#*her point about being able to do whatever horrific thing she wants because she’s attractive COULD have actually been interesting to unpick

[radioscientist]

I have… complex Thoughts about Boa’s introduction

[thecarnivorousmuffinmeta]

I know you’ve talked about how all the Cullen pairings are eventually going to implode - glad someone said it - but I was wondering if you wanted to talk a little bit about what you think Meyer INTENDED with the pairings - tropes and whatnot? And what you think would have to change in her narrative to make what was intended what we actually saw on the page? Or — what do you think each cullens’ Perfect Spouse would actually look like?

Anon is referring to this post.

And well, you've certainly given me quite the challenge.

Some Musing Ramblings Before We Begin

Sort of like asking me to make Dramione work, I'm not sure I'm the person to ask this. Anyone who reads my work knows that... well, that's a lie, every story I secretly write is a love story. But it's not Twilight in any way shape or form.

Twilight simply isn't a story I would set out to write. This isn't a good thing or a bad thing, it just is, which means that asking me to make Twilight work the way Meyer intended is probably not your best bet.

But I'll try regardless, it's what we're here for.

Bella/Edward

Meyer intended Bella Swan and Edward Cullen to be the best and brightest of all the pairings in Twilight. They have the love and devotion of Carlisle and Esme, the physicality and sexual attraction of Rosalie and Emmett, and are such a grand love that even depressed Marcus takes note. This is the love story that drives the entire series.

Edward is an improvement upon Carlisle, a Carlisle with even better control, and the most beautiful man you ever did see. He's also a gentleman, a man of his time and from an era where chivalry was alive and men courted women. Bella is one of those disturbingly altruistic people who makes you feel bad about yourself just by being in the same room. She's incredibly selfless, kind, and also quite brave.

Together, despite their ups and downs and the many obstacles in their way, they're disgustingly perfect.

However, that's not what we get. On Edward's end he's... Edward about loving Bella. On Bella's end, she has no idea who Edward even is but she does know he's beautiful and special.

And to get what Meyer actually wanted... Christ, Anon, I'll try.

So, the first problem, if Edward was truly a good person then Twilight would never happen.

Edward would have his first day of Biology, miraculously maintain control, and flee to Alaska as he does in canon. However, he would not return. Edward in canon returns due to his budding obsession as well as his wounded pride, in fleeing Forks he feels he has lost to Bella. When Carlisle later points out that a girl's life is on the line, that Edward is foolishly endangering this girl solely for his ego, Edward refuses to acknowledge this.

A good man would never have returned from Alaska, the Cullens would have moved in short order, and Bella may or may not have died in a parking lot or in Port Angeles.

That said, what if Bella is not, in fact, Edward's singer? Then there's not this constant debate of him eating her or his creepy, budding, obsession with his personal brand of heroin.

Well, the trouble with that is that Edward would then never notice her. Even were Edward not a colossal dismissive dick, required per this ask, Bella is one mortal out of many and someone he shouldn't grow close to. Associating with her just exposes her to unnecessary danger from him and his family. Edward is a guest in our world, nothing more, and a kind Edward might chit chat with her in Biology but even if he had a growing crush he'd keep his distance.

As he tried and failed to do in canon, actually.

Basically, change Edward alone, and it's not enough. The Edward Meyer wanted would never get together with Bella. At least, not without a lot of AU-sauce.

But let's look at Bella for a moment. Bella's character also has to be entirely stripped down. The Bella of the books is extremely depressed and her infatuation with Edward is fueled in part because of this. Edward's obsession with her gives her worth.

Obviously, in this new and improved edition of Twilight, Bella can't use either Edward or Jacob for validation. She has to be able to stand on her own two legs. If she does use either for validation, then the relationship must come to an end, as she and her significant other realize just what it is Bella's doing.

The trouble is, what does this not-depressed Bella have to fall in love with? Yes, Edward's beautiful, and that certainly goes a long way, but in canon he's a dick. Bella even thinks to herself that he's a complete dick (even when he's trying to be charming). Luckily for Edward she later decides that this is cryptic and therefore appealing.

Well, in AU land, Edward might be so damn charming that Bella likes him anyway but we come back to Edward keeping her at a polite distance.

So, what we need is a terrifying villain. Let's call him Angelus (though per Twilight this would probably be James). Angelus is a vampire that will force Edward's hand. For whatever reason, he decides to torment and ruin Bella's life, ending the hunt in either eating her or turning her into his bride. Angelus' existence forces Bella to be in the know and for Edward to have to take extreme action.

The pair become closer, grow through undoubtedly horrific trauma, and through said trauma Bella understands not only the pros of being a vampire but the terrifying cons.

Basically, it'd be this story. Just replace the name "Carlisle" with Edward and "Edward" with James.

Alice/Jasper

Alice and Jasper are supposed to have this ineffable, mystic, connection where they're together because... Alice saw them together. And in a way, that's true, but it's supposed to be a thing of beauty, soulmates if there ever were any, and instead it's this dumpster fire with nothing holding them together.

This one's easier in a way, well, sort of. Alice would have to be a completely different character and we'd have to see a lot more of Jasper.

Alice has a bad habit of treating those around her, even those she loves, as chess pieces. She'll put them in significant danger, court their misery, so long as it gets her the future she wants.

And she's extremely controlling.

Right away in the opening of Midnight Sun we see this and how it affects her and Jasper's relationship. The novel opens with Alice hovering, scanning the future for Japser fucking up, while Jasper just sits there in misery. Due to her obsession on making sure Jasper doesn't eat students, she actually misses Edward's plan to massacre Biology and his many plans to eat Bella Swan.

Even if she wasn't, this isn't good for anyone to live with. Jasper has very little concept of free will, whatever happens to him, whatever he'll do, Alice tells him and the worst possible option is always on the table.

For Jasper/Alice to work either Alice's gift needs to go (and that's... sort of all Alice is) or she has to tell no one any vision ever unless under extreme circumstances.

Which would be devastating for Alice. Rather than this mostly well-adjusted, perky, girl, Alice would be crippled by her gift. The weight of the world, everyone's free will, rests on her shoulders and she has to constantly avoid temptation to simply pick everyone's future for them.

Without the attitude Alice has in canon, I think she'd go mad with such a gift, or else be consumed by the responsibility of it.

Then we get to the mess that is Jasper. Jasper's complicated, and I don't want to get into it here, but his love story would have to be... too large to be put to the side like that. The redemption he'd need is not one that can be shoved into a few paragraphs told to Bella, it's frankly the kind of story that would drive an ordinary story.

So we'd have to see a lot of Jasper and Nouveau Alice. Which, of course, detracts from Bella/Edward which is the main point of the story.

Honestly, I take it back, there's no salvaging this relationship. They would have to be completely different people to the point where they're entirely different characters wearing nametags 'Alice' and 'Jasper'. Alice couldn't have her gift, which informs her entire character, and we'd have to see way too much of Jasper who is ultimately a tertiary character.

Carlisle/Esme

Thoughts on Carlisle/Esme.

Carlisle and Esme is a very 'spiritual' relationship per Meyer. They're... mom-bot and dad-bot. Alright, fine, they're the perfect parents with this deep love for each other and a very parental bond with Edward especially. It's the relationship Edward admires the most in his paired off family.

I don't even know how to fix this one.

Again, they'd have to be such different people. The trouble with Esme and Carlisle is that they share no values and are plagued by massive miscommunication. The Carlisle who is perfect for Esme... No, wait, this Carlisle is perfect for her, but that's because she's in Esme Land.

The Carlisle that would be perfect for a grounded Esme is not the one that exists. She'd want someone who would always put the family first, who would treasure her above all other things, that's not Carlisle.

Carlisle, similarly, would want someone that truly shares his ideals. That's not Esme.

So, we're back to nametag land, because one or both have to completely change for this to work. (Not to mention that Esme's probably not supposed to be Esme).

So, I've got nothing for this.

Rosalie/Emmett

I actually think these two are what Meyer intended. They love each other but are mostly held together by attraction. They're a very physical couple and good for the most part but inherently lesser than Bella/Edward.

Sure, I'd argue that they're the most put together couple in the house, but I think they're meant to have flaws. They work well together, but every other relationship in the Cullens has to be a step up or at least have something more to it.

Something Edward and Bella can be better than.

Conclusion

Dear god. Did I only manage to somewhat address Bella/Edward? Was that it? This was worse than I thought.

[theoriginalcarnivorousmuffin]

You wrote your opinions on the Order of the Phoenix, what about the Death Eaters? That's another way of saying Lucius, Bellatrix, and anybody else. I honestly feel that we're running out of HP characters for you to write your opinion and reasoning about, so yeah~

We honestly are. When people start asking me questions about Harry’s nameless and faceless classmates I feel like we’re scraping the bottom of my barrel of Harry Potter opinions.

Though, that said, this is still a very large ask if you want me to analyze very Death Eater ever or even the Death Eaters as a whole (which is worthy of its own post).

So, we’ll compromise, and I’ll just look at the two you name dropped.

Lucius Malfoy

To me, Lucius is by far one of the more intelligent Death Eaters. He’s the guy who makes them almost look classy. I say almost, because Lucius is still a racist domestic terrorist and as the series goes on Tom gleefully drags him into being less classy by the minute (his house becomes a POW camp and housing for the dregs of society, Lucius just sobs, trying to be thankful he’s somehow still alive).

Lucius is rich, sophisticated, and is probably the most politically powerful man in the country. He has a beautiful wife he has... a son (sorry Draco, but you do not live up to your father) the guy has it all.

Which makes it very surprising that he got dragged into this mess. But you see, Lucius is paying for that tragedy we call youth.

Also, as a caveat, I’m about to headcanon hard and will not bother to get into the details of why I think x, y, or z in this post.

Ten years prior to the start of canon, Lucius is a very young man, probably very charismatic, certainly believes he’s intelligent and probably gets decent grades, but nonetheless the kind of stupid you see in men ages 15-25.

He’s likely chafing under his aging father’s strict guidance, knows he’s not going to be Lord Malfoy for years yet, wants to get out there, prove himself, and make a difference for his country. More importantly for Lucius, there’s this hip, exciting, new thing that all his cousins and friends are getting into called “The Death Eaters” (yes, I don’t believe the Knights of Walpurgis/Death Eaters 1.0 ever happened, I think it’s ridiculous that fandom and JKR does, I could go into why but not in this post). 

The Death Eaters are led by the single handedly most beautiful, charismatic, man in Britain. (Yes, I headcanon Tom’s still blindingly attractive at this stage, because it makes much more sense to me but we’re not getting into that here.) A mysterious man by the name of Voldemort, Salazar Slytherin’s long lost heir, who has come to resurrect the wizarding world’s true heritage and purge the land of the muggle stain. (Yes, I do believe that no one, not even Lucius who is later given the diary, knew who Tom really was. I believe Regulus’ had only the vaguest idea, informed mostly by Tom’s use of Kreacher to place the locket.) This is the most exciting thing to have ever happened, the rallies probably consist of rich kids drunk out of their minds and maybe even high on a little wizard cocaine, and Lucius is down for it precisely because his father says “Lucius, this is stupid, please don’t embarrass the family.” WELL LUCIUS IS GOING TO EMBARRASS THE FAMILY, DAD! WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO DO ABOUT IT?!

And for a while, it looks like Lucius made the right choice. Things are happening, they’re actually going out and killing the mudbloods! Unlike Regulus, Lucius never has that “wait a minute” moment as he realizes that Voldemort’s actually far more efficiently eliminating pureblood families and sowing dissention in what was once a unanimous force among the Wizengamot (the other pureblood lords aren’t necessarily pro muggleborn, per se, but they get a bit queasy at the thought of blowing them up or Merlin forbid actually blowing up their own public venues wizards use). 

And then October 31st, 1981 happens, and it all comes crashing down. Lucius has to desperately lie his ass off, having only the flimsiest lie to rely on, has to hand out a shit ton of bribes, and manages to squeeze his way out of being imprisoned in Azkaban. 

I’m sure Abraxas looked at his son, with his tattoo on his arm that makes him another man’s slave, at the utter destruction of the Black family, and just shook his head going, “Clean up your mess, Dumbass Son”

And Lucius does to the best of his ability. While some will always suspect him of being a Death Eater, while some know it, he’s able to climb very high in influence in their ridiculously tiny community. Granted, I do think he messed up, and could never for example run for minister given everything (if Crouch can’t rerun then Lucius certainly can’t). He also shows us that in some ways he is not above the law, he’s very afraid his house will be searched without warrant in The Chamber of Secrets, and this is in part why he dumps Tom Riddle’s diary off onto Ginny.

However, he wields total control of the Prophet, has a seat on the Wizengamot, has the ear of the current Minister, is on the Hogwarts’ Board of Governors, and has his hands in pretty much every pie he can.

I imagine during this period Lucius grows up. He brushes the indiscretions of his youth under the carpet, gleefully leaving it all behind him, and the only real friend he maintains contact with from that period is Severus, the least zealot like of all of them. (Crabbe and Goyle Sr aren’t friends, they’re minions). 

Don’t get me wrong, he’s still a racist slime bag, and I don’t think he really regrets the domestic terrorism. He just regrets nearly getting caught and putting his entire family’s security on the line. He witnessed first hand what happened to the Blacks.

And then the worst thing happens: Tom Riddle rises from the dead. He rises, impossibly, from the dead when Lucius has his own hand caught in the cookie jar.

Lucius has been living a life of luxury and influence while his great master, the man he had pledged everything to, was dead. Worse, Lucius took what was described as a treasured item to be protected at all costs, and not only threw it away but sent it to Hogwarts where it caused massive havoc and was ultimately destroyed. 

And Lucius, I imagine, no longer wants to serve a master.

But he has no choice. And so begins Lucius’ descent into misery and hell as he’s given an increasing set of impossible, horrific, tasks in punishment that involve him watching as his wife and son are put through hell.

I believe Tom holds a special place in his cold, black, passive aggressive heart for Lucius Malfoy.

First, Tom makes Lucius’ house his headquarters. Oh, Lucius, you have a very nice, very large, estate? Why don’t you host your beloved, mad, cousin, her equally mad husband and brother-in-law? Oh, Bellatrix threatened to cut off your ear? Well, she’s just so passionate! 

Second, Lucius is told to go get the prophecy. Well, this is easier said than done. He nearly succeeds but then it all turns into the world’s largest clusterfuck that ends in two notable things. First, the prophecy is lost forever, shattered. Second, the government admits that Voldemort is truly resurrected. Both of these things are very bad in Tom’s book. And the blame can easily be put on Lucius’ head.

In response to this, Draco is now given an impossible task that Draco is too stupid to realize is designed to cause him (and his family) as much misery as possible. Draco is to assassinate Dumbledore. 

Likely, Tom was already informed by Snape that Dumbledore was dying. The blackened hand was too obvious a tell coming from too obvious a source for the pair to have hid it. I think trying to hide such information would have immediately blown Snape’s cover. So, Tom knows the man is dying, and doesn’t see fit to tell Draco this.

Instead, he tells Draco, “Kill Dumbledore as soon as possible or I deliver you to Fenrir Grayback.” Draco, however, is young and stupid, so he honestly thinks he is doing this to restore the family honor, earn glory for himself and for the cause, and is expected to do this entirely by himself. As a result, when Narcissa begs Snape to aid Draco, Draco blows them both off and only accepts help from Bellatrix because HE CAN DO THIS ON HIS OWN! DRACO IS A MAN.

This, of course, doesn’t work out either. Draco doesn’t deliver the killing blow, Snape does, but Tom decides to give him a pass.

Instead he moves on to his next plan which is making the Malfoy manor his torture chamber and POW camp. Even Draco, at this point, realizes this all kind of sucks. 

And then Voldemort finally dies a second time, and I’m sure Lucius just stares numbly at his malformed corpse, wondering if it will really take this time.

So that’s Lucius for you, paying always for his mistakes, and pretending he’s just as much of a nutcase as Bellatrix to fit in.

Bellatrix LeStrange

God, compared to the novel that is Lucius’ ridiculous life, I really don’t have much to say about her because I feel like there’s not much too her.

Bellatrix reminds me a lot of the Manson family, she gives off those same vibes. Point being, I think even before Azkaban (while Azkaban certainly didn’t help), she was insane and a little too worshipful of Voldemort.

I guess I can start there, I don’t think Bellamort is a thing, at all. 

Tom may have, probably did, have sex with her before he died but afterwards? In that body? Forget about it.

That said, I’m sure Bellatrix both wanted to have sex and is convinced she did have sex to produce whatever the hell Delphi even is. It just wasn’t with Tom, and probably was Rodolphous with a Halloween mask on his face as they got a little too into role play.

And there we go, I suppose, I can’t take Bellatrix seriously. You often see her portrayed as sexy femme fatale Death Eater, the most competent of all of them, if a bit of a sadist.

Oh she might be a very good duelist but she’s... Bellatrix.

She prances around in corsets, shrieking madly, and just what part of that is supposed to be femme fatale? I literally cannot take her seriously on any level. When I even try to write her seriously, in very serious stories, I end up with lines like the following:

"My lord, if there's anything you need… Anything from me, specifically, as a woman…" 

- Bright Eyes

That was my best attempt. That was the best I could come up with. It’s still something that belongs in a comedy.

So, I don’t think Tom really corrupted her. I think without Voldemort she still probably would have been blowing up Diagon Alley, just in a much less organized manner.

Even in canon she does ridiculous things. For example, Bellatrix, frankly, could have easily avoided prison.

For weeks after the dark lord fell neither she, her husband, Barty, nor her brother-in-law were arrested. Bellatrix in grief and utter disbelief that the dark lord could ever do something so mortal as die, said “remember that other house our lord mentioned, THEY MIGHT HAVE INFORMATION, LET’S GO MURDER THE LONGBOTTOMS!” They torture and kidnap Frank, demanding he tell them where their master is, THEY KNOW HE KNOWS. He doesn’t know. They go too far and torture the man into being a vegetable. “Shit, GET THE WIFE!” They go get the wife, do the same thing, with the same results.

They now have no information on the dark lord, two well regarded aurors tortured into brain damage, and are quickly caught and brought before the court with absolutely no “I was imperiused” excuse they can give out. 

How am I supposed to take her in any way seriously?

I mean, to end your life killed in a duel with Molly Weasley. That just says it all.

[izartn]

On the The Host romance:

A lil note: @into-september as you’re reading Twilight, and your last post made me realise this, I thought it better to write my own post and tag you! Hope you don’t mind.

The Host is the first novel of an “adult” science fiction trilogy by Stephanie Meyer which never was finished. Published in 2008, the same year as Breaking Dawn, I guess she preferred gaining the benefits of her vampire saga to keep on writing. 

For shame, because for me, The Host is much better at establishing worldbuilding, a concept and its protagonists + a romance (not that there isn’t anything cuestionable in it, but to my taste it’s better done than in Twilight). Here is the first paragraph of The Host wikipedia’s section on plot: 

A species of parasitic aliens called "Souls" have invaded Earth, deeming the humans too violent to deserve the planet. When a Soul is implanted into a host body, the consciousness of the original owner is erased, leaving their memories and knowledge. 

Wanderer, a Soul, is placed into the body of Melanie Stryder. However, Melanie's consciousness is still alive and begins to communicate with Wanderer mentally. Wanderer's assigned "Seeker" suggests that she could be placed into Melanie to retrieve the memories before disposing of the defective body, but Wanderer makes several attempts to deny her Seeker's wishes. As Wanderer starts to uncover some of Melanie's memories of her younger brother Jamie Stryder and her boyfriend Jared Howe, Melanie gets her to follow a series of landmarks throughout the Arizona desert to find her Uncle Jeb, hoping that Jared and Jamie are with him. By doing so, she would be denying the Seeker Melanie's memories and the humans they would lead her to.

