ep2 scene, the main bookshop clock reads as, most likely, 8am (but reminder: could also be 11.40am) when he sits down to start going through the articles and drawn gabriel, which seems to take some time (given the next timestamp):

however, when muriel turns up at the door, and aziraphale pauses the record, the clock reads as what i think is 7.50am or 9.35am (quality is such that i can't quite tell which hand is which, but i think it's this way round). i think, however, given the continuation of the scene, the latter is the most likely:

cupperty: when aziraphale enters the main room with the teacups, the main bookshop clocks reads as 9.50am.

crowley enters: clock still reading as 9.50am.

- capture of all three preceding timestamps

a hefty jump forward to the gravity conversation: the main bookshop clock reads as 6.17pm, or 3.30pm.

another jump forward, when aziraphale gets to the graveyard, and borrows the phone: clock on the phone reads as 5.30pm.

crowley picks up the call: the main bookshop clock shows as around 5.25pm - 5.28pm - so a couple of minutes' difference, but still fairly reliable.

episode 4:

frankly this episode is anyone's guess, given that there's only two main scenes in modern day. but to start, aziraphale is obviously driving back during the night, so possibly late evening/very early morning. he says that he is late, and so presumably he was meant to get back to london before nightfall/at least, before its very late in the evening.

aziraphale parks up: nina's phone in the café reads as 6.47am. this is supported by the background crashing sounds; with lots of restaurants around, likely bin lorries emptying the bottlebanks/bins.

episode 5:

the opening, when aziraphale leaves to go invite the other shopkeepers, shows that the bookshop is closed but the café and marguerite's is open; the former doesn't really mean jack shit, but i reckon marguerite's is likely to be a lunch/dinner joint. so, with that in mind, likely to be sometime in the afternoon.

crowley has his 'oh' moment, and whistles aziraphale over: we obviously don't know how long crowley has been sat there, but long enough that the patrons have swapped over - so let's say maybe an hour, and again still likely afternoon.

crowley then leaves to go confront gabriel, and aziraphale presumably follows up behind him shortly after. when crowley returns downstairs, and aziraphale is sprucing up the shop: quality is once again dogshite so i can't be sure which way round the hands are, but fairly certain the main bookshop clock reads as 12.30pm or 6pm. the latter seems the most likely, given the following scenes/dialogue:

aziraphale sends out crowley to find nina and maggie, and make sure "they are on their way" - it indicates that the party, set to start at 6.30pm, is soon. rightly enough, crowley pops round to the record store and it's closed, but maggie is inside - and nina has closed up the café and set to leave also.

mrs sandwich and then mr brown arrive: the main bookshop clock reads as around 6.20pm - 6.30pm, but we then don't get a clear shot of the clock for the rest of the episode. we know it suddenly gets really dark as soon as nina flies into the bookshop, but given the demon raid going on outside it's not really a reliable indicator of time.

so up until now, ive been pretty certain that the orange timestamps are the more correct, as they seem to flow the most with the general in-universe happenings of the story, and correlate most with the external green timestamps of the eps. however, ep6 goes very screwy in this respect, and it seems that the blue timestamps suddenly become the more accurate.

episode 6:

demons enter, attack, and the bookcase falls/maggie and nina hold them off with fire extinguishers: the main bookshop clock reads as 2.30am or 6.12am.

crowley comes back from heaven, and the demons arrive: the main bookshop clock reads as 6.02am or 12.30am/pm.

just before the gabriel/beelzebub flashbacks: the clock still reads as just gone past 6am or 12.30am/pm.

gabriel returns: the main bookshop clock, over maggie's shoulder, is out of focus so i can't quite see which way round the hands are, but i think reads as either 7am or 8am, or 11.37am, just before they're ushered out by crowley. either one of the two blue timestamps seems the most likely.

crowley drops off nina and maggie: nina remarks that she should have been open "half an hour ago", which if she normally turns up to open up the shop anywhere between 6.30am - 7am (as per her phone from the end of ep4 - 6.47am), makes 8am more likely - that she turns up at around 6.45am, ready to open at 7.30am.

angels and demons arguing: the main bookshop clock reads, just behind dagon's head, as approximately 08.25am or 4.40am/pm.

michael threatens aziraphale, and metatron arrives: the main bookshop clocks reads as 8am (9am?) or 12.43pm.

"extremely alcoholic breakfast at the ritz": reliably informs, for the avoidance of any doubt, that this scene is in the morning. indeed, when crowley gets out of the armchair, the clock shows again that its around 09.02am, or 12.45pm.

crowley tidies up the bookshop: the main bookshop clocks reads as 09.23am, or 4.47am/pm.

"id better start talking": the main bookshop clock reads as 09.25am or 5.45am/pm. it remains this time for the whole first half of the feral domestic, right up until the kiss.

crowley leaves, and metatron returns: the main bookshop clock now reads as approximately 09.40am or 8.47am. we are shown the scene in pretty close, tight-knit order, with no conceivable gaps in the scene where 20 minutes could have gone missing.

aziraphale leaves the bookshop: the clock remains at 09.40am or 08.47am

again from @katalina27ua! crowley at the bentley: the time on his watch reads as, at least (from what i can tell at the quality i have), within the ninth hour. however, the linked promo shot shows clearer - if we accept this to be taken directly from live filming etc - that the clockface reads ~09:15am. edit 03/01: however, there is a different promo photo where it appears that the minute hand is pointing just between the 4-5, reading at 09:25am (i have hit the photo limit but will add to the rb!)

so. couple of things to talk about here.

for the most part between eps 1-5, the clock has been pretty consistent with not only keeping track of time as scenes have developed etc., but also matching up with other instances of where a timestamp is given to us outside of the bookshop. with that in mind, it is highly likely that the clock is a reliable source of marking the in-narrative time of the story. this, for me, is evident with the orange timestamps - where the ornate hand is the minute hand, and other marks minutes.

however, when we hit ep6, it goes to shit. the orange timestamps (providing that ive tracked this all correctly - but error on my part is a very high possibility, i couldn't be bothered to go get pen and paper) suddenly go screwy, and it's the blue ones that make more sense.

we'll revisit that second point in a minute, but returning to the first point - this tells me a crucial thing (imo). first, that the clock can be accepted as the constant in the equation upon which to compare the variables. therefore, for example, crowley's bell tolls in st james' park, and his phone clock, are immediately apparent as 'out of sequence'. the same goes for the part in ep2 where aziraphale starts drawing gabriel - this of course could just be down to a non/extra-diegetic we-need-to-cut-ep3-but-plump-out-ep2 reason (and i think that's probably the case), but crowley's phone is so purposefully and blatantly (and arguably needlessly - could have just answered straightaway and achieved the same result) displayed with the 'wrong' time, that it doesn't feel accidental.

so if the timeline more likely follows the orange, why does it go completely bonkers in ep6, and instead start to follow the blue? god knows, i really don't have much of an answer beyond the "freaky-deaky time shit is going on", and maybe "the demon incursion/crowley going to heaven/the angel and demon stand-off/unreliable narratorship all round might be something to do with it." but to my mind, it is the blue timeline that suddenly makes narrative sense - it's likely morning, crowley supports this with "breakfast at the ritz", etc.

similarly, what is interesting to note is that despite neil's answer that the 20-minute skip during the kiss was a continuity error (and i will say, full disclaimer - perfectly prepared to still accept this as the truth), the crew/team seem to have been fairly hot on keeping the clock otherwise within continuity for the whole show. for a scene of this magnitude, where they know it's going to be emotionally upheaving for fans, leaving them gasping for an Explanation for how it all went down, and therefore scrutinise it for every little detail? sorry, im personally not buying that it wasn't deliberate... will probably end up eating my words, but there we are.

my brain has melted out of my ears trying to wrap my head around this, but i'll probably come back to it at some point with, no doubt, some corrections - and some further thoughts✨

[foggyfanfic]

What Tattoos would the Madrigals have?

Sorta a weird post, because presumably these characters are relatively devout Catholics, they absolutely would not ever get tattoos (not to mention we have no idea how much they know about micro-biology so jury’s out on how clean tattoos would be in Encanto). But I saw @teawizard ‘s picture of Bruno doing male thot jobs and it got me thinking. So!

Edit: Oof, this has been in my drafts way too long.

Alma

Hers are low key the most obvious to me. Alma would definitely have a little memorial tattoo for Pedro, and possibly have the triplet’s names. I’m operating under the assumption that she wasn’t born into an important family, so when she becomes La Señora Madrigal she makes an active effort to play the part rather than it coming naturally to her. Which would mean she might get a single tattoo right after losing Pedro, someplace easy for her to cover, then never again.

Agustín

I was going to say Agustín looks like he was raised too fancy to get tattoos even in this hypothetical, but then I actually thought about it a little. He’s supposed to be super accident prone, right? So, I think he’d have a tramp stamp. Hear me out! First time he goes out drinking with friends he discovers he is way more sensitive to alcohol than he thought he’d be. He wakes up with a bunch of blank spots in his memory, a helluva headache, and a sore spot on his back. A week or two later he is getting undressed to take a shower and notices something weird on his back out of the corner of his eye. And there it is! The words “Señor Madrigal” in a heart made out of healing herbs. Inexplicably, there are dolphins either side of the heart. When he asks his friends, he went missing for a while and they eventually found him hours later with his tie and vest off, and his shirt untucked. Biggest problem? He is not yet dating Julieta.

Julieta

In contrast, Julieta had an idea for a tattoo for her entire childhood, but figured she’d never get it because she knew her Má would hate it. She starts dating Agustín (is very amused when she sees his tattoo), then starts arguing with Alma over her boyfriend. In a fit of pique, she decides to get the tattoo whether or not her Má likes it. Even though Alma is annoyed at the tattoo itself, when she sees it she can’t help but like it. It’s essentially Julieta’s own version of the Hippocratic Oath on her left shoulder blade. Pepa makes fun of her because “even when you rebel against mother, you’re so perfect about it”. Eventually, Juli gets a matching tattoo with her siblings. Eventually.

Pepa

Pepa always wanted a tattoo but couldn’t settle on anything until Dolores is born. After that she gets each of her baby’s birthdates tattooed on her ankle. She would also eventually get a matching sibling tattoo.

Félix

Song lyrics, his wedding anniversary, and a tattoo that references his side of the family in some way. Maybe all together to form a sleeve, but more likely to be on his back.

Bruno

Bruno would have a full sleeve of good luck tattoos, and then some. He would have a chicken on one foot and a pig on the other (sailor superstition), on his shoulder blade opposite his sleeve he would have a prayer he likes that he got right before going into the walls. In an ill thought out fit of boredom he would give himself a stick and poke in the walls, the word “leña” on his knuckles (one of the ways to say wood in Spanish, although it looks like people usually use it to say firewood, but “madera” wouldn’t fit on his knuckles). Then when he gets out of the walls and is reunited with his sisters they would get a matching tattoo, the movie hasn’t really shown us enough of their relationship for me to say exactly what, but something meaningful to them.

Isabela

Immediately post movie she would get a sleeve of carnivorous and poisonous plants in order to express her newfound individuality. Later when she’s gotten over the initial high of finding herself, she would get a butterfly or something, something that represents her love for the family.

Dolores

One of Mariano’s poems on the inside of her forearm so she can reread it regularly. And a little lightning bolt right behind her ear, Pepa’s gift probably makes their relationship complicated, so I could see them looking for ways to show they do love each other despite said complications.

Luisa

She would have some sort of inspirational quote on her bicep about hard work, then post movie she would get another on the other arm about remembering to pause and enjoy life every once in a while.

Camilo

Like his mother he’d have a really hard time picking a tattoo, since the creators said they would have included him having slight identity issues if they had the space for it. When he gets on the other side of those issues, he gets those two theatre masks on the inside of his wrist to remind himself not to get too caught up in his own act.

Mirabel

Since she puts so much self expression into her clothes she wouldn’t really get the point of getting a tattoo until post movie when she starts actively building a relationship with Alma and thus gets to learn the town’s history more in depth than before. Then she gets the date the Encanto was established, a picture of the butterfly that was on the candle, and a quote about love conquering all.

Antonio

His back would become a guide to different animal tracks. So there would be the paw print and then right under it a label explaining what animal it goes to, but like all over his back and spilling down his arms when he runs out of room. Since he and the artist wouldn’t be sure how to do snake tracks, he’d have the local snake species circling his ankles and wrists.

[dearly-somber]

you broke me first | k.is

-> pairing. ex!kim inseong x f!reader

-> genre. angst

-> rating. 13+

-> w/c. 1103

-> warnings. Drinking, intoxication, relationship ended on bad terms

-> a/n. This isn’t half bad?? Despite being old as shit 😭

-> collection. songfic

-> started. ???

-> fin. October 31st, 2020 @ 20:33

-> edited. Sat., Jul. 15th, 2023 @ 20:55

It didn't take long until you were leaning with your palm pressed against your forehead, staring at the bottom of your glass in a daze.

You had been sitting on the same barstool for little over two hours now, wallowing in self pity. You had heard that Inseong had moved on a lot faster than you had and that he was already dating again. You had seen him around campus a few times, but anytime you saw even just a hint of him you bolted out of the immediate area, going far, far away.

You had made eye contact with him only once since the break-up: the day after, in the cafeteria, when you saw him smiling and flirting with a girl from your class. He had turned around and immediately met your eyes. It took exactly .1 seconds for you to burst into tears, rushing out of the cafeteria to avoid embarrassing yourself further.

The whole of your grade and the grade above knew that you had been dating Inseong and that meant that they knew you had broken up... More like you had been dumped, but asked for specifics, right?

You scoffed as you poured another round of soju, smacking away Youngbin's hand when he tried to get the bottle away from you.

"You've had enough to drink—"

"I've had enough to drink when I've said I've had enough to drink," you warned your friend in a low voice, glaring at him. Youngbin looked at you worriedly, sighing while running a hand through his hair. "Just… Go have some fun, Youngie. I'll be fine," you assured him in a softer, gentler tone.

Youngbin bit his lip in thought. "Promise you'll stay here so that I can take you home later?"

You nodded with a drunken smile, holding out your pinky finger. “Promise."

You giggled stupidly when the two of you connected your thumbs together in a signature 'stamp' move. Youngbin then left you to sulk on your own. Good. He deserves to have some fun.

In your drunken state, you couldn't notice the way Inseong eyed you from the pool table, his hair falling into his face just the way you used to like it.

Inseong sighed, putting down his stick and walking over to you. He stopped in his tracks when he was pulled back by a hand on his wrist.

"Where are you going?" Jaeyoon asked seriously, looking at his older friend questioningly.

Nodding his head in your direction, Inseong turned back to look at Jaeyoon. "I'm going to take her home," Inseong said, jerking his arm out of Jaeyoon's grip.

"You know that's a bad idea, right?"

"And why's that?" Inseong asked pointedly, clenching his jaw.

"It's Y/N, for goodness sakes! Your ex, remember? The one you dumped?"

"I didn't dump her," Inseong defended, rubbing his temples. "I broke up with her."

"Hyung," Jaeyoon said, leaning against his pool-stick for emphasis. "You told her you liked someone else and wanted to break things off to be with her. You dumped her."

Inseong sighed deeply, turning away while rolling his eyes exaggeratedly.

Jaeyoon scoffed in disbelief, shaking his head while watching his friend walk off in annoyance. "He never listens to me," he sighed, heading back to the pool table.

"Y/N?"

You froze.

You'd recognize that voice anywhere. Hoping you were hallucinating, you downed the last bit of your drink before going to refill it. The soju bottle, however, was tugged out of your hand and put on the far corner of the table. "I think you've had enough to drink, don't you agree?"

You turned to look at Inseong with a grimace, anger boiling in your chest. Inseong flinched at your hard gaze, not used to your cold stares—always expecting the warm and loving gaze he was so used to.

Clenching your fists, you stared him down. "What do you want, Inseong?"

He winced. You used to call his name lovingly, but here you were spitting his name like it was venomous. "I'm going to take you home, Y/N. You're wasted and someone might take advantage of that—"

"And?" you snapped coldly.

"And? Y/N, what's gotten into you?" Inseong asked angrily, his voice raising slightly. You winced, shrinking in on yourself. Inseong sighed, his eyes softening. "I'm sorry for raising my voice, but please," he paused, gently tilting your head up to make you look at him. "Don't say something like that again," he begged.

You nodded, almost falling all over again. You jerked away from him, clearing your throat. “I can't go with you."

"Why not?"

"Youngbin told me to stay here," you said matter-of-factly, recconnecting your eyes. Inseong froze slightly at the mention of Youngbin. Even while the two of you were dating he had felt somewhat insecure about your relationship with Youngbin. He felt that he liked you more than just a friend, and it made him nervous. Jealous, even.

He grimaced as he replied. “And you're listening to him why?"

You smiled sadly. “Still don't like him, huh?"

Inseong stayed silent, not having a good enough comeback to back himself up.

"So... Where's your new girlfriend?" you asked bitterly, staring at the bottom of your glass again.

"What girlfriend?" Inseong’s brows furrowed questioningly.

"BamBam said you were dating someone?" you said, your brow raised in disbelief.

Inseong scoffed, muttering under his breath. “I met a girl, yes, but we're not dating."

"Why not?"

"Because she's not you."

You paused. What?

"Excuse me?" you asked slowly, tears forming in the corners of your eyes.

"I miss you too, you know? It's not just—"

"Where'd you get the nerve?"

Tears ran down your cheeks in long, hot streaks, catching people's attention. One of whom was Jaeyoon, who ran for Youngbin.

"I'm human, Y/N! I'm hurting too!" Inseong yelled, standing up. You got up from your chair as well, staring at him with pure anger.

"I don't care how bad it hurts, Inseong!" you shouted back, people turning their heads to stare questioningly. Inseong stayed silent as he watched you, nails digging into his palms. Sniffling, you looked down. “I don't care how bad it hurts, because you broke me first."

"Y/N..." Inseong whispered, reaching for you before being pushed back.

Youngbin stood in front of you protectively.

"Leave her alone, Inseong. You've done enough," he snarled, turning around and hugging you to his chest.

Inseong's jealousy and guilt flared up as he could only watch you walk away with Youngbin... Watch you cry.

"I'm sorry," Inseong muttered, looking down as tears rolled down his face, sinking down onto his knees.

[mariacallous]

Content warning: This article contains a scene including a graphic sexual assault.

My friend sets aside his cocktail, its foamy top sprinkled with cinnamon in the shape of a hammer and sickle, to process his disbelief at what I’ve just told him. “You want to return to Russia?” he asks.

I met Enrico when I arrived in Stockholm eight months ago. He understands my situation as well as anyone. He knows that I fled Moscow three days after Russia invaded Ukraine; that my name, along with the names of other journalists who left, has fallen into the hands of pro-Kremlin activists who have compiled a public list of “traitors to the motherland”; that some of the publications where I’ve worked have been labeled “undesirable organizations”; that a summons from the military enlistment office is waiting for me at home; that since Vladimir Putin expanded the law banning “gay propaganda,” I could be fined up to $5,000 merely for going on a date. In short, Enrico knows what may await if I return: fear, violence, harm.

He wants me to explain why I would go back, but I can’t think of an answer he’d understand or accept. Plus, I’m distracted by the TV screens in the bar. They’re playing a video on loop—a crowd in January 1990 waiting to get into the first McDonald’s to open in Russia. The people are in fluffy beaver fur hats, and their voices speak a language that, for the past year, I’ve heard only inside my head. “Why am I here?” a woman in the video says in Russian. “Because we are all hungry, you could say.” As the doors to McDonald’s open and the line starts to move, I no longer hear everything Enrico is saying (“You could live with me rent-free …” “You could go to Albania. It’s cheaper than in Scandinavia ...” “We could get married so you can live and work here legally …”).

Part of me had planned this meeting in hopes that Enrico would persuade me to change my mind—and he did try. But I’ve already bought the nonrefundable plane tickets, which are saved on my phone, ready to go.

A week later, I spend a night erasing the past year from my life—a year of running through Europe as if through a maze. I clear my chats in Telegram and unsubscribe from channels that cover the war. I wipe my browser history, delete my VPN apps, remove the rainbow strap on my watch, and tear the Ukrainian flag sticker from my jacket. The next day—March 29, 2023—I fly to Tallinn, Estonia, and ride a half-empty bus through a deep forest to the Russian border. The checkpoint sits at a bridge over the Narva River, between two late-medieval castles. German shepherds keep watch, and an armed soldier patrols the river by boat.

“What were you doing in the European Union?” the Russian guard asks.

“I was on vacation,” I say.

“You were on vacation for more than a year?” she asks.

I reply that I have been very tired. She stamps my passport and the bus moves on.

What I didn’t tell the guard, and what I couldn’t tell Enrico, is that I’m tired of hiding from my country—and that I want to trade one form of hiding for another. I have conducted my adult life as if censorship and propaganda were my natural enemies, but now some broken part of me is homesick for that world. I want to be deceived, to forget that there is a war going on.

“Start from the beginning,” my mother would say when I couldn’t figure out a homework problem. “Just start all over again.”

I woke up on February 24, 2022, to a message from a friend that read: “The war has begun.” At the time, I was an editor at GQ Russia, gathering material for our next issue on Russian expats who had moved back home during the pandemic. I was also editing a YouTube series called Queerography. For a blissful moment, I took my friend’s text for a joke. Then I saw videos from Ukrainian towns under bombardment. Russian forces had encircled most of the country. My boyfriend was still asleep. I wished I could be in his place.

A few months earlier, American intelligence had informed Ukraine and other countries in Europe of a possible offensive. But Russia’s foreign minister, Sergey Lavrov, had responded: “This is all propaganda, fake news and fiction.” While I didn’t necessarily believe the truth of Lavrov’s words, I doubted the regime could afford to tell a lie so big. Vladimir Putin’s approval rating was near its lowest point since he gained power. On the eve of the attack on Ukraine, only 3 percent of my fellow citizens thought the war was “inevitable.”

After the invasion, I spent three days in silence. I couldn’t sleep, and I had no appetite. My hands trembled so badly that I couldn’t hold a glass of water still. When I visited friends, we’d sit in different corners of the room scrolling through the news, occasionally breaking the silence with “This is fucked up.”

In Moscow, armed police patrolled the streets to deter protesters. Soon, the press reported that a man was arrested in a shopping mall for an “unsanctioned rally” because he was wearing blue and yellow sneakers, the colors of the Ukrainian flag. News media websites were blocked in accordance with the new law on “fake news” about Ukraine. People stood in line to empty the ATMs. “War” and “peace”—two words that form the title of Russia’s most celebrated novel—were now forbidden to be pronounced in public. Instagram was filled with black squares, uncaptioned, seemingly the only form of protest that remained possible. The price of a plane ticket out of Russia soared from $100 to $3,000, in a country where the minimum wage was about $170 a month.

If I waited another day, it seemed, the Iron Curtain would descend and I would become a hostage of my own country. So on the morning of March 1, my boyfriend and I locked the door to our Moscow apartment for the last time and made for the airport. In my backpack were warm clothes, $500 in cash, and a computer. We were leaving for nowhere, not knowing which country we would wake up in the next day.

At the international airport in Yerevan, Armenia, flights arrived every hour from Russia and the United Arab Emirates, another route along which people fled. Once we were there, we boarded a minivan to Georgia, the only country in the South Caucasus with which Russia no longer maintained diplomatic ties. The van was packed with families and their pets. From one of the back seats, a girl asked her mother: “Mama, are we far away from the war now?” A night road through mountain passes and volcanic lakes took us to the border. I asked a guard there to share a mobile hot spot with me so I could get online and retrieve coronavirus test results in my email. “Of course,” he replied, “though you don’t deserve it.”

In Tbilisi, the alleys were lit up at night with blue and yellow. On the city’s main hotel hung a poster that read “Russian warship, go fuck yourself.” Fresh graffiti on walls around the city read: “Putin is a war criminal and murderer.”

At an acquaintance’s apartment, we shared a room with two other men who had fled. “The most important thing is that we’re safe,” we reassured each other if one of us began to cry. “I’m not a criminal,” said one of the guys. “Why should I have to run from my own country?” None of us had an answer.

In Russia I was now labeled a “traitor and fugitive.” The Committee for the Protection of National Interests, an organization associated with Putin’s United Russia party, had stolen a database containing the names of journalists who had left the country and distributed it on Telegram. Liberal journalists in Moscow had begun to find the words “Here lives a traitor to the Motherland” scrawled on their doors. One critic was sent a severed pig’s head.

My fellow fugitives and I started looking for somewhere more permanent to live, but most rental ads in Tbilisi stipulated “Russians not accepted.” We tried to open bank accounts, but when the bank employees saw our red passports they rejected our applications. Like so many other companies, Condé Nast—which publishes GQ and WIRED, among other magazines—pulled out of Russia. I was without a job. The YouTube show I edited closed down soon after, its founder declared a foreign agent and later added to the Register of Extremists and Terrorists. Foreign publications told me that all work with Russian journalists was temporarily suspended.

Soon signs began to appear outside bars and restaurants in Tbilisi saying that Russians were not welcome inside. I decided to sign in to Tinder to try to meet people in this new city, but most men I chatted with suggested that I go home and take Molotov cocktails to Red Square. I placed a Ukrainian flag sticker on my breast pocket and wandered the city in silence, ashamed of my language.

My boyfriend and I finally found a room in a former warehouse with no windows, the furniture covered in construction dust. The owner was an artist who was in urgent need of money. To pay the rent, I sold online all my belongings from the Moscow apartment: a vintage armchair from Czechoslovakia, an antique Moroccan rug, books dotted with notes, a record player given to me by the love of my life. Ikea had closed its stores in Russia, and customers wrote to me: “Your stuff is like a belated Christmas miracle.”

One day in mid-spring, I left the warehouse for an anti-war rally that was being held outside the Russian Federation Interests Section based in the Swiss Embassy. The motley throngs of people chanted “No to war!” In the crowd I glimpsed the familiar faces of journalists who had left Russia like me. “Why did you come here?” a stranger asked me in English. “To us, to Georgia. Do you really think your cries will change anything? You shouldn’t be protesting here. You should be outside the Kremlin.”

I wanted to tell him that I grew up in a country where a dictator came to power when I was 6 years old, a man who has his enemies killed. I wanted to say: One time, when I was an editor at Esquire, my boss denounced an author I worked with to Putin’s security service, the FSB, and the FSB sent agents to interrogate me, and when I warned the author, the FSB came for me again, threatening to arrest me and listing aloud the names of all my family members. I wanted to tell the stranger on that street in Tbilisi that I’d had to disappear for a while, and that when I felt brave enough, I had gone to protests and donated money to human rights organizations. That I had fought but, it seemed, had lost. That I just wanted to live the one life I’ve got a little bit longer. But at the time I couldn’t find the words.