Just. Read that and have the face to tell me it doesn’t sound more interesting than Twilight I dare you. Of course the books are different genres, although the focus is in the... more sentimental part in both. It’s just that The Host story is more unusual and the worldbuilding dreamy and subtly horrific. 

Well I said I was gonna talk about the romance right? Spoilers incoming!

 A bit of more context is necessary; in The Host, Melanie, the human Wanda (nickname of Wanderer) is possessing, is in love with the boyfriend mentioned in the sinopsis, Jared. Wanda being in the body of Melanie, feels things for him. We can divine for context this is sexual attraction plus having access to some of Melanie’s memories and noticing Jared is pretty ok as humans not possessed are left on Earth. 

Melanie reaction to this oscillates between “don’t you dare touch my boyfriend alien” and “well of course you fell for him, he’s pretty awesome” to “if I can’t it’s ok if you want to” when she’s feeling herself disappear at one point. Which is bullshit bc her conscience comes back when Wanda goes to tell Jared to kiss her bc she’s feeling Melanie disappear and when he gets near Wanda, Melanie usually mounts a whole circus in her head. It works. 

Well that’s one part of the romance. The other is Ian, a human in the settlement who is pretty level-headed and who starts talking to Wanda, as her guard first and then as her friend. No previous contact with Melanie, so he mets Wanda in Melanie’s body and isn’t excessively hostile or sad. Bc you know, an alien is in the body of you “niece, girlfriend, sister, etc” isn’t really conductive to good first impressions although that alien has come bearing the news that said person is still alive somewhere in their brain. 

(Also the whole human group is so hilariously based on those paranoid about the government/end-of-days usa people... And it works! LMAO) (The social dynamics are interesting in this book ok? basic but ingenious)

So Wanda falls slowly without noticing for Ian; Ian falls first and confesses and everything. I think their first kiss was a bit sketchy? But generally they good. 

The interesting thing is this: Melanie and so her body, is in love and attracted to Jared. Wanda, inhabiting Melanie’s body, starts realising that although Jared is pretty ok and all that, he’s really Melanie’s love; she doesn’t exactly like his more violent tendencies. 

(Really he’s more apocalypse survivor hardcore, but he really was a dick to her at the start, bc alien possessing girlfriend and all. Also gave her mixed signals, etc. Very american male which, eh. Melanie is also very apocalypse survivor hardcore; the two mesh well bc of that lmao) 

Well, as Stephanie Meyer is SM, and she has some weird ideas about romance the thing is, Wanda doesn’t feel sexually attracted to Ian. Bc all the hormones in her body are signaling only Jared. But she really is romantically attracted to Ian, and loves him. When they kiss, she likes it, but it’s not super passionate nor does it brings the same high that the few occasions Jared kissed her. To Ian’s credit he doesn’t really get it at the start, but then is immediately acepting of Wanda’s boundaries. I think he pushes a bit? But this SM so. Sigh. (I like to think in the hands of another author he wouldn’t do the sterotypical male thing but yah)

What I mean is that Stephanie Meyer, without intention, created an ace romance. Sure, it bc really weird biological alien science, but if you take it to mean Melanie is demi and only feels attracted to Jared, that makes her body reactions logical when Wanda also falls in love. She isn’t occupying the body wholly; there’s the host original presence; so she falls romantically but not physically. If I’m saying great idiotices please correct me under; I don’t have any background on sexology or biology. 

Sadly, Wanda is also super worried of not being able of correctly loving Ian, so. Negation of ace identity in one, two..., warning to folks sensible to it. 

And well, she ruins it when at the end when Wanda is put outside Melanie´s body into one who doesn’t have a human conscience. She explained the others how to take “souls” out of humans without killing any part, and how to take the “souls” to the space ships where they’ll be transported to other worlds. But sometimes the humans have passed so much time suppressed, or have been taken so young, that there isn’t a conscience-anyone to recover. 

The Host is very weird, bc this is a race of genocidal colonist aliens who are weird beautiful little ribbons of silver in their original form, who after abandoning their original world by possessing another race who invaded them realised they could live whatever lives they wanted possessing people without dying and just. Went for it. They are a supposedly all peace loving gents, who cured all poverty and illness by their superior technology and like, very comunist-anarchist society. Who abhor violence, but don’t see eliminating other people identity as violence. 

They are weird and amazing; when they realise having and raising children as humans costs so much, they start acting as parents to those humans without going to have a soul implanted on their kid, bc they love them as they are. A mess of contradictions, and Wanda is so interesting bc of this. 

Sadly, SM acted again, and made Wanda one of the rare females able of auto-destroying to create more fragments of herself (aka other souls). The rest of souls don’t have any gender and chose bodies as whatever sex they like most. Guess Wanda being an alien was fine, but not having an explicit gender was too much, lol. To be fair, she says she prefers female bodies, but doesn’t really mind. Good on Wanda. 

There’s a secondary romance too; the search of Ian’s brother, Kyle (who almost kills Wanda once) for his abducted girlfriend, Jodie. Results the soul inside her body, Sunny has all of Jodie’s memories of Kyle and is like, already in love with him. She lets herself be abducted, and when they explain they’re gonna get her out and why, is like, cries and begs, but accepts it bc is Jodie who Kyle loves. She hasn’t ever heard her like Wanda did Melanie, though, so when like a week or two pass and Jodie’s conscience remains dead Kyle consents (bc the other relatives of Jodie are soulified) to bring back Sunny. Wow. What a clusterfuck. They don’t date but there’s this weird vibe where Kyle has stopped hating all souls after Wanda’s mess and his encounter with Sunny, and Sunny herself is like; yay! I can live with humans and Kyle and I’ll keep trying to awake Jodie. And the two of them are described as inseparable? 

It’s more intriguing than Twilight; I wished there were more fics interested in exploring cool canon divergences and all. I didn’t dive in the problematiqueTM aspects of the book but come on, this is SM and you have reading comprehension. I just wanted to talk about how interesting is the intersection of sexuality in romance in Wanda’s case >-< Still better than Twilight but I guess the aesthetic of vamps surpases The Host. Which. Valid ok? Each to their own. 

[gwenore]

The Cursed book. Chapter 15.

Chapter 15: Neal and Emma speak of what they should do next in regards to the demon possessing Neal’s father. 

Summary: When Belle finds a strange book in an abandoned library she has no idea what hell it would unleash upon the small town.

---

Neal had been basically numb so that he collapsed on the bed in the room that his father… or the demon… had gotten for them.

Emma glanced around, putting her arms around herself, rubbing her arms nervously as she glanced around.

“This is…”

Neal simply let out a groan. “Yeah… I know…”

Emma shook her head slightly. “So… what shall we do?”

Neal remained laying down, his head buried in the pillow. “Well… we are going to dinner, and then you will get in the car and you will forget about all of this.”

Emma’s eyes widened, before she shook her head. “No! I will not!”

“Look, there is nothing good which is going to come out of you staying here…” Neal raised his head slightly as he let out a soft sigh.

“You said your father would not hurt me,” Emma countered.

Neal shook his head softly. “No… he won’t… the demon won’t hurt you either… but…”

“But…?” Emma sat down next to him.

“It is going to get bad soon enough… and I am talking really really bad,” Neal let his head slump down.

“Only this time… I have no way to stop it… even temporarily… and…” he let out a desperate and terrified chuckle.

“It is far worse than you could ever imagine… the chaos that it unleashes once it is bored. The horrific things it does. I can only pray that its victims are not aware of what it is doing to them, it doesn’t seem like they are, but with this thing you cannot trust anything you percieve… it can make you believe and feel anything you want. It can make you forget things you hold dearer than yourself and people you love it can make vanish from your mind as if they had never existed,” Neal’s voice was turning agitated as his breathing accelerated. “Trust me that being eaten alive by this thing is the closest thing to mercy that it has!”

Emma had to close her eyes. “But… but what about you?!”

“I have to stay… Perhaps I can find a way to stop its carnage… I…” he let out another sigh as he shook his head.

“Fuck… I don’t know what I can do… but I know that I cannot leave… not while it is out here. I doubt that it will let me. It wants to have its family… as twisted as that is. It doesn’t know family. It doesn’t know love, it cannot. But because of the pretence of love it has towards me, I can have it so that you will be safe… far far away from this,” Neal insisted.

“How can I leave when I know that you are stuck here and…” Emma looked away, not wanting to show Neal the tears which were welling up in her eyes.

“You would not remember…”

Neal’s voice made her tears practically dry up as her eyes widened in shock as she turned towards her towards her lover again.

“NO!” she burst out.

Neal let out a soft sigh. “It is for the best…”

“You are not letting that… demon piece of shit mess around in my mind!” Emma insisted. “If you do you are practically no better than he is!”

Neal let out a soft sigh, but he had to agree with how awful the thought of forcing her to do something that she did not want to… even if it would be indeed for the best…

“Fine… but… you should leave…” Neal insisted.

Emma shook her head. “I am not leaving without you.”

Neal chuckled. “That is not going to happen…”

“But he has let you leave before,” she insisted.

“He has…” Neal conceded. “But that was because of this… game he was playing. This demon’s sense of time is… different. It happens when you live for centuries. Yes… it may have rested for a couple of years before it would find its way out of that infernal book and have me come find him. Then… well… we would meet and… back into the book for another couple of years… For it… it was moments… it was… I don’t know… resting. At this point I am not even sure if my recalling of the events is even true. If we spent more time together, if it even was in the book these years I thought it was,” Neal shook his head.

“I don’t know fucking anything,” he said through gritted teeth. It can change just about fucking everything and…”

He let out another sigh.

“We are fucking puppets to it. It just does what it wants! What entertains it. I cannot have you be caught up in this… because…”

Neal swallowed. “Now the game has changed.”

Emma furrowed her brows. “How do you know that?”

“The book. The demon destroyed it. Its way of saying; game over.”

Emma remained silent for quite a while before she looked towards him, swallowing slightly.

“But… what then about the woman… Belle was it?”

Neal let his head fall into the pillow again as he let out another long groan, before lifting it again.

“I don’t know…”

“Has the demon… or your father… ever done something like that before?” Emma questioned.

“No… never…” Neal confirmed.

“That is… strange…” Emma said. “It has… not come across a woman it finds attractive before now?”

“I do not think it cares about how attractive a woman is… doubt it would know how to judge. You saw it. Can you imagine what something like that’s beauty standards really is?” he asked.

Emma frowned a bit in disgust about recalling the foul demon which had risen from Neal’s father’s back and how it acted towards that poor woman.

In truth she didn’t know if it wanted to show her affection or eat her…

It could be both, she had no clue how a demon’s mind worked.

“Suppose you are right about that…” she finally had to admit.

“But… there has to be something which caught the demon’s attention. Certainly dad might find her… attractive, though I would rather not want to think too much about that fact, but… there is something about her which vexes the demon as well… or it would have… let us not go too deeply into what that thing does with…” Neal made a visibly disgusted shudder.

Emma really did not want to ask either. It seemed that it was… bad…

Neal managed to sit himself up, leaning against the head of the bed, tilting his head towards the ceiling.

“I am… lost…” he whispered softly. Emma glanced over at him before she climbed further up on the bed, settling down next to him, resting her head on his chest, resting her arm across his stomach, hugging him closer to her.

Neal didn’t say anything, before he rested the top of his head again hers, nuzzling in her blond hair gently.

“I know I shouldn’t…” he then swallowed. “But I am happy that you are here…”

“I am not going anywhere…” Emma assured him, running her hand up and down his side gently.

Neal remained silent. He knew that he had to let her go.

“It is still a bit until dinner… want to… have a nap?” he settled a bit further down to get comfortable.

“Not sure I can sleep with what I saw today…” Emma had to admit. Neal nodded.

“Yeah… I don’t blame you…”

“But you sleep, you need it,” she glanced up at him.

“Yeah… I suppose I do…” Neal agreed with her, allowing his head to close his eyes. The room fell into silence, the air simply filled with the sound of soft breaths of the two lovers as the clock on the wall ticked down towards the fateful dinner.

  Belle blinked herself awake, feeling an ache in her back as she let out a groan. Her couch really was not comfortable to sleep on… it was a mistake that she had done more than once.

Rum was still resting against her, seemingly still sleeping soundly. It seems that he needed the sleep more than she could even understand.

Letting out a soft sigh, she sat herself up slightly, glancing at the clock.

“Hmm… almost time for dinner… I think…” she whispered softly glancing around, her eyes returned to the man still sleeping soundly.

There were no signs of the demon however… so… was the demon in control now?

It was hard to tell… especially since he was asleep…

“Um… Rum… Rumplestiltskin… I think that we should get ready?” she used her finger to gently move a strand of his hair away from his face.

The man’s eyes blinked open, looking around curiously as he sat himself up with a slight flush on his cheek as he rubbed his eyes.

“Yeah… I suppose so…” he muttered softly, glancing around, as if he was uncertain what he should do.

“You are still in control?” Belle questioned.

“Yeah…” he seemed just as surprised at this fact.

“And… uh… where is the demon?” Belle had to ask, glancing at his back where the demon had been emerging, but there was no sign of it. She could not resist from reaching out and touching his back just to make sure.

Rum had to raise a brow as he glanced over at her. “What are you doing…?”

“Just… that was where it came out…” Belle’s cheeks flushed a bit.

“Suppose because that is easiest…” Rum nodded his head mostly to himself. “But it is mostly a… I suppose an illusion… or… well I haven’t been able to figure it out. It doesn’t affect my physical form in any case…”

Belle glanced over at him. “So… what happened?”

“Suppose it just wants me to be in control for a while I suppose… it will do that sometimes… but though it happens… it is rare…” he said with a soft sigh.

Belle swallowed nervously. “Well… perhaps you get to enjoy the dinner with your son without… without him?”

She gave him a shrug and a comforting smile.

“If it lets me be in control that long…” Rum shrugged his shoulders. Again… Belle could not even imagine what this man had been through. Slowly she leaned her body against his, taking his hand in hers, rubbing her fingers over the back of his hand.

“We can hope…” she whispered to him.

“You are so kind to me…” he whispered softly.

“You deserve it…” she assured him. She closed her eyes, allowing the two of them to simply sit in silence as before they made themselves ready for the dinner that the demon had planned.

Belle was well aware that the dinner was a part of the demon’s plan… whatever that plan might be. She supposed that they all could only wait and see what that plan might be...

[aye-of-newt]

Ikigai: 

(Japanese) reason for living 

Jon always worried about losing his mind.

But in the end, he lost his soul.

Pairing: Jonathan Sims/Martin Blackwood

Warnings: Character Death, some blood, tragic ending, fear of losing one’s mind

Read here or on AO3

For nearly as long as he could remember, Jon had feared losing his mind. It wasn’t perhaps the most pressing of his (admittedly numerous) fears, but it was there nonetheless.

As a child, the fear had more to do with intelligence. He’d been told, at the ripe age of four, that he was smart and did everything in his power to maintain that image, that precious status, going forward, continuing to hold onto it well into his adult life. There were, perhaps, times in his youth when he thought a little too much of himself and his big brain, but by the end of secondary school, his classmates, who had no problem finding his various faults and oddities, had ensured that that would no longer be a problem. And, had that not been enough, the creeping depression which had followed him most of his life, only to finally descend upon him and feed in university, took care of any last shreds of arrogance left.

Still, as he progressed into the field of academia, first at uni and then in his career, Jon held on tightly to his shield of intellect. He knew he wasn’t especially attractive or funny or charming in any real way. Sure, he had managed to make a few friends in college, even shared a few brief relationships, but they all crumbled to nothing after a time. His human connections withered easily, like a particularly finicky houseplant left in the sun just an hour too long. The thing that seemed so vital to everyone else left Jon only burned, and, as time passed, it became increasingly clear to him that he didn’t have much to offer other than his mind.

Although at times, he doubted he even truly had that at all.

He hid behind wire-framed glasses and a large vocabulary and the demeanor of aloof disinterest in the hopes that, if no one got too close, they wouldn’t see that his veneer of intelligence had nothing behind it other than a young man who’d formed his entire personality on being a mildly impressive child, only to wind up far over his head in a job he doubted he was qualified for.

When Elias had approached him, offering the position of Head Archivist, Jon had been surprised. He hadn’t even applied. The thought had never ever occurred to him. Why would Jon, of all people, be chosen when surely there had to be someone else, anyone else, better suited?

He’d said as much to Elias, who only laughed and assured Jon he knew what he was doing.

The way Elias had smiled at him, sharply, laughingly, like he knew something Jon didn’t and was endlessly amused by it, had bothered him even then. Of course, it took some time to figure out exactly why that look had sent shivers down Jon’s spine, but by then it was too late. In the moment, in that terrible, haunting moment when Jon unwittingly signed his life away, he dismissed it as excitement. That little shred of childhood that still clung to his bones, that tiny part of his mind that held on to dreams of greatness, had whispered temptations to him. Its sweet seductive call had promised Jon the chance to finally prove himself. It offered the assurance that Elias, that anyone, thought Jon was important, was worthwhile, was  smart.

He’d accepted the position and done his best to forget the feeling of unease that had prickled through his body when he shook Elias’s hand.

Jon blundered his way through his first months as Archivist, going home most days wincing at how he’d managed to make a fool of himself as he pretended desperately that he knew what he was doing and snapped, often far too quickly and harshly at anyone who made him feel like he didn’t.

It wasn’t just self-consciousness that caused this tension. He didn’t trust them, his assistants.

Sure, Tim was a… friend. Perhaps. Maybe. Tim at least insisted he was, but Jon honestly wasn’t sure if they were actually friends, or if Tim was one of those people who was just nice to everyone, and accepted the job offer because it would progress his career more than any real affection for Jon. His continued affection and invitations for drinks could very well have been just simple office politics, basic politeness. It was a possibility Jon kept in mind, even if he secretly hoped he was paranoid.

Sasha was quite competent at least, though that too came with danger, as Jon was sure she was the most likely to find him out, discover that he wasn’t half as smart as he pretended to be, and send his whole facade crashing to the ground. If what he’d heard murmured when others thought he wasn’t around was true, she should have been given his position to begin with. Jon made sure to make an extra effort maintaining appearances in front of her and did his best to squash down whatever guilt he felt at robbing her of what was doubtless a much-more deserved promotion than the still mysterious one Jon had been given.

Martin was nice. Very nice actually. Too nice. Jon hated people who were too nice. It was creepy, all that smiling and asking about Jon’s weekend and making tea like he cared.

Why would Martin care about Jon? He didn’t seem overly impressed by Jon’s prowess at organizing files and showed no discernible reaction to the jargon that Jon tended to slip into his speech wherever he was feeling particularly self-conscious. If it wasn’t his work that Martin liked, if it wasn’t his perceived intelligence that he found engaging, then what exactly did Martin see in Jon? The answer eluded him.

As for Martin himself, he seemed perfectly content to be where he was. He showed no real ambition to rise through the ranks of the institute and, despite the degree his resume boasted (Jon had checked), he was surprisingly quiet about whatever academic insights he might be able to add to the investigations into the validity of any statements. It was odd and Jon couldn’t quite get a handle on him. Martin just didn’t appear to feel the need to show off or even let anyone know his capabilities at all.