A month later, the world saw images of mass graves in the Kyiv suburb of Bucha, dead limbs sticking out of the sand. Outside our building one morning, on an old brick wall that was previously empty, was a fresh message, the paint still wet: “Russians, go home.” My boyfriend went back to Russia so he could obtain a European visa, promising he would be back in a month, but he never returned.

I spent the rest of the year on the move: Cyprus, Estonia, Norway, France, Austria, Hungary, Sweden. I went where I had friends. The independent Russian media that I’d always consumed went into exile too, setting up operations where they could. TV Rain began broadcasting out of Amsterdam. Meduza moved its Russian branch to Europe. The newspaper Novaya Gazeta, cofounded by the Nobel Peace Prize laureate Dmitry Muratov, reopened in Latvia. Farida Rustamova, a former BBC Russia correspondent, fled and launched a Substack called Faridaily, where she began publishing information from Kremlin insiders. Journalists working for the independent news website Important Stories, which published names and photos of Russian soldiers involved in the murder of civilians in a Ukrainian village, went to Czechia. These, along with 247,000 other websites, were blocked at the behest of the Prosecutor General’s Office but remained accessible in Russia through VPNs.

“During the first days of the war, everything was in a fog,” says Ilya Krasilshchik, the former publisher of Meduza, who went on to found Help Desk, which combines news media and a help hotline for those impacted by war. “We felt it our duty to inform people of what the Russian army was doing in Ukraine, to document the hell that despair and powerlessness leave in their wake. But we also wanted to empathize with all of the people caught up in this meat grinder.” Taisiya Bekbulatova, a former special correspondent for Meduza and the founder of the news outlet Holod, tells me, “In nature you find parasites that can force their host to act in the parasite’s own interest, and propaganda, I believe, works in much the same way. That’s why we felt it was our duty to provide people with more information.”

I wanted to continue my work in journalism, but the publications that had fled Russia weren’t hiring. My application for a Latvian humanitarian visa as an independent journalist was rejected, and I didn’t have the means to pay the fees for US or UK talent visas.

The panic attacks began in the fall, during my first stay in Stockholm. Red spots, first appearing around my groin, started to take over my body, creeping up to my throat. I’d get sick, recover, and then wake up with a sore throat. In October, I learned that my boyfriend had married someone else. The next day, my mother called to tell me that a summons from the military enlistment office had arrived.

I was in Cyprus when, at 3 am one February morning, I woke to the sound of walls cracking and the metal legs of my bed knocking on marble. Fruit fell to the floor and turned to mush. The tremors of a magnitude-7.8 earthquake in Gaziantep, Turkey, had passed through the Mediterranean Sea and reached the island. I didn’t scramble out of bed. I hoped instead that I would be buried under the rubble—a choice made for me by fate. Later that month, my friends in Stockholm insisted that I come stay with them again. I wandered the streets on a clear winter day, buying up expired food in the stores. The blue and yellow flags of Sweden shone bright in the sun, but I saw in them the flag of another country. Back in the apartment, I slept all the time, and when I did wake I lulled myself with Valium. One day I felt the urge to swallow the whole bottle.

Frightened by my own thoughts, I felt how much I wanted to be back in Russia. In my mother country, all the tools of propaganda would keep painful truths at bay. “The news in Russia is only ever good news,” Zhanna Agalakova, a former anchor on state TV’s main news show, later told me. Agalakova quit after the invasion began and returned the awards she had received to Putin. “Even if people understand that they’re being brainwashed, in the end they give up, and propaganda calms them down. Because they simply have nowhere to run.”

Masha Borzunova, a journalist who fled Russia and runs her own YouTube channel, walked me through a typical day of Russian TV: “A person wakes up to a news broadcast that shows how the Russian military is making gains. Then Anti-Fake begins, where the presenters dismantle the fake news of Western propaganda and propagate their own fake news. Then there’s the talk show Time Will Tell that runs for four, sometimes five hours, where we’ll see Russian soldiers bravely advancing. Then comes Male and Female—before the war it was a program about social issues, and now they discuss things like how to divide the state compensation for funeral expenses between the mother of a dead soldier and his father who left the family several years ago. Then more news and a few more talk shows, in which a KGB combat psychic predicts Russia’s future and what will happen on the front. This is followed by the game show Field of Miracles, with prizes from the United Russia party or the Wagner Private Military Company. And then, of course, the evening news.”

I had gone from being infuriated by this kind of hypnosis to envying it. The free flow of information had become for me what a jug of water is to a severely dehydrated person: The right amount can save you, but too much can kill.

“Welcome to Russia,” the bus driver said as we crossed the border from Estonia. I was nearly home. There was no particular reason for me to return to Moscow, so I made for St. Petersburg, where some friends had an apartment that was empty. I used to look after it before the war, coming over to unwind and water the flowers. It was a place of peace.

All my friends had left Russia too, so I was the first person to set foot in the apartment in a year. Black specks covered every surface-—midges that had flown in before the war and died. I scrubbed the place through the first night, starting to cry like a child when I came across ordinary objects I remembered from peacetime: shower gel, a blender, a rabbit mask made out of cardboard. Over the next few weeks, I tried to return to the past as I remembered it. I went to the bakery in the morning. I exercised, read, wrote. At first glance, the city seemed unchanged. There were the same boatloads of tourists on the canals, tour groups on Palace Square, overcrowded bars in Dumskaya Street. But more and more, St. Petersburg began to feel to me like the backdrop of a period film: impeccably executed, the gap between the past and the present visible only in the details.

One day I heard loud noises outside my window, as if all the TVs in town had suddenly started emitting the sound of static. The next day the headline read: “Terrorist Suspected of Bombing St. Petersburg Café Detained and Giving Testimony.” The café had hosted an event honoring the pro-war military blogger Vladlen Tatarsky, and a bust of his likeness had blown up, killing him and injuring more than 30 people. But life went on as if nothing had happened. St. Petersburg was plastered with posters for an upcoming concert by Shaman, a singer who had become popular since the invasion thanks to his song “I’m Russian.” (He would later release “My Fight,” a song that seemingly alludes to Hitler’s Mein Kampf.) In a candy store I noticed a chocolate truffle with a portrait of Putin on the wrapper. “It’s filled with rum,” the clerk said.

Sometimes in checkout lines at the supermarket I glimpsed mercenaries in balaclavas, newly returned from or preparing to go to the front. On the escalator down to the subway, where classical music usually floated from the speakers, Rachmaninov’s Second Piano Concerto was interrupted by an announcement: “Attention! Male citizens, we invite you to sign a contract with the military!” In the train car, I saw a poster that read: “Serving Russia is a real job! Sign a military service contract and get a salary starting at 204,000 rubles per month”—about $2,000. One afternoon, as I stood on the platform next to a train bound for a city near the Georgian border, I overheard two men talking:

“I earned 50,000 in a month.”

“You’re kidding.”

“No, bro. But I won’t go back to Ukraine again. It’s fucking terrifying.”

This was a rare admission. The horror of the war’s casualties—zinc coffins, once prosperous cities turned to ruins—were otherwise hidden behind the celebrations for City Day, the opening of the St. Petersburg International Economic Forum, and marathons held on downtown streets.

After a week or so in Russia, feeling very alone, I went on Tinder. One evening I invited a man I hadn’t met over to the apartment. I placed two cups of tea on a table, but when the man arrived he didn’t touch his. He threw me to the floor, unbuttoned his pants, and inserted his dry penis inside me. “I know you want it,” he whispered, covering my mouth. “I can tell from your asshole.”

I bit him and squirmed, trying to get him off me. After he left, my legs kicked frantically and I couldn’t breathe. I knew that the police wouldn’t help me. I contacted Tinder to tell them that I had been raped and sent them a screenshot of the man’s profile, but no one answered. That evening I bought a ticket for a night train to Moscow. More than ever, I wanted to see my mother.

“You must have frozen over there,” My mother said as she met me at the door to her apartment outside Moscow. Putin had said that, without Russian-supplied gas, “Europeans are stocking up on firewood for the winter like it’s the Middle Ages.” People were supposedly cutting down trees in parks for fuel and burning antique furniture. Some of the only warm places in European cities were so-called Russian houses, government-funded cultural exchanges where people could go escape the cold as part of a “From Russia with Warmth” campaign. When I told my mother that Sweden recycles waste and uses it to heat houses, she grimaced in disgust.

Thirteen months earlier, when I had left the country, my mother called to ask me why. I told her that I didn’t want to be sent to fight, that I couldn’t work in Russia anymore. “You’re panicking for no reason,” she said. “Why would the army need you? We’ll take Kyiv in a few days.” After the horrors in Bucha, I had sent her an interview with a Russian soldier who admitted to killing defenseless people. “It’s fake,” she responded. “Son, turn on the TV for once. Don’t you see that all those bodies are moving?” She was referring to optical distortions in a certain video, which Russian propagandists used to their advantage.

After that, we had agreed not to discuss my decision or views so that we could remain a family. Instead, we talked about my sister’s upcoming wedding, my aunt’s promotion at a Chinese cosmetics company whose products were replacing the brands that had quit the country. My uncle, a mechanic, had finally found a job that would get him out of debt—repairing military equipment in Russian-occupied territories. My mother was planning to take advantage of falling real estate prices to buy land and build a house. In their reality, the war was not a tragedy but an elevator.

I had arrived on Easter Sunday, and the whole family gathered at my mother’s house for the celebration. My aunt told me she was worried that I might be forced to change my gender in the West; she had heard that the Canadian government was paying people $75,000 to undergo gender-affirming surgery and hormonal therapy. My stepfather was interested in the availability of meat in Swedish stores. Someone asked whether it was dangerous to speak Russian abroad, whether Ukrainians had assaulted me. I kept quiet about the fact that the only person who had attacked me since the invasion was a Russian man, that the real threat was much closer than my family thought. The TVs in each of the three rooms of the apartment were all switched on: They played a church service, then a film called Century of the USSR. There were news broadcasts every two hours and the program Moscow. The Kremlin. Putin—a kind of reality show about the president.

“Do you know what this is?” my mother said as she placed a dusty bottle of wine without any labels in the middle of the festive table. “Your uncle gave it to us,” my stepfather chimed in. “He brought it from Ukraine.” A trophy from a bombed-out Ukrainian mansion near Melitopol, stolen by my uncle while Russian soldiers helped themselves to electronics and jewelry. “Let’s drink to God,” said my stepfather, raising his glass. “You can’t raise a glass to God,” my mother answered. “That’s not done.” “Let’s drink to our big family,” he said. The clinking of crystal filled the room; to my ears it sounded like cicadas.

Suddenly I felt sick and locked myself in the bathroom. I tried to vomit, but my stomach was empty, bringing up only a retch. “What’s wrong?” my mother asked, standing outside the door. “Drink some water, rest, sleep.” I tried to lie down. My skin began to itch. My friend Ilya Kolmanovsky, a science journalist, once told me: “Did you know that a person cannot tickle himself? Likewise you cannot deceive a mind that already knows the truth.” Self-deception is dangerous, he said: “Just as your immune system can attack your own body, your mind can also engage in destroying you day by day.”

That evening I left my mother’s apartment for St. Petersburg and made an appointment with a psychiatrist. I told the doctor that I felt like the past had been lost and I couldn’t find a place for myself in the present. She asked when my problems began. “During the war,” I answered, careful to keep my face expressionless. The psychiatrist noted my response in the medical history. “You’re not the only one,” she said. She diagnosed me with prolonged depression and severe anxiety and prescribed tranquilizers, an antipsychotic, and an anti-depressant. “There are problems with drugs from the West,” she said. Better to take the Russian-made ones. If the Western pills were like Fiat cars, then these would be the Russian analog, Zhigulis: “Both will bring you closer to calm, but the quality of the trip will differ.”

Though the drugs seemed to help, I began to realize over the next several weeks that no amount of pills could change this fact: The home I was looking for in Russia existed only in my memories. In June, I decided to emigrate once again. At the border in Ivangorod, spikes of barbed wire pierced the azure sky and smoke from burning fuel oil rose from the chimneys of the customs building. This time, as I left, I felt that I had no reason to return. My home was nowhere, but I would continue searching for one.

With financial help from a friend, I moved to Paris and signed a contract with a book agent. I made an effort not to read the news. Still, from time to time, I came across stories about Putin’s increasing popularity at home, how foreign nationals could obtain Russian citizenship for fighting in Ukraine, how the regime passed a law that would allow it to confiscate property from people who spread “falsehoods about the Russian army.” One day, when air defense systems shot down a combat drone less than 8 miles from my mother’s home, she called me and asked: “Why did you leave? Who else will protect me when the war comes to us? Who if not my son?” I didn’t have an answer. “I love you, Mama”—that was the only truth I could tell her.

[thelonesomequeen]

Alright, I know we said we were done with this, but this is an interesting point. This is just like the Aly Raisman puppy play date situation where the article about their Instagram interaction came out before the post itself did on Instagram. I just looked into this and it looks like you’re right. The Just Jared article was posted online before Alba made her Instagram post. I just did these screenshots now so you all could see the screenshots 🦎 // This is an error with the google server. The actual post of JJ was after the like. You can confirm by clicking the link to the article. You’ll see that the hours doesn’t align with the actual time posted.

Unless the article was later edited. Then it would show a different time stamp on the article itself 🦎

[jodilin65]

THURSDAY, JULY 30, 1992 I’m watching Candid Camera now waiting for my talk show to come on.

Well, today was another good day but it sure was hot and frustrating waiting forever at welfare to fill out a stupid form, get a date, and a letter for the food bank. They gave me a lot of really good stuff at the food bank. More than the churches.

I think I’ll have to go for an appointment on the 3rd. Mark said he’ll take me. I gave him 4 more loaves of bread. Now he’s got bread for months and I have 4 or 5 loaves in my freezer. I sure hope they mail me my food stamps before I run out of the food I got today.

I have other things to write about like Jake, a friend of Fay’s who’s bi. Andy liked his body and his hair but says his face looks devilish. They talked for a long time but there were things about him Andy didn’t like. Otherwise, Andy said he was very interesting and very open. Jake is only into casuals and Andy wants more than that, so it’s all up in the air pretty much. If they can be friends, that’s cool.

There was an awesome storm with neat lightning, thunder, rain and gusty winds at 45 MPH. Mark and I were enjoying it outside our doors as I was sprinkling my unwanted pinto beans in the gravel.

Two missionaries came here looking for Robert upstairs. He was there as I could hear him walking around up there. He didn’t answer his door, though, and Mark and I were busting the missionaries, saying he was an escaped convict profiled on Unsolved Mysteries. Mark told them to put a bulletproof vest on as he’s a psycho man who was in the war.

Around 9:30, I went over to Andy’s and I tried calling Fran but there was no answer. We called Nervous instead and I taped him. We were on the phone till almost 11:00 and I billed the call to Bob.

Jake was telling me I have beautiful legs and a beautiful body.

Ha! My legs are my worse feature, besides my teeth.

He also says in time he could find me a feminine woman for sex here and there. Oh, sure. I don’t want any more good-looking people in my life. I don’t want anything to do with Rosemarie either.

On this talk show, a comment which I’ve heard before got me cracking up. This applies to gays and straights and people looking for one-nighters as well as commitment. That when you’re not looking is when you meet someone. Really? Well, I haven’t been looking and I’ve had only two one-nighters since early 1991 after me and Brenda split up. This is why when it comes to sex, relationships, and careers, I don’t think a negative or positive attitude is relevant. If you think positive about something or someone you really want and bust your ass trying for it, it’s not gonna happen if it ain’t meant to be. We do not make our rules to a degree. God or whatever’s up there does. There are only certain things we can control. We can dump or keep our friends. But who we can and cannot get as friends is beyond our control. We can choose what we eat, what we wear and things like that.

Well, now I choose to go listen to music. After that, I choose to be in bed with an attractive woman and be a professional singer, but God won’t allow that. Maybe in the year 2000. The singer, in the next life.

I began editing Nerv from tonight’s convo. It’s pretty funny as usual.

Later…

I fell asleep around 4 AM last night, and boy was I pissed at 7:45 when I awoke to loud knocking. I thought it was my door, but it was Mark’s friend Lance knocking on his door. I was over there getting Andy more pot and I told him I was royally pissed at being woken up, that I ain’t up that early, so knock softly or on Mark’s bedroom window. I think for the rest of my life I’ll be woken up 1-3 times a week. It just isn’t destined for me to wake up when I want to. Well, it beats being woken up 24/7 in the old project. And never hearing yourself think till midnight-7 AM.

Where is UPS with my packages? Where are my pictures Ma’s supposed to send back? She better send back all 12, too. When are Tammy and Lisa gonna write? She told me a few weeks ago she had letters coming out, so what’s taking so long?

I can’t wait for the rest of my picture collection (of celebs). It’s been two months and a week.

Later…

I just went out to mail a letter to Jayke. The one we worked with at Denny’s in Chicopee. I wrote this letter for Andy when I first got here before I got my own place. He lost her address and he waited for her to write to him and she just did.

On my way back from the mailbox, I saw Albert, Donna’s husband and he said hi. I said hi too, and kept on walking.

I’m gonna be eating dinner at Andy’s at 7 PM. He bought chicken and I supplied the potatoes. He’s very obnoxious to eat with, though. He makes these gross slurping and smacking sounds and it’s pretty impossible to not hear it, even from across the room.

He gave me another tape he no longer wants, so I’ll use it as a blank. I just threw in a CD of Linda’s.

Later…

I’m copying some tapes for Andy and there’s not really much more to say. Only that Fay and I may bring Andy to the airport. Then, on the 3rd when I’ve got to pay SRP and go to welfare and to the store, she may take me.

I went into the Jacuzzi a little while ago. Rick came out on his patio and we said hello to each other. I went up and knocked on their door and no one answered. I said to myself, OK, I’m outa here. They’ve never made any attempts to see me so that pretty much tells me something.

I don’t know what could be going on in their lives and yes, they did seem friendly before, but now I feel like something’s up. Like something’s telling me to just stay away and that it wouldn’t be a wise idea to waste my time with these people.

Andy and Fay are enough for now. Both Andy and I really like Fay. I’ve simply taken so much shit from people and especially the really good-looking people. Rosemarie is a perfect 10 and I swore I’d just hang out with average or below-average-looking people. Also, low-income people.

Well, I just lit my cigarette off the stove. My lighter conked out and I ran out of matches. Nervous quit smoking 8 weeks ago. That’s pretty good but he’s miserable on a daily basis with urges to smoke. Poor guy. But he was getting the beginnings of emphysema.

Later…

Well, I just went to make a collect call to Debbie in Oakwood Knoll and she got her number changed to a non-published one. Barbara never answered. I’m sure they unplug their phone at night. They’re probably thinking, gee she’s all the way in Phoenix and she’s still bothering us! She’s not here to be woken up by us, but she’s gonna wake us up for sure if we don’t unplug our phone at night. A few days ago, I was making collect calls to them and Debbie said my name. I was cracking up afterward.

With my luck, though, they called Tammy or Mary Jane and then Mary Jane called Tammy. If so, Tammy would just say what the fuck do you want me to do about it? But Mary Jane knows how I, Tammy and the rest of my family feel about her and Oakwood Knoll so I think she’d be hesitant to bother. The same goes for Barbara and other tenants. They really drove me up the damn wall there.

Andy will no doubt get a kick out of learning about the new non-published number and about Barbara having to unplug her phone at night. Whenever I call after 10:30 at night there’s no answer and I know they’re there. I’m sure they can’t afford to change their number so they’re willing to deal with it in the daytime. At night they must unplug their phone so as not to be woken up. Meanwhile, they can’t wake me up.

I really must start writing some letters. I need to write to my niece, Tammy and my parents. I will send that cat I drew to Tammy to give to Karen. It came out well. Better than I expected. I have Tammy’s birthday card and my parents’ anniversary card. Next Monday I’ll mail my parent’s card.

What’s taking them so long to send the pictures Andy took? Maybe she’s waiting to show them to Tammy after all. I know she will be there through August 1st – 8th, but when the exact date is they leave and return, beats me. I’m not even sure if they’re driving or flying. I think they’re gonna fly. If Mom does have those pictures when Tammy, Bill and the girls are there, they can all rank on them together. Why is it taking her so long to ship me the rest of my stuff? In a letter to me, she said she’d be shipping them out ASAP. Over the phone, she said it’d take months. She wants me to believe she hasn’t got the money to ship everything at once.

When Andy’s tapes are through, I’m gonna take a walk over with them to his place.

Rosemarie said her birthday is August 6th and I have all those cards ma sent. Half of me says to give her one, but the other half says it wouldn’t look right. Is it a dumb idea? I certainly wouldn’t tell her my mom sent me tons of all kinds of cards, so she’d assume I bought it. But why go out and buy a card for someone you don’t really even know? I think I’ll just go and wish her a happy birthday.

I think I’ll watch Hard Copy and A Current Affair instead. I haven’t seen them all that much lately and I believe Andy has to work tomorrow. If so, he’s gone to bed or is going to bed very soon. Of course, I’ll also watch Candid Camera and the Jane Whitney talk show.

Why are there so many fucking crickets in here? I know they’re harmless, but they sure as hell are annoying. They jump out at you unexpectedly and really make a racket. Current Location: Arizona

TUESDAY, JULY 28, 1992 I am watching Candid Camera now and next is Night Talk with Jane Whitney.

On this talk show, there are “lipstick lesbians” on now. I’ve seen this before.

Earlier I did stop up to see Rosemarie but Rick answered the door saying she was asleep. I would’ve loved to go climb into her bed and join her, but instead, I just told Rick I’ll see them some other time.

Andy and I went to the grocery store where he bought us TV dinners. He also got me some milk, lent me a roll of toilet paper, and brought us some popcorn which we had while we played Crazy 8’s. I’m glad we’re finally playing Crazy 8’s after about 15 years. I wonder what took us so long to get back into it as it really is a lot of fun.

It’s almost 1:30 now so I should really try to get to bed soon. I’m gonna go listen to my music first which I haven’t done all day.

Later…

I got up at 10:30 and then at noon I went to the pool. Andy was there and then he came over and gave me $40 which I gave to Mark & Lance for his pot.

Fay came over too, and she brushed my hair out for me. It looks much better now that I’ve washed and conditioned it. It was all matted down and tangled from the pool. Fay said she’d brush my hair whenever I needed it.

Fay and I played a game of concentration and she said she’d stop by tonight at 7:00. At 8:00, there’s the conclusion of a really good movie I want to see. It’s based on a true story about 4 guys who killed an Indian girl. All the shows are on an hour earlier here. The news is on at 10:00, rather than 11:00. Movies run from 8:00-10:00, rather than 9:00-11:00.

Later…

In an hour I’m going over to Andy’s as we’re both having T-bone steaks. Those are good and I’m starving.

I hope all goes well tomorrow at welfare. And quickly, too. You spend 95% of the time waiting and waiting and waiting. The food bank I need a letter for closes at 3:00 and I hope I don’t have to fill out the form all over again. It’s a long form and they already have all the information they need.

I will not be getting an SSI check anymore. This state has no cash supplement which means my monthly income will be $426. That’s ridiculous. It totally sucks. How do people live that don’t have parents sending them $50 a month?

On the 3rd, I’ll need to go pay my electric bill and my direct deposit better be here. I don’t want to have to stop at the bank for them to get my check from CT. I’ll also have to notify Tammy to close out my account as soon as my SS check comes to my bank here. I’ll also need to call Access and find out why they haven’t mailed me my Medicaid card. I try calling, but it’s always busy.

My main concern is getting my food stamps and seeing how that goes and my electric bill and my overall situation financially. Last month my electric bill was $65 and I need to be sure it doesn’t fluctuate drastically here and there. If it stays around $65, then I can get a phone with Mom’s extra $50. I can’t tell her if I do get a phone, though, as she said she wouldn’t pay the $50 if I do. I know why she really wants me not to get a phone. I wasn’t born yesterday or the day before, but that’s OK.

After Andy returns I’ll take the TAP form to my Doctor.

Mom sent a roll of film which we’ll do up when Andy returns, so she’ll have more to complain about. First, it was my clothes and now it’s the way I pose in pictures. I guess posing in 3 out of the 12 pictures in a really happy, goofy mood is a crime and the end of the world to her. Is this personal or something? Like is she jealous? Sure makes me wonder at times!

Fay wanted to buy a pack of cigarettes from me and I knocked on her door before, but she wasn’t there. At 7:00 I’m gonna have to leave her a note as I’ll be at Andy’s. They both know I’ll be watching the movie tonight but I hope no one else knocks on my door.

Guess there’s not going to be any friendship with Rosemarie. Why is it always me that has to do the approaching, visiting and seeking out of others anyway? I visited them 3 times. Now let’s see them come to me.

All I get is junk mail lately. When am I gonna get some letters? I haven’t heard from anyone. I drew Tammy’s friend Karen a cat. I told her I would a few months ago and it came out nice.

Later…

Soon, I’ll be taking a walk to Andy’s.

I just saw Fay walking her mother’s dog and she said her aunt has a cage full of guinea pigs. I miss having pets. I gave her a pack of smokes and I’ll stop by for a while later.

I guess I’ll go over Andy’s now as I’d like to use his phone.

MONDAY, JULY 27, 1992 I just got back from the pool once again, and Donna was there. My God, I never really realized just what a sick little bitch she is! A very sad and sorry little puppy hiding behind a mask of glory. Why is it that whenever someone else’s life is going shitty, or you’re not what they want you to be, they pretend they’re on cloud 9, contradict all they’ve said and cut you down?

Donna said, “I have lots of friends, everything’s going so great, my husband got a raise, we got a new car, and no friends have ever dumped me like that.” That’s ironic cuz when all was well between us, she told me she hardly has any friends cuz she gets dumped so much. I think she’s just being so vindictive cuz I dumped her when she wanted to be friends.

She was telling me I can’t handle things right and I get upset over stupid things yet there she is freaking out all hysterically. Everyone was looking at her like she was crazy. She told me she got all mad due to the fact that I think she’s pretty. Even fought with her husband about it. Now is that ridiculous or what? Who the hell fights over someone that tells them they’re pretty? What a totally melodramatic waste of time, anger and energy! I mean, come on, grow up! I never realized she was that judgmental and such a backstabber and I am never gladder that I dumped her. I never realized how unstable she is and I meant it when I said all the pretty ones are snobs. She’s got her mind set on what I’m all about and she’s so sure she’s got me all figured out. She says I don’t have a lot of friends and I told her she’s damn right as there are so many contradicting assholes like herself. I cannot believe just how paranoid she is. She can go on thinking she’s wonderful, but as far as I’m concerned, I have no room in my life for people like her.