Jon did entertain the idea that he just didn’t have any capabilities to show off, and certainly had no problem saying as much, but some part of him always doubted that was true. After all, Martin did work for the Institute. He had to have some level of knowledge or expertise or something, anything, to add. Elias wouldn’t just let any random person work in the archives. He had standards.

At least Jon hoped he did. Because if he didn’t, that cast a very dark shadow on his own unexpected promotion indeed.

Looking back later, Jon would laugh darkly at himself for how foolish and insignificant his worries once were. It was true that, in the end, Jon’s fears were realized. It was just that, when the darkness came for him, it wasn’t in the form of a bad performance review. He wasn’t unmasked as a fraud and a fake, leaving him professionally humiliated and without a job.

No. Instead, he met the physical manifestation of the fear of losing one’s mind.

And over a dozen other terrors aside, of course.

His fears came in the form of a philosophical quandary that Jon doubted many people had ever been forced to ponder in such a direct way. For, not quite two years after assuming his position in the archives, Jon was faced with the very real question of if he was becoming a monster. If he had, at some point without his noticing, stopped being human.

It didn’t take too long for him to find the answer was a bit more complicated than yes or no, that he was stranded somewhere in between the two, no longer as human as he once was but not entirely monstrous either.

When exactly he crossed that threshold was unknown to him. Was it the moment he’d stepped into the archives? When he’d read his first statement? When his body had, for a brief time, become host to worms and the fragile shell of his mortal being was breached? It bothered him, not knowing when exactly he went too far, that he had lost such an essential, vital part of himself and not even noticed.

It nagged at him, an eternal, subtle feeling of wrongness, difficult to forget but necessary to ignore if he wanted to be able to do anything other than lay motionless on the floor, slowly crushed by the weight of his sins and terror of his existence.

Even with all of that, Jon honestly wasn’t sure what was worse⏤  not knowing, or being horrifically, agonizingly aware of his own downfall, feeling himself drift further and further from his own humanity by the day and unable to do anything to stop it.

Though, if Elias was to be believed, it had been his choice.

Jon tried not to think about that too much. It was easier if he was a victim. If he could ignore his own mistakes. His own guilt.

Sometimes, he was afraid he’d been a monster before he even met Elias.

Whatever he was before, working at the Institute had changed Jon on some level at least. Throughout his life, Jon had always thought of himself as a bit of a coward. He wasn’t especially confident or brash and was more likely to apologize to the person who ran into him than confront someone who had wronged him.

Of course, when one experiences unholy evil barely even comprehensible to the human mind, their scale of what qualifies as terrifying tends to slide a bit, and Jon increasingly found himself doing things he would have paled at the thought of a year or even a month before.

Still, he didn’t count himself as brave. He was scared. Constantly. He only managed to get through the endless days by cauterizing himself off long enough to complete the task at hand, allowing himself to collapse in numbing fear only when it was safe to do so.

He staggered on, shouldering the fate of the world and trying to keep his head above water, praying that he stayed human enough to still care if he failed and if the people he had once been so suspicious of lived.

It was cruel, really, that Jon was the one who brought the end of it all, not in the least because he spent so long trying to stop it.

He didn’t understand why Martin stayed, after. But he’d never understood Martin to begin with.

Make no mistake, Jon was glad that he didn’t leave. Beyond grateful really. Selfishly so, holding on to him as tightly as he could when he knew for a fact that Martin deserved better. He wondered if it made him monstrous, devouring the love that Martin gave so readily when he had only his own patchwork, inhuman heart to offer in return.

Martin took it readily though, smiling like Jon had hung the moon when he offered him the tiniest amount of praise or affection. Even if he felt like a bit of an asshole for accepting such undeserved rapture, seeing Martin look at him like that made Jon feel more human than he perhaps ever had in his life.

More than that, it kept him human. When the Eye clutched at him, digging its endless gaze into his soul and trying to tear him apart, Jon needed only to reach out and grasp Martin’s hand. For no amount of power and knowledge, no matter how beautiful its song, could ever be as satisfying as the honey-sweet touch of Martin’s lips on his scarred and pitted skin. It could never be louder than his whispered I love you, pressed into the tangled halo of Jon’s hair.

At some point in the meaningless expanse of time on their journey to the panopticon, Jon looked to Martin and realized that it wasn’t his mind he was afraid to lose.

It was his heart.

His soul.

That was what made him human.

And for Jon, both of those things resided not in his own chest, but in Martin.

It made his whole being sing to think about, even as fear, stronger than any that had struck his hardened heart in a long time, sank deep into Jon’s bones. He couldn’t bear to lose Martin. He wouldn’t survive it intact.

It was unclear if it was Jon’s realization, never spoken but still surely seen, that solidified Elias’s plan, or if killing Martin was something he’d always counted on doing. The effect was the same either way and Jon didn’t stay himself long enough to truly contemplate it. He was too busy drowning in grief.

Because, as inhuman as Jon had become, as many powers and as much knowledge as he possessed when they came face to face with Elias, his body was still far too mortal, too slow, too wracked with warped tissue and badly fused bones to move fast enough to get Martin out of the way.

And, for as much as Martin meant to him, as much as he was Jon’s world, his last tether to his humanity, as incredible and irreplaceable as he was, he was just a human. Skin and bones and blood that was so easy for a bullet to pierce.

If it wasn’t so tragic, it would have nearly been funny. That after so long, after surviving so much, it was an ordinary gunshot that ended Martin’s life. Just as it had ended Gertrude’s.

It was almost funny how Elias, one of the most powerful immortal entities in the non-world, chose such a simple, mortal weapon with which to carry out his dark deeds. Though to be fair, even if it lacked in style and supernatural flare, it worked all the same.

Martin was dead.

Even if Jon failed to see the humor in the situation, Elias thought it was funny at least. He laughed while Jon screamed, clutching desperately at the wound as far, far too much red leaked down the dingy jumper, soaking it and Jon’s hands as he tried to save his love, his heart, his soul long after he was already gone.

Jon cried, collapsed over the empty body, until even Elias was growing bored at feeding off the waves of torment and anguish.

“Are you going to lay there for all eternity, Jon, or are you going to get up and come fight me, save the world just like you thought you would?” Elias taunted cruelly. “Or have you given up so soon?”

Hate, more pure and hot than anything he had ever felt before rose in Jon. That time, when he stood, Jon chose knowingly.

He took one last look at Martin, limp and broken and utterly devoid of the glowing golden life that had enraptured Jon.

Martin, who had never given up on him, even when Jon was a total ass.

Martin, who had stayed with him, even when Jon literally brought about the end of the world.  

Martin, who had loved him, for some unknowable reason.

Marin, who had kept his old creaking heart something close to human.

Martin, his reason.

Elias, Jonah, whatever the creature who stole Jon’s life was called, laughed again, his interest sparked once more now that he had a reaction out of his toy. It reminded the Archivist of the day he’d been given his title and of the smile that had haunted his nightmares.

“I won,” Elias mocked him. “Your little boyfriend is dead and there is absolutely nothing stopping you from solidifying my new world. Or perhaps I should say, our new world. Come on, don’t be stupid, Jon. Join me. There’s nothing to hold you back now from taking your true form and being one with the Eye. Think of all that you can know and see. Think of all that power, just out of reach. Come on, Jon. Take it. ”

Slowly, the Archivist turned towards him, staring at Elias with eyes turned milky and pale, clouded over but seeing everything from the first spark of the universe to its choking wheezes as it struggled against the forces of chaos attempting to snuff it out. They glowed slightly with a pale, haunting light, like that of a specter in the night. “You know, Elias,” he said. “You’re right.”

The smile he gave Elias was wide and sharp and cruel. It looked nothing like Jon’s smile. It looked nothing like a human smile at all.

It sent a tiny shiver, a barely-registered flicker of unease down Elias’s spine. He had counted on Martin's death costing Jon his humanity. He hadn't counted on the burning fury that would infect the shell that was left behind.

Still smiling, the monster embraced himself.

And he unleashed his wrath.

[marinerofthestars]

the zodai tag

bit of a late arrival to this fandom, but better late than never, i suppose!

1. How did you hear about the books? about a year ago, i was doing research on the zodiac for an urban fantasy project i’m working on, tales from omphalos, when i found the house ophiuchus info page on the zodiac website. unfortunately life got in the way and i forgot the series for a while, but a little while ago i remembered zodiac’s worldbuilding and got sucked right back in!

2. What is your favorite moment from the series so far? it’s hard to choose just one moment, but i’d have to say skarlet and rho’s first meeting in black moon for how atypical it is. we know skarlet is the hypotenuse in rho and hysan’s love triangle, but she doesn’t act like the stereotypical petty Other Woman at all. she’s charismatic, she’s genuinely fun to be around, and she has sympathetic motives and ambitions. above all, she’s actually super nice towards rho, and doesn’t let her feelings get in the way of their political collaboration. (and then thirteen rising assassinated her character. yes i am still bitter about it why do you ask)

3. Which House are you from? house leo!

4. What do you like about your House? artistry pride is something i’d really love to be a part of as an aspiring author, i have blaze and trax (both criminally underrated characters imo) as my housemates, and our zodai wield FLAMING SWORDS in battle. what’s not to love?

5. If you had to change Houses, which House would you pick? since leo really vibes with my passion for art, this is definitely a tricky question! probably either libra (police brutality is a thing of the past with bind, and their government seems like they have their act together), scorpio (much waterworld. much ambition. much cool tech. wow), or sagittarius (diversity, democracies where the voices of the young and non-complacent can be heard, and really vibrant cities are all things i appreciate)

6. Which system would you most like to visit? capricorn, no question. the zodiax is THE single most location in the entire zodiac bar none to me - an ancient complex the size of a planet, its oldest curators having access to transportation systems most inhabitants don’t even know about? an archive of humanity’s collective knowledge, so massive it has hotels and restaurants within it because leaving to sleep or eat is just so impractical? LET ME TOUR IT. LET ME UNCOVER ITS MYSTERIES I KNOW THEY EXIST (i think history is rad okay)

7. If you got to choose, which Zodiac technology would you like to have? probably...the tattoo? i don’t have anywhere enough knowledge about neuroscience/engineering to design my own, but assuming that i did, i’d love to design a tattoo that can interface with my brain and with digital art software, so that i can turn whatever ideas i have in my head into artwork!

8. Which character would you want as a best friend? skarlet. she’s six feet tall, buff as all hell, super attractive, prefers diplomacy to violence but still perfectly capable of kicking ass, and an outspoken risers’ rights activist. what’s not to love? (though knowing the type of people i usually hang out with, i’d probably end up with like. twain or gyzer as my best friend. one can dream though)

9. Which sign would you like to date? aries, because as previously stated skarlet is awesome. (a sentiment i will continue to reiterate) failing that, either libra for their sense of justice, scorpio for their ambition and passion, or aquarius for their innovative mindset.

10. Who do you hope Rho “ends up with?” (If anyone at all!) firstly, thank you for acknowledging that rho might not be interested in romance after everything she’s been through. (aromantic rho? arho?) secondly: skarlet.

this might be a little controversial, but i feel like in some regards, rho has far more chemistry with skarlet than she has with hysan. (ms. russell. i am sorry but. i have. Issues. with ‘centaur smile’ and the context surrounding it doesn’t make it any better) all of their interactions are marked by a noted admiration on rho’s part, and it’s not just merely admiration of her frankly enviable body (there’s more than enough of that, but it feels respectful somehow, there’s no five-page purple prosey ramblings on how the sweat glints on skar’s brow as she lifts weights, unlike with some people - sorry, mathias), but admiration of skar’s personality.

her charisma. her ambitions. her drive to fight for people who’ve been beaten down for millennia, to give a voice to the voiceless. to use violence as a last resort, not a first strike.

even at their absolute worst in thirteen rising, even when they’re butting heads, they don’t let it get in the way of doing what needs to be done. hell, skarlet even points out that she wouldn’t be giving rho such a hard time if she didn’t respect the hell out of rho, if she didn’t think she was tough enough to take it. there’s a sort of unspoken bond between them, a slow orbit that they’re both caught in. at the end of the series, they part way on relatively good terms, and with the hope that maybe, just maybe, that orbit might become something more than just professional acquaintance.

also their oppositional dichotomy of cardinal fire/water signs is an awesome aesthetic that i really wish was brought up more than it was in canon :( 

11. If you could record a Snow Globe, what would you put in it? only A snow globe? you’re not exactly giving me a lot of slack here in all seriousness, if i had to choose one moment to record in a snow globe, probably the moment i first came up with the idea for the urban fantasy project i mentioned above, tales from omphalos. i’ve never been devoted as much time to or invested as much energy in a project as i have with tfo, and i’d like to keep an easily accessible record of my original vision on hand. and hey, if by some chance i manage to follow in romina’s footsteps, get tales from omphalos professionally published, have it become a big success with a respectable fandom, i’d like to look back every once in a while, and remember how it all began.

12. If you had the chance to tell Rho anything, what advice/encouragement would you give her? - lies, especially lies of omission, are necessary a lot of the time to get ahead in politics and life in general use that being ahead to help out the people and groups you care about - don't trust the immortal child-aristocrats or expect them to behave in a way that won't inevitably screw you over - if you must play nice with them, figure out how to decrease gemini’s horrific income inequality, and see what you can do about exporting cell rejuvenation therapy to the wider zodiac - ferez is right, risers are the future and you need to acknowledge that going forward - skarlet is excellent at garnering support and bridging generational gaps, and while fernanda purecell is a bougie running dog, she’s got her head screwed on the right way regarding politics and institutional riserphobia; together, the three of you should be able to make some headway towards making amends for past wrongs - i don’t care if family heads have suffrage, matriarchal aristocracy (aristocratic matriarchy?) is NOT a democracy or a form of government that looks out for the rights of men/NB people/agender people/multigender people/intersex people/you get the idea - romance is by no means an exclusively two-player game, and skarlet has said she would be open to an arrangement; however, if you MUST insist on ignoring that polyamory is a thing, go for the six-foot risers' rights activist - i’m sorry about all the bullshit with your mom. whatever the end result was, whatever her intentions, it does not excuse the way she treated you and your dad and stanton. it’s okay to feel like shit because of what she did to you, and not being able to wall it off doesn’t make you weak or anything dumb like that - you’re already far stronger than she ever was. i know how much it sucks - i was in the same situation as you once - but believe me when i say that things do get better. you’re not alone here, rho. - please you gotta fight the gender binary you live in the FUTURE you gotta do it you gotta-

BONUS QUESTION 13. How would you react if your friend became a Riser? let them know that I love and support them no matter what their house, that being the way that they are is totally valid, and that anyone who says otherwise will have to answer to my fist in their face. if they’re unbalanced, make sure they have access to any resources they need (possibly including memory recap vlogs, definitely including medication and therapy to help out with any health issues they may develop).

[spaceskam]

inspired by a fic that i cannot find and therefore i feel I hallucinated. also apparently ballsy enough to post this when notifications are in hell 

Summary: Different things that happen within the year after Max died. 

warning: a lot of sad. happy ending though

ao3

Alex left Roswell two days after Max died.

“Please, please don’t leave,” Michael had begged him, “We need you. Maria and Liz–they need you. I need you.”

Alex had grabbed his cheeks and smiled all sad and beautiful. He’d kissed him and it felt like a goodbye. Michael didn’t try to stop the sob that cracked through his chest and left him aching.

“Is it because I kissed Maria? It wasn’t anything, I swear, I was just–”

“Michael,” Alex said softly, but stern. Michael whimpered at the sound of his name, rolling his forehead against Alex’s collarbone. “This is something I have to do to keep you and your family safe. I’m not angry at you.”

“I don’t want to be safe without you,” Michael whispered, crying harder and clutching tighter.

“You don’t mean that.”

“Alex,” Michael whined one last time, “I need you to stay with me. I can’t do this without you.”

“I’ll come home, I promise.”

“When?”

Alex didn’t give him an answer.

Isobel left Roswell one week after Max died.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Michael yelled, glaring with a level of anger he’d never been able to find for Isobel before.

“I need to get out of this hell hole, Michael!” she screamed back, face red with rage.

“Max is fucking dead! You’re just going to leave me to pick up the fucking pieces?! You’re not going to help?!” Michael followed her out to her car, still shouting at her regardless of what sort of scene they might’ve been causing. Fuck this. Absolutely fuck it.

“My husband was an abusive serial killer and my brother is dead! I need to get away from it!” she told him, slamming the door to the backseat.

“Are you gonna come back and help me?! Are you expecting me to just fucking fix shit?!”

“This isn’t about you, Michael!” she spat, shaking her head, “I’ll come back eventually, I need to get away from this!”

“When are you coming back then, huh?! When are you going to help?!”

“I don’t know!”

She drove off without saying goodbye.

Maria separated herself two weeks after Max died.

“Maria, forget about me and everything, Liz needs you right now.”

“And where was she when I needed her?”

Michael gulped and bowed his head. His hands were shaking, desperate to hold onto someone that he still could. Maria couldn’t run away from Roswell like the rest. He thought that meant he had a chance to try. Yet, even she was done.

“She’s sorry about that, we both are,” Michael insisted, “We’re sorry about everything.”

“You all lied to me about everything, Guerin, for decades,” she said. It wasn’t even bitchy, so he couldn’t even find the right words to defend himself. And, when he tried, she didn’t even let him get past opening his mouth. “Withholding the truth is the same as lying when it comes to this.”

“I know,” he sighed, slumping down further, “It’s just, Liz needs someone.”

“And she has you,” Maria said. When he got up the courage to look at her, he tried to look even more pathetic than he felt. He already felt pretty pathetic.

“You really gonna cut us off completely?”

Maria held her head up high.

“I have to do what’s right for me.”

She kept her word.

Kyle… tried.

“I can, uh, bring that heart monitor over when I get off, but I get off at five in the morning,” Kyle said, his voice muffled. There was something horrifically annoying about a man who worked 80 hours a week.

“Nah, it’s whatever,” Michael grumbled, shuffling the grocery bags from one hand to the other as he tried to make sure he had what he needed. He and Liz were pulling an allnighter in the cave again. “It’s not like we’re doing anything important or anything.”

“Hey, I’m trying,” Kyle argued. Which, he was. But trying was hearing from him maybe once a week. “Also, I’m flying out to search shit with Alex on my day off this weekend, I’ll let you know if we find anything.”

“You still talk to Alex?” Michael asked, feeling his heart ache all over again.

“Yeah, dude.”

“Cool, glad the resurrection of my brother is less important than anything else.”

“It wouldn’t be if he wasn’t such a jackass.”

Kyle kept in touch when he could. He helped when he could. It just wasn’t enough.

Liz showed up at the airstream at three AM two months after Max died.

“Mikey?”

Michael opened his eyes and looked up to the crying girl that had come to him in the middle of the night. It wasn’t too out of the ordinary for them to spend nights together, usually falling asleep in bunkers or labs after going 48 hours on nothing but energy drinks. They no longer had anyone to police them, leaving it to just be them two against the world.

Only, tonight was a little different.

Liz hadn’t cried since Max died. He wasn’t sure if it was denial or anger or what, but he’d liked that she was the only one who hadn’t fled. He didn’t like seeing her cry though, so he opened his arms and let her crawl up against him. It only made sense when she told him she was pregnant.

Michael considered breaking down then, considered screaming and cursing a God he didn’t believe in about why the hell they were being thrown another fucking curveball. Why, after everything, was this happening to them? He wanted to let himself break.

However, crying hadn’t made Alex stay. Anger hadn’t made Isobel come home. Guilt-tripping didn’t make Maria stick around. Being passive-aggressive didn’t make Kyle help. None of those would work now.