Fay gave me a poster of unicorns to color and I’m gonna give her a word find puzzle book. I’ve really gotten to like her and enjoy our talks.

I’m also tempted to visit Rosemarie but after dealing with people like Donna, it makes me wonder once again if I’m not better off just minding my own business. I don’t know what to do. It’s all so asinine and stupid. I’m so sick of people but I guess I can do what I did to Donna if I need to. If I ever meet anyone who turns out no good, I’ll just dump them. Including anyone I currently know. The most shocking thing isn’t the low blows someone can give you as I am very well used to that. What’s shocking is how quickly someone can change from one extreme to another.

Later…

I just helped Fay fill out a 19-page form. It’s information on her son James, herself and her family for a therapist. I feel for those who are slow and have learning disabilities like she does. Life isn’t fair for all those who have so many ordinary things they’d like to do, other than being a singer, yet they’ll never be able to. And then there’s me, a quick learner with the abilities, but who doesn’t want to be anything other than a singer. Either way, I told her to never hesitate to ask for help with something if she needs it. It made me feel good to be able to help her.

SUNDAY, JULY 26, 1992 Yesterday was a very good day. I continued to get more color and I swam all day. I spoke with Fay and briefly saw Rosemarie. I didn’t want to seem so pushy and smother them. I know what it’s like to need breathing space. I didn’t want them to feel like I was invading their daily lives. I never went up to their apartment, but when I was in the pool Rosemarie came out onto her patio. I called out hi and asked if she was gonna go for a swim. She said she didn’t feel like it and that was it. They did say that they’d come see my place sometime.

Last night at 7:30, Andy and I went in Mark’s truck to get that bed. It’s a twin-size bed but very comfortable. It really felt good to get off the floor. I gave Mark his foamy thing back but that sure saved me from feeling like I’d break all my bones, even though I have nice plush thick carpet. I slept very well. In fact, I even fell asleep at 1 AM, maybe earlier. I woke up at 8:30. Yesterday I woke up at 10:30.

After we brought the bed back here, Andy gave me a twin-size sheet. I can easily still use mine by tucking it in between the mattress and the box spring. I do have a frame but it’s missing a clamp. There’s no hurry for it, but it’d be nice to eventually have for a few reasons. One is it’d raise the bed up a little higher and my quilt wouldn’t be on the floor as much. Two, it’d be on wheels and easier to move. Three, I could store stuff under the bed.

I took Andy’s vacuum and used that and now my place looks so cute. Now, all I have to worry about is getting my food stamps which Andy will take me to reapply for next Wed. I also am dying to get a phone. I must first get situated financially and get my food stamps.

Later…

Fay came over. She found a white dress in the dumpster that fits me perfectly. It’s a little too long, though and it looks almost like a wedding dress. It has a few stains but ones that aren’t overly visible. It’s got long sleeves of white lace and the rest is solid white. There’s a lining inside but the outside is like chiffon. Streaming down the back to the floor is a piece of chiffon and there’s also a lace bow in front. Even with heels, it’s still just a wee bit too long so whoever wore it was also a size 3, but maybe a few inches taller.

Fay also found this tiny, colored pillow I had for a long time that I threw in there. I gave her two other little ones Ma sent. She’s got a bad back so she uses it for that.

Later…

Last night after I vacuumed and fixed up my bed, Andy and I played Crazy 8’s. Something we haven’t done since we were kids.

It’s time to write everyone’s letters. A lot has happened since I last wrote. I sure can say one great thing, though, and that is that I haven’t had but a few bad days since June 9th! That was all over money, of course.

Now after being here as long as have I can now truly feel a difference in my asthma. Sure I still wheeze and wake up a little congested. But I no longer sneeze my ass off like there’s no tomorrow. Overall I feel so much better and now I know firsthand why they recommend that asthmatics live here.

I will wait to reschedule my appointment for my pap smear and also have him fill out the TAP form (Telephone Assistance Program) to waive my installation fee.

After Andy returns from home he’ll take me there, and we mutually agreed and compromised on one thing. That is that until it gets cooler, he’ll drive me places, but rather than wait around forever, he’ll go home and I’ll call him when I’m through.

I hope next Wednesday I can get a letter to go to the food bank. There, they gave me quite a bit. At the church, Mark took me to, however, they didn’t give all that much.

Later…

So far today I’ve gone to the pool by Rosemarie 3 times and I just came back from the other pool.

I was walking out my door at the same time Fay was walking out hers across from me. Fay and her son James and I were headed to the “Rosemarie” pool when we saw how it was infested with little kids, so we took off for the other pool. That pool was crowded too, but not nearly as mobbed as the other one was. On weekends it’s pretty crowded. At night during the weekdays, it’s ok.

At the other pool, I ran into Stephanie. Pez screwed her over and now she’s got a new roommate also from New York like Pez and Stephanie. I’ve met her before and she’s sort of pretty but she’s straight, according to Steph.

It’ll be a long long time before I see another woman as gorgeous as Rosemarie. They’re far and few between in my opinion.

I told Stephanie that Andy told me she used to pay Pez $15 to clean her bathroom. I told her not to hesitate to ask me if she needs help cleaning. If I were to only clean her bathroom once a week for $15, that’s $60 extra a month! That’d be great but I know better than to count on it, even though she said she’d let me know when she gets her paycheck.

She also said she’d come check out my place and mentioned going to clubs. I told her I’d go to clubs with her if she needed someone to take along, but she stood Andy and I up last time. She said some serious shit went down that night, so we’ll see how reliable she is.

There’s a little part of me that’s tempted to go visit Donna. She’d be happy if I did, I guess. She really wanted to be my friend, but then I dumped her. Afterward, I swore I’d make no more friends and acquaintances - Fay, Stephanie, Harriett, Debbie, Robert, Mark, all the maintenance people, Dave the security guard, Rosemarie, Rick, and so many others I don’t know by name. With most of these people, I didn’t even initiate the conversation. They began to speak to me. Lots of people strike up conversations with me. Males, females, kids, young and old. I haven’t seen Ellie, though.

Last night I ran into Angel and Grace. We had a quick yet nice chat. Angel still hasn’t had her baby yet. They were just taking a walk and I invited them in to see my place all fixed up.

I told her that I wasn’t ever angry at her and that I’d been worried about money, but that she still had a friend in me. I apologized for seeming to have pushed her away and shut her out. She said she had thought about stopping by but has been busy.

Later…

I’ve never met so many people at once other than in schools or funny farms! I was just at the pool and I met a guy named Chuck, his Vietnamese girlfriend Lily and his son. I forgot his son’s name but they were all very nice. It seems I can just stand in the corner and not say anything and people will talk to me. I guess it’s a lot easier to socialize at pools as opposed to someplace like a grocery store.

Mark and his friend came home. The one who hooked up my VCR and asked me out to the movies. Lance is his name. I still can’t program into the VCR all the channels I want to record. I guess there’s a certain cable I need for that. Lance mentioned giving me one he didn’t need. Maybe he forgot or hasn’t had time. Or maybe he isn’t bothering cuz I turned his “movie offer” down.

I want to wait a little while before visiting Rosemarie again. I don’t know exactly how long, but although they said their place is always open to me, I do not wish to wear out my welcome. I’d also like to see if they come over here. I’m still so shocked at how friendly and open they are. They also said they were glad I was open about being gay. They really seemed to like my personality and were very into discussing my music and all about me. Every time I asked them about themselves, they’d say they were boring and had nothing to say about themselves, then ask about me.

Later…

There’s gonna be a good movie tonight I’ll want to see, but I’m sure I’ll be interrupted. I can’t record it yet. I’ll ask Andy what he thinks about that and what I should do.

FRIDAY, JULY 24, 1992 Well, I sure had an adventurous last two days! I’ll save the best for last. First, I met this girl, Fay, who I’ve seen around here a lot. She sort of reminds me of Tracy K, although she’s not quite that ugly. Close though. I’d never touch her, even though she’s bi. She’s got a boyfriend and a son but she’s had threesomes and lots of woman fantasies. She’s very tall and heavy with very short hair.

Later…

I just stopped for a while cuz Andy came over. I gave him Julie B’s letter which he’s gonna mail when he goes home from August 1st – 8th. He’ll be spending most of his vacation at the beach. Julie is a friend of Velma’s. Or was. She’s a hairdresser like Velma but she did some things to piss Velma off. Velma says she will hear all about the letters and get a good kick out of it. We just wrote a bunch of strange stuff. Nothing too scandalous.

I also played Andy a CD of Stevie Nicks.

Tomorrow between 4:00-4:30 we’re gonna go to Donna’s place for the twin-size mattress she’s got, I guess. We’ll see, but if she stands me up I’ll never count on her for shit again. We’re gonna go in Mark’s truck.

I spoke with Mark yesterday and also met a friend of his. His friend asked me out to the movies with him but I told them I was gay. Mark said no problem, but he hates gay guys. He said, however that cuz he’s my friend he’ll be cool. I said he better be cuz Andy’s not the least bit attracted to him and not to flatter himself. Also, anyone who fucks with my friend is fucking with me.

Mark and I also went swimming yesterday and today he brought me to a church to get food till I can reapply for food stamps. They usually have a Spanish interviewer there but he was out at the time. Two women spoke no English so I interpreted for them.

When Fay came over she had a piece of cheesecake for me. It was really good. We chatted here, then I brought her to Andy’s and we got some wrong numbers. We had some fun with those. I chatted with her today and told her all about my visit to Rosemarie and Rick’s place. It went super well, too. I’ve been pretty psyched about that. I told Fay how I felt about her before I finally got to meet her and talk to her last night.

When I get back from the pool, I’ll write all about it. Right now, though, I really am dying to go for a swim.

Later…

I am going to bed soon so I’ll write a little bit about Rosemarie and Rick. I was over to their place yesterday and today and I really like them both very much. I was a little nervous last night but tonight I felt much more relaxed. We all laughed and joked and talked about many things. Not sure I liked Rick’s joke about my being cheap cuz I’m Jewish, though. Don’t get me wrong. I can take a joke. But was it purely a joke, or was he being serious in some way? His tone made me wonder.

Most people blush when they’re around people they’re attracted to, so I thank God I’m fried with lots of color all over to hide it. My face would’ve been as red as it is from the sun. I’ve gotten a lot of color too.

My first night there, I noticed how they were really determined to get to know me. They really wanted to know all they could about me. They insisted I stay and talk and they said I was welcome to their place anytime. They were really coming at me from all different angles, attacking me with several questions. Their curiosity was genuine, not phony. They seemed very truly interested in all I had to say. Rosemarie kept asking me to sing and asking questions about that.

It at least seemed that they were open-minded and sensitive and very accepting. I even had no problem telling them of my being on SS.

Last night, before I went over there, I had to think of an excuse. I know this was being a little dishonest, but I told them some girl knocked on my door telling me Rosemarie had something to tell me. Next time I see them, Andy’s friend pulled this “joke” on me is what I’ll say.

I told Andy all about last night. Next time I see him, naturally I will fill him in on tonight’s visit which was 10 times better. Rosemarie brought up the subject of a boyfriend, so that’s when it all came out. Right away they were quick to reassure me that they did not think any less of me cuz of how I am but they did have a zillion questions for me. I told them to ask away and that I’m used to answering tons of questions and am very open about it.

Eventually, we were laughing and joking about everything from this butch who used to live near them to the underwear my mom sent that could cover her car. Rosemarie said there were two gay women next to her. One was feminine and nice, the other a mad, bitchy, jealous butch. She used to give Rosemarie dirty looks and Rosemarie said she was terrified of her.

Rosemarie also knows I’m very attracted to her. I am so glad we met. She and Rick are so friendly. They are very accepting of me. For Rosemarie being as pretty as she is, she’s so nice! I know I’ll never get her in bed but I do want to be friends with her as long as possible.

Well, now I think I’ll go listen to music before I go to sleep. I sure hope I’m sleeping in a real bed tomorrow night!

WEDNESDAY, JULY 22, 1992 I know I’m wasting my time chasing Rosemarie, but hey, it’s fun. Andy also believes she’s got a boyfriend that she lives with, but it won’t be the first or last time that I’ve wasted my time.

I got a lot of color back yesterday that I had begun to lose. It looks good. When I returned to the pool, Andy was there. We had a very nice talk and I said all the things I wanted to say. He listened. I listened to him too, and simply told him I don’t want to fight with him or anyone else.

Those two girls from Terros, Sheryl and Annette, will be here at 7:00 this evening. I’ll have some happier things to say than the last time. My place also looks much better, too.

TUESDAY, JULY 21, 1992 Earlier I got my second set of shelves. I used them in the living room and it looks so much better now. The whole place looks great, even the walls. I’ve always been good at decorating.

I managed to stay up until 4 PM and sleep until midnight. More and more I wish I could be up during the days. Even if I had nothing to do. At least I’d have the pools and I’d feel better. Also, if I did have something to do, I’d be able to be awake for it. Well, Andy said he never could be a day person if his life depended on it till this year. Hopefully, that’ll happen to me even though right now that seems impossible, but who knows?

Later…

I just ate and ran off the dishes. The dishes here don’t get really clean and I was told it has nothing to do with the dishwasher. It’s Arizona’s water. California has the same problem. There’s supposed to be something you can buy to put in the water or the dishwasher, but I don’t know what.

As I saw Mark walking towards his place, I tapped on the slider and waved hello. He knocked a few minutes later for a light for his cigarette. He came in and saw how I’ve decorated since getting my shelves. Said it looks so girlie. Yeah, it does.

I’ve got an hour or so yet before the pool opens. I’m psyched to get on with my tan. I’m losing what I had. Mark’s gonna blow up my raft sometime.

All I keep thinking about is Rosemarie. I know she’s straight as a pin, but I like to seek, chase and do my homework and detective work even though I get absolutely nowhere. She is the ultimate attraction for me. Ann Marie was no second best but she sure is compared to Rosemarie. All in all, God will never grant me that much. It just ain’t meant to be and will never happen for one night. As I’ve learned, just cuz you’re positive or want something bad enough doesn’t mean you’ll get your way. If you pray for something you want or bust your ass trying to achieve it and it’s not in the cards, you’ll never get it. If Rosemarie were meant to be, God would send her my way whether I wanted her or not.

I saw her yesterday morning for the first time in the bright sunlight. She’s so beautiful. I can tell so even though I’ve still never seen her close up. I was in the pool and she walked around the fence obviously on her way to work. She seems like a very friendly person. I could be wrong, though, since I don’t know her and everyone seems nice till you get to know them. We said hello to each other and she asked how I was. She also said hi to two elderly ladies and I don’t even think they know each other.

Right after that, I ran back to my place to see what time it was. It was 7:55 AM. Well, at 7:45, I will head over there and sit down on the bench.

I have makeup on and that sundress Donna gave me. My hair is all brushed out, too.

It’s fun, but on the other hand, I know I’m completely wasting my time. I think she’s with a guy. Well, it isn’t the first time I’ve thought of someone who never thinks of me. It won’t be the last either. I want her sooooooo bad. At least I hope to try to get to know her and be friends with her. It’s better than nothing and I doubt there’s any way she could be bi, let alone gay. Yes, she’s a neighbor and yes, she’s got a job. But this is an exception I can’t pass up.

MONDAY, JULY 20, 1992 I am just slowly beginning to wake up. I slept like a log from 12:30 PM-8:30 PM, but I am still groggy. I guess that’s good, though, as it’ll keep me up longer tomorrow if I take my time waking up.

I hope I get the rest of my stuff soon and a letter from my nieces. It’d also be really nice to hear from Kim, Bob, Fran or Nervous but that’s wishful thinking.

I’m gonna call SSI and the food stamp people out here. I should hopefully be able to reapply over the phone. I’ll also call about seeing a therapist and reschedule my doctor’s appointment for my pap smear. This Wednesday I’ll be through with the antibiotics and will be able to continue on with my tan.

My TD has been really pissing me off. Since being on the antibiotic it’s been worse. Some medications can make it worse. My TD also acts up and becomes worse when I’m tired or upset, but we’ll see if it subsides a bit when I finish the antibiotics.

The gay bars – well – I went to two of them and they shocked the shit out of me just as the shrinks in Natchaug did. Just when I thought nothing more could shock me. Back east it was 95% butch and a very occasional feminine woman. Here, there were lots of butches but also feminine ones mixed in. There weren’t tons and tons of them, but there sure was enough. More than a few. For the first time, I felt like I had the same variety as gay men do.

I met these 5 girls named Becky, Carmen, Carol, Holly and Lori. I gave them all my number or Andy’s number, I should say, but did they call me after telling me how pretty and nice I was? No. Of course not. Whatever’s up there is determined to let me only have two one-nighters a year.

I was also shocked at all these people who say they want relationships. And after I tell them I only want one-nighters here and there so they won’t feel threatened or scared that I’ll smother them or put strings on them. Yet I still get nowhere.

Why are people so afraid to pick up the phone? If they really want to check into someone, why don’t they put any effort into it? Why is it always me that does the seeking and approaching? The only one that approached me was one that wasn’t ugly, but not in the least bit attractive, naturally. What else is new? To tell the truth, though, after dealing with more and more shit with people, I’m glad they never called. Donna and Andy reminded me just what I’d be in for.

The only ones out of those 5 that I may have been attracted to enough to sleep with would’ve been Carmen and Becky and maybe Holly. Not Carol or Lori. I highly doubt they called during this shit with Andy. If they did he may be spiteful and immature enough to not tell me, but if that is the case, he’s done me a great favor and has spared me more bullshit. I don’t think he’d be mature enough to leave a note on my door at least, no matter how I felt about meeting them. But I’m completely turned off after his and Donna’s shit. Even with pursuing Sonja who’s never called back after I spoke to her. We had an OK talk too, or so I thought.

Wait till my sister calls. He can’t wait, no doubt, to go on and on crying on her shoulder. She won’t fall for it and knows better but if she questions me I’ll tell her it’s our problem and our business. I’m sure Velma and all his other friends have heard all about it on a daily basis. Well, enough of Andy, but I’ll say one last thing. That is I give what I get and if he can go back on his word so can’t I. That means I ain’t cleaning his place worth shit!

SUNDAY, JULY 19, 1992 I got the $50 from Mom and that was great. I really needed real food. All I had was stuff like bread, cereal and pasta, and I get sick of the lack of variety. I can’t get away with not eating right anymore.

I still haven’t gotten anything in the mail from Tammy or Lisa and I also haven’t spoken to Andy. I did leave him the $10 stamps I owe him and $10 in cash. My God his place reeks! How can he live like that? His place always reeks and is a pigpen. The way people live really reflects a lot about them. We both have had our depressing times and my place is sometimes a little trashed. But if you compare each other’s definition of “trashed,” they’re completely different. Even when I’m miserable I still usually have my place nice and my appearance too, if I can help it. He, on the other hand, always is a mess. That tells me something. I just cannot stand those that contradict everything they say. I feel so misunderstood by him. Part of it is that he’s got a lousy memory. Maybe cuz he smokes pot. The other part of it is his stubbornness. You’re a liar if he doesn’t want to accept, hear or believe something you’ve said.

I hate people who are so verbally abusive and think they can cut you down when they’re miserable, pretending to be king of the world and the happiest son of a bitch alive. I can see through that, not that he’d ever own up to it. He has said how he’s bitter and lonely and hates people and wants to lash out at them and treat them like shit. I can very much relate to those feelings too, but not with what’s supposed to be my best friend. Can’t people spare their best friends? We’re either gonna be enemies with no contact or friends that treat each other like friends. I’m not gonna go back and forth with him as we did in Springfield. It’s normal to fight here and there, but I won’t tolerate such shit like his on a regular basis. If he ever found anyone for a relationship, he’d never make it work more than a week any more than I could. Also, just like me, he’d attract the wrong kind of person, but for a totally different reason than me.

Later…

I got some of my old edits from Andy and duped them. He also gave me a tape of his best calls for me to edit. I’ve begun that as well as other editing. He and I have made some calls from his place. I still have lots of editing to do, but I always have more stuff to edit. I edited down all my convos with several different folks and left a few blanks for taping convos. Then I edit out anything boring onto another tape.

I still have to reapply for food stamps and set up something with a therapist. I sure hope there’s an agency that makes home visits. It’d be so much easier. I have a number to call that two counselors gave me the night I was all freaked about money. I ran in a panic to the payphone and cuz I didn’t know who to call, I called 911. I spoke with the dispatcher for a while and then she connected me with Terros. The police routinely come out first, then they send Terros out. I’ve seen these same two cops twice and this woman twice. I forgot her name but she had a different male partner with her each time she came out. I’ve forgotten all their names, except for Sheryl and Annette. They do a weekly follow-up for a month or so and they were the ones who came out last Wednesday. They’re gonna be here again next Wednesday on the 22nd at 7 PM. Annette’s white and Sheryl’s black and I don’t know why, but I really liked Sheryl. It almost seemed like it was mutual from what I sensed. It’s not that she’s gorgeous but something was there. Of course, I plan to keep my mouth shut.

Most types of people with real jobs that I’ve always seemed to click with are cops and security guards, like Dave here for example. He’s 40-something, I guess and is very nice to chat with. On weekends he’s here at night. He locks the gates at the pools at midnight. He’s here at night on weekdays too, as I’ve seen him lock the pools up at 10 PM. The pools open early in the morning but on weekends it’s open till midnight. I wish they were open 24 hours on my schedule, but there’d be lots of loud wild parties and no one near the pool would ever sleep.

After I got my $50 today, Mark next door took me to Fry’s, the grocery store right near here. He said to let him know whenever I need rides. That’s great as there’s no way I can walk in this heat with or without asthma. Early in the morning, nothing’s open and I never would walk at night. Can’t tell Andy that, of course.

Today it was 112º. Tomorrow it’ll be 110º.

Later…

I was just sitting here thinking of several things here and there about this and that. I can’t wait till I get the other pictures. It’s been almost two months. Also, I’m really looking forward to that second set of shelves ma’s sending. I’ll use them out in the living room.

I wish Arizona paid as much as MA did between the two checks. In MA it’s $581. In CT and AZ it’s $442 cuz it’s cheaper to live here.

I really wanted a 1-bedroom. That’s what I’m used to and I need the extra space. Especially the extra closet space. I’ve seen them and they’re so nice. Perfect. I miss being on the top floor, too. My place, though, minus furniture looks nicely decorated. Now that I’ve got shelves, tables and chairs, the only other thing I need is a bed. A twin would be fine as it’s just me, although you can fit a double bed in there and I’d still have room for my shelves. Luckily I do not have my old queen-size waterbed. That would definitely not fit in there. A color TV that’s a little bigger would be nice too, but no big deal and certainly not the end of the world.

I am now just about completely updated. All I need to write about are these two lesbian bars I went to a few weeks ago. Also, 3 more drop-dead gorgeous girls I met at the pool. I mean, they are all a 10+! LaDon, Lisa and Rosemarie. Rosemarie looks the most like Gloria out of any others I’ve met, though I think she may be Italian. I haven’t spoken to her much yet, just exchanged a few hellos and mentioned that she looked like Gloria. She says she’s told that all the time. Late-night two nights ago at the pool, I met LaDon and Lisa. They’re gorgeous too. All 3 of them have bodies that look like models. They’re perfect from head to toe. Their teeth, flat bellies, and straight thighs. Standing next to them makes me look below average when I know for a fact that if I’m compared to the average female, I’m doing pretty well. The typical, usual bummer of it all is that I’m sure they’re all straight as an arrow.

Cigarette break now, then I will write about those bars. Then, I shall finally be all up to date unless there’s a little detail here and there that has slipped my mind.

SATURDAY, JULY 18, 1992 Well, I never did get to bed after the last time I wrote. I felt really shitty and couldn’t stop worrying about money. I called Ma and I should get $50 soon. She’ll send that monthly along with a box of non-edibles that food stamps can’t buy. That really brought me a lot of relief and then I jumped in the pool. When you’re trying to stay up cuz your schedule keeps changing, there’s nothing like having a pool. It really revives you when you jump in. It’ll be easier to change schedules here. If you need to stay up all day to try to sleep at night, you can lie out by the pool all day and relax. You won’t sleep that way but you won’t be overexerting yourself in any physical way.

In a half-hour, I’m gonna watch Little House on the Prairie.

Earlier at 9:30, I ordered a pizza that never came till 11:15, so I got it for free and saved $7.14.

I wish I had a little microcassette recorder. This way I can speak about all the subjects I want to write about without forgetting them if several days pass by before I write. At least I do have a fairly decent memory that I know I can rely on. It’d still be great to have a microcassette, though, as that way no details would ever slip my mind here and there. Many times, say I’m at the pool, for example, I’ll remember something I want to write about, but when I do write I forget. If I brought a microcassette recorder around with me to most places I go, I can speak little notes in bits and pieces of the subject, then play it all back whenever I decide to write.

FRIDAY, JULY 17, 1992 In 1984, this is the day I walked free from Valleyhead. It was my last walk down Reservoir Road and I didn’t even know it. But I told myself I’d be damned if I’d return. I was a junior staff who had graduated. I’d done my time there.

Denise, my best friend there was taken in by Michelle. Michelle was my favorite teacher there. Michelle also despised Donna and her psycho sister Margaret. Also Barbara. She left for the same reasons any student there can’t wait to leave. She saw and knew how the kids there were treated.

I haven’t seen Andy since last Wednesday. All people want to do is fight, fight, fight. No one can let anyone be themselves. They flip out over the most stupid things. They knock you down when you’re already down. For a girl that expresses herself well and communicates well, I sure seem to be so misunderstood. I don’t want to fight with anyone. All I want to do is be happy. I try my best to get along with people but they’re always so determined not to get along with me. When are people gonna stop fighting with others so those who don’t want to fight and argue don’t have to?

I know I’m doing the right thing by avoiding Donna and Angel. And Andy agreed with me before all this happened that it isn’t always too smart to get involved with your neighbors as lucky as I sometimes was in Springfield. Who wants hostility so close to home? Plus, in Springfield, the only place to be was in your apartment. Here, I’m always at the pool and it’s harder to avoid people you don’t like or who don’t like you when you’re at the pool constantly.