Instead, he chose to be strong. That seemed like the only option left. Nothing else worked and, at this point, they were all they had. So Michael didn’t cry. He held her close and stroked her hair and promised her that they would figure it out. They had this.

Michael held her as she cried and he held her when she slept. He held her when she profusely apologized for being so dramatic and he held her for a little while longer after that. They didn’t really budge for at least 24 hours. It was the most either of them had slept in months.

“Have you thought about what you want to do?” Michael asked her at some point the following night. It was so dark he couldn’t see her face, but he could feel her breathing against his shoulder.

“I’m weighing my options,” Liz admitted, her voice softer than it had ever been before. “On one hand, this is the actual worst time to have a baby. On the other hand, it… it’s Max’s. It’s what I have of Max. It feels wrong to terminate given the circumstances. And, and I know he’d be so, so angry when he woke up.”

“Yeah, he probably would be,” Micahel agreed. He tried to steer away from politics when it came to Max, but he could assume the way he felt about that.

“But then I remembered it’s my fucking body,” Liz said in a way that sounded a lot more Liz than she had since she came to him the night prior. He smiled.

“Also very true.”

“And then I’m left with the thought that I have no idea what the difference between a human embryo and an alien embryo looks like. What if it’s noticeably different? What if I go to get an abortion and they get freaked out and then I get turned into a science experiment?” Liz rambled quietly. He rubbed her arm and tried not to think about how terrifying that was. It would be scary at any point in time, but it was particularly scary when she was the only thing keeping him alive.

“We could get Kyle to do an ultrasound,” Michael suggested, “See if the difference is. And you’re, what, eight weeks along? You have a little bit of time to decide.”

“Yeah,” Liz sighed, nodding her head, “I just know I can’t give it up for adoption. I can’t put another child who might have powers, might not, into a situation like that.” Michael didn’t say ‘thank you’ but he thought about it.

“Whatever you do decide on, I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Thank you, Mikey.”

Liz decided to go through with it three months after Max died.

Michael watched her like a hawk.

Kyle did what he could to watch her, but it was mostly Michael. His focus pretty quickly shifted from reviving Max to making sure Liz was okay. As she crossed over into her second trimester, things began to get a little more worrisome. While the baby looked like a normal fetus and seemed to be growing like one, it was affecting Liz worse than it should’ve.

Normal pregnancy cravings became something intolerable. She couldn’t ever figure out what she wanted so badly and Michael had it in the back of his head that maybe it was nothing she could find on Earth. For a week or two, she became really attracted to the smell of acetone and Michael almost had a heart attack. The cravings would bother her, distract her, and some days she would sit in the corner of the bunker and just cry her frustrations out. Neither of them got much done on those days.

Even then, that felt like the easy part. She would get dizzy multiple times a day and she would get sick even more than that. While they tried to convince themselves it was normal, there was still the fact that it never seemed to stop. Worst of all, it was paired with pains. Liz had originally compared them to period cramps, but they progressively got more and more vicious with time. Some days she couldn’t get out of bed. At some point, she was unable to get out of bed anymore at all.

Michael moved in with her at that stage of things. They got a tiny one-bedroom apartment and slept in the same bed. She would wake him when she needed him and he never minded. She was what he had left and she was ill. He was going to do what she needed.

Each day, she looked worse. She stopped gaining any weight once she hit her third trimester, rather appearing to almost lose it instead. Her face was pale and she would sweat all day and night, consumed with hot flashes that left her a shaking and sweating mess. She was weak and she was in pain and she was hardly even Liz anymore.

“We need to do something,” Michael said, his voice leaving no room for argument. Kyle was coming by to do his weekly checkup and even he was struggling to hide his worry on how bad she was doing. “This isn’t okay, this is going to kill her.”

When Kyle didn’t deny that, it made things ungodly worse.

“What is making her sick, Kyle? What do we need to do?” Michael demanded, “Is the baby even still alive? Is it, like, infecting her or something?”

“Michael, I don’t know what-”

“Well, you need to know!” he snapped, “Liz needs to survive. You’re going to figure out what is happening and if you can’t, then I’m risking bringing her to an actual fucking doctor.”

He went back into the room to find Liz already asleep, her face almost as white as the sheets. It made him feel sick. He crawled up behind her and pulled her hair away from her neck and face, balling it up at the top of her head. He laid with her and tried his best to will her survival into existence.

At this point in time, he had decided he didn’t need anyone but Liz to survive. She was the only one that wasn’t going to leave and he wasn’t going to leave her. And that meant making sure she was okay.

Kyle returned a few days later and said a C-section was the best option.

Ileana Paloma Rosa Ortecho-Evans was born seven and a half months after Max died.

She was tiny.

Michael didn’t really know how to process just how tiny she was. She was the perfect size to fit in his palms and that’s all that was needed. He felt almost unworthy to hold her. Yet, he was the first one outside of Kyle who was allowed to.

He had looked her over extensively and, somehow, she was fine. He’d explained that usually babies born that early had issues breathing at the least, especially when they were that small, but she seemed to be fine. Because they didn’t want any other doctor or nurse looking at her too hard just in case, he gave Michael the assignment to watch her and alert him if he noticed any issues at all. He took it like it was the most important job in the world. And, honestly, it was.

She fit in the crook of his arm perfectly‒it helped that she wasn’t even the length of his forearm. He moved slowly back into the hospital room where Liz was still sound asleep. Already, she looked better. Color was coming back to her cheeks. Arturto sat beside her.

“I bet she’s excited to go back to work once she heals,” Artutro said. He didn’t ask to see the baby and Michael wondered if it was because he was just so focused on making sure his baby was alright.

“Yeah,” Michael confirmed, “She is.”

“And you’re going to help her?” he asked.

“Absolutely,” Michael said without hesitation, gulping softly as the baby in his arm wrapped her hand around his finger. She held on tight. “I’m not going anywhere, I swear.” He wasn’t like everyone else.

Arturo nodded and kissed the back of Liz’ hand. “Thank you.”

When Liz woke up and got the first glimpse at her daughter, they both smiled for the first time in a long time. She was still weak from her surgery, but she managed to sit up a little and he sat beside her as she held her baby. It looked right.

“She’s so little,” Liz gushed, sniffling as tears brimmed her eyes. It didn’t even phase Michael anymore. He’d seen her cry so many times now that it was almost just apart of things.

“I know,” Michael said, smiling over her shoulder at Iliana. Her head was a little big and her eyes were even bigger and her skin wasn’t exactly a pleasing color, but, fuck, she was theirs. He couldn’t call her cute, but it took no time to fall in love with her.

Liz leaned into him and relaxed, breathing slow and steady. They both just stared at her for awhile. She was hard not to look at. All Liz’s suffering had ended in a person. It seemed unreal. Well, then again, everything in the last few months had seemed unreal.

“I wish Max was here,” Liz whispered to him a little bit later. Michael chewed on his lip.

“I know,” he said. What he didn’t say was ‘I do too’ or ‘I wish Alex was here’ or ‘I wonder if Isobel would want to meet her niece’ or ‘do you think Maria knows you had a baby?’ because none of those felt like comforting statements. They weren’t comforting statements. They were the ones he thought about non-stop though.

His body ached for the people he’d lost, but he hoped one day he wouldn’t care anymore.

Days passed, though, and things just went back to the way they were. Well, not really. They had a baby now. Iliana slept in a bassinet less than a foot away from Liz’s side of the bed, perfect reaching distance for her even on the nights that Michael was on baby duty.

Occasionally, Michael would lay in bed and wonder if he was doing the right thing. That dark little voice in his head said that he was too happy on some days and that he had forgotten about Max and that he had merely stepped into his shoes. However, then he’d look over to Liz’s determined face and he’d feel like he was going to be alright. Liz was his lifeline.

And, with time, Liz got back to her old self. She was walking around and holding conversations and outsmarting him. It felt like she’d finally come home and he couldn’t have been more thankful. Kyle slowly began to withdraw again once he was no longer needed, but it was alright. They had each other and a baby to focus on.

They were too busy with working and adjusting to parenthood that they couldn’t focus on reviving Max, but, somehow, they were remembering how to be happy.

“Ay dios mio, Mikey, look at that face, she is mean-mugging you,” Liz said as she held the month old baby while Michael shook up her bottle. He laughed at the little glare on her face that seemed to resemble the Ortecho sisters more and more each day, pressing a kiss to her head before handing Liz the bottle.

“You’re going back to work tomorrow,” he pointed out, watching her features morph into a broad smile, “You excited?”

“Listen, I love this, I love her, and I love spending all my time with you,” Liz promised, following it up with a sigh, “But I am so ready. Even if it is just imaging at the hospital, I’m here for it. I need something to do. Also I’m tired of living off a mechanics salary, no offense.”

Michael snorted, “None taken.”

“And you,” Liz prodded, kicking him lightly, “How are you?”

“I’m good.”

“Are you?” she asked, eyeing him, “Have you talked to Alex or Isobel recently?” Liz knew everything, every last detail about basically everything that had ever happened. She knew how he felt about Alex and she knew how badly he missed Isobel. However, she also told him he shouldn’t have taken a step away from Alex whenever he felt like he was crashing. She’d told him that was what scared her about her feelings for Max, but it turns out all she needed to do was to give in.

And Michael really was ready to give in.

“Nah, but it’s okay, they made their choice,” Michael said, brushing it off. He wasn’t angry at Alex‒Alex had left for a good cause and his lack of keeping in touch made sense. He was, however, unimaginably pissed at Isobel for dropping off the face of the earth.

“Okay,” Liz said, “You know you can vent to me if you need to.”

“I know, Lizzie.”

She smiled and scrunched up her nose adorably at him.

They went to bed shockingly early that night. Iliana went down at 8 and they were dead asleep before the clock hit 8:30. Michael had taken off the following day so that Liz could enjoy her first day at work without stressing which meant he was also on baby duty, so it meant he couldn’t bring himself to regret going to bed so early.

However, he still had to be kicked awake when Iliana woke up a few minutes shy of midnight.

“Mikey,” Liz groaned, kicking him not too unlike a child, “Your turn.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he breathed, dragging himself out of bed and going to pick up Iliana and take her into the living room to get her a bottle.

He shushed her softly as he held her to his bare chest with one hand, rubbing his eye with the other one. He flicked the lightswitch on and that seemed to assure her even more that she was going to be fed and she slowly quieted down more. He used his telekinesis to make her bottle which Liz had been vocally jealous of even if he used it to help her all the time.

“You know, you’re really lucky you have Uncle Mikey instead of your daddy on nights like this,” Michael said between a yawn, “‘Cause he used to lose it when I woke him up. Now, he’d probably be a whole lot nicer to you, but I’m just saying.”

He’d barely finished making her bottle whenever there was a knock on the door.

He furrowed his eyebrows and looked at the clock, seeing it glaring a bright green 12:04 on it. There was actually no reason for anyone to be at their door this last. Michael did his best to keep his heartbeat still as he walked towards the door and looked through the peephole.

Alex returned to Roswell nine months after Max died.

Michael felt like he was hallucinating.

He opened the door carefully, regulating his breathing and trying not to jump to conclusions about what exactly was happening. Still, when the door was open, it was really Alex. His hair was longer and he was dressed in a way that screamed Alex. He had a nose ring again‒this time it was a stud on the side rather than septum, but still. He looked phenomenal. It took everything in him not to attack him in kisses.

“Hi,” Michael said softly. It took him a few seconds to realize that Alex’s eyes were trained on the baby he was feeding and then it took a couple seconds more to put together that he was probably jumping to conclusions. He left Michael when he was a mess and he returned to see him shirtless with a baby.

“Should I g‒”

“She’s Liz’s,” Micahel clarified. Alex’s eyes got impossibly wide.

“You and Liz‒”

“No! No,” he laughed, his hands shaking enough to get milk on Iliana’s cheek, “Max.”

Alex’s eyes formed sad realization and nodded. Then they just stared at each other for a minute. This didn’t feel real. Michael had been adjusting to a life with no one except for Liz and Iliana and it was weird to welcome someone home. But, god, it felt good to see Alex.

“Come in,” Michael said after a moment. Alex smiled and walked in, looking around.

“When Kyle said you got an apartment, I was impressed,” Alex said, “But now that I see you’re just staying with Liz it makes more sense.”

“Well, we live together, like, permanently,” Michael explained, sitting on the couch and adjusting the bottle in Iliana’s mouth.

“Oh?” Alex asked, sitting on the other side. Michael nodded and then gestured towards the baby. “Is she showing any signs of getting alien abilities or anything?”

“Not yet,” Michael said, eyes drifting off of Alex and down to the baby in his arms. She was still so small. “But Liz had a really horrible pregnancy and I think it was because she’s not completely human. I was reading, like, a ton of research on pregnancies and stuff and I think that her body was registering the baby as, like, a parasite and was sending antibodies to try and kill it which, then, made Liz extremely sick. We don’t know for sure or anything, but that’s the only thing that makes sense.”

“Fuck, that’s horrible,” Alex said, “She’s okay now though, right?”

“Yeah,” Michael confirmed, looking up to him with a smile, “She’s asleep though. She goes back to work tomorrow, though. Hope everyone’s ready for Iliana spending a whole lot more time with Papi Arturo.”

“Oh, I didn’t even think about that, how did he take everything with Max?” Alex asked, voice hushed. Everyone in Roswell was under the assumption that Max had just up and left. Arturo wasn’t any different.

“Fine, not like Liz really gave him an option to feel any other way. She basically just went up to him and was like ‘I’m pregnant and I’m keeping it and that’s all I have to say on the matter’. He hasn’t mentioned Max.”

“Man, it’s gonna real suck for him if you guys bring him back,” Alex laughed.

Things fell silent again as they just stared. It only broke when Michael propped Iliana on his shoulder to burp her and Alex seemed to remember he had other stuff to talk about. There was a million things to talk about. Michael didn’t even know where to start.

“So, uh, how is everyone? Isobel, Maria, Kyle, I guess,” Alex laughed. Michael couldn’t even manage a smile.

“I don’t know,” he answered honestly, “Isobel left not long after you and hasn’t kept in touch, Maria cut everyone off, and Kyle is just off being Kyle, I guess. It’s basically just been me and Liz.”

Alex frowned, “I didn’t know that.”

“You missed a lot,” Michael said softly.

“I missed you,” Alex blurted out and Michael couldn’t take his eyes away, “Seriously, I missed you so much it hurt. I didn’t know I could ever miss you as much as I did when I was at literal war, but, fuck, I did. If you weren’t holding a baby right now, I would probably kiss you until I couldn’t breathe.” Michael smiled wildly, his cheeks heating up and his heart thudding. It was the best thing he’d ever fucking heard. “Sorry if that was too straight forward, but I’m so tired of wasting time. I miss you.”

“I missed you too,” Michael agreed, suddenly extremely eager to go put Iliana back to bed and make Liz take over, “But you probably shouldn’t make me want to put the baby down. She doesn’t really accept not being held until she’s asleep.”

Alex chuckled, “You guys don’t just let her cry?”

“Fuck no,” Michael said, “I don’t want her to ever think we’re not there.” Alex nodded with the same big smile.

“What’s her name?” he asked, leaning closer to get a look at her, “God, she looks like Liz.” Michael could smell his cologne.

“Iliana,” he answered, nodding his agreement.

“That’s really pretty.”

“I know.”

“Can I hold you?” Alex asked her in a baby voice that Michael had never heard. It struck him to his core and he suddenly felt lightheaded. Michael slowly passed her into his arms.

Alex looked good with a baby. It was annoyingly attractive and Michael wondered if he even would’ve noticed that before Iliana was born. He didn’t remember ever finding someone’s maternal or paternal skills inherently attractive before, but seeing Alex rock her to sleep felt like the sexiest thing that had ever happened.

“Have you guys been working on bringing Max back?” he asked. Michael felt that attraction immediately bleed into guilt.

“Not recently. We’ve been just so focused on her.”

“That makes sense.”

Once she was asleep, Michael promised Alex that he’d be right back out. He placed Iliana on his side of the bed and created a pillow wall around her. He spared a look at Liz too and saw her out like a light. He wondered if she would be happy to see Alex in the morning. He hoped so.

When Michael came back out of the room, he found Alex only a few steps away. He looked serious and his face was illuminated by the bright kitchen lights. Michael hesitantly stepped closer.

“Are you home for good?” he asked. Alex touched him first, grabbing his arms and pulling him in close.

“Yes,” he said, “I’m home for good and I want us to work. I’ve missed you so fucking much, Michael. You don’t know.”

“We need to talk.”

“We will.”

Alex closed the space completely, kissing him like he was coming up for air. Michael kissed him back just as feverently, leading him back to the couch. He was reminded that, while he could survive with only Liz, he was never really living until he had Alex.

Maria listened to them ten months after Max died.

Liz and Michael had both gone to her bar before they opened and decided no wasn’t an answer. Except it made it a lot easier whenever Maria smile at the sight of them.

“Long time no see,” she mused. They both look at each other like they were waiting for the catch. “Look, I can’t hold a grudge that long. Well, I can, but it’s not healthy. I was just waiting for you guys to come see me. I gotta admit, I’m a little annoyed it’s taken so long but I’m glad to see you.”

“I know it’s not really an excuse, but I had a baby and I really lost track of time,” Liz said. Maria’s whole face transformed and she was on the other side of the bar in an instant.

“What? Oh my god, I didn’t know,” she gushed, hugging Liz. Liz folded into her the way Michael had seen her do with Alex a month prior. He always seemed to forget that they were basically inseparable at one point.

“Before you guys delve into the Iliana talk, I wanted to apologize,” Michael said. Maria looked over Liz’s head at him, still not letting go. “I should’ve been completely honest with you and I also should’ve told you what was going on with Liz. I couldn’t do anything about everyone else separating from us, but I could’ve reached out to you. I fucked up multiple times and I’m sorry.”

Maria breathed slow and steady and smiled. “You’re forgiven.”

“That easy?”

“Well, you both are going to have to pull, like, a lot of the friendship weight for a little bit just so I know you’re serious, but I think we’ll be able to get back to good.” Maria assured. Michael closed his eyes in relief.

And he smiled.

Isobel came back to Roswell eleven months after Max died.

“Hi.”

Michael just stared at her. He had never felt so much negativity towards Isobel in his life. Unlike with Alex and Maria, he didn’t feel that urge to hug her and ignore the problem. Because she was the problem. Michael had always gone out of his way to be there for her and, when they needed her, she was gone. He knew she had her own things to deal with, but she should’ve come to him. They could’ve healed together. Instead she was a new level of selfish.

“How did you get my address?” Michael asked. Isobel flinched at his tone.

“Michael, I‒” She paused for a moment and then sighed. “I got it from Alex.”

Michael turned up his nose. He was going to have to talk to Alex about that. It’d been two months of being back together and they were doing good, but clearly he didn’t know when to keep his address a secret.

“What do you want?”

“To apologize,” she said, “I shouldn’t have left.”

“Damn right you shouldn’t have left,” he spat, “We needed you.”

“I know and I’m sorry! I just… I needed to escape,” she said. Michael scoffed, shaking his head. Like clockwork, Iliana started crying and left Michael having to deal with his sister wondering why there was a baby crying.

“None of your business,” he said, closing the door a little bit so she couldn’t investigate, “You didn’t want anything to do with me or anyone else, so it’s none of your business.”

“Michael, I told you I was going to come back, I just needed some time,” Isobel sighed, “You don’t know what I was going through.”