A little over a month ago, I met a woman named Kathy at the pool. No, she wasn’t a butch as most Kathy’s, Carol’s and Karen’s seem to be. In fact, she was OK-looking. She’s got 3 kids. Her fiancé is a maintenance guy here. We chatted briefly at the pool and she told me she was home all day and could use some company. She gave me her apartment number and told me to come by anytime I wanted. I stopped at her place once for 15 minutes and I’ve never seen her since. She never said or did anything to scare me off but I know how all friendships are cool in the beginning, then take a turn for the worst. All is well when you begin anything, then it changes. If it doesn’t become a horrible situation, it gets boring. Maybe friendships are just as bad as intimate relationships after all.

Sometimes people are hard to avoid. Especially when you don’t plan on talking to them, but they talk to you. I did consider staying away from people with jobs and thought maybe it’d be better if I pursued more people on SS and SSI. I’m not ashamed to be on SS and SSI but so many people with jobs are bashing and knocking people like me. I don’t hate myself and I know I’m not stupid. However, when I tell people I’m on it when they ask what I do, they paint themselves a pretty bad and false picture.

I’ve written before about how one can only change the way they feel about certain things but not all things. How I wish I wanted to be anything else as bad as I want to be a singer. Sometimes, I look at all these people with jobs and wish I could love something else like I love to sing or be able to settle. I wish I had some sort of responsibility and a reason to get up every day. But even if I were a day person and had a decent job, I would have to constantly have to deal with people. I’m sure that no matter how well I did my job and kept my mouth shut that someone would stir up trouble for me.

There are a lot of people, though, on SSI and SS and everyone’s got their fair share of worries, fears, doubts and problems. I’ve been seeking out a somewhat “lower” class of people lately. No one on drugs or overly crazy, but low- or no-income people. People that are in my present situation, and if they have a similar background, that makes it even better. I used to try to seek out people who are fairly financially and emotionally stable with a better background. But these are the people who look down on me and feel they can do better, whether I hated myself or not. Opposites don’t attract.

Yesterday at the pool, as I was unlocking the gate, a woman called out, “Hi there,” as if we were old friends. Well, she’s 48, on SSI and SS, has lots of problems, is depressed and dead broke. Her name’s Ellie and she also has no car so we may walk to the store tomorrow. Normally, I wouldn’t coldly reject or try to change Ellie as many others would, but I’d be reluctant to get too close. I’d be thinking - can’t I do better than this? I’ve matured, presented myself better, don’t talk too much, remain evasive about my past and present life and don’t hate myself.

Later…

I went to see my primary physician here and he gave me Amoxicillin. I can’t wait till I’m off of them so I can continue with my tan before I lose what I’ve begun so far. I thought I had a yeast infection downstairs but instead, I have a bacterial infection. He couldn’t even do a pap smear as I am so tender there now. I’ll have to go for that after I’m through with my antibiotics and to make sure I don’t acquire a yeast infection since antibiotics can cause them.

My mom said she’d send me $50 a month and I hope she does soon as I’ve only got $5 until the end of the month. I really dreaded calling mom and telling her what’s been going on financially as she’s done a lot already but she was very understanding. I still must reapply for food stamps and hope I have a little extra money here and there once I get settled. I tried and fought for my SSI check but it’s hopeless, even though I was not overpaid.

There are so many non-edible things that add up, so even with food stamps, there’s never enough cash. I want to give Andy some money as soon as I can and God only knows if I’ll ever be able to afford a phone. The next few months are gonna be a struggle but I hope I’ll be OK. It’ll relieve the bulk of my stress if I don’t have to keep worrying about money. I still don’t know what SS is gonna do to my check.

I sent mom 12 pictures Andy took which came out fairly nice for a change. I told her to copy whatever she wants, then send them to Tammy. Have her do the same, then send them back to me so I can throw them into my collection.

I got some really nice packages from mom and dad. My pictures, typewriter, some papers, records and one guitar aren’t here yet. They sent my vacuum, one guitar, two quilts, two more bathing suits, shoes, suntan lotion, hair accessories, coupons and a small black and white TV. Also a lamp and two hideous shorts and shirt sets. Worse than conservative. I mean tacky, geeky, baggy and dull colors. That and a couple of pairs of cotton granny panties.

She also sent a table and two folding chairs. She asked me if I wanted the other two chairs and I said no. The two I have are enough. I like this so much better than my old kitchen table and chairs. They were getting old, dingy and beat up. It’s blue and matches my carpet well. The top of the table is soft leather-like material. To go with it she sent 4 mauve-colored placemats. The chairs are hard but there are two floral cushions you tie on to make them softer and more comfortable.

She also sent a raft and I was gonna sleep on that. I had figured it’d be wider but it’s too narrow for me to sleep on. Mark next door said I can continue using the foam mattress he lent me.

She sent me 5 plastic shelves just like the ones I used to have. That was fantastic so I could get shit off the floor. She’s gonna send another set which I’ll use in the living room. This set I put in the bedroom.

THURSDAY, JULY 16, 1992 Once again, I really need to get my ass in gear and write daily. I have so many fantastic things to write about and so many shitty things to write about. Well, why not start with the shitty stuff and save the best for last.

I’m listening to the original “complex” argument with Fran and Nervous. Thank God Andy had this even though it’s only 90 seconds long. It was always my favorite and it’s very funny.

Right now I am very disgusted and pissed off at Andy. I thought he changed. All he kept telling my parents and I is how he’s become more giving as far as car rides, for example. He told me to make any appointments I needed to make on his days off and he’d have no problem taking me. In these 115º temps, I cannot walk, even though the grocery store and the bank are very close. I’m not used to this heat yet and need to wait till it becomes a little cooler. He said that was no problem and understood. The other day he went back on his word and insisted I could walk in this extreme heat. He’s been going back on his word on so many things and bitching at me for doing or saying things that he himself does or says as well.

He’s lied to me and my parents about a few things and that has me wondering what else he’s said that may be a lie.

All he does every day is bitch about how stressful work is and the zillions of reasons why he hates his job. Yet I have never condemned him for it or said things to him like, “Shut up about it,” and “Don’t let it get to you,” and “Just smile and be happy.”

All he’s ever said to me since he’s been here is that he’s miserable and depressed. But yesterday he turned around and said he’s always happy and he wants to be around happy people, and that I should be happy all the time myself. Then he goes back to telling me how much he hates people and doesn’t want friends. How he wishes he could stand in a corner and never say anything to people. How he can’t be himself and is lied to and led on. I told him I feel the same way and that I stay isolated so I can be myself. But yesterday he bitched at how I’ve got a wall up around me and I’ve got to make friends because all the bullshit friends go through is worth it. In the next breath, it’s not worth it at all.

He’s offered me things I never asked for like to eat dinner with him. He’s knocked on my door and said he was on his way to the store, would I like to come along? Later he said how he shouldn’t have fed me or driven me to the store. Then why the fuck did he do it?

Then after bitching at me about how I don’t get out and live life, he goes right back to talking about how he’s gotta be alone and have space. He says that after a stressful day at work he’s gotta be alone and I shouldn’t come over every day. Any time he’s asked me to leave, I have. I gave him a ribbon to tie on his doorknob if he doesn’t want to be bothered. But he bitched about his space after I gave him the ribbon and that problem was fixed. He is a very sad, lonely miserable guy who cuts people down while pretending to be happy and king of the world. He’s told me how he wants to burn people and feels bitter just like I do. But why is he taking his shit out on his friends? Burn someone who burns you or pick up the phone, I told him!

He and so many other people continuously have to tell me what to think, say and feel. If I say I like the color pink and for whatever reason Andy can’t handle that, I’m a liar. As far as he’s concerned, I really don’t like the color pink if that’s the way he wants it.

I dumped that girl Donna cuz she too, started to judge me and assume shit when she doesn’t even know me. All she knows is why I moved here. I know Andy’s spoken to her, and I’m not sharing friends with Andy. I learned that with Brenda, Steve, Jai and a few others that it’s not good to share friends with him because of the way he tries to turn them against me when he gets pissed at me.

Andy insisted Donna could be a good friend and I shouldn’t dump her. I’m sure she could be in other ways and I’ll always appreciate the help with the food she gave me and the dress, but I will not be who she wants me to be. I know I did the right thing by cutting Donna off, even though there’s a little tiny part of me that misses her. The thing of it is, though, if Donna had been the one to dump me, Andy would have been on her side.

I am not gonna take his shit with Andy like I did in Springfield!

SUNDAY, JULY 12, 1992 I still have much writing to do. A few miserable things have happened to me since I’ve last written. I can’t help but feel guilty and cursed as I usually do, despite the fact that I had no control over the situation. I had a great month to start with here, then I wound up wishing I was dead again. I got so scared and depressed as reality hit me. So many fears, doubts, and questions were going through my head. All I kept thinking is that I didn’t want to live my life scraping pennies. Just barely able to pay the rent, the electric bill, food and other non-edibles that add up. Because I know now 100% for sure I’ll never have my dream, what the fuck is my purpose in life. What am I here for? To just barely ever eat enough and eat right? To be scared that SS will cut or stop my checks? SSI already stopped the check I get monthly for $16. They claim I was overpaid which is a crock of shit. There’s no use calling them as you just can’t fight them.

What is my purpose in life? To wonder if I can fully come up with the rent money and the electric bill? This is gonna be my life cuz I cannot settle, cannot have my dream and will never live in a project again. I couldn’t settle even if I wanted to. I couldn’t get up day after day very early in the morning. I’d only sleep 2-4 hours a night. We already know what effect that has on a person. Live in the NHA if you can’t sleep before 4 AM and see how it feels. I can’t afford to get up at 7 AM, lay in bed from 11 PM to 4 AM-5 AM and get up at 7 AM all over again continuously.

I also cannot afford to go without medical benefits and pay thousands of dollars for medical shit. So once again, what is my purpose here?

On July 7th, I had a horrible day. My food stamps are gonna be delayed now another month cuz the asshole in CT never closed my case. The worker in AZ said the worker back there never knew I moved. Bullshit. Tammy and Dad spoke to her. They do this to delay you as while they’re delaying you they save money. I’m so sick of harassment from public assistance, SSI and SS. I was so stressed out and was crying so long and hard that my eyes were nearly swollen shut. I thought it’d be easier financially here. That is one of the reasons why I moved here.

Besides being scared shitless about money, I got a notice from the office here. Either pay a $50 fine and be evicted or get rid of Shadow. I knew I had no choice. Andy and I drove him to Paradise Valley where Stevie Nicks lives. We dropped him and his box over the wall onto her property. God, do I miss that cat! As obnoxious as he was, I miss meowing with him and his being so loving and affectionate.

I’m too upset to continue on now and that pretty much covers all the bad news. It’s gonna be a long boring life of struggling financially, wishing I could settle happily, wishing I wanted to be anything else as bad as I wanted to be a singer, and wondering what my purpose is here on earth?!

When I continue, believe it or not, I’ll have better things to write about. Right now, though, all I can think about is Shadow. Most of the time I have him pretty well blocked out. Now, I can’t get rid of him.

THURSDAY, JULY 9, 1992 Right now I’m only gonna do a quick rundown on topics I’ll write about in full detail tomorrow. First of all, since being here I had a very scary close call a couple of days ago. It concerns financial issues and Shadow. I was a devastated bundle of nerves for almost 24 hours. The financial issue has been fixed, but I’m crushed about something else and I always will be.

I’ll also write about packages from my parents. Packages I have gotten and packages I’m expecting. Also, about tapes and calls. Tomorrow I must go to the office for my CDs.

WEDNESDAY, JULY 1, 1992 I have many things to write about, but I think I’ll save the bulk of it till later this evening. I have done so much writing in the last few days, so I need to take a break. Plus, I really need to go warm up my voice as I believe Andy and I are going to go and compete in a karaoke contest tonight. I don’t know for sure. All I know is that when I went over to his apartment to use his phone at 4:00, he was sound asleep. Oh well.

[musicarenagh]

Sarah Reeves' "More The Merrier" Is A Must-Have for Your Holiday Music Collection The singer-songwriter Sarah Reeves has taken it upon herself to give you an early Christmas present—something that would stay with you for a long time during these festivities. Sarah Reeves is known as a pop artist, but her latest album More The Merrier comes as a surprise to her listeners, and this is proof of her versatility when it comes to music, and lovers of great music are jumping on it. Sarah began her musical journey at the early stages of her life, as young as 5 years of age she was already taking piano studies, and she later started singing and playing at church. Later, a band of teens was formed; the band members were his brothers and friends. This was disclosed in a recent interview with Mister Styx of Musicarenagh. Listening to Sarah Reeves, you can tell she has years of experience, I mean what do you expect from an artist who signed her first record deal at 18? I remember listening to her previous record, Get Back Your Fight and that was where I knew she had more up her sleeves. Her use of relatable lyrics and everyday words, her sultry voice, nostalgic and old-fashioned classic Christmas songs and new original ones all mixed to form an unforgettable record titled; More The Merrier. This is a deluxe edition of her 2022 Yuletide effort. The extended version builds on the nostalgia Reeves brought to the initial release. Furthermore, she adds four all-new selections, putting a jazzy Big Band stamp on beloved seasonal classics like “Last Christmas” and “Holly Jolly Christmas,” and offering a bittersweet moment of grief with “Christmas Feels Different This Year.” Listen to More The Merrier below https://open.spotify.com/album/2wCP7y2mlhe5h38mkthlkG Follow Sarah Reeves on Facebook Twitter Spotify Youtube Instagram Where do you find inspiration? I find inspiration from good conversations with people, musical artists that put out great music, life experience and personal things that I face. What was the role of music in the early years of your life? I started music very young. My parents put me in piano lessons at 5 years old and then started singing/playing at church. That formed into a band with my brother and friends in our teen years which ultimately lead me to signing my first record deal at the age of 18. Are you from a musical or artistic family? Yes, my dad was involved in the Muscle Shoals era of music in Alabama. My other siblings are all musical. It is definitely in our blood and music was a lifestyle growing up in our home. Who inspired you to be a part of the music industry? My first concert was when I was 12 years old. My dad took me on a father/daughter date to see Rebecca St. James (For King + Country’s older sister) I saw her up there singing and that same energy transferred to my soul. I knew right then I wanted to be a singer. How did you learn to sing/write/to play? I was classically trained in piano since I was 5, but never loved sight reading. Eventually my father sat me down and taught me chords and I naturally loved that more. I started playing by ear and composing my own songs on piano in my teenage years. That lead to writing lyrics that matched my feelings or current state of life. I was always obsessed with creating my own music. What was the first concert that you ever went to and who did you see perform? Rebecca St. James - she became my inspiration at 12 years old. How could you describe your music? Inspirational, Hopeful, Vulnerable, Relatable, Melodic, Diverse Describe your creative process. I usually get ideas in the mundane of life. I’ll be driving or taking a shower or cleaning and something will pop in my mind or I’ll start singing a melody that I love. I’ll record it in my voice memos and save it for a moment where I sit down to really write a song. I also have a list of titles/ideas that randomly come to me during the day. I like to start with a track/vibe of some sort and then it will naturally lean towards a certain emotion, melody or lyric that I’ve already started.

What is your main inspiration? I’m inspired by my experience in life - the people, the love, the loss, the heartbreak, the highs, the lows, etc. I’m very in tune with my emotions, so I use those to craft music. It has to come from an authentic place. You can’t take people where you’ve never been. [caption id="attachment_53040" align="alignnone" width="2000"] I’m inspired by my experience in life - the people, the love, the loss, the heartbreak, the highs, the lows, etc[/caption] What musician do you admire most and why? I admire Raye. She has been my top artist the last 3 years. Her voice, her songwriting and vulnerability has really inspired me as a musician/artist. Did your style evolve since the beginning of your career? My style has definitely evolved. It has grown up with me as I’ve grown up. Some days I wish I could delete some old songs off the internet, but I realize that’s a part of my journey and it’s beautiful. Who do you see as your main competitor? I don’t see anyone as a competitor. I try to stay in my lane, focus on what’s in my heart to do and celebrate the wins of every artist out there. We are all on a hard journey. It looks easy and fun on the outside looking in, but the grind is not easy. We are hit with a lot of pressure daily, a lot of rejection and mental/emotional heaviness as creatives sometimes. We’re all in this together. What are your interests outside of music? I love to cook and make charcuterie boards. I love traveling, exploring the world and finding the best restaurants as a foodie. I’m also pretty active and love hiking, cycling and working out. If it wasn't a music career, what would you be doing? I would love to be an actress. It’s been in my heart to do for a while and I’m starting to do some stuff in the film world and have been loving it. What is the biggest problem you have encountered in the journey of music? I think the biggest problem has also been the biggest blessing in a weird way. It’s the evolution of the industry. Social media and streaming have taken over which makes it very hard to cut through. The music industry has been over saturated and any artist could blow up on tiktok without putting in much effort. On the other hand it has been a blessing because it’s a free tool that we have as artists. The fact that most anyone in the world has access to what I’m doing as an artist is crazy. It has enabled me to gain more fans and people finding my music because of the easy access now. If you could change one thing in the music industry, what would it be? The business of it. It is a tough and unfair industry in so many ways financially and politically. That is so many industries though and I try to look at the positives and advocate as much as I can for good change. Why did you choose this as the title of this project? Best Days was the first song that clicked for me in the direction of this project. I needed to sing it over myself as I was going through a divorce and feeling like my best days were behind me. It set the tone for the rest of the project and I hope it has given so many people hope no matter what they may be facing. https://open.spotify.com/artist/2vGA5qCDLZGW6exRQgKfLL?si=HK95_zPNQRSrovZJzHP0oA&nd=1 What are your plans for the coming months? I have some Christmas concerts planned this month and then hopefully have some potential tour dates in the first quarter of 2024. I’m always writing new music for the future so I already have the next album in the works. Do you have any artistic collaboration plans? Not at the moment - but it would be a dream to work with other artists, songwriters that inspire me. I’m sure it will happen in 2024. Keep up to date with my on my socials @sarahreevesmusic! I always have new things up my sleeve. What message would you like to give to your fans? First and foremost thank you for supporting my music. I’m so grateful for every fan. Secondly I hope you know you are loved and you are not alone. You have purpose on this earth and nothing that you’ve been through has been a waste.

I hope you feel inspired by my music and my story. I hope it helps you also spread your wings and know that there is so much greatness inside of you.

[shoutogepi]

Midnight Masquerade

Todoroki Shouto & Shinsou Hitoshi

word count : 8.6k

[  ✘ (nsfw 18+) ] 

themes : DUBCON, YANDERE. MFM threesome, vampire!todoroki, vampire!shinsou, spanking, praise kink??... double penetration, blood play (hello they’re vampires)

bio : You attend a masquerade ball in hopes of finding a bachelor on Halloween night… only to get much more than you originally bargained for. 

author’s note : This fic was inspired by one of my fav movies when I was younger! Van Helsing with Hugh Jackman (2004), in which Dracula hosts an exquisite masquerade ball, full of masked vampires.  

side note : Happy Halloween!! I didn’t have time to edit/beta this fic, so it may be a little choppy/rough.. but I’m about to leave for my Halloween party and I wanted to get this out on time so!! please try to enjoy, and I apologize if this is not up to my usual standards. <3

 ─── ・°* ﾟ✧:* • ｡ﾟ:*･☽･*: ｡ﾟ•*:✧ ﾟ*°・ ───

🅈ou received an invitation to a Halloween party… and that was about all the information you had to go off of. What awaited you at this gathering, you had absolutely no idea. The envelope had simply arrived on your doorstep at the beginning of the month, no messenger in sight.

This invitation, scrawled in perfect calligraphy and sealed with the kiss of a stamp upon wax, proved to be even more puzzling when you attempted to uncover its origin. And while you had asked around to anyone you could possibly think of— your friends, family, neighbors, hell, even your mailman— you found no one who could give you any answers. It seemed that you, for some reason, had been issued this invitation, when no one in your primary social network else had.

What was even more peculiar, was that a gown and a pair of heels had arrived two weeks later, in all senses more luxurious than you had ever seen, and tailored to your exact size and measurements. Just from lifting it out of the box, you could tell it was expensive. And as if that hadn’t been enough of a gift, a necklace and earrings that dazzled nearly enough to blind you arrived just a few days following the dress. Finally a last package arrived a few days before the party, containing an intricately-painted mask that tied the whole outfit together. Each of the gifts had a card laid across the top of the tissue-enfolded contents, signed off from your inviter and now confirmed “secret admirer, S.H.”

The enigma of it all perplexed you. You liked to tell yourself that a smart girl like you would never go to such an event, considering you had no clue who had sent you the invitation, let alone such extravagant gifts. You told yourself that you had no obligation to go, that it would be ill-advised to show up without any further information than the address, date, and time.

But someone had clearly gone to great lengths to impress you, and you couldn’t just ignore that. Curiosity burned bright inside you when raked your brain for potential inviters, and as you came to more and more dead ends, your intrigue grew with every second the event stayed on your mind.

You spent every day leading up to the party thinking about it, flipping back and forth as to if you were going to attend or not. Even on the night of, you spent a ridiculous amount of time switching between deciding on going or staying home, taking short bursts of either frantically getting yourself ready, or sitting down and scrutinizing the situation.

You ended up arriving at the address scrawled at the bottom of the mysterious invitation an hour late.

Although you had planned to just hail a cab thanks to your indecision, you were surprised to find a sleek, black Rolls Royce waiting for you at the entrance to your building. The driver, donned in a crisp black and white tux, sported an elegant mask across his face, and wordlessly opened the door for you, bowing and gesturing for you to enter. After a moment of hesitance, you decided it would probably be best to just get into the car— whoever had requested your presence had already gone to such lengths as to cloth and bejewel you— it only made sense for you to arrive in a vehicle that screamed as much wealth as did your outfit.

What you had not expected was to find the location of the event to be a rather estately manor at the border of the city. The driveway twisted through an ominous wood to reach the massive home, and rather nastily-spiked wrought-iron fences guarded the border of the property, looming metal casting eerie shadows against the overcast evening sky. You found yourself wondering briefly what exact purpose the metal lattice served— both sides adorned with rough silver spikes. Traditionally gates were meant to keep things from getting in… it was peculiar to you that they were double-sided.

It was certainly curious, but your eyes were quickly torn from the gates as the car ventured closer to the maleficent abode, your heartbeat beginning to pick up as you came nearer to the grand entrance. There was a gorgeous fountain laid between two sets of curved stone staircases, both leading up to the tall, mahogany doors at the dead center of the manor. The car came to a stop just before the fountain, and you spent the small moment your driver took crossing over to your side and opening your door in breathless anticipation.

The cool, dry October air felt heavenly against your exposed shoulders, the tops of your breasts just peeking out of the neck of the beautiful, sleek gown you’d been sent. The autumn chill did wonders to calm the thumping of your nervous heart, and as you climbed the stairs, your fingers trailing along the cold balustrade, you took a deep breath. When you chanced a look back toward the car, you found it had already disappeared, and a pang of uncertainty rang through you once more. Yes, this was definitely uncharastically brash of you— you still had no idea who could possibly be the one to invite you to such a prestigious soiree— and yet, you found your nerves crackling with excitement, barely able to contain your jittery disposition.

Two more men, also hidden beneath tuxedos and blank masks, bowed as they pulled the heavy wooden doors apart, revealing the bustling affair that lay inside. You were shocked to find so many bodies within just the first glance of the interior— it was a magnificent foyer that was ten times larger than the tiny apartment you had become so accustomed to, a sea of masked party-goers that ebbed and flowed with the live, string-quartet on the stage in the far corner of the room. Countless couples waltzed and spun across the middle of the room underneath humongous crystal chandeliers, all glittering and shining with the low lighting of a thousand candles, by far more fire hazards than you’d ever seen. It was quite a culture shock to you— you had never before been invited into the fruits of such luxury, this level of wealth as mysterious to you as the cryptic sender of your invitation, S.H.

And though this was your first time indulging in the pleasures of such extravagance, you looked like you belonged. You were sure that the outfit this mystery persona had given you to wear tonight was worth far more than the rent you constantly worried about making, and so you fit in quite seamlessly with the crowd of silk-enveloped, gem-encrusted faces, perhaps even going so far as to stand out. The soft silk of your pashmina tickled against your arms as it sat snug around your lower back, curled around your elbows and seams brushing against your hips. The thick necklace— more of a collar, really— sat heavy against your chest, each diamond shining brightly, leading to a large teardrop-shaped pendant of brilliant amethyst that hung perfectly in the middle of your chest. The ornate mask you’d been given concealed the top half of your face, bright ruby gems adorning along your eyes and matching your dress’ deep rouge to an impossibly perfect degree. Initially upon receiving such gifts you were suspicious of their authenticity, but standing now before such a display of affluence, you were certain they were real. The jewels and fine linens gave you a false sense of confidence, and after a moment of absorbing your astounding surroundings, you tentatively began to make your way into the party.

For a while you wandered around by your lonesome, but you didn’t really mind the solitude. It was a refreshing change of pace, and you admired each symbol of wealth you came across. The grand room was decorated with no expenses in mind— rich velvet curtains hung across the walls, tied back with gold corded tassels to allow the cold moon’s luminescence to shine down into the hall. Massive oil portraits lined the walls, each frame depicting a different person of undoubtable esteem, each in their own respect poised yet handsome as the last.

Your eyes wandered to the last two photos on the wall, both of them shockingly attractive in their own ways. One had wild, violet locks and a sultry smirk, the others’ hair split down the middle with tousled red and white, mouth set in an indifferent line. What stood out most to you was the emotion conveyed in both their eyes— it was cold and callous, sending shivers down your spine.

As you turned away from the portraits, you were met with a server, who offered you the silver platter he was carrying as he bowed. Tiny steak tartares, garnished with a red wine sauce and a sprig of herbs; the sight made your mouth water and you thanked him as you took one with the classy little fork he handed to you. Just as you turned your attention back to the portraits before you, you jumped at the discovery of a figure standing beside you.

He was tall, your head coming just above his shoulder, even in your four inch heels. He donned a crisp tuxedo of his own, but his bowtie was left undone, strips of fabric hanging loosely around his neck. Though there was a mask covering his face as well, you instantly recognized the purple flumes of hair, your surprise evident as you let out a small gasp. He didn’t seem to notice you, his eyes set on the frames above your line of sight, but he then began to speak, his deliciously deep voice taking you again by surprise. “Rather rare,” he spoke, quiet yet clear, eyes still scrutinizing the art before the pair of you.

“E-Excuse me?” you asked for clarity, wondering when exactly this man had appeared, and why you had not noticed such a captivating presence by your side.