“Yeah, and you didn’t even give me a chance to try. I have always been there for you, Isobel, and you just treated me like shit. I didn’t deserve that from you,” Michael said erestly, shifting from foot to foot as he tried to tune out Iliana’s crying. He hated that sound. He just wanted to hold her all the time so she never cried. But he also didn’t want to give Isobel the gift of seeing her.

“No, you didn’t and I’m sorry. I will be paying that price for the rest of my life,” she said sternly. He almost believed her. “Why is there a baby crying? Did you get Maria pregnant?”

“None of your business.”

“Michael, please. Will you just give me a chance to make it up to you?” she begged. He huffed a laugh.

“Yeah, I might’ve if you would’ve come home after a couple of days. You’ve been gone almost an entire year. Fuck that. I don’t need this.”

“Michael! Listen to me,” Isobel said, tears in her eyes as she put her hand on the door. For a moment, she looked like his sister and not the girl who abandoned him. “I think I know how to bring Max back.”

He froze.

“I have spent the last year trying to get stronger and I have. I think I know how we can do this,” she said and his stomach turned. He wanted to turn her away, to tell her no, to say he didn’t need her help.

But the fact of the matter was there was a baby in the next room who might have a chance to know her father if Isobel was being honest.

“I’m listening.”

The next month was full of trying to work with Isobel and not scream about how angry he was. Alex helped. Every time he felt like he was going to explode, he would soothe him. Liz was the best at it though. She also wasn’t too happy with Isobel, but she had mastered the art of being completely passive aggressive and bitchy while also accepting help. It was fun to watch.

However, Isobel really did have a point. She had honed her powers in a way that even Michael hadn’t. She could do all sorts of stuff and she didn’t struggle too much. She helped Michael got to the point he could heal. And, one day, he actually hugged her goodbye.

“Are you gonna forgive her?” Liz asked as they climbed into bed that night. Michael sighed and shrugged.

“I don’t know,” he admitted honestly, “It feels like she’s really trying and it seems like she put her time away to good use, I just… There’s no reason why she couldn’t keep in touch.”

“I know, Mikey,” Liz said, patting his chest, “I support whatever decision you make.”

Michael stared at the ceiling for a long while, weighing all of the options that he had. It’d been one hell of a year and he was eager for a break, but it still seemed like there was major fuckery in the future. It didn’t seem like anything would ever end.

“Liz?” he asked in the darkness. He didn’t really expect an answer, but he got one anyway.

“Yeah?”

“If we do figure out how to bring Max back, what does that mean for us?” It wasn’t a secret that, if they were successful, there was no way they’d be able to continue on like they had been. They’d shared a bed for seven months now. Even now that Alex was home, Michael spent at least six nights a week in bed with Liz and Iliana. That wasn’t an option once Max was home. None of this was an option once Max came home.

That made him feel empty.

“I don’t know,” Liz replied honestly, scooting a little closer. She put her head on his arm and he just pulled her in all the way.

“I know she’s not my baby,” Michael whispered, “But I don’t want to go back to not taking care of her everyday. I don’t want to go back to not seeing you every day.”

Liz was quiet for a moment, her long eyelashes brushing against his shoulder each time she blinked.

“Maybe we can get like a three bedroom house,” Liz suggested softly, “One for me and Max, one for Illy, one for you and Alex. That could work, right?”

Michael huffed at the idea. “It’d have to be a big house to get either of them to agree.”

“True, but four paychecks‒we could do it.”

Michael sighed and nodded. He hoped they could do it.

And that hope extended to something greater whenever they stepped into the cave during the thunderstorm. Both Michael and Isobel were vibrating with a power-strengthening serum Liz had managed to concoct and they were about to try their hardest to get shit back to normal. Or, at least, normal for Roswell.

Alex kissed him good luck and Isobel gave a reassuring look. He decided he would give it a shot, even if they failed. He looked up to Liz last and saw her give him the biggest smile in the world. She believed in him. If no one else did, she did.

That seemed like the most important thing he’d ever had.

A year after Max Evans died, he took his first breath of life again.

[sithroyal]

Kylo and Relationships

this headcanon was prompted by rpcDev’s challenge. word count: 2,926 (not including prompt questions/topics).

Level one

Handling relationships

     Kylo / Ben keeps most relationships at arm’s length. 

While working with the First Order, he is focused on his work and therefore isn’t terribly interested in becoming romantic with someone. In this case, it tends to be a ‘if it happens, it happens’ situation. He has a habit of tunnel visioning on his goals and often forgetting or overlooking a romantic partner around this time.

As Ben, he tends to keep most people away to protect them from him and his reputation. Ben is well aware that his past is turbulent and has led to him being unstable (both mentally and financially). He doesn’t wish that kind of instability on someone else. This doesn’t mean that he won’t be friends with another person but romantic relationships will be sparse and far between.

Reminder: He’s aware of what he’s done as Kylo Ren and he knows that he chose to do those things. Post-TROS Ben Solo is not deluded into thinking that he’s well loved simply because he finally went back to the light. 

Strongest familial relationship? Closest non-familial platonic relationship?

     Strongest family relationship is most definitely Han. As a child, Ben wasn’t able to sleep well until he was at least two years old and the only person who could get him to sleep was Han. He looked up to his father and wanted to be like him when he grew up. If anyone asked a young Ben Solo where he saw himself as an adult, he would have said that he’d have been a crew member on the Millennium Falcon. 

Non-familial would have to be Hux, oddly enough. Ren respects that Hux has no reason to lie to him about anything. Hux has no problem telling him when he’s done something fucking stupid and he’s not going to blow smoke up his ass just to do it. He’s well aware that Hux has a strong dislike for him and he prefers it. 

Tied with Hux is Rey. Someone who didn’t even know him, someone he tormented and hunted down like prey, did what she could to bring him back when he didn’t deserve her efforts. Even with the force bond, that’s left a hell of an impact on Ben. 

How do these bonds (or lack thereof) influence them? Do these relationships impact them negatively, or positively, in terms of forming or considering romantic relationships? 

     It’s a mixed bag. In many of his relationships, there’s been an element of betrayal, either to him or by himself. Broken trust can do a lot of things to mess a person up. A nice way to visualize it is that Ben’s trust is like a mirror that’s been hit multiple times, broken, and he’s tried to piece it back together but there are lost shards. 

There’s the chance that he’s never going to fully trust someone to the amount that they’ll want him to. This doesn’t mean that he won’t try though. Of course, that’s not counting Snoke’s influence and his struggles with the dark side. Ben’s responsible for his father’s death and the death of many countless others. 

Are they the type to dive in head first, or do they test the waters & take things slow?

     Slow. For the love of everything that’s holy, go slow with him. Ben has never had a romantic relationship before. He’s going to make mistakes and misunderstand how to do things. Not only that, but he has a lot of fucking trauma to deal with. 

Once again, just because he went back to the light doesn’t mean that he’s automatically perfect. Ben’s going to struggle like any other person when it comes to a new relationship. He’s been under Snoke’s thumb for around six years and there was pre-existing instability before that. Anxiety, depression, and for a short while, he believed he was hearing voices. There’s a lot of unhealthy thinking that’s going to need to be dealt with before he’ll be able to fully commit to a romantic relationship. 

This isn’t to say that one can’t happen but go slow with him. 

Level Two

What are some things that help them 'make the jump' from something platonic to considering something deeper with someone?  

     Being understanding and patient with him helps a fucking lot and he likes to make sure that his partner is taken care of, as Kylo or Ben. 

For Kylo, it’s knowing that he may never be a part of the light and understanding if he chooses to stay. Treating him the way that he feels he deserves is one of the biggest things. He hates himself as Kylo Ren but he also feels that he’s the superior version of himself. So if someone genuinely likes him while he’s Kylo Ren / in the First Order, that’s going to get his attention 100% and he’ll want something more eventually. 

For Ben, it’s going to be someone giving him the chance to learn who he is and how to handle being a normal person again. Someone that’s going to take a chance on him. He knows that he’s done horrific, scummy, abusive, terrible shit in his past, he’s never going to deny it, but if they let him grow and change naturally, that’s important. 

However, they have to also understand that just because they love him, doesn’t mean that he’s going to automatically be a good person. Ben is going to struggle for the rest of his life when it comes to the darker aspects of himself. He’s spent so long in the dark that his eyes need the chance to adjust. Yanking him out into the world and immediately having expectations is not going to help and it will make him back away and close himself off.

What kind of traits do they look for or find attractive? 

     Physical traits don’t matter much to him at all. He’d not going to pick someone based on their looks because that simply doesn’t interest him. What he looks for is in their heart and how they carry themselves. 

For both Kylo and Ben, it’s important to know that they’re driven, determined, and passionate. He wants someone that’s going to inspire him, whether to be lighter or darker doesn’t matter. Their heart, soul, and presence is part of what will get his attention before their looks. 

So don’t come at him thinking that an attractive muse is going to be bedding him any time soon.

Conversely, what kind of things disqualifies a person or throw up major red flags?

     Heavy sexual forwardness. Exhibiting behavior that he used to have while as Kylo Ren or that similar to Snoke. Talking down about others in front of him. Saying anything negative about his parents or anyone in his family (Ben Solo specific). Talking about marriage or having children with him, especially when he barely knows the person.

Is there something that kept them from being in a relationship until they found that special someone? If so, what makes them that someone distinctly unique?

     Well, given that he’s had two Sith Lords manipulating him from a young age, the First Order taking up much of his time, and having to work on becoming a more stable version of himself, Ben’s had a pretty difficult time. So he’s likely never actually looked for anyone in his life.

He doesn’t know if anyone’s ever going to be the one for him or if he’s ever going to truly deserve them (spoiler alert, he’s never going to believe he’s worthy). At this point in his life, he’s going to take whatever he can get and hope that he can be a better version of himself by the time he’s forty (or the worst, if we’re talking Kylo).

Level Three

What gestures imply trust, once that trust has been established? 

     If he falls asleep around them or in the same bed, he trusts them. Talking about his emotions, thoughts, and feelings are another. He’ll give his opinions far more often and take a high amount of interest in the other person’s personal safety. 

The highest level can be seen through whether or not he’s willing to be naked in general around them. If he’s willing to be that vulnerable, then they’ve reached peak trust with him.

What is their love language, & how does this manifest in their relationships? Specific examples are a plus. 

     Doing things. He prefers to do stuff for people. Whether it’s as simple as making food or cleaning something up and going so far as to beat someone half to death for them.

Protecting someone and willingly putting himself between them and an enemy speaks to a lot of love and trust for that person. 

It’s rare that he’ll ever do this in front of another but if he’s willing to cry in front of them, that’s huge. Making fun of him for showing more vulnerable emotions is a sure way for him to cut someone off entirely. That trust will be broken instantly.

Do they like pet names? Do they use pet names?

     Absolutely not. Calling him a pet name will not have the desired affect. While it may seem cutesy or even endearing, hearing them will do nothing more than put him on edge. The only person that ever gave him pet names was his mother and he reserves that right to her only until he trusts the person. 

As for using them, it’s limited. If he does, it’s once in a blue moon. As Kylo, good luck getting him to use them because that’s most likely not happening at all. As Ben, rarely. 

However, as he gets more comfortable, there’s a good chance he’ll start allowing pet names toward himself. At the same time, it also depends on what the pet name is and whether or not he’ll reject it. 

Level Four

What are some negative traits or coping mechanisms they deal with? 

     There’s a mountain of trust issues, anxiety, depression, paranoia, and many more things that’s going on for him. 

As Kylo, he copes through anger and, in many cases, he allows it to control him. He’s highly emotionally driven to the point that his decisions typically don’t make sense. Everything in him is pure chaos. He says things that are callous and cold, usually incredibly hurtful whether they’re intended or not and apologizing for it almost never happens. Many computers and other electronic equipment on the Finalizer have been victimized due to his violent outbursts, this isn’t including force choked employees. 

As Ben, he has a tendency to go for more addictive things. Since Han was the person who gave him his first drink, Ben does use alcohol to comfort himself to a degree. However, he does take notice of it and he tries to stop himself when he realizes it’s becoming a bad habit. Something bad happens? Time to drink. Fucked up and hurt someone? Time to drink. He has to stop that. 

He can’t just pick up a lightsaber and destroy a computer terminal anymore, he has to figure out how to function like a normal fucking human. To that end, he typically tries to rely on meditation techniques that Luke taught him. Getting his emotions out and handled in healthier ways is... difficult. He’s spent so long allowing them to take control for him that finding other solutions feels impossible - until it isn’t. 

How have their past experiences in relationships, or lack thereof, influenced this?

     He felt abandoned by his parents when he was sent to train with his uncle and then, he felt like his uncle had forgotten him when he picked up more padawans. Limited communication with his parents and strict training via Luke left him feeling restricted and burnt out - meaning he was more vulnerable to Snoke and Palpatine’s influence. 

Of course, not everything can be blamed on his family because he did choose to keep the communications with the dark side to himself. Had he spoken to Luke about it, there could have been something done to help him but it was put off until Luke had his vision. When Ben woke up to find Luke standing over him with an ignited saber, he felt threatened and panicked, brought his hut down on Luke and left. 

When he did, he killed many of the other Jedi either directly or indirectly. He burned the temple and ran to join Snoke.

So, taking all of that in mind, his past experiences have certainly put him in some strange areas. Mainly in the way that he’s making choices, terrible ones at that, but he’s also getting influenced into it by others. 

What type of person they are after a relationship ends? Do they stay friends, are they vengeful, are they the type of person that is happy for their ex when they move on or do they want to see their former lovers rot?

     This highly depends on how much he loved the person. If he wasn’t particularly close to them, Ben can part ways and be friendly afterward. If he was highly emotionally invested in them and they break up, he can’t just be friends because he’s still in love with them. Doesn’t matter who ends the relationship.

Kylo is vengeful. He’ll do whatever he feels is necessary to correct the perceived wrong. This includes trying to get the person fired or even killed on the battlefield. He may still love them but it’ll be hard for him to stop that need to hurt them as he’s hurting. 

Ben is much more reasonable when it comes to break ups. He’ll be civil, even so far as being friends, but he won’t be able to allow himself to consider it as anything but his own fault. Ben’ll be happy to see them move on, sure. This doesn’t mean that he’s not still a little bitter but who wants to deal with a guy with years worth of emotional baggage (more like whole storage facilities full of boxes he doesn’t want to unpack yet)?

Level Five

How do they communicate? 

     It’s a little bit of a crap shoot here. 

Kylo doesn’t quite communicate. He expects his partner to just know what it is he’s going on about or feeling. More than half the time, he’s incredibly tense without letting on that work or sith things are bothering him. It’s obvious but he won’t talk about it, he doesn’t want to. As far as he’s concerned, there’s no reason to talk about it. 

Of course this leads into other issues. Since he’s unable to be open with his person, it can create a lot of tension between them and open up avenues for more issues. He’s definitely not the dream guy.

Ben tries. He tries so fucking hard to communicate but he also has no idea what he’s feeling half the time so that’s a challenge in itself. He does better when it comes to text though. Ben can be in the same room with his S/O and be texting them about his anxiety, depression, what have you and get it across far better than if he were speaking. 

Sometimes thoughts and feelings are easier to convey through text so no one he’s involved with should be surprised that this is happening. He tends to ramble and over explain too. But his communication skills will get better as he gets older and gains more experience in the matter. 

Are they more the type to have open, honest, constructive communication, do they only communicate through fights, do they communicate through sex? 

     Kylo communicates through fights. He waits until things have absolutely blown completely out of proportion and suddenly there’s four molehills turned into a mountain range and no one knows exactly what’s going on. They just know that he’s mad, his S/O is mad, and whoever else in the vicinity is mad too. 

But, even if he’s angry and frothing at the mouth, he’s still being as honest as he can be, even if it’s vicious. If he’s had even one thought that week that was negative, it’s going to come out. If he’s thought about strangling one or both of them or running his saber through his S/O, he’s saying it. The whole argument is a fucking event. 

As Ben, he’ll try to address things as they happen so it doesn’t turn out like that but he does still have a tendency to hoard smaller issues. He tries to brush them off as though they don’t bother him but they’ll come up later on in an argument about something else. It may not be the same type of blow out but there’s a smaller scale. He’s not actively trying to hurt anyone and he’s willing to express that. It doesn’t make it healthy though. 

Level Six

What do they think of marriage? is it a goal to be worked toward, or something they shy away from? If they’re for it, have they spend significant time thinking about it? If they’re against it, are they open to alternatives or is long term commitment something they typically prefer to avoid?

     Marriage isn’t something that Kylo / Ben strives for. It’s something that he’s never bothered to think about more than a few seconds because it requires a lot more commitment than he believes is worth it. He’s aware that many marriages work well and some go off without any issues! However, he doesn’t think that he’s the type to enjoy it. 

Over all, he sees marriage as a ‘happy ending.’ After everything that he’s done to the galaxy, he doesn’t believe that he deserves one. Why should he have the right to be happy when so many others aren’t or can’t be? So he leaves that laying in the ground and tries to forget it. Why should he even bother getting any form of government involved if he decides to be with someone anyway? 

Even in that, he does see that his parents’ marriage failed. Ben blames himself for that and thinks that if he’d been able to keep from going to Snoke, his parents would have been fine. At the same time, he doesn’t know what else led to their decision on ending their marriage, for all he knows he could have been the final straw.

He also believes that marriage means that there’s a near mandatory need for children. Ben doesn’t have this urge. This doesn’t mean that he won’t be kind or gentle to children (Kylo’s another story) but he doesn’t think that having his own is for him. What kid would want to grow up and then learn their father was Kylo Ren, their great grandfather was Darth Vader, and the only Jedi in the family (aside from Leia) died because of their father. It’s not the kind of track record any future children need to deal with, in his opinion. He saw how it messed him up and he can’t imagine how it would hurt them. 

All in the same breath, he’s well aware that there’s the good as well. His mother was a Senator, princess, and acted in two rebellions. His father was a famous smuggler and a damn good pilot. His uncle a Jedi. His grandmother a queen and senator. But would any child ever deserve him as their father? Nope, at least not in his eyes. 

Ben is heavily reserved on marriage, to the point that he doesn’t know if he’d even entertain the topic as a piece of conversation.

[jamandtheanagrams]

Halloween Hijinks

Companion piece to part one of @jemandthesingalongs ‘s Stingers fic! (link: https://allinthestyle.tumblr.com/post/188735887086/lovesick-for-you-part-1 )

Characters:  Minx, Rapture, guest Holograms (+friend)

Word Count:  2,077

Rating:  G

Summary:  While Riot attends a charity event with Jem, Minx and Rapture find their own way to stay entertained.

________________________________________________________________

As the Stingers reached the venue for the “Ghouls Night Out” fundraiser, Rapture dropped back a few steps behind Riot and held out an arm, motioning for Minx to halt.  Riot continued through the doors, unaware that his entourage was no longer by his side.

Now that they were alone, Minx could finally express her displeasure.  “Rapture, how could you?” she moaned.  “We watched Jem perform just last night.  I cannot hear ‘It’s Fun to be Scared’ two days in a row.  I think I’ll scream.”

Rapture waved her hand dismissively.  “Jem isn’t here, I only said that to get Riot to come.  We’re here for a different reason.”  Her eyes glittered with barely-contained malice - a look that was only amplified by her horrific makeup.  “Come on.”

Despite herself, her curiosity was aroused. Minx followed Rapture through the doors.  Rapture impatiently shoved forty dollars at the miserable looking fellow collecting admissions while wearing an unfortunate bat costume.  The poor fellow glanced up and made eye contact with Rapture, almost immediately averting his gaze upon seeing her costume.  “Thank you, have a bat-tastic evening,” he droned, thrusting a printed map of the night’s attractions towards Minx.