At the sound of your voice, he turned his gaze to you, lazy violet eyes inspecting your figure without much attempt at concealing his blatant inspection. You bristled at his audacity, but soon found yourself relaxing as your own eyes wandered the length of his lithe, cut figure. It wasn’t your fault, you reasoned— you had just been admiring this man in his photo and now he appeared before you, looking even more delectable in person.

“The hors d'oeuvres,” he explained, eyes dropping to the forgotten disc of tender meat perched at the end of your fork. He let his gaze wander across your chest before he met your stare again, that same smirk coming to rest on his supple lips. “And such beauty as yours, of course. It’s unparalleled, Miss…?” he trailed off, angling his head to the side as he awaited your response.

You thanked him and told him your name, watching as his smirk only seemed to grow, something mischievous shimmering in those enticing amethyst orbs of his. He leaned forward and ducked into a slight bow, long fingers taking your free hand hostage as he brushed his lips against your knuckles.

“Shinsou will do, for now. Delighted to be acquainted,” he murmured as he pulled back, letting your hand drop and a brief silence fall on the pair of you.

Your eyes wandered to the portrait, then back to your new acquaintance. “That’s you, right?” You inquired, looking up at him through your mask. His bored eyes pierced yours as you met his gaze, and you felt heat accumulate in your cheeks. “What incredible artwork, I don’t think I’ve met anyone that’s posed for an oil painting— was it hard to sit still while it was being made?”

“Not at all,” he replied, taking a sip of the hammered-metal chalice in his large, gloved hand. “The fruits of life sweeten with patience, anyway.”

You wondered briefly if it was his first time posing for this kind of painting. Never had you met anyone who would want— or could afford, really— to commission such a painstakingly realistic portrait of themselves. How much it cost, you could not fathom, and did not care to discover. “So this is your party, then?” You continued after he made no further attempt at conversation.

He nodded, that smirk curling the corner of his mouth again. “You’re an observant little thing, aren’t you?” He remarked, sipping again from his cup. His words were rather rude, and you frowned before you shrugged them off, dismissing them in an instant. You weren’t really surprised by his smug comment, though your displeasure must have been visible because he immediately steered the conversation in another direction. “Are you enjoying yourself? May I get you a drink, my honored guest?”

It was a little off to you how his demeanor changed just like that, a flip of the switch, really— but you were thirsty, and you were curious to see what kind of expensive refreshments were available, so you found yourself nodding with a small smile of gratitude on your lips. He mirrored your smile before he mumbled something about returning soon, his figure swallowed up in the sea of masked faces.

Finding yourself alone once again, you went back to inspecting the portraits, happily humming to yourself as you enjoyed your hors d'oeuvre. You looked around the party, searching for that same waiter, wanting to grab a few more of those delicious bites while you had the chance.

It was then that you met a distinct set of eyes across the room, a white mask with delicate swirls decorating his handsome face. However much the mask concealed his face, there was no doubting that he was the other man from the portrait behind you— his hair was a stark giveaway— half of it scarlet and hanging loosely atop his brow, the other half a shocking shade of white, pushed back to give him a devilishly intimidating aura. Your throat tightened up as he began to make his way toward you, slowly but surely closing the distance between the two of you.

You couldn’t help but wonder if either of these men were the one who sent you your invitation— if one of them was to thank for showering you with such extravagance, for allowing you to dip your toes in the enticing pool of luxury. But you were not allowed to ponder the thought, for in no time at all the man in question stepped before you.

Without even a single thought, your body automatically shifted into a curtsey, and you blinked in surprise as he bowed his greeting in return. He didn’t give you a second to question it, lithe, gloved fingers taking hold of your hand and bringing it to his mouth. His lips were cold to the touch, and your hand trembled slightly as he let go.

“Todoroki Shouto,” he introduced himself, his smooth, deep voice resonating through your body. Something about him made you feel incredibly hot, yet you couldn’t take your eyes off of him. It was strange how much he seemed to affect you— almost supernatural. At your stunned silence, he smirked ever so slightly, shifting his head to look down at your shorter figure. “Your name, love? It would be rude of me to refer to you as the most alluring woman in the room the whole night, no?”

Flustered you were caught off guard, you quickly told him your name, adding on it was a pleasure to meet him.

“Y/N, hm? A beautiful name. It suits a woman as breathtaking as you.” He continued, and you could see how satisfied he was by your bashful reaction. “I can assure you, the pleasure is all mine.”

You smiled hesitantly at the man before you, unsure how to respond to his blatant flirting. With the momentary lull in your conversation, you looked over your shoulder to eye the painting once again. Todoroki watched your curious gaze like a hawk, unbeknownst to you. When you looked back to him, you smiled as you pointed your thumb over your shoulder. “Is that—”

“Would you like to dance?” He interrupted, folding your smaller hand in his and taking a step backwards into the dancefloor.

Panic coursed through you— you didn’t know how to dance, or at least, you didn’t think your ballroom skills would be nearly as good as his and everyone else’s here. Yet somehow when you opened your mouth to politely decline, instead came out, “I would be honored.”

With wide eyes you were guided into the center of the room, his other gloved hand coming to rest at the curve of your waist. Your hands found their own way into position, one on his shoulder, and the other wrapped tight around his as he began to steer you around the room. You were shocked to find yourself matching each of his steps, your feet moving in perfect harmony with his. But when you looked into his eyes, a trickle of horror ran down your spine.

He was looking directly at you, two-toned eyes boring into yours with unbridled desire, and some other emotion mixing in to create a frightful end result that could only be described as hunger. Yes, there was no mistaking it— that was hunger in his eyes— for what, you did not know, but somehow your body was aware that whatever it was, you were in for quite the night.

“The dress looks simply appetizing on you, love,” he whispered in your ear, chilling the blood in your veins just like that. “Were you surprised to find it fit like a glove? You look so angelic when you sleep… I hated to disturb you, but it was gratifying to know how much you enjoyed my touch...” His lips brushed against your dangling earrings, and a shiver ran through your body as he inhaled across the skin of your neck.

“Y-You—” you stuttered, eyes widening with realization. Had he— had he taken your measurements? He’d snuck into your bedroom? When? Why? You didn’t even know this man— why would he have taken such an interest in you, how did he know where you lived,  and why— why was your heart beating out of your chest at the thought of him seeing you in your sluttly little pyjamas? You knew there was something off about this, but never could you imagine this would be the turn of events tonight. You were terrified, and yet ashamedly, a small part of you was pleased to know a handsome and powerful man as himself had gone to such lengths to woo you. There was no denying it… even though your stomach was tied into knots and fear sat like a stone in your belly, a white-hot, irrefutable desire had sparked to life between your legs.

“Not just me...” he murmured, the tip of his nose dragging against your temple before he dipped you down towards the tiled floor right in tune with the crescendo of the music, your back bending in his grip. Now upside-down, your heart skipped a beat as you recognized Shinsou staring the pair of you down from across the room, that same smirk on his lips as he raised his chalice in contempt. “You’ve met Hitoshi, correct?”

You were only spared a moment to piece it all together, that tight feeling in your stomach only twisting further. S.H… it wasn’t the name of one suitor, but two— Shouto and Hitoshi. Two rich and powerful men that both tricked you into coming to their home, and you had fallen for it— practically serving yourself to them on a silver platter. You were no better than a damn steak tartare! You wanted to face-palm, to smack yourself for being so naive, but you found that your body was not your own; you couldn’t control yourself, couldn’t even speak, and all you could do was continue to dance with the horribly attractive man whose trap you had strolled right into.

Had they drugged you? Was it that accursed steak tartare? But then, wouldn’t you have passed out, or your limbs stopped working? How were you not missing a single step with Todoroki right now, spinning when he led you to spin, and willingly stepping into him when he pulled you back into his embrace.

“What… What are you going to do to me?” Your voice was shaking, even though your body moved more confidently than ever as the pair of you strode across the marble floor. “How is this happening?” You added, feeling quite small as the target of not one, but two predatory gazes.

Todoroki took his time to answer you, wordlessly twirling you in his arms as the music then came to a stop, a new melody beginning just as the previous one faded out. “Whatever we want, I suppose,” he answered, his gloved fingers traveling up your back to grasp your chin, forcing you to look into his chilling gaze. “But don’t worry, love… I don’t think you’re going to hate it all that much.”

— - — - — - — - — - — - — - —

It was only an hour later that you were being led to the other side of the mansion— away from the music and festivities, and away from the false sense of protection the crowd provided. Todoroki walked in front of you, and Shinsou’s hand rested casually on your hip as he walked beside you. Your palms were lined in a thin coating of sweat, your growing fear causing your pulse to skyrocket. You knew that you were about to understand why they had fooled you into coming here, and though you had pondered what terrible fate they had chosen for you for the past hour, your mind was completely blank. You could only watch as your feet moved one in front of the other, your body once again under their spell.

Whatever it was that they were doing, they somehow had complete control over you, and they had forced your body to dance with the both of them for the entire time you’d been there so far. It had created some fake relief as whatever it was they had planned was pushed off for the time being, but you couldn’t indulge such relief, and your nerves were more heightened than ever. You reached your breaking point when you entered a dimly-lit bedroom, and the door closed behind you, lock clicking into place.

“Please,” you pleaded, your body moving to stand in the middle of the room, right before the four-poster, canopy-laden bed. “Just tell me what’s happening, I can’t move a single muscle…”

Shinsou frowned, gloved hand coming up to discard his mask. Your breath caught in your throat— God, even if he was your captor, you couldn’t deny he was handsome. He slowly approached you, fingertips tracing along your jaw before removing your mask as well. He sucked in a small breath of air, violet eyes dark with a foreign sentiment. “Relax, baby… We’re just gonna make you feel good. We’ve wanted to make you feel good for so long now…” His eyes dropped to analyze your lips, entranced by their color and plushness.

“But… Why can’t I move?” you reiterated, and your eyes widened as Todoroki’s presence noticeably pressed up against your behind. The feeling of his body against yours sent your heart hammering, and you swallowed as you considered your options here— there was really only one means of escape and that had to start with you tricking them into freeing you from their spell. Licking your dry lips, you meekly added, “What if I… wanted to make you feel good, too?”

“Fucking Christ,” said Shinsou, who took a step backward, his palm coming to run across his face momentarily. He seemed on edge, anticipation distinctly painted across his rugged features.

Meanwhile Todoroki took his time to answer, considering your choice of words thoughtfully. “We have a lot planned for you… but we need to re-energize before we can do anything, love,” he replied simply, his voice low in your ear. He pulled off his gloves, cold fingers catching on your jaw as he turned your face to meet his. You whimpered as he leaned into you, and before you could make a single word, his lips claimed yours, cutting off any chance at a rebuttal.

You didn’t want to admit how good his mouth felt on yours, but you couldn’t ignore the butterflies that burst into your stomach as he kissed you— they were not the result of any foreign spell. Shinsou groaned as he watched Todoroki’s tongue slip into your mouth, actions getting more fervent as the dual-colored man’s fingers slipped around your head, cradling your face against his. His lips attacked yours, slotting against them and tongue wandering between the gaps. You gasped when something sharp pricked your bottom lip, automatically pulling back, your hand coming up to touch your lip.

Bright red stained your fingertip, and you looked between the evidence of your injury and the cause of the wound, eyes widening as you took in how dark Todoroki’s eyes had become, canines elongating into sharp fangs. Bewildered, you stayed frozen to the spot, unable to do anything yet again as his hand swiftly wrapped around your wrist, yanking your hand to his mouth and wrapping his lips around your finger. The feeling of his tongue swirling around the digit made heat flare in your core, even as terror began to pump through your veins. His other hand gripped your hip roughly, pulling your body flush unto his.

The desire to scream out in fear came quickly, but you found no sound came out of you when your mouth opened. Your head still turned to Todoroki, you didn’t anticipate Shinsou coming up in front of you, only noticing the other man when his tongue stroked across the tender skin on your neck. Your body stiffened as the wet muscle slid along your throat, your eyes wide and petrified.

“There you go, just relax...” Todoroki groaned, leaning in to suck on your broken lip, his tongue petting over the fresh wound gently. It stung, but at the same time it felt very intimate— something you had never done before that had that heat building in the pit of your stomach.

A set of fangs pricked your neck, Shinsou’s lips fluttering up toward your jaw. You loathed how soft they felt, a distinct contrast to the sharpened enamels that suddenly descended into your flesh. You cried out, unprepared for the searing pain that shot through your body. Your skin felt like it was throbbing, sizzling from the unwelcome heat and pain mixing together.

“Shhh, love,” Todoroki cooed, laying a gentle kiss on your open mouth. “It won’t hurt for long…” He continued to suckle on your lip, beautiful eyes staring deeply into yours as he cradled your face. The thin ring of iris around his blown pupils shone brightly in the low light of the flickering candles, brilliant aqua and stormy gray contrasting, mesmerizing you and momentarily taking you away from the pain of the fangs lodged in your throat.

Shinsou was moaning against your neck, Adam’s apple bobbing as he took his fill from your bloodstream. His hands were gripping your waist tightly, fingers wandering up your back to curl your body closer to his embrace. You were so out of it, so lost in the taller man’s gaze, that you almost didn’t register the growing hardness pressing into your inner thigh. Shinsou was gently rutting against your leg, pressing his crotch onto you as he held your limp body with surprising care.

The sharp pain of his fangs in your neck had transformed into a dull throb, your body slowly numbing to his bite. It wasn’t long before Shinsou drew back, tongue roving over the flesh puncture marks that laid on your throat. His tongue hurt at first, but the second and third swipe of the strong, wet muscle felt increasingly good, and you hated how your thighs twitched together at the feeling. Apparently the two of them knew you would be experiencing this effect, for they both started to move you backwards, wandering closer to the bed.

You could hear Todoroki get onto the mattress before the pair of them maneuvered your body to join his, lifting you up and setting you down onto the plush comforter before him. His hands slid to your front, down your stomach and perched on your hips, pushing them back so your ass met his crotch. Your eyes went wide as you felt Todoroki’s erection poke into your ass, and Shinsou chuckled darkly as he, too, crawled onto the bed.

Although you opened your mouth to speak, no words came out, and the purple-haired vampire before you winked as the smirk on his lips only grew. There was still a trickle of your blood tainting the skin on his chin, and his fangs poked out as he grinned at you.

“You missed some,” Todoroki stated, voice a bit rougher than it had been downstairs. Your head turned to look at him, but you found his gaze was not focused on you— he was looking straight at Shinsou, eyes darkening and teeth elongating into points.

“Saved it for you, have a taste,” Shinsou replied nonchalantly, scooting closer to you. The space between the two men’s mouths closed and you gasped as you watched their lips collide, a moan tumbling out of the man supporting your back. That horrible heat burst between your legs, your mouth watering as you saw Todoroki’s tongue slips into Shinsou’s mouth, their fangs clicking as they brushed together.

Shinsou chuckled as he pulled back, Todoroki’s tongue wandering down to trace the line of your blood that streaked down his chin. Shinsou looked at you as he grinned, clearly happy that their kiss had such an effect on you. “You taste so good, baby,” he complimented, and you whimpered as heat burst in your cheeks.

It was shameful how much this was turning you on— a monster straight out of a fairytale was here in front of you, feeding off of you, able to end your life he re really wanted to in probably just one swift bite— and yet your pussy was drooling all over your panties for him, an uncomfortable dampness collecting between your thighs. You couldn’t stop your hips from wiggling, but as you moved back from Shinsou, you pressed up against Todoroki, who let out a throaty groan. The swell of your backside pushed against his hard cock just right, and you gasped as his hands suddenly jumped to the hem of your dress, pulling it to rest at the tops of your thighs. Your pussy twitched as the cool air rushed across your sticky panties, and you mewled as one hand drifted up to squeeze your breast, the other slapping gently over your panty-covered clit.

Shinsou’s hands glided down your waist, large palms running over your hips before he grabbed your thighs, yanking you to the edge of the mattress as he fell to his knees. Kneeling between your legs, he chucked again as he inspected the wet patch on darkening the front of your underwear. His thumb met your slit and he traced it up and down a few times, grin splitting his smirk as you unintentionally let out a moan.

It was then that Todoroki’s fangs sliced into the unmarked flesh on the other side of your neck. You cried out, the pain just as stringing and intense as Shinsou’s bite had delivered. But you weren’t left to focus on it long— Shinsou pulled your underwear to the side and dipped a thumb into your soaking folds, rubbing up the length of your slit once again. The direct contact made your toes curl, your slick folds parting with ease as the ample evidence of your arousal allowed his finger to glide through without catch. He hummed as he rubbed his thumb against your clit a few times, violet eyes flicking up to see your eyelashes fluttering across your cheeks, Todoroki’s lips latched to your throat as he took his fill from your sweet bloodstream.

Todoroki’s fingers curled into the top of your dress, and he pulled it down to reveal your tits to the cool air, your nipples instantly perking up and standing at attention. The red and white haired man moaned as he sucked on your throat, his forefinger and thumbs capturing each nipple and twisting the sensitive buds.

“Fuck!” you whined, immediately embarrassed that you hadn’t been able to hold the expletive in. But neither of the men seemed to share your sentiment, the pair of them moaning softly in response to your noise of pleasure as if encouraging you to let out even more.

Shinsou smiled as he pinched the sides of your panties, yanking the material down your thighs and off your ankles before separating your legs and inserting himself between them. He gave you no warning as his tongue suddenly licked a flat stripe up your slit, rolling around your clit perfectly at the end of his journey. Your legs tensed as they closed around his head, a hot puff of air escaping you as Todoroki finally pulled off of your neck with a broken gasp. His breathing was ragged as his tongue lashed over the fresh marks, the repeated action having the same, dizzying sensation that Shinsou had elicited. Then Shinsou’s tongue was wiggling across your clit, alternating between sucking on the sensitive pearl and lavishing it in vicious swipes of his strong, wet tongue.

Meanwhile Todoroki was ripping off his clothes, revealing his broad, sturdy chest in all its glory before he yanked at the zipper on your spine, sliding your dress over your shoulders and tossing it onto the floor. Your bra was next, leaving you in just your sparkly heels and your glimmering gems.

You could feel both pairs of eyes inspecting your naked body, Todorki’s hands returning to tweak at your nipples while Shinsou thrusted his tongue inside your quivering hole. He moaned as his tongue probed at your insides, sending vibrations through your core and causing your legs to tighten around his head. Pleasure was coursing through you, overwhelming the urge to scream and run that had been all you could focus on just minutes ago. But your pussy was dripping for the both of them, and Shinsou was savoring every drop as he animatedly lapped at you— never before had anyone so enthusiastically eaten your cunt like this, and his zeal only made you leak onto his mouth even more.

You had been so focused on the man in between your legs that you only recognized Todoroki had fully unclothed himself when he moved backward, easing your head back so you lay flat on the mattress. Your pussy twitched violently on Shinsou’s tongue when you caught sight of Todoroki’s cock standing long and thick, tall against his carved abdomen, his expression dark as he shuffled forward.

“Open your mouth, baby,” he instructed and you obeyed immediately, as if you couldn’t follow his instruction any faster. Your eagerness made him smirk, and you made sure to keep eye contact as he rubbed the tip of his heavy cock against your sealed lips. But suddenly Shinsou started to attack your clit with new fervor, tongue flicking across the bundle of nerves repeatedly.

You couldn’t stop the moan that flew out of you, and as soon as your mouth was open, Todoroki pushed forward, shoving his cock deep into your mouth. You choked at the sudden intrusion, but he only grabbed your throat with one hand and thrust into your mouth even rougher than before. He didn’t seem to care much about your comfort, your heartbeat skyrocketing as the need for oxygen started burning in your lungs.

Todoroki pulled his cock out just in time for you to gasp in a few breaths before he rammed his cock back inside, powerful thighs pinning your head to the mattress as he leaned forward with hands on either side of your waist and head hung while he uttered a quiet moan. “That’s right, love. Go ahead and suck my cock… I want to hear you choke on me, naughty little thing.”

A wanton moan slipped out of you, his cock filling your throat to the max, and his rough, determined thrusts causing your pussy to flood even more. Shinsou was still licking at your cunt purposefully, tongue sliding around your folds and over your clit as he sucked and flicked it to your liking. You started to become more vocal as pressure began to build in your stomach, your hips writhing wildly underneath his pinning grip as Todoroki used your mouth to his liking. Your eyes rolled back as you felt your high approaching, unaware of Shinsou slowly but steadily undressing himself while he suckled at your puffy folds.

Todoroki’s thrusts became slower but deeper suddenly, and you swirled your tongue around his swollen tip when his hips receded. You were caught off guard when Shinsou’s lips left your cunt and instead his teeth sunk into the soft skin on your thigh, taking another sampling from your veins. This time, the initial pain was much duller, and it quickly faded into something concerningly pleasurable. There must have been some higher-level effect at play here— there was no way that such gleaming fangs stabbing into you and feeding from you should feel that good. Yet it undoubtedly made your toes curl, bliss spreading through your body like wildfire through dry grass. It only increased when a long finger slipped inside of you, a second entering with ease as they began rubbing inside of you gently. You could feel Shinsou moan into your pillowy thigh, the noise only making your cunt itch for his attention again.

You let out a desolate whine when both of the men suddenly pulled away from you, your pussy hotter and wetter than ever, and your cheeks dribbling with your saliva as a result of Todoroki’s face-fucking. It was then that you realized Shinsou was naked, too, your mouth watering at his visage; his cock stood thicker and shorter than Todoroki’s, but both of them were punching well above average, muc to your delight.

Todoroki slipped off the mattress and Shinsou walked around the edge of the bed, the pair switching and settling in reverse positions. Shinsou stroked your cheek sweetly, capturing your attention as he smiled down at you. You craned your neck to press a kiss to the leaking tip of him, your tongue poking out to swipe the salty bead of pre-cum that lay there. Your eyes went wide when you felt the telltale smoothness of Todoroki’s cock splitting your slick-drenched folds, his hands settling on your hips before he grabbed them, rutting his own forward and causing his cock to push halfway into your tight hole. The stretch made the both of you gasp, your wet, little hole hugging his large cock snug as he began to move his hips.

Shinsou had enjoyed the intimate moment but found himself getting impatient, slapping his thick, oozing cockhead over your lips to grab your attention once again. You looked up at him with wide, starry eyes, your mouth opening for him to glide his cock into your mouth. “Good girl,” he murmured, eyes fixating on the way your lips wrapped around his girth, the way his thick veins looked rolling against your tongue. Your cheeks hollowed in attempt to satiate him, but you instantly cried out when Todoroki’s hips slapped flush against yours, shoving his cock inside of your cunt entirely.

The impossible fullness that bloomed in your stomach was delectable, and Todoroki began to thrust into your slippery cunt at a reliable, hard pace. He let out a guttural groan as he watched his cock disappear into your slick folds, the heat of your pussy overwhelming him. He lifted both your legs over his shoulders, making sure to grab one of your ankles and pulling it upright so your leg was fully extended. Then, his fangs broke the smooth skin on your calf and you whimpered at the feeling. It felt so good to have him suck on your skin— to feel your blood flowing out of your body and into his eager mouth. It was sick, but you couldn’t think about it at the moment— couldn’t find any fault with the two monsters that were taking you to cloud nine.

“Fuck, just like that,” Shinsou mumbled, eyes flicking up to watch a rivulet of your blood strike down your outstretched leg. When he looked back down towards you, your eyes were closed and your brow scrunched, an indication of the pleasure that was ebbing through your body thanks to the cadenced swing of Todoroki’s hips. “You’re such a good fucking girl,” Shinsou praised as he threw back his head, his fingers carding through your hair and tugging gently at your roots.

Just as the three of you seemed to find a rhythm, Todoroki pulled out abruptly, making your mouth part in a whine, Shinsou’s thick member springing out of your wet cavern and into the cool, still air. The purple-haired man hissed in annoyance, gritting his teeth as he looked to the other man to scold him, but quickly his irritation melted as he watched Todoroki flip you so your stomach lay flat on the sheets. Then, he hiked your ass into the air, your body moving along with him with such cooperation that the pair of them shared a look, haughty smirks stretching on both their lips. It was their secret that they had stopped using their mind control on you, and it seemed you were the only one that continued, blissfully unaware. Perhaps you didn’t even realize… perhaps you didn’t care.

It didn’t matter, really— Todoroki lined himself up with your dripping cunt, taking no pause this time as his cock speared inside you once again. You moaned as you reeled forward, your fingers gripping into the duvet harshly as your body tightened up from the delicious intrusion. His long, thick cock felt like magic inside of you, each thrust brushing a soft spot nestled deep inside of you and stimulating you further.

Shinsou jerked himself off lazily as he watched your facial expressions, trapping his bottom lip between his sharp teeth as he registered the erotic ecstasy painted across your beautiful features. After a minute of allowing you to focus his accomplice’s hard cock, he pressed the tip of his own to your lips. You immediately opened your mouth, taking the flushed member between your lips with restless reception, tongue rolling around the swollen head. Shinsou sighed, half-lidded lavender irises watching you begin to eagerly bob up and down his length. He thumbed over a drop of blood that had rolled down your throat, catching Todoroki’s eye and offering his finger to the other man, who happily took the digit into his mouth and sucked, tongue soaking up your life essence as his hand wrapped around Shinsou’s wrist to steady himself. They both chuckled as you moaned loudly, Todoroki’s free hand clapping across your ass cheek and causing your cunt to clench down on his cock.

“You like that?” he teased, grabbing your flesh and shaking it, watching your ass jiggle before striking you again, a few smacks in succession. You could only gag and moan in reply, Shinsou’s cock thrusting into the back of your throat. The purple-eyed vampire gripped your chin with his calloused, cold hand, keeping your head in place as he began to fuck your face. Suddenly Todoroki spat onto your behind, his saliva wetting your puckered hole before he shoved his thumb inside of your ass, the unexpected stretch sending fresh bliss through your body as his cock dragged against it through your walls. Tears were beading on your lashes, the combination of the lack of oxygen, the attack of your g-spot from Todoroki’s cock, and the sharp pain of his hand across your ass all sending you hurtling towards your high.

With a shriek you came on his cock, your cunt wringing snug around the heavy member that just kept pistoning into you, angling your hips so the head pounding into that sensitive, spongy spot again and again. Todoroki groaned, taking his finger out and both his hands now squeezing at your hips as he continued to fuck you, offering a few more slaps to your ass as you trembled in ecstasy. While your head was still filled with the euphoric fog of your climax, Shinsou pulled out of your mouth, nodding to Todoroki, who wordlessly understood. The mismatched vampire hooked his arms around your knees, heaving you up against his chest and spreading your legs far apart enough for Shinsou to slide between them.

You were still catching your breath as Shinsou reached for Todoroki’s cock, slotting his thighs between the other man’s and positioning his length so that his slick-covered head rested right at your asshole. You gasped, your arm bending to dig your nails into Todoroki’s shoulder as you looked behind at him, catching his lustful gaze down at you. Shinsou then began to sloppily kiss your throat, his cock rubbing against your glazed, ravaged opening as his hands ran across the curve of your ass, landing on Todoroki’s waist behind your hips. The both of them entered you at the same time, your vision dotting with white spots as the stretch from both sides took your breath away. They both managed to slip inside, fully seating you onto their laps as you trembled, your stiff nipples brushing against Shinsou’s toned chest.

Todoroki nibbled at your ear as he began to pump his cock inside of you, filling your ass with each thrust and stimulating you as he rubbed himself against Shinsou’s cock through your walls. “So tight, love…,” he murmured in your ear, the prick of his sharp fangs on your cartilage sending shivers down your spine. His tongue wandered out and he traced the tip of it against the column of your throat, brushing over the leaking puncture wounds that laid there. “So sweet… can’t help myself,” his words turned into a savage moan as he sunk his fangs into your skin, the pain washing away abruptly as Shinsou, too, started to push his hips into yours.

Shinsou groaned, one hand coming to caress your chin as he claimed your lips with his own. His tongue entered your mouth and wrestled with yours as his tempo began to pick up, his cock stretching your cunt wide and sending waves of pleasure through your core. When he pulled back, you were both panting, your breasts heaving with the rapid rise and fall of your chest. It was then that Todoroki pulled away from your neck, gasping in a breath of air as his fangs glistened scarlet. Shinsou took one look at him and crushed his mouth to his, your holes clenching around their lengths as you watched your blood be exchanged between their ravenous tongues. The pair of them were moaning, and so were you— unable to keep the noises of pure pleasure inside as you watched them make out.

Your blood was dripping down Todoroki’s chin, and you couldn’t stop yourself from reaching over and grabbing his jaw, ripping his lips away from Shinsou’s and instead placing your mouth on his. He growled in approval against your lips, his tongue battling yours as he sought to dominate you, the distinct flavor of iron filling your mouth as you tasted your own blood. Shinsou took the opportunity to sink his cuspids into the other side of your throat again, and your jaw fell in response, Todoroki’s tongue seizing control of yours immediately as he grasped the upper hand. Both of them were full-on fucking you now, your holes warm and wet, quivering around their thick cocks as the brought you closer and closer to your high yet again.

Only the sound of your heavy breathing and the slapping of your skins filled the air in the room, the music of the party drowned and far away as the three of you were otherwise occupied. Before you knew it, you were clenching on them again, your body seizing as your orgasm ripped through you, all the air in your lungs vacuumed out of you and your toes curling into the air. Your fingers fisted Shinsou’s wild violet locks, your nails digging into Todoroki’s jaw as you tumbled through the throes of your climax, euphoria rushing through your bloodstream and straight into Shinsou’s awaiting mouth.

The sweet taste of your oxytocin, your drug-like ecstasy, sent him straight into his own orgasm, his hips pushing flush against yours as he roared and his cock spurted thick white ribbons deep into your womb, his seed pouring into you and filling you to the brim. His chiseled body trembled as he emptied himself inside of you, his fingers bruising your skin while he gasped and moaned. Your holes clenched as you milked his cock, and suddenly Todoroki, too, groaned loudly behind you. His hands squeezed your flesh as his cock spurted hot cum inside of you, his abdomen flush against your ass as he crushed your body to his front.

The three of you sat there on the bed, your bodies covered in sweat and remnants of your blood, breathless and still as you came back down to earth. Shinsou’s lips trailed along your neck, Todoroki’s fingertips sliding across your skin with gentle care as they pulled out of you. Their seed dribbled down your thighs as they maneuvered your boneless body back onto the pillows, your eyes fluttering closed from the pure exhaustion and the lack of blood in your veins. Each of them laid back on either side of you, their cold hands wandering over your skin and causing goosebumps to rise, their eyes roaming your body in pure adoration.

“You did so well, baby,” Shinsou murmured into your hair, pressing his face close to yours as he sighed and inhaled the sweet scent lingering from the blood on your skin.

“So well-behaved for us,” Todoroki added, wrapping an arm around your middle as he, too, nestled closer to your limp body. “Go to sleep, love… you deserve some rest.”

You hummed at their praise, tired butterflies flapping their wings in the pit of your stomach. Your head was fuzzier than ever, bliss weighing heavy in your bones as your breathing steadied. Filled with post-orgasmic content, the idea of fleeing that seemed so wonderful just an hour ago now sounded distasteful, your body comfortable lying on the silken sheets, pressed between your two lovers. As you faded into a blissful sleep, you could hear the pair talking lowly, making plans to keep you here with them in hushed voices.

 ─── ・°* ﾟ✧:* • ｡ﾟ:*･☽･*: ｡ﾟ•*:✧ ﾟ*°・ ───

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so sorry if that was rushed at the end!! hope you enjoyed, and Happy Halloween!! be safe out there <3

➥ masterlist

𝐂𝐨𝐩𝐲𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 © 𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐩𝐢 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟎. 𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝.

[enhypemen]

Jihoon as your boyfriend  F.S.

For @haehyucck​ 

not edited- bruh i gave myself the feels - i love him - requests are open

Date stamp- January 18, 2021

How You Met

You guys most definitely met somewhere active/fun, like Lotte World or an Arcade.

He saw you looking at him from afar and like the cocky little smug shit he is, he’d smirk and wink.

You would blush cause he caught you and try to get back into conversation with your friend (who are dying laughing at you)

Eventually he comes up to you, asking you to play a game with him. spoiler you say yes.

You guys would be playing one of those basketball games and he would absolutely be losing to you.

He’d try to hit your ball so you’d miss your shot, which would result in you hip bumping him so he could lose balance.

In the end you’d win.

“I let you win” headass 

Before you leave he asks for your number with his cheeks all red and shit.

You guys end up texting all night and a couple days later he asks you on a date.

Your relationship (SFW/F)

You guys are all around a very LOUD couple.

Always together, unless he’s at dance practice or in the studio.

Sometimes he teaches you the choreo to unreleased songs.

The other boys love you. like... A LOT

Jihoon thought Junkyu was his best friend? nope. not anymore, thats YOUR best friend now.

On your free time you guys like to go out to watch movies, sometimes visiting the place where you met.

Speaking of going out, its only once, MAYBE two times a week. other days your laid up in his dorm.

PRANKS oh my god. You swear you’re gonna end up beating his ass one of these days.

One time he the water bucket over the door trick on you and you swore up and down about how he wants “to meet jesus today”.

But don’t worry, the guys help you get his ass good.

He’s a clingy boy. I just know it.

His ass is ALWAYS texting you.

Definitely calls you names like “baby” and “cutie’

but he also calls you “Stoopid”

exactly like that.

He also likes to cuddle and smother you in kisses.

SPEAKING OF KISSES

THIS MAN WILL DEADASS STOP IN THE MIDDLE ON A LITTLE INNOCENT MAKEOUT SES JUST TO SMILE AT YOU AND KISS YOUR NOSE

*intense heart beating*

He’s also a big fucking softy dude.

You know that Treasure Map episode when they were doing that haunted house shit?

When Junkyu was scared, Jihoon yelled his name and Junkyu- being all cute- went “yes?”

Jihoon literally combusted.

He’s like that with you. Anything you do he’s all heart eyes for you. He even does that thing where he grips the air with his finger and gushes about how cute you are.

Arguments 

They don’t happen often. 

But when they do, it never gets out of control

During the arguments you guys never raise your voices.

The agruments also aren’t about anything too serious

mostly you telling him to pick up after himself or to take care of himself.

the one time you guys do get into a heated argument, he raises his voice.

you burst into tears and he immediately starts apologizing.

he hates seeing you cry and hates even more that he caused it

he spends the next hour apologizing, holding you in his arms and rubbing your back.

he vows to NEVER and he means NEVER raise his voice at you ever again.

ever since then you guys just sit and talk things out when you’re upset with one another

very mature mwuah

NSFW

Your sex life with Jihoon is pretty healthy considering he lives with 11 other people.

 I feel like realistically, he wouldn’t not be kinky person, but his kinks aren’t anything special either

Don’t get me wrong, he’s definitely the type to be down to try whatever you want.

But believe it or not I feel like this man has only ever had sex with one other person and that’s where he gets his kinks.

Despite all of that, he’s a very in the middle person. Like he likes it rough and messy, but he also feels strongly about making it slow and sensual, because “it makes everything feel fucking amazing”

He’s very vocal. He likes to tell you exactly how he feels and how you make him feel.

He’s the type to grab your hand and place it on his bulge when he’s hard.

His bottom lip would be pulled between his teeth and he’d smirk at you all while making you squeeze him through his jeans.

Is it hot in here ??????????

I feel like he’s into marking, but in places where only you and him can see ‘cause something about puling your clothing off and spotting the old, fading, yellowish-purple bruise, makes him go insane.

And no matter the type of sex you just had, you best believe this man is the aftercare KING!!

He’d clean you up, run a warm bath, make sure your legs and lower back are massages, tuck you into his bed, cuddle you and sometimes he even feeds you.

literally the best boyfriend .

Overall

This man literally treats you like a queen.

Fin.

[gothicvalentine]

I'm so livid right now! I don't normally get this angry but ffs. I'm almost shaking I'm so pissed off.

This is really, really long because I don't do brevity and because background is needed to understand the situation so this is continued under the cut. I'm on mobile though so I really hope it adds a cut. If not, I'll edit my post later when I get on my laptop.

Warning: in addition to being an extremely long post, I mention feeling suicidal so if that might be triggering to anyone, please skip reading this. Thanks!

:read more:

So I don't have water. Haven't for about a year and a half. Because my depression is so bad I'm I haven't been doing self care or housework for years (at least).

Things got so bad I finally decided to file for social security disability in mid March 2021.

We have a local agency here which is a Christian place that ostensibly helps people with things they need. They have a shower for use that I was allowed to use a few times (knowing it's there is great but I still have zero motivation to use it).

With no water, I've been buying gallon jugs of water when I still had some money or with my food stamps. With the price of everything skyrocketing, I've decided spending at least $5 a week on water could be cut to zero or a bit more if they didn't mind if I filled up 2 gallon jugs of water a couple of times a week.

After all, I wasn't using their water to bathe and they'd said another client came in to fill up water jugs so they said I could as well. They were the ones who actually suggested it when they interviewed me last year!

I stopped in last week and they're was only an intern there and she didn't know what to do so she asked someone on the retail side (or whatever--they have an attached thrift shop) since everyone else was in meetings.

I was given the ok and I filled up 2 jugs. I wanted to check this time before I just stopped in, especially since they were so weird about it last time, so I called and they picked up the phone today.

I don't know if this lady was an intern or not but she wanted me to come in for an interview again. I asked if that was an annual thing (because nothing has changed since last year) and she said she didn't think it normally would be, but they're had a lot of staff changes. They'd also like to talk and get to know me "to see if there's anything else they'd be able to help with." Uh huh, sure. You mean you want to try to convert me. 🙄

I was not happy about it and I think this lady could tell but I agreed and I guess their first available is not until next Monday afternoon. Since that's an entire week, I asked if I could at least fill up my water before then and she hemmed and hawed (fuck, I'm really dating myself aren't I?) and essentially said that no, I couldn't.

Her excuse was they they are closed Thursday and Friday and will be very busy the rest of the time and might be in and out of the office. Yeah because filling up a jug of water is going to take 30 minutes. And I'll need to be heavily supervised so I don't rob them blind while I'm filling up the water or something.

I wrote them off last year because I asked for help with some really tall weeds and brush, trees, etc. I don't have the lawn gadgets to take care of this on my own even if I wasn't too depressed to get out of bed to do anything. In addition I have a number of physical issues that make it really hard, if not impossible to do many things. (I think it's probably severe anxiety plus my gastroparesis, but I'm nauseous most days and vomiting some)

The place knew I had no income last year so they didn't ask me to pay them (they said they usually for a contribution) but they asked if I could help them remove the trees and weeds. I told them I would be willing to help if I was able to and felt ok that day. They said they'd need to meet with their volunteers and would get back to me.

Stupid me. I had thought nothing of telling them that I would be losing my home, probably before 2022 since I had no way to continue to pay my mortgage and even if I did, my home requires extensive repairs. Even the city sent a notice saying my roof needed to be repaired. 😳 (they never did that when I lived in Des Moines!)

When they finally called me back, they said they'd talked to their volunteers but the volunteers weren't willing to help me if I wasn't going to be staying in my home. Wtf?!?!

I had told the Christian place that the city had given me a notice that it needed to be done or they'd do it (and it would probably be several hundred minimum for the city to do it, plus you can't just not pay a government agency back--they will legit take your license until it's paid--I checked)

I was so stressed out but luckily I called the city and explained the situation and they haven't taken action against me yet.

I'm still in my home because the mortgage company gave me a forbearance then wrote off the late charges and everything. I was able to make 1 payment (barely) with a little leftover money I had from my LTD policy benefits that ran out in February, but it's ready to go back into foreclosure again next month.

I'm just so, so upset that I have to jump through all these hoops to fill up on a few gallons of water for the week--and because apparently Christians don't care if other people go without water or something. (and before someone @s me: #notallchristians)

Fuck my life.

To make things infinitely worse, I'm a hoarder. With no one to help me. So I don't have motivation to get out of bed or anything, let alone clean and pack . . . a normal house.

My home isn't normal and hasn't been for decades. And my therapist told me I'm stressing her out because I'm having so much trouble doing anything and have no motivation despite knowing if I don't act I'll lose even the stuff I value most.

I had a peer support person who was really nice and said she'd be willing to help, but she quit last week. 😭

I have family who know at least part of my situation but none of them have contacted me in months (and I'm always the one who has to reach out to them).

I stopped reaching out because I know being super depressed and negative is a downer for most (all?) people. Plus, since I'm struggling I don't want people to think that's why I'm reaching out to them.

Of course, I do really need help and it would be great if at least one person in my family was willing to be there for me at this time. (my daughter is helping out some financially where she can, but she's the only one) *fyi I can repay my daughter easily if I get approved for SSDI but if I don't (which I'm terrified will happen--how bad do things have to be? Are my providers even understanding how bad things are? Are they documenting this well?) and I end myself instead, she's the beneficiary of my 75k or so IPERS account.

I'm afraid that my home will foreclose and I won't get my stuff and instead of just giving up on my stuff, that I'll decide I can't go on without my things and try to kill myself again. I don't even think that would be a bad thing.

I'm so tired of constantly suffering. Why do people think it's ok for people to commit suicide if someone is terminally ill, but not for long term severe mental illness? I know mental pain is supposed to be fleeting, that suicidal ideation is supposed to be fleeting. But what if it isn't?

And what if you have a lot of physical pain and mental pain and it's just so unbearable when you feel like no one even cares? If your own family apparently gives zero fucks about you, how in the everloving hell is anyone else supposed to care?!?!?

Sorry for burdening anyone who reads this. I just don't feel like my family cares and my mental health providers are paid to pretend to care and I don't think they really listen or at least understand what I'm trying to tell them. What I keep telling them over and over. I just needed to finally put this out there somewhere.

I was going to post something similar a few months ago, but decided not to because 1) I didn't want to bring anyone down or stress them out and 2) I didn't want to risk a welfare check by the police or something.

I'm not actively suicidal atm (like with a plan and the intent) plus, cops are really bad at de-escalating situations. So bad that suicide by cop has crossed my mind. But I'm white and female so I'm not sure I'd be a sufficient enough threat for that to be a valid option anyway.

[goji-pilled]

MK-S: To start up this journal entry, I’m going to be doing something new: An idea I had and recommend for multipart io3 posts, I’m going to start linking back to previous entries: that way of you find one, you can “follow the thread” back to the first. For this one, I’ve got three prior entries, so I’ll list all 3. Future entries will just link back to the prior one.

Journal 1

Journal 2

Journal 3

Misc.

MK-S: The next batch of Candeloro journal entries. Opening with Candeloro finally making a glossary of terms:

March 7, 12:01 AM: Going to spend some time finally making a glossary of terminology. I’ll be writing these as they come, so I’ll just add in a time stamp to denote when I came back with a new idea.

Oh! Maybe I can denote year as BP and AP, before and after Phil. That could work. I think Star Wars did something similar too. OH! That means I can also mark this as “Year 0”! Sweet, now I’ve got a proper calendar! (Granted, I do make several of these journal “dates” in a single day, so it’s more or less just something to help when the I reach December and then January again.)

March 7, 1:13 AM: Alright, so now that I’ve got a date system set up, -Oh! New idea, I can underline (edit: bold) some of the new terms, so that way when I look back, it’s easier to find them…should I also use colored ink too?…(Nah, I’ll see how well underlining is, and decide later. Speaking of, let me underline that Phil date section.) (edit: For some reason I thought I can underline, but now I can’t. Weird.)

Now then, what were some of the terms I had in mind? Something about the Gap and the Breach. I want to look back and finally see what I was calling them.

Those That Breath Of Poison Mist: Exterminators or any company we need to pump poison in the house. (However, given how this has taken a turn towards the supernatural, we may not be hiring them again…Maybe Homura knows how to make poison gas bombs; I could credit such devices to them…Eh, thoughts for later.)

Lady Seckendorff: How I refer to Oktavia.

Lady Klarissa: How- I had to leave again. Another knock on the wall…okay, let me test something: Lady Klarissa, Lady Klarissa, Lady Klarissa…okay, I got two more knocks, and then no knock over the course of five minutes as I slowly wrote it out. Phil, if you’re somehow reading this as I’m writing this, could you please stop the knocking? Do you not like me calling her that? Knock once for me to stop, knock twice for me- wow, that was two quick knocks. Got it, you like the title “Lady-Don’t Knock-Klarissa”, now please stop making noise. I appreciate your…excitement? I think? But whatever it is, it kinda freaks me out and makes me feel like my journal is talking back to me.

Now, where was I? Oh yeah, Lady Klarissa…thank you for the silence, is how I refer to Klarissa. Self explanatory. Still need to determine how to work her in story wise…Eh, another task for later, assuming this doesn’t turn out to be a trap of some sort.

House of Tomoe: Even though my name is Candeloro now, I think I can still use my old last name to say “I decided to do this” without actually directly saying it. Handy tool for saying “I know I need to do this, but I’m the adventurer/explorer (more on that later) so I shouldn’t be able to give myself orders, that’s not how taking orders works.”…I totally botched my explaination of that somewhere, but I’m not going to be the one eating this word salad…actually, no, I’ll be the only one doing that. Eh, I digress.

The Breach: When I first said this term, I thought I’d use it for where the rats were entering from, but I ended up using this term for the hole in the wall I entered from…but now, with a whole new space, I kinda want to change it, to reserve such a cool term for something else….it’s been a While, I’ve given it some thought, and I’ve decided I will be retiring the name “The Breach” from its current usage as the entryway. This term will be tucked away for future use.

The Gate: the now Former term for however the rats got in. (I wanted to “seal the gate”, which sounded cool, but the more I think about it swapping these terms going forward is the right call. I don’t like retconning, but honestly, this is basically a new journey altogether; I’m sure Nagisa and Yuma won’t mind. Ophelia might when she’s doing her usual pretend to not be listening around the corner. She’s a bit stubborn, especially since she has an open invitation to sit and listen. Personally, I think she’s worried she’ll fall asleep before Yuma, and be unable to live it down.) Got sidetracked again, I’m changing this to be the entryway I use to enter into the wall…I should make a little wooden gate or door or something, so it’s not just a hole in the wall. I could be all dramatic, add witch glyphs on the front, some dramatic cliché like “Abandon hope all yee who enter” or…well, I don’t actually know any other cliches. Oh well, that can wait for me to actually make the darn thing first. Oh, maybe I could make a little entry hall inside a large box!

The Gap: My current term for the space between the walls, though I was never quite satisfied with it. I’ve also referred to it as the “space between spaces”, but while cool, is a bit of a mouthful…then again, we have a bunch of different terms for the world: the world, the planet, earth, etc. Maybe I could find multiple names to call this.

Rat Lord/King: Turns out, in the Jan 27 entry, I did initial declare the title as “Rat Lord”, but then forgot and started also calling him the rat king. Honestly the titles are interchangeable…(note to self, google what exactly was a difference between a king and a lord. I think “lord” in reference to medieval times had something to do with land ownership or something. I dunno, but now I’m curious. Eh, Actually not that curious. Maybe I’ll care enough for..you know what? No. I’ve got the internet on my phone, I might as well use it…alright, based on a quick and not through google search, a lord is nobility with authority, but below a king…so as far as I care for enemy naming, same thing, unless I’m denoting ranks. King is above a lord.) Honestly, there was no real rat that I assigned this title to, it would just be the last rat we had. But hey, maybe Phil left some remnants of them. (I haven’t discounted the possibility that he may have been eating the rat corpses while he…”Phil-ed” the walls…no that ended up as a pun on “filled the walls”. Unintentional and I actually don’t like that one. It doesn’t even work as a joke, since he didn’t fill the wall he…is there even a word for “expanded the interior dimensions of a structure”?)

Phil: Klarissa’s familiar that somehow warped our house…wait, did she actually say it was her familiar, or did I just assume that and she never corrected me…need a cooler name for him…I’ll come up with something later. Maybe I’ll ask Klarissa for a name if/when I see her again. Or heck, Phil, if you’re still reading this, leave some sort of note with any name you think would be good for my role play…oh, and also, thank you for this. I’m excited to see how this turns out.

Well, I think that’s all the terms I need for now. Oh yeah, I think for my job title I decided to go with Adventurer. (Nagisa and Yuma are totally going to hi-five each other for that.) I think they can have honor, so I don’t need to toss that notion, and for backstory, I can say I was some sort of knight or warrior who became an adventurer on request, at the the behest of the House of Tomoe. I think that should wrap it up for now.

MK-S: We’ll, I hope this was enjoyable!

I LOVE CANDELORO JOURNAL ENTRIES!!! THEYRE THE BEST!!!

[whatsmyline-pb]

Saw this for the first time today and just about died. Then this happened:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/32013415

(Edit: a big thanks to @stevieshelby for a much better quality picture.)

Alfie Solomons does not run. Ever. Men who run, in his opinion, are silly and weak; either running from or to something and either way showing far too much desperation in doing so. Alfie is a firm believer in acting with as little urgency as possible.

He knows, of course, that most people running are doing so for the sake of exercise. But it’s a bloody foolish way to achieve fitness, if you ask him. Likely does more harm than good, slamming your joints together against hard pavement. Swimming is a much more sensible form of exercise.

Point is, Alfie doesn’t run.

—

Leave it to Tommy Shelby to ruin Alfie’s first true holiday in years. It’s summer and it’s Margate and Alfie is altogether content to let work fade into oblivion and get some much-needed rest. But of course, he can’t get one fucking moments peace before the little prick is calling him, demanding that they meet, that it’s urgent, cannot be discussed over the phone, and what’s Alfie’s rental address, he’ll be there first thing in the morning.

And mornings, right, mornings are sacred to Alfie, especially when on holiday. He likes to take his fucking time, stretch languidly while the last remnants of sleep slip away, stay in bed however long he pleases and not leave a moment sooner. And then, when he deems himself ready to rise, make his way to the terrace with coffee and biscuits and a book and cigar. Greet the day with leisurely intent.

And fuck if he’s gonna let Tommy interfere with that pleasure. So the next day he goes about his morning just as he normally would, and when Tommy pulls up in his sleek Royce he’s just opened his book and taken his first sip of coffee.

“Just come on up, for fucks sake,” he hollers down when Tommy knocks on the front door. Moments later Tommy is standing in front of him, looking incredulous. Or really, looking entirely impassive, if you don’t know him. But Alfie does, so, yes, it’s definitely incredulity swimming behind those flat eyes.

Thing is, another part of Alfie’s morning routine is not getting dressed. Dressing really defeats the point of lounging around, doesn’t it? It’s boxers and a loose robe for him, and there’s nothing like the feeling of the warm morning sun on your bare chest, is there?

“You forget I was coming, Alfie?”

“Naw mate, how could I? Been anxious for my groceries, haven’t I?” He’d texted Tommy as soon as they’d hung up last night, Be a dear and stop by Kosher Kingdom before you leave, followed by a rather extensive grocery list. Just to be a prick, really; hadn’t expected any follow-through. But Tommy’s holding a grocery bag.

“Those ‘em?” He asks and grabs it from him. Tommy pays this no heed.

“You didn't think a business meeting warranted, I don’t know, putting some trousers on? Maybe a shirt?”

“Business meeting? Naw. I’m on fucking holiday, ain’t I?” He says it into the bag, busy shuffling through the contents. Only half his requests are in there. “Where are my bourekas?” He asks, looking up.

Tommy glares at him and pulls out a cigarette. His eyes flit unwittingly over Alfie’s bare torso as he lights it. Alfie suppresses a smug grin.

Could be that not wanting to disrupt his normal routine isn't the only reason Alfie declined to dress for Tommy’s visit. Could be, yeah, that they’ve been in business together for seven months and those seven months have felt like a fucking eternity, all of them spent with Alfie not so secretly lusting after Tommy and Tommy, cunt that he is, determinedly ignoring his advances (even though Alfie is damn sure his desires are reciprocated). So yeah, he stayed half-naked to make a point about holidays and respect and all that, but also to taunt Tommy.

Rather transparent. Could be he’s getting a bit desperate.

“So what’s this big emergency, then? You finally set the factory on fire smoking those godforsaken fags? Tear a hole in that favorite suit of yours, hmm? Someone finally snap and off Arthur? Out with it, treacle.”

Tommy sighs as he slides into the seat opposite Alfie. “How’s it you’re even more fucking irritating on holiday, Alfie?”

Alfie just smiles.

“Alright,” Tommy says, pulling some papers from his briefcase and onto the table. He launches into a story, and Alfie immediately forgets to listen. Thing is, there’s a lot going on in Margate in the summer, even this early in the day. Folks are up and about and Alfie can’t help it if he’s an avid people-watcher. Not really in the headspace for business, is he?

Alfie’s somehow getting away with not paying attention to Tommy when the group of runners pound by. They look equally smug and miserable and he can’t help but mutter, “Ridiculous fucking hobby.”

This stops Tommy mid-sentence. “You hear a word I just fucking said, Alfie?”

Alfie nods. “Yeah, mate, sure. Something about a shipment and a fuck up.”