“Thanks!” Rapture chirped, snatching the map instead.

“You could at least wear your mask,” Minx pointed out as they walked further into the building.

“Where’s the fun in that?”

________________________________________________________________

Minx knew from the way the corner of Rapture’s lips quirked upwards (she could still tell, even with that horrible prosthetic makeup she was wearing) that she had something in mind. An actual reason to be at this horrible fundraiser. 

Normally, she wouldn’t mind.  She was more than willing to play along with her girlfriend’s schemes if it made her happy.  But tonight, she was bored, there was nothing here that interested her in the least, and Rapture was being infuriatingly mysterious. She told herself she wasn’t going to ask, wasn’t going to give Rapture the satisfaction.  

But, as Rapture led them past the apple bobbing tub, past the fortune-teller and the refreshments, even past the stage (she swore she saw one of those dreadful Holograms setting up, she never bothered to remember their names), past everything that even remotely resembled anything Rapture would want to do, she finally heaved a sigh.

“Why are we here?”

Rapture waved her arms in a way she probably thought made her look spooky and mysterious.  Minx thought it looked silly.  “As you know, I consulted with the spirits on the ride here--”  Minx rolled her eyes.  She’d watched Rapture chant something that had sounded suspiciously like movie quotes over an unlit tapered candlestick she’d swiped from god-knows-where.   

“Get to the point.”

“Look!”  Rapture whipped the flyer out of her pocket, unfolding it and stabbing her finger on something near the bottom.  Minx leaned in to see what she was going on about, and immediately groaned.

“Oh no--” “Oh, yes.  Maeve is here.  Headlining tonight’s performance.”

Minx knew it was pointless trying to argue with Rapture when she was in one of her moods, especially when Astral was involved.  It was much easier to settle back and enjoy the ride.  At least now the night was going to be interesting after all.  “What’s the plan?”

“Well Minxy, I’m so glad you asked…”

________________________________________________________________

Something was wrong.  Astral could sense it.  It wasn’t anything to do with the event.  The fundraiser was going perfectly, from what she could tell.  It was more… intuition.  Something had changed.

“What’s wrong?” Kimber asked.  “Why’d you stop? You can’t pick the lock after all?” The flower in her hair was dangerously close to falling out.

“I still don’t see why you wanted to try this trick again,”  Raya sighed, trying her best to hold still  for Astral.  “As funny as I think it is to be handcuffed in these costumes, it’s a little much, don’t you think?  Sorry.”  She moved her toy saxophone out of Astral’s way. 

“I really thought I had it this time!”  Kimber wailed, shaking their shared handcuffs for emphasis. Her hair flower finally drifted to the ground.

Whatever was going on, it would have to wait.  “Please hold still, Kimber.”  Astral leaned back over the cuffs, deftly working on the lock.  “How did you come up with your costumes, anyway?”

Kimber’s face lit up.  “Well, we were all arguing over what we wanted Shana to make for us when Raya pointed out that we didn’t have to fight, we could just go as the scariest things we knew -- the Misfits!  So then I asked Stormer if she could help us figure out what to wear, and she found us some outfits the others only wore once, so they wouldn’t realize they were missing right away.  Poor Shana got stuck being Pizzazz.”  She beamed at Astral as the handcuffs fell away with a clatter.

“And Jem?”  Astral had noticed earlier that Jem’s costume hadn’t matched the rest of the Holograms.

Raya and Kimber shared a look.  “Jem already had her outfit planned,” Raya said carefully.  

Astral narrowed her eyes, but didn’t press the subject.  She had other things to worry about - that sense of wrongness was only increasing, for starters.  “Have you seen Jerrica?”

Raya and Kimber shared another look.  “I’ll go find her and let her know you’re looking for her!” Kimber offered quickly -- a little too quickly, Astral thought.

“Don’t bother,” Astral sighed.  “I’ll find her myself.  Thanks, though.  See you both at the concert.”

“See you!” Kimber chirped brightly, before grabbing Raya’s hand and rushing off.

Shaking her head, Astral began her search for Jerrica.

________________________________________________________________

As she walked, the sense of wrong-ness only grew.  The background chatter had dimmed somewhat, and Astral swore she saw fewer people around the main attractions.  It concerned her a little.  Were people leaving before the Holograms concert?  She had a hard time believing that would be the case, considering they were the main draw for this fundraiser.  They’d even had folks from out of state donate entrance fee costs without being unable to attend, just because they heard Jem was raising money for a good cause and they wanted to help out.

“Astral, there you are!  Kimber said you were looking for me.”  Jerrica looked a little flushed, as if she’d hurried on her way over.  

Astral glanced over her costume and snorted.  “Clash, really?”

“It was Kimber’s idea,” Jerrica sighed, adjusting her wig to keep it from sliding off of her head.  “I wasn’t going to dress up, but she already got the outfit from Stormer and everyone else had picked out their costumes while I was in the office…”

“Hang on, Jerrica.”  In front of them, hastily taped to the wall, was a poster advertising “Frau Verzückung’s Palm Readings - Only $10!”.  “When did we hire a palm reader?”

Jerrica looked confused. “We didn’t.”

All of a sudden, the pieces of the puzzle finally clicked into place.  “I’m going to kill her.”

________________________________________________________________

“Please, wait your turns!  Frau Verzückung will see you all,” came an unfortunately familiar voice from nearby.  Astral grit her teeth as she rounded the corner, Jerrica hot on her heels, and stopped short at the sight of the line in front of her.  The line stretched across the room to stop in front of a blue cloth tent hastily pinned up in the corner.  If she didn’t know better, Astral would swear it was made out of Rapture’s favorite “mystical” robes.

“Minx, what is this?” she called out. Minx ignored her.

The woman in front of Astral turned around to shush her.  “You have to wait your turn like the rest of us,” she complained.  “I’ve been here for twenty minutes already!  This lady better be good!”

Astral could feel her cheeks flushing with annoyance.  Jerrica leaned in close to whisper in her ear, laying her hand on Astral’s shoulder so lightly that Astral wasn’t even sure she was touching her.  “Should we call security?”

“No, don’t bother.  I want to deal with them myself.”  Astral was sick of the Stingers (Rapture, mostly) turning up in her life to cause trouble.  “Maybe we can come to an agreement.”  Which she honestly doubted.  She did like the thought of being able to say she tried, at least.

The line inched forward.  “Are you sure?  The concert starts in-” Jerrica checked her watch, her brow crinkling with worry, “-thirty minutes.”

Astral left the line, ignoring the complaints of the other attendees.  She marched up to Minx, who held out an arm to stop her.

“You have to wait your turn like everyone else,” Minx said airily, flipping her hair over her shoulder and making a show out of turning away to peer into the tent.

“Ingrid.”

“Is that Maeve?” came a voice from within.  Her German accent was faker than her usual blonde hair.  “Let her in, mi querida, Frau Verzückung will tell all.”

“Meine liebste,” Minx corrected under her breath.

“...Let her in, meine liebste.”  

Astral fought hard not to roll her eyes as she moved to enter the tent.  Minx held an arm out to stop her again.  “That’ll be ten dollars.”

“You have got to be kidding me!”

“She is right, ten dollars please,” Rapture piped up from within the tent.  “The spirits require a small donation to support our services.  Advertising isn’t cheap, you know.”

“Astral?”  Jerrica was by her side all of a sudden.  “Are you sure you don’t want me to--”

“It’s fine.  It’ll only take a minute.”  Astral shoved a crumpled ten dollar bill at Minx and pushed past her into the tent.

She recoiled almost instantly at the sight of Rapture’s makeup.  “Lon Chaney?” she guessed. “Very good.”  Rapture looked Astral up and down.  “Your Dracula costume needs work,” she sniffed, grabbing Astral by the hand and yanking her down into the folding chair across from her.  “What a poser.” “Actually, I’m supposed to be Carmilla.  You always did underestimate me.”

Caught off guard, Rapture looked at her, really looked at her.  She searched Astral’s face for a moment, trying to find a witty response.  She lowered her gaze after a moment. “Guess you got me there.”  She reached for Astral’s hand.

“I sure did.”  Click!  Rapture instinctively yanked her hand away, but the handcuff stopped her short.  

“Get your hands off of me!” Minx snapped from outside the tent.  Aja poked her head inside.  “Hey Astral.  Jerrica told me you needed a bit of help.”

“That was fast.”  Astral wasn’t going to complain, though.  She could use another set of hands.  She held out the other end of the handcuff to Aja, who grabbed it and locked it in place around Minx’s wrist.

“Ready to go?  The show starts soon.”  Aja bent down to scoop up the Stingers, one over each shoulder.

“Just a minute.  Rapture scammed a lot of money out of our friends tonight.”  Astral ignored Rapture’s protests, digging around underneath the tablecloth until she came up with a duffel bag stuffed full of bills.  “I think we can put it to much better use.”

“I like the way you think,” Aja smiled.  

“I don’t!” Rapture exploded, trying to reach for the bag.  Astral quickly stepped backwards out of her reach.

“Aja, let’s go.  We have a performance to catch.”

________________________________________________________________

“This is so humiliating!” Minx groused.

“You’re telling me.”

“Quiet,” Aja said sternly, “or I’ll drop you both.”  She paused for a moment to get a better grip on the two women, hiking them up higher on her shoulders.  “Stop squirming.”

Rapture scowled at Astral, who trailed behind them to make sure they didn’t try any funny business.  Astral only smiled sweetly back at her.  “Thank you for the donation,” she said, shaking the duffel bag full of money.  

As Aja hauled them backstage, Rapture and Minx caught a glimpse of Riot talking to that dreadful Jem.  “No point in calling for help,” Rapture sulked, “he won’t even notice.”

“He completely brushed me off earlier!” Minx agreed glumly.

“All right you two, stay right here.”  Aja unceremoniously dumped the Stingers into folding chairs in the wings of the stage.

“What do you expect us to do here?!” Rapture exclaimed, practically vibrating with annoyance.  She started to get up, but one look from Aja sent her sitting right back down in a hurry.

“You can read Minx’s palm while you wait for the performance to end,” Astral said sweetly.  The Holograms filed past her to take their places on stage.

Rapture groaned and sank even lower in her chair.

[captain-aralias]

More-than-six Sentence Monday

got some unexpected last minute sunday tags from @vkelleyart​ and @carryonsimoncarryonbaz​ \o/

Rules:

Writers: post (approximately) six sentences from something you’re working on. If you aren’t ready to do that, add six sentences to your WIP.

Readers: challenge yourselves to leave a six sentence comment or give a writer a six sentence prompt. (or a total of six sentences for the day)

Fans and creators alike: reblog a fandom post and add some love in the tags. Aim for 6 posts - or 6 tags. Whatever you can manage!

I tag some people who aren’t in this fandom, which i don’t think is the point. BUT... it means maybe they haven’t seen the meme, so there we are. @agapi42 @thisbluespirit @neveralarch @shipaholic

--

Great! I love talking about myself,

BUT... i literally have no works in progress. NONE. i posted the thing i was working on yesterday and i haven’t started anything else/have no idea what i will write next yet. (Give me your ideas. Can we have a kink meme or something? I love kink memes.) 

So - I will do the commenting one someone else’s thing for 6 lines instead, because that’s nice. 

And I will also give you (should you wish to read it) the original beginning from ‘Sex and Blood’, and loads of stuff I cut out of ‘The Mages Heir’ because I found the off-cuts hanging around in my docs folder, so why not? They’re yours if you want them.

Sex and Blood

This was the original beginning. Then I added Simon’s scene because... I can’t remember ... and cut most of this for a reason i DO remember, which is that I was like ‘Baz is supposed to be so sick he can’t even think. Why is he banging on about garlic?’ You’ll see I also sort of re-used some of it in the third part where Baz is in the library. 

I know fuck-all about vampires. 

To begin with, it was a matter of principle. Of pride. Finding out anything about them – about the creatures who killed my mother – was as good as admitting I was one. Which, obviously, I am – but that didn’t mean I had to think about it. (Much the same approach my father wishes I’d take to my sexuality, I expect. Being gay is bad enough – I could have the decency to repress it.)

Now, I think I’m afraid of what I might find if I looked. 

Everything I do know, I’ve found out by trial and error. By surviving. 

I know I can eat garlic. I know I can go out in the sun, although it burns me (sun-cream doesn’t help. Not even factor 40. I’ve learned that the hard way). I know I can cross water and see myself in a mirror. I know I need to drink blood regularly, but that I don’t need to take it from other people. I also know I want to – and that for some reason, the people I want to take it from most are also the people I’m most attracted to. (Or rather, from one person in particular.) So I know that sex and blood must be linked together in my brain in some horrific way that fortunately I haven’t had to fully explore yet. (Simon Snow’s disdain for me is a blessing in some ways.) 

--- 

Lots of stuff was cut from The Mage’s Heir: 

1. I switched this scene to Simon’s POV:

I let him kiss me. Then I let him take off his shirt. He sits on the edge of the bed, golden in the candlelight, and swallows as I open my mouth to show my fangs. Maybe it’s finally hit him. Either that or he knows what that swallow does to me.

“You’re sure?” I ask around a mouth of teeth, and he nods. “Bite me.”

And so I do – right where I’ve always wanted to bite him, at the base of the throat. I can tell it hurts because he stiffens and swears. His fingernails dig into my back.

Blood, incredible, warm and rich, Simony blood is filling my mouth, but I try to pull back anyway – then Simon relaxes and I have to catch him to stop him falling.

“Oh yeah,” he croons against my ear. “I knew it would be nice.”

It’s much more than that. I feel as though I’m on fire.

Gently, I lower him backwards onto the mattress, teeth still buried in his neck. My body is humming. And my erection is back - even blissed out Simon can feel it. One of his hands gropes vaguely around my crotch for a while. I rip the zip open and press his hand against me. He let me hold it there as I fuck myself rabidly against his hip and his hand.

This is from Part 2 and is about Penny bonding with Fiona over botony - but I thought that scene was going on for too long so it’s cut

I’m looking round at the plants. I think some of these are illegal in this country – things I’ve never even seen except on the internet.

“That’s moly,” Baz’s aunt says as I lean in to take a better look at something that looks like a massive snowdrop. “Useful stuff. It––”

“It repels magic,” I say.

She looks impressed. “That’s right. And it’s good for crazy people.”

“Are you’re sure it’s OK to have it in your house? Even the pollen could be dangerous.”

“Both of Bunce’s parents are on the Coven, Fiona,” Baz says pointedly.

“So were mine,” she says, unimpressed. “Anyway, I’ve obviously got a permit. Lapsed botanist,” she explains when I look quizzically at her. “But it’s good for field work.”

That makes sense, although I didn’t know there was anyone in London with all this stuff – I thought the Watford greenhouses were the best stocked, but even they don’t have moly (because it’s really dangerous). Baz never said. I’d have come ‘round earlier. Or if he’d told me his aunt was a botanist (even if she is lapsed) – it’s a really good magickal profession.

“Are we going to use any of this tonight?” I ask.

“No idea,” Fiona says.

Part 3 - this was the original opening - again, you’ll see i re-used some of it. I cut it once I realised that characters were literally saying ‘this is boring’ to each other

I wake up and it’s dark. And I’m on the floor. And I feel like complete shit.

I think about trying to sleep it off (that works sometimes), but now I know I’m on the floor it’s hard to get comfortable, so I sit up instead.

The good news is I don’t hit my head on anything. That means that Nicky didn’t probably hasn’t pulled the ceiling down, but now my head feels a lot worse because I tried moving it, and I still can’t see anything.

“Hello? Is anyone there?”

I’m not really sure what happened, if I’m honest. I remember Baz telling me he had a plan, and I remember him biting me, although I’m not sure whether that was the plan or whether he just got carried away. I think I must have passed out after that. And now I’m here – alone, on the floor, in the dark.

“Baz!” I shout stupidly.

Nobody replies to that either.

I get up and walk forward until I hit a wall (not literally. I had my hands out). That’s good, though. It means I know where the wall is. I drag my hand along it until I find a corner (that’s great! This is a room with corners, I’m making progress) and along the next wall. This time there isn’t a corner, exactly – there’s an open space. And then a metal bar. After that, another bar.

That’s not so good. It feels a lot like this is a cell. I’ve never been in a cell before (though I’ve been locked up plenty of times, mostly with magic) and I can’t say I’m enjoying it now. Especially if I’m the only one here. Maybe I’m the only one they kept alive.  

“Baz?” I shout again. “Penny?” I’m really trying not to freak out. “Baz!”

“Shut up,” a girl’s voice says from somewhere I can’t see. “Some of us are trying to sleep.”

“Sorry,” I say. “I’m just trying to find my friends. Do you know if they’re all right? It’s a boy with soft black hair and a girl––”

“Don’t talk to me. I’m ignoring you,” the voice says.

“Yeah. But have you seen them?”

When the voice stays silent, I smash my hands against the bars. The bars rattle – loudly – and it makes me feel better, so I kick the nearest one and then slam my shoulder against them. I don’t really expect the bars to give, which is good, because they don’t, but I know I’m pissing off the owner of the voice, which is something.

Then I think, why not actually try and get out of here? And I begin the incantation for the Sword of Mages.

I don’t really expect it work now I’m actually trying, but it does. The hilt materialises in my hand and I feel the comforting weight of blade, even though I can’t see it. I know it’ll be as sharp as ever.

My magic must be coming back. It’s coming back to me, like the sword did, but this time it’s my magic, my real magic. I’ll be a magician again, like Baz and Penny. I just took a break for a while, like Nicky did.

This is amazing. It’s actually amazing. Even though I’m still locked in a cell, and I have no idea where Baz and Penny are, I feel like laughing. This is so great.

Neither of them has ever said it (Baz actively denies it), but I know that both them wish I still had magic. Any magic. They both love being magicians. And I know they both feel sorry for me – for what happened, for losing the thing that’s most important to them. And they worry about me.

Now they won’t have to.

And it’s kind of like I’m starting again, right back at the start of my magickal education. The incantation is not only the spell I always got right, it’s also the first spell I ever learnt.

The Mage felt I should be armed from the beginning.

“It will be a burden,” he said as I swung the sword around his office that first day. “A heavy one. But you must be able to protect yourself, Simon – I won’t always be there.”

At the time I didn’t understand what he meant about it being a burden (It was a magic sword, a sword I could pull from the air just by saying a few words).

I do now, though.

He meant things were going to try and kill me and that I was going to have to kill them first, even though I was only eleven. I didn’t really mind back then, I just felt I had no choice. I guess eleven-year-olds aren’t really ready for the big questions.

“Use the sword well and it will always come back to you, so long as you are my heir,” the Mage told me. He put his hand on my shoulder. “Use with courage and with wisdom. Be worthy of it.”

“I’ll try, sir.”

“I know you will, Simon.”

And I meant it. Obviously. But over the years I was at Watford, I used the Sword of Mages for all sorts of stuff I probably could have used a less-magical sword for. Things like spilling blood for my room at Mummer’s House or opening tins of beans. It’s just, it’s easy to get used to things. Take them for granted. And the sword seemed to be all right with it.

But if I’m getting my magic back, I can start over – do things right.

Starting with breaking out of here. That seems like a pretty just and courageous thing to do, as I have to be free if I’m going to rescue my friends and my boyfriend from goblins. Assuming they need to be rescued (which at the moment I think I have to). I can’t wait to tell them.

I feel for the lock. It’s right at the edge of the bars where they meet the wall (as you’d expect, basically) and it’s got a big, obvious key hole. It’s probably locked with magic as well as iron, but I don’t think that’ll be a problem.

I swing the sword up and down about where the lock is. It cuts in, though not all the way through.

“What are you doing?” the voice from next door says as I brace one of my feet against the bars and tug the sword free. “Are you breaking out?”

“That’s right.”

I swing the sword again, hitting the same point, even in the dark (eight years of almost constant practice paying off). The lock cracks and gives. And the door creeks open.

Light flares in the cell next to me as I walk out into the prison corridor.

There are quite a few other cells, but the others are all empty except the one next to mine. And in it is a girl, like I thought, holding a small light in her hand like Baz does. Except that her hand is green, because she’s a goblin.

I didn’t think goblins locked up other goblins (I thought they probably ate them, which I’m glad I never said to any of them as it sounds a bit racist now I think about it). This one looks about my age, and she’s as gorgeous as Agatha.

“Take me with you,” she says.

“I thought you were trying to sleep,” I say.  

“That’s when I thought you were just a prisoner reciting the traditional first-night dialogue,” she says. “You know, where am I? Where are my friends? I’ve heard it all before.”

“But people don’t usually escape.”

“Not usually,” she says. “Because there’s a really good alarm system down here. That’s why we have to be–– Bloody Cap.”

Somewhere behind the door to this prison someone is running along a corridor – fairly fast by the sound of it, in heavy shoes.

“Forget I said anything,” the goblin girl says, extinguishing her light. “I didn’t speak to you. I’m asleep.”

I raise my sword to a fighting stance. “I think it’s just one person.”

Or I suppose, one person making a lot of noise and several other people who are aren’t. But they’ll all have to come through one door, so I should be able to take them all.

As the door opens, I shut my eyes in case they brought a bright light that’ll blind me. I hear the heavy wood of the door swing inwards and I bring the sword down and round in a wide arc. I’m just about to make it very hard for this guard to walk away from the fight (kneecap damage – I’m not going to kill him) when he says,

“Simon! It’s me – it’s Nicky.”

“Nicky?”

I pull back so fast I almost fall over. I open my eyes, and blink a few times, and he steadies me. It’s definitely him, not a goblin wearing his shape – I recognise his smell (leather jacket and strawberry vape). I don’t hug him, because I don’t like hugging most people, but I’m really pleased he’s alive.

“Is Baz OK? And Penelope?”

“Yeah,” he says. “We’re all fine. How about you? You’ve been out for three days. Healing magic’s a bit dodgy.”

I shrug this off because I don’t want to think about it right now. “Where’re are the others?”

“Upstairs.”

“Cool. Let’s go then.” I turn towards the other occupied cell. “Stand back and I’ll split the lock.”

The goblin light flares again and I see her standing at the back of the cell trying not to look excited.

“Well, hurry up about it.”

“Hang on, Lancelot,” Nicky says as I raise the sword. “I didn’t give you the message yet. You’ll want to hear it. It’s from His Nibs.”

I sheath the sword and it vanishes. “From Baz?”

That sounds good, it sounds like Baz is alive. (I am so fucking grateful Baz is alive.)

“Right. Essentially, he says, stay where you are, don’t attract any attention to yourself, and definitely don’t break out of prison. You can see why I thought it was a fairly relevant message at this particular time.”

“Baz wants me to stay here?” I say. “In a dungeon?”

“Not exactly the place to get over heavy blood loss, is it?” Nicky says. “I told you: Pitches care about magic and power and that’s it. But you can see how it would be awkward for him if you start running around the place, since he’s only king ‘cause he killed you.”

“What do you mean, he’s the king?” I say.

“Who’s the king?” the goblin girl says.

“My boyfriend,” I say. “Do you mean king of the goblins?”

Nicky scowls. “I knew you weren’t in on it, I told Fiona. Listen – if you want to start a revolution let me know. Otherwise, sit tight, eat this, and I’ll bring more news when I have it, OK?”

He’s pressed something round like a Coke can into my hand (the one that isn’t holding the sword). Now he claps me on the shoulders and shuts the door behind him.

“How can your boyfriend be the goblin king?” the girl asks. She’s close to the bars now, looking at me with undisguised scepticism.

“I don’t know,” I say. I think I’m still in shock – maybe Nicky’s right and it’s the blood loss. “He wasn’t yesterday.”

Except – shit. It wasn’t yesterday, was it? It’s been three days. (I’ve missed the start of term.)

I go back and sit in my cell. There’s nothing else really to do. In the light that’s still coming from the girl next door, I can see what Nicky’s given me is actually a tin of spinach – a tin of spinach without a ring-pull. I’m not sure how he expected me to eat it, but I guess I’ve got a magic sword I’m not using for anything else right now.  

“That man called you Simon,” the girl’s voice says. “You’re the Goblinslayer.”

I didn’t know they called me that.

“No wonder you’re hiding in a dark,” she says. “I would be, if I were you.”

It’s lucky I now trust Baz absolutely, because this doesn’t feel good. It feels like one of Baz’s family’s plans to get rid of me.

And it feels like it’s working.

this is the end of part 3... i don’t really remember it very well, although i do remember that i had massive trouble with the doctor wellbelove convo, because it’s a massive info-dump disguised as a scene

“The treaty with the goblins is going very well,” he says. “As well as these things ever do, anyway. Queen Ilex and I have a meeting next week to negotiate the finer points of the treaty.”

Ilex is Holly’s royal name.

“She’s attending the Coven later this month with some of her people, to get the treaty magically ratified by both parties. I’d like you to be there, if possible.”

I swallow. “To stand trial?”

Dr Wellbelove looks surprised. “What on Earth for?”  

“Because,” I say. Isn’t it obvious? “I’ve broken Mage Law, haven’t I?”

Dr Wellbelove nods. It’s definitely more than once.

“But,” he says, “you’ve also done what few others could have managed and helped reached a peaceful accord with a race of dark creatures.”

I shrug. I guess. I mean I was there, although I was unconscious for most of it. I wouldn’t say I helped.

“You may be interested to learn that one of the terms of the treaty was a complete ban on goblin consumption of humans, in exchange for animal livestock. Queen Ilex suggested it herself, although it seems the goblins have developed a taste for Scottish beef. I don’t need to tell you that will save many lives.”

“That was Baz,” I say.

“It wasn’t just Basil, though, was it?”

“Right. It was Penny’s plan that got us of there––”

“She claims it was your plan.”

“I guessed it.”

“And that it wouldn’t have been possible if you hadn’t already formed a relationship with the imprisoned queen.”

“Penny exaggerates,” I say. (Even though he said I wasn’t, I feel like I’m on trial here.) “I talked to Holly for, like, half an hour.”

“Well, how about we return to the numpties then?” Dr Wellbelove says. “You’ve already admitted you responded to a situation  

“That was Nicky!” I say.

Well, I guess I shout it. Dr Wellbelove looks surprised.

But it feels wrong. He’s got it all wrong. I know what it’s like to do big, important stuff and this isn’t it. I’m not the Chosen One any more. I’m not anything. I’m just trying to clean up my own mistakes. And the Mage’s.

“Because you asked him to.”

“Yeah.” I’m getting confused here. “No. I feel like you want me to say that I did all of this stuff, but I didn’t. I didn’t do any of it. None of it was me.”

this is earlier in part three - it’s penny’s POV. i really like that bit about there being worse people to turn into. might re-use it later. 

He and Baz are already all over each other, as though three days apart is unbearable. I chat to Holly the goblin while I wait. And keep waiting. (Micah and I haven’t been in the same country for three months. And it’s not as though there’s any reception down here so I can Skype him.) If you’re up for a round of snogging your boyfriend in public, you can’t be that sick.

Snakes, I think I’m turning into my mum.

I suppose there are definitely worse people I could turn into. Since Mum has almost everything she ever wanted and is pretty much always right. Just like I know I’m right now. Simon is – weirdly – OK.

and the same scene - simon’s POV

“Actually, I did tell you,” I point out.

I watch Baz mentally re-play the last twenty minutes to find out that yes, actually, I did tell him. And he was too busy fussing about his wand.

He shrugs. “Whatever.”

I don’t mind. Him not apologising means he’s not feeling stupidly guilty any more. I lean into him and he frowns.

[steve0discusses]

Yugioh S3 Ep 36-37: Local Mom-Friend’s Weird Trick, Doctors Hate Him

Hey y’all it’s a surprise midweek post because I’m in Canada this weekend woo. Surprised I even got this post done, TBH, I finally get some time where I’m not commuting around to and from San Francisco or corralling small children and I can just sit at my computer and focus and have some peace and quiet and I got--a mysterious sickness from all those kids! *yay* So, since I can’t really focus on anything, I’ll type in here and see if any of my words make any sense at all and hopefully I won’t go on some weird ass tangent like I tend to do like every other post.

So Yugi is still dueling Kaiba, much like he has for the past like...it feels like 4 years. I know I’ve only seen 3 seasons but this is...this is a really long duel. Maybe because there was a month-long break for me in the middle, (during which I watched the entirety of Evangelion, 2 Seasons of Gotham, Stranger Things S3, and the disappointing season of One Punch Man so like...I’ve had some time away from Yugioh) or maybe...maybe it’s because they’re actually playing card mechanics that go more in depth...

But yeah, despite everything, they’re still dueling.

And honestly, I’m looking at that episode number above me and it’s like...so there’s this Kaiba and Yugi Duel and then...only one more duel, right? Is it going to be a ten episode duel? Like unless Rebecca comes back for a weird cameo like...how...?

Whatever, we’ll get there when we get there.

Anyways, everyone who’s been avoiding this duel like the plague is down with the plague victims in the hospital. That’s where Tristan gets a bright idea and it’s one of his dumber ones, believe it or not.

Man, I forgot that comatose Joey Wheeler is still wearing that duel disk Pharaoh slapped on him during all this too, haha.

Also, why does he have to have all these pectoral suction cups while they just kinda...gave up on Mai? I mean I know they can’t show boobies on a Y7 show but like...it really feels like the doctor just kinda shrugged at Mai and was like “I only have one set of boob suction cups, I really didn’t think I’d need more than that, if at all.”

(read more under the cut)

And so Tristan decides that if Joey is at the window which is like...600 ft below Yugi Muto’s duel, a duel you can’t...really see from the ground...then Joey Wheeler will arise.

I mean, it’s gonna work, it’s just also kind of laughable that Joey wasn’t able to hear any of this nonsense from the bed that is two feet away from the window.

But wtv, it’s very dramatic and Tristan gets to cry some more and feel useful I guess.

The haunted underwear mannequin plot-thread was dumped between that episode and this one, and I’m kinda bummed out that more things haven’t turned into haunted underwear mannequins.

Instead of horrific underwear mannequins, Joey’s dream has gone back to the standard fare of Joey picking on middle schoolers and wearing a much better outfit than he has for most of this show.

I will super miss Joey in a fitted suit. Like, soak it allll in horny preteens, because pretty soon, Joey Wheeler will be back in that scruffy oversized T-shirt just like...well, just like how a teenager would be. I mean there’s some REASONS Mai can’t date Joey, but the fact he has a fitted suit he refuses to ever wear is one of the top reasons right under, youknow, the fact he’d need a fake ID to ever go out with her.

It’s kind of amazing actually, how my whole life I kinda just figured this was a show of insane character designs, only to find out when I actually watch the show that there is like a ... REALLY horny line just going all the way through it.

Honestly, me trying to figure out how and when this kid’s show got so damn horny has been a very big mystery I’ve been trying to solve in the background this entire time. Like, I was told “yeah the Yugioh boys get very attractive.” and I was like “ehhhhhhhh I don’t even know what you’re talking about” but, little by little over the past 3 seasons, these animators are starting to draw these boys just waaaaaaay older than these kids actually are. I’m starting to see what people are saying. It’s still not my thing, personally, but uh yeah I can see how this spawned all that fanart now.

Anyways, speaking of, the other day a friend of mine’s sister was talking about how she, as a millennial, has been wired to love very tall skinny boys in skinny pants and very long coats with popped collars and I immediately was like “Lol are you admitting to Seto Kaiba?”

And she meant Cumberbatch Sherlock, LOLOLOLOL.

And so, back on the duel field we got Seto Kaiba, who’s a lot like Sherlock except a Sherlock who is suffering from both short term and long term memory loss. And, who does cards instead of heroin.

They probably both play violin.

Kaiba, despite having arc after arc where his little brother is his main motivation, has decided to just ditch Mokuba and it’s like...either he’s psyching Yugi out or Seto Kaiba forgot he had a brother for a little bit. He might...he might have forgotten. Mokuba is standing behind him, after all.

And so, because Joey is facing Yugi at just the right moment and at just the right time, somehow he can do his little force ability again and just do this:

Thanks, hallucination!Joey.

And out he goes, drawn like a romance anime character lol.

Anyways, he’s back to being a slob so...welcome back, wrinkle shirt, it’s been a while.

And then Joey looks around and actually said this:

“Did someone get hurt?” He asks, after being burned, electrocuted AND drowned just yesterday.

I was kinda very much hoping Tristan would deck him out.

Glad that, as predicted, the moment Mai doesn’t need to be Joey’s main motivation anymore, the moment he puts the cards away, she may as well not even exist. This show and the way they write straight romances.

Please admire the matching lace up boots on the Kaiba Corp’s Emergency Squad. This would be the most obscure Cosplay on earth but maybe the most wearable Yugioh cosplay outside of Bandit Keith because you wouldn’t need a 400 dollar wig.

And then for some reason Tea just loses her mind and has a complete breakdown. She’s been kind of a mess since Yugi walked out like 2 episodes ago, which seems kind of...I dunno, both out of character but very much in character at the same time. I mean we’re assuming they “have” a relationship it’s just never actually say that they do, so her acting like her man is dead is kinda like...it still feels like it comes out of freakin nowhere.

Anyways, Tea who is strong enough to lift this entire plane and who is, in fact, possessed by at least 2 powerful ghosts (remember Shadi did spends some time there and he did NOT like it), is now a seeping crying mess that refuses to lose any more of her hospital-prone boys.

I mean they were going to go anyway, but they let Tea pretend she had any control over that and kind of glazed over this.

Back in this game that no one else is really watching anymore, Seto Kaiba is still monologuing about his entire life story that he’s never gotten any therapy for, except for that time his evil step brother accidentally gave him therapy.

Quite upset we never see the color of Mokuba’s little tuxedo.

Course...didn’t...Noah wear a little tuxedo in that same exact shape? I mean it’s a silly headcanon but youknow...it could be a yellow tuxedo they just happened to find in the back of the closet.

And it’s at this point that Mokuba just lost his lid. I’m so used to Mokuba unconditionally supporting his crazy brother that this would have been the biggest anime betrayal of the whole series, if Mokuba had said any of this outloud (which he wisely did not).

It was like...damn Mokuba. He actually said something along the lines of “I liked you better when you were poor” and it was like. Holy cow, Mokuba. Damn.

Anyway, a bunch of card stuff happens, and Pharaoh has decided that Seto has too much anger in his heart, and that’s why he will lose. Then, Pharaoh played the card proof for how angry Seto is, and if I actually payed any attention to cards, it would have been very meaningful.

But anyways, kudos to Pharaoh on not mind-wiping Seto Kaiba this time or launching him directly off this very tall tower like he attempted to do last time. They actually played a game start to finish with eachother and nothing exploded except for every television in Domino. Progress.

and then Mokuba started crying and initially I thought...wouldn’t he have WANTED his brother to lose but then I kind of remembered oh yeah now Mokuba has to deal with this oncoming aftermath.

RIP Mokuba, I guess.

Anyway, I’m out of town for the rest of the weekend, escaping to the far North to get away from the weather. I should be back next weekend, but if I’m not, I was probably eaten by a bear. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Anyway, if you just got here, this is a link to my Yugioh recaps in Chrono order from the beginning.

[kipakyousee]

7 Gaslighting Phrases Malignant Narcissists, Sociopaths and Psychopaths Use To Silence You, Translated

By Shahida Arabi, Bestselling Author

Last updated: 18 Nov 2019

~ 10 MIN READ

Gaslighting is an insidious erosion of your sense of reality; it creates a mental fog of epic proportions in the twisted “funhouse” of smoke, mirrors, and distortions that is an abusive relationship. When a malignant narcissist gaslights you, they engage in crazymaking discussions and character assassinations where they challenge and invalidate your thoughts, emotions, perceptions, and sanity. Gaslighting enables narcissists, sociopaths, and psychopaths to exhaust you to the point where you are unable to fight back. Rather than finding ways to healthily detach from this toxic person, you are sabotaged in your efforts to find a sense of certainty and validation in what you’ve experienced.

The term “gaslighting” originated in Patrick Hamilton’s 1938 play, Gas Light, where a manipulative husband drove his wife to insanity by causing her to question what she experienced. It was further popularized in the 1944 film adaptation, Gaslight, a psychological thriller about a man named Gregory Anton who murders a famous opera singer. He later marries her niece, Paula to convince her she is going crazy to the point of being institutionalized, with the agenda of stealing the rest of her family jewels. According to Dr. George Simon, victims of chronic gaslighting can suffer from a wide array of side effects, including flashbacks, heightened anxiety, intrusive thoughts, a low sense of self-worth, and mental confusion. In cases of severe manipulation and abuse, gaslighting can even lead to suicidal ideation, self-harm, and self-sabotage.

Gaslighting can take many forms – from questioning the status of your mental health to outright challenging your lived experiences. The most dangerous culprits of gaslighting? Malignant narcissists, who, by default, use gaslighting as a strategy to undermine the perception of their victims in order to evade accountability for their abuse. These perpetrators can use gaslighting callously and sadistically because they lack the remorse, empathy, or conscience to have any limits when they terrorize you or covertly provoke you. Gaslighting by a malignant narcissist is covert murder with clean hands, allowing the perpetrator to get away with their mistreatment while depicting the victims as the abusers.

I’ve spoken to thousands of survivors of malignant narcissists who have shared their stories of gaslighting, and below I include the most commonly used phrases malignant narcissists, sociopaths, and psychopaths employ to terrorize and deplete you, translated into what they really mean.

These phrases, when chronically used in the context of an abusive relationship, serve to demean, belittle and distort the reality of abuse victims.

1. You’re crazy/you have mental health issues/you need help.

Translation: You’re not the pathological one here. You’re just catching onto who I really am behind the mask and attempting to hold me accountable for my questionable behavior. I’d rather you question your own sanity so you believe that the problem is really you, rather than my own deceptiveness and manipulation. So long as you believe you’re the one who needs help, I’ll never have to take responsibility for changing my own disordered ways of thinking and behaving.

Malignant narcissists play the smirking doctors to their victims, treating them like unruly patients. Diagnosing their victims with mental health issues for having emotions is a way to pathologize their victims and undermine their credibility; this is even more effective when abusers are able to provoke reactions in their victims to convince society that they are the ones with mental health problems. According to the National Domestic Violence Hotline, some abusers will even actively drive their victims to the edge to concoct proof of their instability. The Hotline estimates that around 89% of their callers have experienced some form of mental health coercion and that 43% had experienced a substance abuse coercion from an abuser.