Tommy’s jaw clenches, his eyes narrow. He looks from Alfie to the runners and to Alfie again. It’s a long, heavy silence. Long enough that Alfie grabs the grocery bag again and begins pawing through it. He can practically feel the annoyance radiating off Tommy.

“You remember when you set me up with that cousin of yours?” Tommy asks, an eternity later.

Alfie can’t help it, he breaks into a toothy grin. He remembers it. Often and fondly. It’s not every day Tommy is in need of a last-minute date for an important business dinner and turns to Alfie for help. And really, Tommy should have known better. Of course, Alfie was going to hire an escort to accompany him, paying her extra to pretend to be his cousin. Of course, he was going to relish the opportunity to fuck with the great Tommy Shelby, delight in the knowledge of him prancing proudly around London with a high-end prostitute on his arm.

Hadn’t expected him to ever find out, at least not until a few years later when he’d randomly decide to let his duplicity slip. Hadn’t anticipated that there’d be an adversary present at the dinner who knew just who his ‘cousin’ was, did little to hide it and, in fact, outed Tommy on spot. Alfie can’t quite regret this, though. Would never have gotten to see his cheeks flushed so darkly, red with rage and embarrassment, the next day, would he have? It made the fist to the face and ensuing month of stony silence entirely worth it.

“Course I remember, treacle. One of my finer moments. Really though, you were rather ungrateful, weren’t you? Just trying to give a mate a pleasurable night and all I get in return is a black eye and broken nose.”

Tommy is looking at him with that look of his, the one that means there’s a scheme brewing and you’d best brace yourself.

“Tell you what, Alfie,” Tommy says, leaning forward and stamping out his cigarette. “You make it to the pier and back in under a minute, and I’ll return the favor.”

“What, you’re gonna hire me an escort?” Alfie asks, amused.

“No.” His eyes bore into Alfie, the blues in them much darker than usual. His meaning, suddenly obvious, clicks.

There’s not many things that can stun Alfie into silence. He blinks stupidly at Tommy for a few beats, then leans back, dragging his hand over his beard.

“Let me get this straight. I go for a quick jog and we fuck?”

“Think it’ll have to be more of a sprint, Alfie.”

Tommy knows Alfie’s feelings about running. Knows them because Alfie had told him, can never keep his fucking mouth shut and stop the landslide of damning information that falls out.

A run for a fuck. It’s tempting, for sure. But Alfie has his pride. There’s lots of things he’d do for a fuck, but running definitely ain’t one of them, no matter how desperately he wants it.

“Naw mate. Don’t feel like getting dressed, quite yet.” Tommy quirks an eyebrow.

“Didn’t say anything about getting dressed, did I?”

Alfie laughs at this. Of course, it’s his unkempt appearance that Tommy thinks adds an extra punch of humiliation to this bargain. But Alfie could give a fuck, and Tommy should really know better. He’d meet the Queen in his boxers and robe, head held high, wouldn’t he? But running? No.

“Tommy, sweetie, it’s not going to happen. Now, isn’t there some world-ending urgent reason you are here?”

Tommy shrugs and starts over.

Alfie listens. Or tries to. Tommy himself proves to be the distraction this time. First, he takes off his suit jacket, and fucking well he should, he’s got too many layers for this heat, so that’s just fine.

Then he starts to roll his shirt sleeves upwards. Not in the messy, rushed way that Alfie shoves his own up, but slowly, methodically, one careful fold over another. It takes a tedious amount of time for his forearms to emerge and Alfie tracks the progress hungrily. He’s always had a weakness for those arms, which Tommy, of course, well knows. Another stupid thing he’d let slip. But no matter, they’re just arms, after all.

The lazy recline against his seatback is definitely unexpected. So unlike Tommy, to don a posture of such ease. Yet it suits him, stretches his body out more fully, allows Alfie a more substantial view. And there’s the leg too, that has slid out as result, and is now pressing firmly against Alfie’s own, calf to calf. It’s not moving or anything, so, really, it’s no big deal.

Tommy keeps talking and Alfie keeps listening. Problem is, Tommy’s doing this thing, and it’s definitely the most distracting of all the things. He keeps slipping his eyes from Alfie’s face, raking them over his body, slow and deliberate, licking his lips as he does. And that, well that is just fucking sinful and cruel and underhanded and right up Alfie’s alley.

A run for a fuck. It’s ludicrous, yet…

The leg next to his gives a forceful nudge.

“Asked you a question, Alfie.” There’s a drop of sweat running down Tommy’s throat, spilling onto his clavicle. When had Tommy undone the top two buttons of his shirt?

Maybe, maybe, just one, short run won’t kill him. He clears his throat.

“A minute, you say?” Tommy blinks, then nods, trying and failing to keep his lips from twitching upwards. The hair on his forehead has begun to curl slightly in the humidity. Alfie wants to run his hand through it, brush it away, feel how soft it must be.

“Fuck it. Where are my goddamn trainers, then?”

—

Alfie runs like the wind, or so he’d like to think. It’s not far in that he first considers, with slight panic, that this distance might not be doable in under a minute, not for an avid non-runner, such as himself. But there’s no fucking way he’s not getting his reward for this ridiculous exercise in humiliation.

He picks up his pace, stiffens his hands, pumps his arms with vigor. He runs like the devil’s chasing him and there’s a naked Tommy Shelby jumping and cheering his name at the finish line. He can only imagine what he looks like, face set with anguished determination, robe billowing behind him.

Tommy’s holding in laughter, eyes brimming with tears, when he heaves to a stop beside him, gasping violently, his hands on his knees. He’d silence him with a righteous punch to the dick if he could only catch his breath.

“Well?” He asks, a moment later. Tommy holds out his phone to him.

“Minute three seconds,” he says.

“Fuck off,” Alfie breaths, but the timer indeed reads as Tommy says. Three fucking seconds. “This goddamn robe, too much resistance.”

Tommy laughs. “Nah, I must have hit the start a bit too soon,” he says, and closes the distance between them, wrapping an arm around Alfie’s waist and kissing him vigorously.

—

And so that’s how Alfie finally managed to get Tommy Shelby into his bed. Still fucking hates running. Hates it with unyielding passion and will never partake again. But, he figures, just that once, it had been worth it.

[flutteringdreams-matw]

Out of Time (17)

First/Last

Read on AO3 /FFN

Word Count: 8593

Previously: The aftermath of the fight scene. Danny's still unconcious and everyone tries to deal. Loads of angst. CW: Injury descriptions, swearing and angst.

Now: The aftermath part 2 - some flashbacks, some concerns and lots of guilt. One of my favourite Lancer and Clockwork moments too.

Please let me know what you think! Feel free to drop a reply or reblog whatever. WE ARE CAUGHT UP! I'm hoping the next chapter will be up on Sunday - depends on if I have a chance to edit or not. Regardless the link will be in the replies!

Sam was going crazy.

She was exhausted - the nightmares that haunted her kept her up most nights. The other nights? Her thoughts spinning out of control over one measly kiss by her best friend.

The same best friend she had a crush on for over a year.

The same friend who kissed her first.

And she kissed him back.

Nope. Not measly in the slightest.

She shook her head, clearing it as she neared the infirmary. She opened the door, a greeting at the tip of her tongue before she stopped with wide eyes.

Frostbite stood over Danny in deep concentration, his ice arm glowing a faint blue as it was stuck through the boy's chest. Ethelwulf nodded absently, eyes running over the core monitor's readings with quick precision. Danny laid motionless on the bed through the entire thing.

Danny's anguished screams as Dan taunted him, attacking his core.

"A little more Frostbite," Ethelwulf told him. "It's headed down."

The way he arched upward in the duplicate's grasp.

Frostbite's hand glowed brighter, engulfing the boy in blue. Eventually, it subsided, leaving the yeti ghost with a grim look on his face. "It should be maintaining its cold by now," he said softly. "Why isn't it?"

His head snapped to his chest, breathing heavily. She wasn't even sure he was conscious anymore.

Ethelwulf frowned. "I'm not sure," he admitted. "His injuries are healing, but slowly - even slower than what a human should be healing at - "

Sam turned abruptly, walking quickly up and out of the lab. She breathed hard, ignoring the memory flashes and the ghosts giving her a greeting. It was too much -she needed to get away.

He was going to get through this.

It's already been a week.

He's going to get through this.

He's not healing.

He's going -

Sam stopped her internal argument when she found herself outside of Danny's room. She blinked, suddenly frowning at where she found herself. She stood there for a few moments, debating whether she should go in before she realized something else.

She desperately missed her best friend.

She swung the door open. The first thing Sam recognized was that it still smelled like him. The second was no one was in here since probably Tucker when he grabbed his stuff last week. Sam smiled softly, walking toward the unmade bed - he probably didn't even sleep the night before. She touched it fondly, thinking back to the strategy meeting in the Ops Center. She sighed, deciding that she should perhaps find Jazz when she kicked something, making it slide under the bed.

With a confused frown, she peered under it, ignoring the dusty litter of old beaten thermoses, the boooo-merang and garbage. The only thing not covered in a layer of dust was a brown picture frame lying faced down. Sam grabbed it, sliding it across the floor and turned it over. It was a photo of Danny with his family in front of FentonWorks, with his arms around Tucker and Sam with a big goofy smile on his face. She remembered this photo - it was just before freshman year a few weeks before his accident.

Wasn't this normally on his desk? She wondered, eyes glancing toward the computer with a frown. Her frown deepened as she noticed that there was nothing on his desk but the keyboard and mouse. Bringing the photo with her, she walked to the desk, noticing the giant pile of stuff on the floor beside it. "Boys," Sam muttered fondly, picturing Danny just throwing things into a pile with a smile, saying absently he'd deal with it later. She put the photo on his desk, sighing slightly as she jostled the mouse.

The computer monitor came alive, the screen brightening the room giving her three options: play, save and discard. "What's this?" she questioned, violet eyes curiously looking the screen over. A video file? She frowned, looking at the computer for any sort of hint to what it was before she saw what it was called.

For Sam.

Why is there a video for me on Danny's computer? She wondered, grabbing his computer chair and rolling it over. She sat in the chair, drumming her fingers on the desk with a thoughtful frown. "I shouldn't watch this," she said to herself. But it's addressed to you her subconscious argued back. She debated for a few more minutes before coming back to the reason she was in his room to begin with… she missed Danny. Besides, she should see if she should save this file, right.

Right?

Biting her lip thoughtfully, Sam pressed play.

The date on the video said September as Danny's face came into view, looking a little uncomfortable as he stared into the camera.

"Hey Sam," he started with a sheepish smile. He rubbed the back of his head. Sam laughed softly, a sad smile on her face as he got settled. "This is kinda weird, but Jazz says it actually might help in the long run." Suddenly, his face was serious. "If you're watching this, it probably means… well I'm dead."

Sam paused the video, rolling the chair back with wide eyes as she stared at the screen. He's saying goodbye. He was recording this to say goodbye? She frowned as she looked at the date. September… apart from Vlad becoming mayor, nothing happened in September. So why back then? And why is it on his computer now?

She rolled closer, wondering whether she should continue the video. Curiosity got the better of her, pressing play again.

"Well -more dead I guess," Danny continued, shrugging. "Not now obviously - but Jazz will have all the files and give them to people. She thought it would, I dunno, I guess give me a way to say bye." He paused, again looking uncomfortable, opening his mouth to speak before the video skipped.

Sam frowned, watching a slightly older, tired version of Danny on the screen. The time stamp said eight days ago, pretty early in the afternoon. That explains why it's here. There was no sheepishness in his behaviour, dark circles under his eyes from the lack of sleep. "Hi Sam" he greeted softly. He smiled at the camera. "I just… I wanted to say…" he frowned, furrowing his eyebrows in thought. "If I don't make it back," he said finally. "I want you to know that I -" he broke off, eyes widening just a little as he stared at the camera. He stammered for a moment, before he sighed, looking down at the floor. He muttered something quietly that the microphone didn't hear. Sam waited with baited breath, watching Danny try to compose himself. He stiffened, looking at the camera determinedly. "Sam, I -" suddenly losing all confidence, he deflated. He sighed in defeat, looking up into the camera sadly, his arm moving toward the monitor.

The video shifted again, this time with Danny Phantom at the computer, floating in the air. Sam assumed he had pressed record. With a playful smirk, Phantom turned his back to the camera to the bed, where Danny Fenton's legs currently hung off of. Sam laughed softly, realizing that he had split himself.

"Oh come on," Phantom teased, hands on his hips. "This isn't like your facing down a legion of ghosts for the fight of your life. It's just a video."

"If you say that one more time - " Danny started.

"You'll what? Shoot a ghost ray at me? I have our powers right now idiot, I'm the one -" Phantom was cut off when a pillow hit his face. "Okay, fine, be that way."

"You think this is easy?" Danny asked angrily, sitting up on the bed. "I don't like doing these damn videos!"

"It's not about the videos," Phantom retorted smartly. "It's about this video."

Danny frowned. "What do you mean?"

Phantom made a frustrated noise. "You know what it means." Phantom floated in front of the bed, staring at his human self like they were in a mirror. "Why is it so hard for you to admit it?"

"Because I don't want to say it like this!" Danny said, his voice rising. Sam watched as his hands gestured wildly to the computer.

Phantom's eyes narrowed. "Say what?" he challenged, voice also rising.

"You know what!"

"But do you?" The question caught the human off guard, making him sputter a few excuses at his ghost half. Phantom rolled his eyes, pointing a gloved finger at him. "You need to come flat out and say it. To her face."

"I'm not sure -" Danny started.

"You are sure," Phantom said angrily. His eyes flashed. "You're so afraid of changing things! Why is it so hard for you to tell Sam you like her?"

Sam gasped softly, watching Danny Fenton's whole body tense as he stammered excuses. "I don't know!" he exclaimed. "It's Sam! It just is okay!"

"Because," Phantom pressed, gesturing for the boy to continue.

"Cause I -" Danny's voice cut off, looking at little unsure.

Phantom got in his face. "Because you what?" he asked.

"Because I think I'm in love her!" Danny exploded.

Sam gasped again, pausing the video as she stared at the screen. Her mind was racing at his admission, her heart doing backflips in her chest. She looked back at the screen, watching both Phantom and Fenton mid-reaction with wide eyes. I shouldn't - this is -he l-….what!?

Numbly, Sam pressed play again, desperate to see what happened next. Phantom had jumped backward at the boy's outburst, dropping out of the air and onto the floor. He stared up at Danny with wide eyes. Fenton had paled drastically, chest heaving and wide terror filled eyes stared back.

What. The.

They were quiet for several minutes, staring at each other in absolute shock as the admission settled in the air around them.

"You just…" Phantom said quietly, trailing off.

Danny nodded. "I know…" he breathed.

"Did you -" Phantom started again.

"I. know." The boy punctuated each word, breathing hard with wide eyes.

"Do…. Do we even know what that word even means?" Phantom finally asked. Danny stared at him dumbly. "I mean - we do, but like…. To say that…"

Danny put his elbows on his knees. "I dunno," he said. "I've never felt like this before." He sighed heavily silent for a few minutes.

Sam waited, every nerve on fire as she watched him swallow nervously on screen. "I… I like her" he said at last, shaken. "A lot."

Her heart burst as she heard him say those words.

Phantom grinned, punching the teen lightly in the knee. "Told you so," he teased. Danny glared lightly. "So what now?"

Danny raised an eyebrow. "Apart from going up against an evil version of us from the future, ignoring any glimpses of time that come our way and fight for our lives?"

Phantom gave him a pointed look. "I meant that revelation of a lifetime."

Danny frowned. "You want me to tell her, don't you?"

Phantom raised an eyebrow this time. "You want things to change right?"

Danny fiddled with his hands for a few moments. "I mean, yeah."

"Only way to do that is to tell her how you feel," Phantom told him earnestly, shrugging.

"But now?"

Phantom scoffed. "No, at graduation - yes now!" he said sarcastically. Phantom flew up, floating toward the door. "Preferably before we face Dan."

Danny didn't move, face suddenly clouding in thought. "Dan," he said quietly. Phantom turned, frowning at his human half's tone. Whatever light heartedness at their revelation was snatched out of the air. "What's he after?"

Phantom regarded Fenton for a small moment. "You mean other than revenge?"

Danny looked up. "Yeah," he said. Sam watched both their brains work, desperately trying not to yell at the screen in warning. "I just wish-" Danny broke off, grimacing as blue sparks wracked his frame. Phantom disappeared, leaving the boy stifling a scream as he weathered the abuse from his core. He doubled over, face turning away from the camera for a few minutes before they disappeared, leaving the boy breathing hard.

"Fuck," he said. "That one hurt." His brow furrowed, left eye turning green for moment before he rolled his eyes. "Shut up," he muttered. Danny rubbed his chest absently, frowning in thought at whatever vision over took him. Then he got up and left his room.

Sam sat watching the video play on, her mind reeling at what she just saw. Danny had not intended to record that conversation - nor anything that came after. His face after he admitted he liked her looked so terrified. Did he like her? Was it the time visions messing with him? It was -

It was hours before their conversation in the Ops Center. He was about to go downstairs and run into her. Where he told her he wasn't afraid anymore. And she shot him down.

What had happened in between? She had wondered later, staring at the monitor for some clue. Tucker had changed her mind, but what changed his? Why didn't he say anything - do anything - until that moment in the clearing?

Frowning, she watched ten minutes go by on the computer. Danny still hadn't returned.

"You don't get to say what you want to say and then just run into battle."

"What happens after this Danny? After you say what you want to say and go off to face Dan… would you regret it?"

She had told him those things- she didn't want to get her hopes up. It wasn't his regret that she was worried about.

It was hers.

Realizing Danny wasn't coming back soon, Sam hit fast forward, watching the timestamp speed by until his room door finally opened. Sam hit play, just as Danny entered.

His expression was unreadable, blue eyes dark in thought. Clockwork she realized, remembering the Time Master interrupting their conversation. Danny faltered, crying out as another set of blue sparks coursed through his body. Sam frowned worriedly, watching as he fell to the floor, writhing in pain. How many times did he go through this before he faced Dan? He breathed deeply, letting them subside before he let out a long shuddering sigh that seem to envelop his whole body. He stayed crouched for a few moments before he stood, hair covering his face. Then he transformed, flying out of his bedroom.

Sam fast forwarded the video again, watching the time zip forward before she saw Danny flew back into his room. It had been a few hours since he left. She pressed play, watching as his transformation slowed to normal speed and illuminated the room.

Danny sighed, walking over to the computer desk tiredly. Blue sparks ran through his frame, making the boy stumble and grimace in pain. He clutched the edge of the desk, fighting the sparks and pain that was coursing through him. Suddenly, Danny's expression changed to one of anger, blue eyes turning green. With a yell of frustration, he swept all the items of his desk onto the ground with a large crash. Sam jumped at noise, glancing briefly at the pile of stuff next to the desk.

"That's enough!" he yelled, sparks suddenly disappearing and leaving the boy breathing hard. Danny's arms were shaking with effort as he gripped the desk for dear life, black hair blocking his face from the camera as he looked down. Phantom appeared behind him, hovering a few feet behind the teen watching him in pity. Sam reached out to the monitor, unable to help.

Neither spoke, only Danny's ragged breathing coming through the computer microphone as time ticked forward. Eventually, Danny broke the silence. "Why does it have to be me?" he asked, broken. Sam's heart broke at the words.

Phantom's green eyes softened at the question. "I wish I knew," he replied quietly. He ran a hand through his white hair and breathed out deeply. He floated closer to his human half slowly. "Clockwork did say there was one favourable outcome."

Danny snorted. "He also implied we weren't coming back alive," he snapped back.

Phantom held up his hands in surrender. "All I'm saying is: it's possible."

Danny sighed, back straightening slightly, but still not moving from place in front of the camera. Sam still couldn't see his face. "We could run," he whispered. "Let Vlad and Valerie handle this; get the GIW involved."

Phantom snorted this time, crossing his arms in disgust. "I can't believe those words came out of your mouth," he said drily. "Like you'd ever run from this."

Danny laughed bitterly, finally standing up straight and looked Phantom in the eye. "True," he agreed, a small smile on his face. The smile faded as he crossed his arms in thought. "Did you ever think we'd be here after almost two years of having these powers?"

Phantom rolled his eyes as he made a face. "Dude, you're proving that we do have some sort of hero complex."

"No, not like that," Danny told him, making the ghost frown. "I know we've faced big threats before and anticipated not coming back. This fight though..." Danny bent down and picked up a small picture frame. "Did you ever think we'd be ready?"

Phantom was silent, observing his human self searchingly. He made multiple attempts to speak before he sighed tiredly, just waiting for Danny to continue.

Danny gripped the frame determinedly. "I'm not going to tell them," he continued softly. "They'd talk us out of it; attempt to make a plan that might put them in danger. It's better if they fight in the city. That way they won't-" Danny's voice cracked as he broke off.

Phantom nodded readily. "Okay," he agreed softly. Green eyes drifted to the computer before they settled back onto the black haired boy. "Are you at least going to talk to Sam?"

Danny let out a shaky breath and shook his head. "She's right," he said softly. "I can't tell her how I feel and go face Dan. If I somehow make it back, then I'll tell her. It wouldn't be right otherwise."

Phantom scowled. "So you're going to make the decision for her? Somehow, I think she'd be even angrier at that."

Danny scowled back. "Don't you think I know that!" he argued, waving his arms emphatically. The frame in his hand went flying onto the bed, bouncing slightly at the two teens glared at each other. "It's easier if I don't tell her."

"For you," Phantom countered angrily.

"For her!" Danny shouted. Phantom raised one of his eyebrows as Danny sighed. "Look – if I tell Sam and don't make it back…" He looked down to the floor. "I can't do that to her… not… not now."

Phantom frowned as Danny trailed off. He floated over to Danny and put a gloved hand onto his shoulder. "I get it," he said simply, floating past the boy. They stood side by side, facing opposite directions as if they were two sides of the same coin. They were silent again for a bit, before Phantom started speaking again. "Being fifteen sucks."

Danny's laugh was cold and sardonic at the abrupt change of topic. "Tell me about it," he replied ruefully.

Phantom looked up at the ceiling wistfully. "What would you do if we got out of this?" he asked.

Danny smiled, lost in thought. "Same things I normally do," he said. "You?"

Phantom chuckled. "Probably annoy you a little more," he joked. "More of the same."

Danny and Phantom turned to each other, any sort of amusement sliding off their faces as the reality of their fate once again sunk in.

"You ready?" Phantom asked.

Danny nodded. "Let's do this."

Both boys turned to the opening door as Jazz walked into the room. "Danny, you in here?" She looked over to them, surprised, before frowning slightly. "Are you okay?"

Phantom disappeared, leaving Danny standing alone on his side of the room. He gave her a bittersweet smile. "Yeah," he replied softly.

"Good cause –"

The video stopped, the pop up window again giving her the options of play, save or discard.

Sam's eyes were wide as anger, fear, regret, guilt and sadness overwhelmed her as she stared at the screen. It had been a week since this video. So much had happened.

And Danny wasn't any closer to waking up.

More tears came to her eyes - she thought she had finished with them by now - as she sat at his computer.

"It's fine… This can wait."

"Let's talk later."

There wasn't a later.

It didn't wait.

She replayed the video.

:-=-:

"I don't know! It's Sam. It just is okay!"

Jazz stiffened, hearing her brother's voice for the first time in over a week. "Danny?" she breathed hopefully.

"Because?"

She frowned, cautiously walking down the hall to Danny's room. That was Phantom's voice. The door was opened a crack, a small glow of light coming from the room. Had her Mom or Dad finally gone in?

"Cause I -"

Danny's voice sounded again, making Jazz's eyes widen. "Oh no," she whispered rushing forward.

"Because you what?"

Jazz flung open the door.

"Because I think I'm in love her!"

"Sam!" Jazz exclaimed. The girl paused the video, turning slowly in the chair. She was breathing hard, like she couldn't get enough air, tears flowing down her face. Jazz moved quickly, rushing over to the girl and knelt in front of her. "Sam, what are you doing in here?" Jazz glanced at screen with a frown. "And what're you watching?"

Sam didn't answer, starting to hyperventilate. Realizing the girl was more of a concern, Jazz breathed with her, trying to get her to mimic her actions. Her breathing became a little more normal, hiccupping slightly as she continued to stare at the red head.

"That's it," Jazz soothed, nodding. "Breathe in and out." Teal eyes glanced at the computer again, eyebrows furrowing in thought. "That's better. Want to tell me about it?" She took in Sam's appearance, the dark circles under her eyes more pronounced up close. Sam stayed quiet, making Jazz sigh. She stood, moving past the younger teen to the computer, dragging the mouse across the video clip and watching glimpses of her brother on screen. Jazz pursed her lips. "Did you watch all of it?" Jazz asked softly. Sam nodded. Jazz sighed again, moving back in front of the teen.

"I was wondering yours went," Jazz told her gently. Sam looked at her in confusion. Jazz smiled sadly. "It was my idea - after the whole Fear incident and my parents finding out… Danny was worried about, well, worrying about us blaming ourselves. That he wouldn't be able to say that whatever happened was on him." Jazz chuckled fondly. "Guess he took the whole 'saving people' thing too seriously huh? There's one for my parents, me, Tucker - I think he did one for the news too."

Jazz paused, sighing again. Sam looked at her expectantly. "After last week, I took these out again - just in case he-" her voice cracked. Jazz swallowed, shaking her head. "In case he didn't make it," she managed. "Sam, I'm sure he didn't want you to find out like this."

Sam scoffed, a hint of the girl's personality flying outward. "He didn't even manage to tell me," she said bitterly. Jazz looked at her confused. "He split Jazz - Phantom pressed record. They didn't even remember that it was going." Suddenly, her face softened. "He tried to - before he left. I… I thought he was just trying to tell me in case... It wasn't that, I see that now."

Jazz gave her a gentle smile. "He cares about you Sam."

She had said it as comfort, but Jazz's words made Sam upset. "We shouldn't have let him go out their Jazz," she said darkly. She pointed to the screen. "The Time Visions affected him more than we realized, he was… he was at his breaking point. And Dan? Dan -" her eyes scrunched tightly, a pained look on her face. "I still hear his screams. Still see Dan's hand through his chest. Danny twitching in between consciousness as Dan electrocuted him. All that blood. Now he's…."

"He will," Jazz assured firmly. "He'll get better Sam."

Sam shook her head. "I heard Frostbite and Ethelwulf," she replied. "He's not healing anywhere close to normal - not for him, a ghost or a human." Sam's eyes glistened with tears. "Did I do the right thing?" she asked hushed. "Giving him the Ecto-Enhancer?"

Jazz's eyes watered, realizing now what Sam had been going through over the last week. Sam blamed herself.

"Am I the reason he's still like this?"

:-=-:

Tucker closed his locker a little forcefully, eyes narrowing at the metal object.

"What do you want to do for your birthday honey?" His mom had asked him yesterday. "It's not every day you turn sixteen."

"If you miss my birthday caused you died, I'm running up your tab at the Nasty Burger."

"The Usual?" Danny had asked.

"With extra everything."

He fiddled with the lock, growing more and more frustrated with every second. Eventually, he growled, punching the thing angrily. He winced, wringing out his hand with a small string of curse words underneath his breath.

I want my best friend to be okay.

It was their first day back at school since Dan's attack over a week ago. Ten days since he last spoke to his best friend. There was still no word on when he'd wake up.

If he'd wake up.

"Remember Tucker, it was Dash who stuffed you in there, not the locker itself. Stop senseless locker abuse."

His head whipped up at Sam's voice. She grinned, rolling her eyes at him. "Happy Birthday you big idiot," she wished, leaning against the lockers in her best Danny impression.

He smiled. He and Danny had thought the birthday greeting was the best thing ever since they learned 'idiot' meant. "Thanks," he said. "I needed that."

Sam's grin morphed into a sad smile, her eyes dull with guilt and self-loathing. "I think I did too," she admitted. "Jazz said her parents had the school excuse them for the last few weeks. She's only coming in for her exams."

Tucker nodded. "They told Ishiyama and Lancer then?"

"Yeah," Sam said softly. She looked down the hallway, whispering teens surrounding them. "Wonder how long it'd take for the whole school to find out."

Tucker shrugged. "Beats me." He noticed the dark circles under her eyes and frowned. "Still having the nightmares?"

Sam scowled. "Are you?" she retorted with an eyebrow raised.

"Yeah," he admitted readily. Tucker gave her a searching look, daring her to lie. "And all I know is what I saw when I hacked into the school camera system. Sam - it's okay if -"

She held up her bandaged wrist. "I am," she replied sourly. "Happy? I admitted it." She sighed. "Between Dan's attacks and Danny kiss-" Sam stopped abruptly, eyes widening as she realized what she was about to say.

Tucker's eyes widened also. "The what!?" He exclaimed loudly, causing some students to stare. Sam turned red, glaring at Tucker. The boy grabbed her shoulders, shaking her. "He - what? When? Why didn't you tell me this sooner!? Sam this is huge! He actually -"

A cough stopped his excited rant. Tucker and Sam turned.

Valerie stood, her hand on her hip watching them with an annoyed look on her face. She eyed both of them warily, green eyes glancing briefly to Sam's bandaged wrist before addressing them both. "Where's Danny?"

The two friends looked at each other.

"Still out sick," Tucker told her, shrugging non-committedly.

Green eyes looked him over. "Sure he is," she said bitterly. "Not what I heard."

Sam's eyes narrowed, stepping forward. "And what did you hear?"

Valerie shrugged. She took off her backpack, rummaging in it for a moment before grabbing a small envelope. She held it out to the two friends. "Nevermind. Can one of you give this to him? When he's up?" she asked.

Tucker eyed it suspiciously, paling slightly as he saw the name 'Phantom' written on the top. "Wait - which Danny are we talking about here?" he asked confused. Sam took the envelope, glaring at Valerie.

Valerie stared at them for a few moments, challenging them to do something. Her eyebrow rose again. "It matters?" she replied coolly. She turned, hearing the two friends gasp behind her as she walked down the hall. When she got to the end of the hall, she looked back, watching their wide eyed stares looking back at her.

:-=-:

Skulker phased into Plasmius' lab, frowning at the half-ghost's back. "You wanted to see me?" the hunter asked.

Vlad didn't turn around from the computer, nor did he transform from his human form. "Ah Skulker," he greeted. "Any word?"

The ghost landed, green eyes glaring at the man's dismissive tone. "The whelp's still not awake," Skulker replied. "Though why you insist on using me instead of just asking the humans is beyond me. Aren't you toying with the orange one?"

Plasmius scoffed, still typing away at the computer. "Jack only tells me the basics now that he knows who I am. You tell me what I need to know." Vlad got up, finally facing the ghost with a sombre look. "Do you think he'll survive?"

Skulker hesitated. "They still don't know," the robotic ghost replied, shrugging. "The young hybrid is strong, so it's possible."

The half-ghost sighed. "Best make contingency plans then," he said softly. He locked eyes with the ghost in front of him. "Can you retrieve the Infi-Map from the Far Frozen?"

Skulker blinked. "The Infi-Map?" he asked slowly.

"Yes," Vlad said, pacing. "I'm sure it will be easy to steal since most of Frostbite's people are tending to Daniel."

Skulker watched him, frowning in thought. "That would go against the truce."

"And?" Vlad said, raising an eyebrow.

"A truce against the Far Frozen and the Master of Time," Skulker replied, as if the answer was obvious. When the half-ghost didn't respond, Skulker let out a frustrated sigh. "Plasmius, you cannot do this. Messing with time and space is unwise."

Vlad transformed, floating above Skulker with a smug grin. "I didn't take you to be a coward Skulker," he challenged.

Skulker's eyes glowed at the insult. "I am more versed in Ghost Law than you, halfa," he growled. "Going against a truce lands you in Walker's prison. Going against a truce from Clockwork? I don't remember any ghost being alive to tell their tale."

"Daniel did," Vlad retorted flippantly. "And I am much smarter and powerful than him."

"Are you though?" Skulker rose in the air, staring his employer down. "Can you do any of what the whelp did?" he tested. "The boy defeated Pariah Dark and the abomination."

"With my help!" Vlad cut in.

"And yet it's Phantom who is victorious," Skulker stated with crossed arms. "You've heard the whispers, I'm sure."

Plasmius' eyes glowed. "I will not be ruled by a child!" he retorted angrily. "They're just rumours - they cannot be true!"

Skulker glared. "They may not be… but those rumours are why you're collecting powerful artifacts," he said. "Why you're trying to force ghosts to your side. Plasmius - the Master of Time sides with him. You will not win with war."

Plasmius laughed. "Who said anything about war?" His hand lit aflame, watching the swirling energy light up the robotic ghost's face. "If Daniel dies, then the throne is open."

The ghostly hunter eyes flew wide, letting out a sharp gasp. "You wish death on your own kind?" he asked suspiciously. "After everything you've done to get the boy to your side?"

Vlad's face fell slightly. "No," he replied softly. "But the boy's core is damaged Skulker. If he survives, I doubt he'd be able to take his place. Nor will he want to. I'm just preparing to step in for him. This is about protecting him." Vlad sighed heavily, red eyes looking defeated. "I do not want Daniel to die - but I cannot deny that with him out of the way benefits my plan. He's young - too young to make this decision."

Skulker watched the older hybrid start pacing again, regarding him carefully. "Somehow, I think he'll see it differently." Skulker sighed, shaking his head. He floated upward. "Do as you wish Plasmius," he said quietly. "But do so alone."

Vlad stopped pacing, staring at Skulker incredulously. "You would go against me?"

Skulker shook his head. "I will not go against Clockwork - even if it means siding with Danny Phantom."

Vlad watched him go with a frown. "Daniel…" he whispered worriedly in the silence. His eyes found the computer screen again, shifting his train of thought. "I guess I must do this myself."

:-=-:

Lancer fidgeted with the small pouch in his hand as he heard the doorbell echo throughout FentonWorks.

"We're not giving any interviews!" he heard Jazz's irate voice from inside the hallway. "Go awa-" The door flew open, the girl stopping mid-sentence as she realized who was in front of her. "Mr. Lancer?"

"Ms. Fenton," Lancer greeted. The star student held a broom in her hand in an attack stance. She looked down at the broom and sheepishly put it behind her. "Are your parents home?"

Jazz looked back inside. "I think Dad's asleep," she said with a concerned frown. "Mom's in the lab. I can get her?" She opened the door wider, inviting the teacher inside. He nodded in thanks, looking over FentonWorks with a small frown. The normally vibrant house was filled with a soft buzz, tension filling the air as soon as he settled himself in the living room. He fiddled with the pouch again, wondering what he could do to help.

"She'll be right up," Jazz said, returning with a tray and teapot.

The teacher looked her over, frowning. "Jasmine, are you alright?" he asked.

She smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. "Haven't been sleeping much," she replied. "It's been a rough two weeks."

"I'm sure," he agreed softly. He changed the subject. "Decide on a college yet? I know Yale's deadline is fast approaching."

Jazz smiled. "Amity U," she replied. "I'd get more on the job training here than anywhere else." Lancer arched an eyebrow. "It's okay," she told him softly. "I'll head there for Grad school. My place is here - at least for a little while longer."

Lancer studied her closely. "Jasmine, you can't put your life on hold," he said.

"Mom and Dad said the same thing," she admitted with a sad smile as she poured him some tea. "And Danny will probably be upset with me when he finds out -" Jazz stopped, her eyes widening slightly as a deep rooted sadness washed over her features.

"I'm sure he's proud of you," he assured softly.

Jazz gave him a watery smile. "He is."

"Jazz?"

"In here!" the girl called to her mother.

Lancer watched as Maddie Fenton came into the living room, the same dark circles around her eyes as her daughter. "Sorry Mr. Lancer," she apologized, taking a seat across from the man. "Was working on something to help Phantom."

"Any luck?" Jazz asked hopefully.

Maddie caught Jazz's eye. "I hope so," she said. Jazz looked in between her mother and Mr. Lancer and nodded.

"I'll check on Dad," she said. She rolled her eyes. "He has another conference call with Vlad this afternoon."

Maddie pursed her lips, watching her daughter go.

"I thought your husband and the mayor were friends?" Lancer inquired, catching the girl's tone.

Maddie sighed. "It's gotten a little complicated," she told him. She turned to the teacher. "How can I help you Mr. Lancer?"

Lancer gripped the pouch tighter. "How's Daniel?"

Maddie tensed at the question before she sighed. "He's still unconscious," she said wearily. "There's been no change."

Lancer nodded, not quite trusting his voice in the moment. In all his years of teaching, this was a first. "May I ask…" he asked finally, his question trailing off.

Maddie watched him closely, lips pressed together before glancing at the stairs. "He's been ill," Maddie said, still staring at the hallway. "We thought it was a cold at first, then he started collapsing." She finally turned back to the teacher with a thoughtful frown. "Tucker told me you had a run in with Phantom?" Perplexed, Lancer nodded. "What happened?"

"Dan - that's what Phantom called him - came after me," Lancer said. After a moment's pause, he frowned. "Actually, I thought it was Daniel that came toward me; Said something about the Career Aptitude Test creating him. I thought he was possessed." Maddie nodded. "What does this have to do with Daniel's condition?"

"Everything," Maddie told him fiercely. "What happened next?"

Lancer's frowned deepened. "Phantom came and told me it wasn't Daniel, that he was safe at FentonWorks."

Maddie chuckled. "That boy," she admonished softly. Lancer gave her a quizzical look. "Did Phantom tell you about Dan?"

"Briefly," Lancer replied. "Something about a future that doesn't exist."

Maddie nodded. "Dan is… was an alternate Phantom," she explained. "A dark Phantom. Danny's decision to hand in the answers changed the events so that he never existed. That's why Dan targeted him."

Lancer's mouth hung open. Maddie continued. "Dan made him sleep deprived; paranoid. He made him relive parts of the alternate future over and over again… we thought it would be fine when Phantom faced him." Maddie sighed, taking a moment to compose herself and look toward the ceiling. "Dan and Phantom, they were drawn to each other in the worst ways. I think Sam saw that before any of us realized."

"So she went after Phantom," Lancer said, remembering the absurd phone conversation he had between Mr. Foley and Phantom.

"Dan trapped them both," Maddie continued, nodding. "According to Sam, it was a close call." Maddie gave him a sad smile. "Danny… Dan must have shown him something that made him go out there, something awful. He managed to push Sam out of the way and got hit with a large ecto-blast instead."

Lancer paled. "He what?"

Maddie's sad smile grew slightly, eyes radiating with regret. "We should have been there sooner," she admitted in disdain. "Then maybe both of them would be okay."

They sat in silence for a few minutes before Lancer broke it. "Can I see him?"

Maddie gave him a small smile. "I think he'd like that."

Lancer smiled in appreciation. "Oh!" he exclaimed suddenly. He brought up the small black pouch and held it out. "I'm not sure, but I think this may help Phantom. He left it behind."

Maddie's brow furrowed. "What is it?"

Lancer shrugged, unzipping it and holding it out to her. "He asked me to give this to him - to heal him."

Maddie gasped. "Is this…" she whispered hopefully. She swallowed, looking from the pouch to Lancer. "You administered one of these?" Lancer nodded. "What was the effect?"

"Phantom looked quite a bit better after a while," he replied. He frowned, watching Maddie's eyes dart back and forth as she did calculations in her head. She took the pouch from the teacher, staring at the last syringe as if it was her only hope. "Is this… helpful?"

She looked up at his with wide eyes. "If this is what I think it is," Maddie said slowly. "Then it could be the breakthrough we're looking for."

:-=-:

Lancer watched Maddie walk in first with a deep breath, a nod and a then a smile. He attempted to do the same, but stopped at the sight of his student lying in the bed.

When Maddie had told him Daniel was injured, he wasn't expecting this.

Daniel's chest moved steadily with the help of machines. His face was covered by a small mask over his mouth and nose. Lancer noticed the many bandages along his torso, almost covering the boy from shoulder to hip. He swallowed heavily; taking a deep breath as he finally stepped inside the makeshift hospital room.

"Hi sweetheart," Maddie whispered softly, touching the side of the face. "You have a visitor." She turned back to the teacher, waving the pouch at Lancer. "You'll have to excuse me; I need to give this to Ethelwulf." She glanced to the corner. "Clockwork, you coming?"

Lancer turned and jumped, seeing an old ghost with purple robes shaking his head. "I will remain here," he told her, his voice calm.

Maddie nodded. "Let Clockwork know if you need anything, Mr. Lancer," she said quietly before exiting the room.

Lancer approached the bed apprehensively, unsure how to interact with his unconscious student. He settled in a vacant chair, watching the boy's chest rise and fall. He frowned, noticing now that the boy sported many more injuries than he originally had seen. "How can one blast do this?" he asked quietly, green eyes finding the boy's bruised neck.

"It didn't."

Lancer jumped, turning to the old ghost in the corner as he spoke. The red eyes seemed to look through the man, making the teacher shiver. "What?"

Clockwork raised an eyebrow. "It didn't," he repeated, a small frown hidden underneath his long silvery beard.

Lancer's eyebrows drew together in confusion, expecting the ghost to elaborate. Clockwork merely stared back. "What do you mean? Mrs. Fenton said -"

"I'm aware of what you've been told," Clockwork cut him off. "But you're also a smart man, William."

"Come on - you're a smart man."

Lancer bristled, remembering the words the dark Phantom had said. "How… how do you know my name?"

"I am the Master of Time," Clockwork said. Lancer detected a bit of bitterness underneath his calm voice. "Or at least, I will be again when this is all over."

"Come again?" Lancer asked weakly.

Clockwork sighed, floating toward the bed. Lancer's green eyes followed him, confused and unnerved by his presence. "I cannot see the present or future currently, but I can see the events of the past." Clockwork told him softly, regretful red eyes bore into the teacher. "I saw what he did for you."

Lancer was thoroughly confused, frowning so intensely that he was slightly worried it would stay that way. "You mean Phantom?"

Clockwork didn't reply, instead turning to the unconscious boy in front of them. "Even I cannot deny fate for a moment of my choosing," he said apologetically, red eyes soft as he looked the boy over. Clockwork put a frail hand on the boy's injured shoulder, holding it there slightly before he sighed, floating back to his corner.

Lancer turned back to his student, taking in the strange conversation and looking at the boy again. The bruising on his neck looked familiar but he couldn't place where. "I never would have thought Daniel would be involved with ghosts," Lancer said after a while. "Ms. Manson, maybe. Mr. Foley even! But Daniel?" Lancer shook his head. "I was under the impression he was scared of them."

Clockwork smiled mysteriously. "You'd be surprised what scares that boy."

Lancer glanced nervously at the old ghost before turning back to the teen. "He could've died."

Clockwork's red eyes looked Lancer over again. "You're his teacher?" he asked. Lancer nodded. "I find teachers are the best to pick up on change and growth faster than most." Clockwork glanced in Danny's direction. "Does it really seem that strange that he wanted to save his family? His friends?"

Lancer looked at the ghost quizzically, before turning back to the student. Lancer's impression of Danny's freshman year was a lazy student, often skipping class, falling asleep or forgetting his homework. But he was loyal - fiercely so - to his friends and family. He understood the consequences of his actions, accepting of detentions with a brief nod of the head with a resolved expression on his face. This year he had hardly gotten in so much trouble, but that loyalty he displayed in freshman year grew. So did his confidence in the person he was growing to be. He looked like he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders - almost as if…

As if he had to save it himself.

"That isn't Danny Fenton. And it never will be."

"Nah - He found out what would happen on his own; realized it was too high a cost."

Phantom had told him that earlier. The teen who literally throws himself into battle with no regard for himself; Just as Danny threw himself in front of his best friend to save her life. "Clockwork," Lancer started, finding himself staring at the boy's neck. His mouth went dry. "Where's Phantom?"

Clockwork shrugged. "Here," he said flippantly. His red eyes sparkled in amusement at the question. "At FentonWorks."

Lancer frowned. Phantom's neck had been bruised too; he had remembered thinking the ghost's vocal chords being crushed. Danny's entire neck looked swollen, blue-purple blotches that look suspiciously like the boy was choked. But didn't he just jump in front of a blast? To save Ms. Manson?

"She's with Ethelwulf, safe and away from battle."

Phantom was friends with Tucker and Sam. Best friends he had said. Danny's only friends were Sam and Tucker.

"It was more how I said it rather than what I said."

Phantom has been seen battling ghosts all over town at all times of day. Danny regularly missed school.

"That isn't Danny Fenton."

Phantom spoke to Lancer as if he knew the man. Danny had Lancer as his teacher for two years.

The shield had been up for days before Phantom's first clash with Dan. Danny was at school for all of an hour before he collapsed.

"Do you see it yet Mr. Lancer? The resemblance?"

"The Strange Case…" Lancer murmured softly, eyes widening just a fraction. "Of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde."

"Yes," Clockwork said with a hint of amusement. "I believe Stevenson's novella does apply here. Although, perhaps not in the way you may think."

Lancer swallowed, nodding as he remembered his interaction with Danny Phantom, playing it over in his head as he stared at the unconscious teen. "There's more to this story, isn't there?"

He heard Clockwork chuckle. "There's always more to a story than what is on the page."

:-=-:

Ethelwulf held the last Ecto-Enhancer in his disguised hand over Danny's unconscious body, glancing at the ground with unease. "There's no guarantee that this could work," he told them gently. He locked eyes with Frostbite, the latter shaking his head as he withdrew his hand from Danny's chest. "Are you willing to risk his life?"

Maddie and Jack shared a look briefly before sending an uncertain looks toward Sam, Tucker and Jazz. Tucker stared grimly at the heart monitor, Jazz nodded stiffly and Sam stared at the Ecto-Enhancer as if it would explode.

"What would happen if we didn't?" Maddie asked evenly.

"The Great One's core is shifting," Frostbite said gravely. "I have been able to cool it down, but after two weeks, it's starting to injure him rather than heal. If this continues, he'd either assimilate to the new core or…"

"Or he dies," Sam finished coldly. Frostbite nodded grimly.

"So what, he'd gain new ghost powers?" Tucker asked, shuddering slightly.

Ethelwulf shook his head. "The Halfling has been gravely injured - we have no idea how a new core will affect his mind. In an alternate timeline, it broke him." Ethelwulf paused, looking at them intensely. "This will help him heal physically, but if his mind is already gone, he may not be who you remember."

The weight of his words sank in, Jack grabbing Maddie's hand tightly. The mother swallowed. "Can he reverse it?" she asked curiously. Ethelwulf looked at her in confusion. "Danny, could he reverse whatever is happening to his core?"

Frostbite hummed thoughtfully. "If he can reclaim his self-generation of cold core energy, it's possible," he replied. "But for all the power the Great One possesses, I'm not sure if he's strong enough to pull that off." His paw glowed, showing a small smooth ice sphere with patches of snow. "This energy," he pointed to the smooth clear sections of the sphere, "is the Great One's normal core energy. The patches are whatever is growing around it. As it stands, we are not sure what has the upper hand."

"From what Sam and the teacher has told us," Ethelwulf continued, waving the syringe in the air. "It seems like this was an immediate reaction into his blood stream. For this to have a chance we'd need to dilute it; else we run the risk of an overdose or worse."

"What about a diluted dose to his core?" Jack wondered out loud. When Ethelwulf beckoned him to continue, he elaborated. "A small amount to restart some of his speed healing and cold energy regeneration - to monitor what his core does. Wouldn't that tell us if he could overcome it?"

"That could work," Frostbite said in thought. "Providing his normal core energy still outweighs the foreign one. "

"Which is a large if," Ethelwulf replied sombrely. "If we're wrong, we could be dooming us all." He looked from his hand to the group of humans around them. "Are you really willing to take that chance?"

Maddie didn't hesitate. "I believe in him," she said without any guilt or remorse. Jack nodded readily at her shoulder. "If anyone can do this, Danny can."

"Mom's right," Jazz said strongly. She looked at the two other teens. "Danny's been in similar fights before right?"

Sam's mouth was in a thin line, looking worriedly at Tucker. Flashbacks of Danny's injured body floated through her mind, vowing to return with a smile. "Tucker?" she asked.

The boy in question jumped. "I shouldn't be part of this," he said finally. "I nearly killed him -"

"Tucker," Jazz admonished, but the boy shook his head.

"No Jazz," he said softly, anger and self-loathing covering his words. "I told you all that I wouldn't put up the shield until I knew I had Danny's ecto-signature programmed. I promised. And I really thought I had it," he looked down at his hands. "I shouldn't have listened to him - we could have got to him in time!"

Frostbite and Ethelwulf frowned pitifully at the young teen. "Tucker of Tech," Frostbite said gently. "I watched you work on that shield, saw the gravity of what the Great One had asked of you." The ghost showed him the orb again. "I don't believe he knew how much his core was altered."

"It also makes you the most knowledgeable person to make this decision," Ethelwulf added. "Apart from myself, Frostbite and the Fentons. You know Danny's signature, do you believe you made a mistake?"

Tucker hesitated, looking at Sam for assistance.

She smiled. "Hey, you're the one who figured out what the Ghost Zone's destruction would do to our world," she said lightly. "And took down Nocturn with just your PDA - Tucker, I think you had it. I say we go for it. The bigger question is - do you think this will work?"

Tucker looked at the heart monitor again, watching his best friend's core reading beep simultaneously with a heartbeat. The core was cooling again. Not trusting his voice, he nodded.

Ethelwulf nodded, hand outstretched to Frostbite for another syringe. "Then let's try it."

[smashwolfen]

Y'all know about old books?

I've had this tiny little book for years now, since about 2014-2015 when I got it at a goodwill, poor thing was stuck in between these giant cookbooks for God knows why.

Tiny leather covered book, still has a plastic sleeve on it, assuming from the time it was made, smaller than my hand by a lil bit. However this thing has a few things going for it. Not only does it have what I believe is pressed/stamped leather covering front, back and spine...

Not only does it have gold lined pages..

Sparkle sparkle

Its also as old as dirt!!!

This bad boy somehow survived 2 world wars and looks so damn nice like????

1898???

That's 123 years old as of 2021 like what?! WHY WERE YOU IN BEWTEEN COOKBOOKS SON HOW DID YOU SURVIVE?! And how come you were only 2 canadian dollars?! A TOONIE?! Goodwill don't know what the hell they got most days.

Okay now, the part where I would love to have some more knowledgeable book enthusiasts to help me if they could! This particular book i can't find any information on, more specifically because of its age, this edition is from 1898 but the copyright is from 1897

You'd think a quick Google search would clear things up sure, but any editions with this book date a few years later everytime, the furthest back i can get is only to 1906 from this specific company, and whom ever "The De Vinne Press." Is, assuming the printing place.

And an aside, it also has a signature in it too from a year after its initial date

Whoever this fine person is, looked like it was also 10 bucks at some point, meanwhile I got it for 2 bucks so that was there long before I got ahold of it. And I can't read this cursive that well but they look to be a doctor, so maybe this was a gift at some point?

Long winded story short, I'd just like to know more about this particular book, why I can't find older editions past 1906 and I cant even find a value on it. Any of you fine cretins of tumblr who live and breath antique books like to help me do some digging? I clearly can't get anything on my own past what I've posted here, I plan to take it to a family friend who runs an antique shop, but the catch is I already took this to a literal book man who's as old as the hills and has so many old books from even before this ones time and even HE couldn't find anything!

IM SO LOST AND WANNA KNOW MORE AAAAAAAAA

Any and all help is appreciated, even reblogs and mentions to those who would have a better chance at finding more out! Thank you to you all in advance for further findings! No matter what comes up this lil old book is sticking with me to the end!

[emmysrandomthoughts]

Hello, we haven't met officially, but I'm KieraKay. Hello! You seem to have the most reach on Tumblr in the Divergent fandom, plus you know Freckblefaceb. But there's an account on Quotev by thr name of SweeterthFiction and they are stealing writers stories and posting it as they're own (including mine). I think you may recognize some. But please, if you couldn, put out like a warning. I've already messaged and emailed them. Just wanted everyone to get a heads-up too!

Hey! Unfortunately we met under a similar circumstance, when I myself caught a thief posting your story on that site as well.

I only was able to see a limited cached version of that profile, as it was rightfully deleted. But you’re absolutely correct: EVERY SINGLE STORY that person posted was stolen.

EVERY. SINGLE. ONE.

They did not write Convergent, Red, The Little Dauntless Girl, or The Little that could. I will edit this post later after I find the real authors screen names (I can’t remember them all right now).

I will take this opportunity to give some sage advice to anyone who writes fanfics: post your story on more than one site. Post the link to your story if you do not post it on Tumblr to your Tumblr page. This provides a date and time stamp of when your story was written and can easily disprove a thief‘s claim of authenticity.

Also if you were thinking of stealing somebody story that you know for a fact you did not write, don’t. It does not matter if it is a different fandom. The same people who will be attracted to your story have nine times out of 10 read the original and will call you out. The backlash will be brutal and not worth it.

Hope you’re well, K! ❤️