“Most survivors who reported their abusive partners had actively contributed to mental health difficulties or their use of substances also said their partners threatened to use the difficulties or substance use against them with important authorities, such as legal or child custody professionals, to prevent them from obtaining custody or other things that they wanted or needed.” – The National Center on Domestic Violence and the Domestic Violence Hotline

2. You’re just insecure and jealous.

Translation: I enjoy planting seeds of insecurity and doubt in your mind about your attractiveness, competence, and personality.  If you dare to question my numerous flirtations, affairs, and inappropriate interactions, I’ll be sure to put you back in your place in fear of losing me. The problem, as I’ll convince you, isn’t my deceptive behavior. It’s your inability to remain confident while I perpetually put you down, compare you in demeaning ways to others, and eventually cast you aside for the next best thing.

Manufacturing love triangles and harems are a narcissist’s forte. Robert Greene, author of The Art of Seduction, speaks about creating  “an aura of desirability” which stirs a frenzied sense of competition among potential suitors. In abuse survivor communities, this tactic is also known as triangulation. It grants malignant narcissists a depraved sense of power over their victims. They actively provoke jealousy in their intimate partners in order to control them and paint them as unhinged when they finally react. When a victim calls out a narcissist’s infidelity in any way, it is common for them to label the victims insecure, controlling, and jealous to avoid suspicion and to continue to reap the benefits of multiple sources of attention, praise, and ego strokes.

Remember: to someone who has something to hide, everything feels like an interrogation. Narcissists will often lash out in narcissistic rage, stonewalling, and excessive defensiveness when confronted with evidence of their betrayals.

3. You’re too sensitive/you’re overreacting.

Translation: It’s not that you’re too sensitive, but rather that I am insensitive, callous, and unempathic. I do not care about your emotions unless they serve me in some way. Your negative reactions provide me stimulation and pleasure, so please, do keep going. I enjoy putting you down for having legitimate reactions to my abuse.

According to Dr. Robin Stern, one of the effects of gaslighting include asking yourself “Am I too sensitive?” a dozen times a day. Claiming that victims are overreacting or oversensitive to emotional abuse is a popular way for malignant narcissists to override your certainty about the severity of the abuse you experienced.

Whether or not someone is a sensitive person is irrelevant when it comes to cases of psychological or physical violence. Abuse affects anyone and everyone of varying sensitivity levels, and its impact should not be taken lightly. A mark of a healthy partner is that they give you the space to feel your emotions and provide emotional validation, even if they do not agree with you. A malignant narcissist will excessively focus on your so-called sensitivity and consistently claim that you are overreacting rather than own their horrific actions when called out, regardless of how “sensitive” you may be.

4. It was just a joke. You have no sense of humor.

Translation: I love disguising my abusive behavior as just jokes. I like calling you names, putting you down, and then claiming you’re the one who lacks the sense of humor to appreciate my depraved “wit.” Making you feel defective allows me to say and do whatever I wish, all with a smile and a derisive laugh.

Disguising cruel remarks, off-color comments, and put-downs as “just jokes” is a popular verbal abuse tactic, according to Patricia Evans, author of The Verbally Abusive Relationship. This malicious tactic is very different from playful teasing which takes a certain amount of rapport, trust, and mutual enjoyment. When malignant narcissists dole out these unsettling “jokes,” they can engage in acts of name-calling, taunting, belittling and contempt while evading the responsibility of issuing an apology or owning their vicious verbal assaults. You are then gaslighted into believing that it is your inability to appreciate the “humor” behind their cruelty, rather than the reality of its abusive intentions.

“Just jokes” are also used to test boundaries early on in an abusive relationship; what you may have rationalized as a tone-deaf or off-color comment in the beginning can escalate into psychological violence quite quickly in the hands of a narcissist. If you find that you have a partner who laughs at you more than they laugh with you, run. It will not get better.

5. You need to let it go. Why are you bringing this up?

Translation: I haven’t given you enough time to even process the last heinous incident of abuse, but you need to let it go already so I can move forward with exploiting you without facing any consequences for my behavior. Let me love-bomb you into thinking that things will be different this time around. Don’t bring up my past patterns of abusive behavior, because you’ll then recognize that this is a cycle that will just continue.

In any abuse cycle, it’s common for an abuser to engage in a hot-and-cold cycle where they periodically throw in crumbs of affection to keep you hooked and to renew hope for a return to the honeymoon phase. This is a manipulation tactic known as intermittent reinforcement, and it’s common for an abuser to terrorize you, only to return the next day and act like nothing has happened. When you do recall any abusive incidents, an abuser will tell you to “let it go” so they can sustain the cycle.

This form of abuse amnesia adds onto your addictive bond to the abuser, also known as “trauma bonding.” According to Dr. Logan (2018), “Trauma bonding is evidenced in any relationship which the connection defies logic and is very hard to break. The components necessary for a trauma bond to form are a power differential, intermittent good/bad treatment, and high arousal and bonding periods.”

6. You’re the problem here, not me.

Translation: I am the problem here, but I’ll be damned if I let you know it! I’d rather subject you to personal attacks as you bend over backwards trying to hit constantly moving goalposts and arbitrary expectations of the way I think you should feel and behave. As you spend most of your time trying to fix your fabricated flaws while always coming up short of what I deem “worthy,” I can just sit back, relax, and continue to mistreat you the way I feel entitled to. You won’t have any energy left to call me out.

It’s common for abusive partners to engage in malignant projection – to even go as far as to call their victims the narcissists and abusers, and to dump their own malignant qualities and behaviors onto their victims. This is a way for them to gaslight their victims into believing that they are the ones at fault and that their reactions to the abuse, rather than the abuse itself, is the problem. According to Narcissistic Personality clinical expert Dr. Martinez-Lewi, these projections tend to be psychologically abusive. As she writes, “The narcissist is never wrong. He {or she} automatically blames others when anything goes awry. It is very stressful to be the recipient of narcissistic projections. The sheer force of the narcissist’s accusations and recriminations is stunning and disorienting.”

7. I never said or did that. You’re imagining things.

Translation: Making you question what I did or said allows me to cast doubt on your perceptions and memories of the abuse you’ve experienced. If I make you think that you’re imagining things, you’ll start to wonder if you’re going crazy, rather than pinpointing the evidence which proves I am an abuser.

In the movie Gaslight, Gregory causes his new wife to believe that her aunt’s house is haunted so she can be institutionalized. He does everything from rearranging items in the house, flickering gas lights on to making noises in the attic so she is no longer able to discern whether or not what she’s seeing is real.  He isolates her so that she is unable to gain validation.  After manufacturing these crazymaking scenarios, he then convinces her that these events are all a figment of her imagination.

Many victims of chronic gaslighting struggle with the cognitive dissonance which occurs when their abuser tells them that they never did or said something. Much like reasonable doubt can sway a jury, even the hint that something may not have happened after all can be powerful enough to override someone’s perceptions. Researchers Hasher, Goldstein and Toppino (1997) call this the “illusory truth effect” – they discovered that when falsehoods are repeated, they are more likely to be internalized as true simply due to the effects of repetition.  That is why continual denial and minimization can be so effective in convincing victims of gaslighting that they are indeed imagining things or suffering from memory loss, rather than standing firm in their beliefs and experiences.

The Big Picture

In order to resist the effects of gaslighting, you must get in touch with your own reality and prevent yourself from getting entrapped into an endless loop of self-doubt. Learn to identify the red flags of malignant narcissists and their manipulation tactics so you can get out of disorienting, crazymaking conversations with malignant narcissists before they escalate into wild accusations, projections, blameshifting and put-downs which will only exacerbate your sense of confusion. Develop a sense of self-validation and self-trust so you can get in touch with how you really feel about the way someone is treating you, rather than getting stuck attempting to explain yourself to a manipulator with an agenda.

Getting space from your abuser is essential. Be sure to document events as they happened, rather than how your abuser tells you they happened. Save text messages, voicemails, e-mails, audio or video recordings (if permitted in your state laws) which can help you to remember the facts in times of mental fog, rather than subscribing to the distortions and delusions of the abuser.

Engage in extreme self-care by participating in mind-body healing modalities which target the physical as well as psychological symptoms of the abuse. Recovery is important to achieve mental clarity. Enlist the help of a third party, such as a trauma-informed therapist, and go through the incidents of abuse together to anchor yourself back to what you’ve experienced. Malignant narcissists might attempt to rewrite your reality, but you don’t have to accept their twisted narratives as truth.

References

Evans, P. (2010). The verbally abusive relationship: How to recognize it and how to respond. Avon, MA: Adams Media.

Greene, R. (2004). The art of seduction. Gardners Books.

Hasher, L., Goldstein, D., & Toppino, T. (1977). Frequency and the conference of referential validity. Journal of Verbal Learning and Verbal Behavior, 16(1), 107-112. doi:10.1016/s0022-5371(77)80012-1

Martinez-Lewi, L. (2012, November 10). Narcissist’s Projections are Psychologically Abusive. Retrieved March 19, 2019, from http://thenarcissistinyourlife.com/narcissists-projections-are-psychologically-abusive/

Logan, M. H. (2018). Stockholm Syndrome: Held Hostage by the One You Love. Violence and Gender,5(2), 67-69. doi:10.1089/vio.2017.0076

Simon, G. (2018, May 11). Overcoming Gaslighting Effects. Retrieved March 19, 2019, from https://www.drgeorgesimon.com/overcoming-gaslighting-effects/

Stern, R., & Wolf, N. (2018). The gaslight effect: How to spot and survive the hidden manipulation others use to control your life. New York: Harmony Books.

Warshaw, C., Lyon, E., Bland, P. J., Phillips, H., & Hooper, M. (2014). Mental Health and Substance Use Coercion Surveys. Report from the National Center on Domestic Violence, Trauma & Mental Health and the National Domestic Violence Hotline. National Center on Domestic Violence, Trauma and Mental Health. Retrieved here. November 5, 2017

[bladesoflightandshadow]

relationship headcanons [shreya x mc]

note: here she is in all her two month late glory. i cannot for the life of me find the original post that the prompts were taken from, but if you can, please lmk!

pairing: shreya mistry x f!mc (rhea yang)

words: 2,834

warnings: none

.   .   .   .   .

who hogs the duvet

Rhea is comfortable sleeping at pretty much any temperature, being both a Water and Sun-Att, whereas Shreya absolutely hates being cold. The nights they spend together—especially in the winter months—mostly involve Shreya hogging the duvet while Rhea puts up a weak fight before letting her have most, if not all, of the blankets.

Sometimes Shreya sneaks into her girlfriend’s room with the excuse of it being too cold to sleep alone, and Rhea doesn’t ask her why she doesn’t just turn up the magick heating system they have installed in their dorms. Even with the blanket hogging, she likes having an excuse to sleep next to her.

who texts/rings to check how their day is going

Shreya. She pretends like she’s above it, but with her girlfriend’s life constantly being in danger as of late, she can’t help but worry about her a lot of the time. When they’ve been apart for more than a few hours and she’s unsure of what Rhea’s doing, she’ll drop a (magickal?) text asking her what she’s up to. Before they started dating, Shreya would try to hide this worry by sending her texts about other, unrelated things, like homework or random life updates, and then wait for a response just so she knew Rhea was alive.

“Zeph, do something stupid.”

“What?”

“Do something stupid! Be yourself! I need something to text Rhea so I know she hasn’t died since the last time I saw her.”

“You could…just…ask her?”

“And show vulnerability? Are you insane?”

She’s able to drop these pretences once they officially start dating, and honestly, Rhea doesn’t mind it one bit.

who’s the most creative when it comes to gifts

Shreya’s the one who gives the most gifts, but Rhea is the one who has to be a little more creative when coming up with ideas, what with her not having Shreya’s endless Mistry wealth to fall back on. It’s important to her that Shreya feels appreciated for everything she’s done for her and their friends, so she tries to go the extra mile every time the opportunity arises to give each other gifts. Rhea often enlists the help of Griffin or Zeph, both far more experienced in magickal gift-giving than she is; Aster’s shop is also a treasure trove for quirky magick things she can put together as a present.

For their first-year anniversary, Rhea gives her a scrapbook she’s been working on since they started dating, filled to the brim with animated photos, souvenirs, poems she wrote, drawings, pressed flowers, and other magickal and non-magickal knickknacks she collected throughout their relationship. Shreya cries a little.

“Do you like it? … Oh, oh god. Are you—Are you okay?”

Shreya hugs her so suddenly and forcefully that Rhea almost topples over.

“Rhea Yang, this is the sweetest, most adorable thing anyone’s ever done for me,” she sniffles into Rhea’s neck.

“I…I’m really glad you like it.”

“I love it. I love you.”

who gets up first in the morning

Rhea. She’s a morning person by virtue of her being a Sun-Att, and can’t bring herself to sleep in any later than 9 A.M., even if she barely got any sleep the night before. Shreya can’t stand this—even though she tends to wake up fairly early herself so she has time to get ready (“You think I manage to look this good by waking up ten minutes before class every morning?”), on days where she can sleep in, she doesn’t appreciate being woken up, however unintentionally, by Rhea getting out of bed. Rhea tries to make up for it with cuddles and kisses, or by bringing breakfast from the dining hall to their suite if she has time.

who cries during movies

Shreya is usually the more emotional one, but she can’t count on one hand the number of times she’s seen Rhea cry while watching some heart-warming animated movie. They’re having a Pixar movie marathon one night after a long week of classes, when Shreya notices sniffling sounds coming from Rhea during the opening scene of Up.

“They just—they just wanted to have a kid, you know? But they couldn’t, and they loved each other so much in spite of it, but then she dies— And then this little kid shows up on his doorstep as if she’s guided them to each other and he follows him on the adventure of a lifetime that he’d talked to his wife about when they were kids…”

Shreya can’t help but smile, but she refrains from teasing her. Instead, she wraps her arm around Rhea and pulls her close, wrapping the blanket further around them while Rhea nestles her head in her shoulder. Shreya presses a kiss to the top of her head.

“I didn’t know this movie made you so emotional.”

“Yeah— well. I watched it a lot as a kid.”

who gives unprompted massages

Shreya. She picks up a trick or two from spending so much time at the spa, so whenever she notices that Rhea—who’s usually fairly laid-back—is more tightly wound or stressed than usual, she’ll sneak up behind her for a surprise massage.

They’re in their suite with their friends one day, poring over books in an attempt to find out more about whatever it is that keeps attacking Rhea, and Shreya can’t help but observe how tense Rhea seems. Once the others have left, Shreya pulls Rhea down onto the couch next to her, pressing a kiss to the back of her neck.

“Your back is in absolute knots, love,” Shreya mutters, lifting her hands to rub Rhea’s shoulders. “You might as well be hiding those little shadow monsters in them.”

Rhea seems to relax, but only marginally. “Maybe then we’d have a better chance at finding out what’s going on.”

Shreya shushes her before she can continue. “Nope. No more talk about shadow monsters or Blood magick or reflections. I’m demanding that you take a break.”

With Shreya’s small and surprisingly strong hands at work on her shoulders, Rhea can’t find it in her to argue, so she sighs, leaning into Shreya’s (quite literally) magickal touch and allowing herself to feel content for the first time in a while.

who fusses over the other when they’re sick

Shreya’s definitely the one who worries the most. Rhea catches a nasty cold after getting doused in lake water during a Thief game, and Shreya barely leaves her girlfriend’s side while she’s bedridden. She has to use force to keep Rhea in bed half the time, because Rhea hates being immobile for long periods, which leads to Shreya at some point using magick on Rhea’s blankets to trap her in the bed. She brings food up from the dining hall for Rhea and even tries her hand at cooking her mother’s recipe for soup that’s meant to help cure colds. This… does not end well, because Shreya is a horrifically untalented cook. (More on that later.)

On the other hand, Shreya hates it when people fuss over her when she’s feeling ill or otherwise not like herself—she hates showing weakness, so she tries to hide it. Rhea is very perceptive, though, so even the slightest change in Shreya’s behaviour will alert her to something being wrong. When Shreya gets sick after getting caught in the rain, Rhea takes up Attentive Girlfriend duties by gently persuading her to rest—because Shreya Mistry’s stubbornness is second to none, so Rhea needs to take the more encouraging route. Rhea’s a lot less overbearing compared to Shreya, but it’s little things that she does, like stopping by Shreya’s room to check on her between classes, buying Shreya’s favourite food to cheer her up, and cuddling up next to her to watch trashy reality TV, that remind Shreya why she loves her so much.

who gets jealous easiest

Shreya, definitely. They’re both attractive, charming people who attract a lot of admirers, but Rhea for the most part laughs it off easily, while Shreya bristles whenever someone so much as bats an eyelash suggestively at Rhea—though she tries (and fails) not to show it. It’s a little hypocritical of her, honestly, considering how Shreya flirts with pretty much every new person she meets, but she can’t help it.

During their first few days at Penderghast, when Rhea and Griffin were spending a lot of time together, Shreya recognised that spike of jealousy in her gut the moment she saw Rhea flirtatiously pull Griffin’s arm around her in the hall that one time. Almost on instinct, Shreya started overcompensating by flirting more with Griffin whenever Rhea was around, thinking it was her that she was jealous of. This backfired when Rhea found the whole thing hilarious, assuming that Shreya was just like that. It took Shreya a few days to realise it was Rhea she was interested in, not Griffin. After that, she realised she needed to be a little more…forward when it came to flirting with the fairly oblivious Rhea.

who takes the longest to get ready

Shreya, quite simply. Rhea used to get complaints from her family for taking so long to get ready every morning, but having to wait on Shreya is on a whole other level. Shreya makes them both late to every event they go to (partly on purpose, because what better way is there to make an entrance than to arrive fashionably late?), and it drives Rhea crazy.

“Oh my god, how many more products do you need?”

“Beauty is pain, babe, and sometimes pain means you need to be patient with me.”

who is the most tidy and organised

They’re both organised in different aspects of their lives, and completely dishevelled in others. Shreya likes making lists, and always has her bullet journal (or the magickal version of one) on hand. It’s filled with due dates, shopping lists, appointment dates, and random scribblings. She may not be the most studious, per se, but she always knows what she needs to do next and never turns in work late. Rhea reads and studies a lot, but is kind of a scatterbrain when it comes to remembering when things are due, so she tends to rely on Shreya for that, even in classes they don’t share. (“Honestly, Rhea, what would you do without me?”)

One thing Rhea can’t stand, though, is a messy living space. Her room is always tidy and spotless, with everything she needs to find in an allocated drawer, her bed always made, all her clothes either folded or tucked into a hamper and never on the floor. It drives Shreya a little crazy when her girlfriend and roommate is nit-picking at how messy her own room is whenever she comes around—because, let’s be real, Shreya having grown up with servants at her beck and call means she probably isn’t the best at keeping her room tidy, even with magick to help her. They spend most of their time in Rhea’s room because of this, until Rhea caves one day and forces Shreya to clean her room with her.

who is the big spoon/little spoon

They take turns depending on their moods, but Rhea is usually the big spoon. Not always of her own volition—Shreya is notoriously good at getting what she wants, and what she wants is to be cuddled, goddamn it. Not that Rhea minds.

who gets most competitive when playing games and/or sports

Okay, hear me out: Shreya. She doesn’t actually play any sports, and initially doesn’t even care much for watching Thief, but dating their star Sun-Att player slowly turns her into one of those Intense Supportive Girlfriends cheering viciously from the side lines. (It’s the Fire-Att in her.) Zeph has to do his best to get her to calm down, while Beckett (if he’s even around) pretends like he doesn’t know either of them.

“You call that an Air spell? My girlfriend could out-cast your ass any day!”

“Did she just shoulder-check Rhea? Oh my god, I’m about to run onto that field myself—”

“That is SHREYA MISTRY’S GIRLFRIEND you’re about to steal a flag from—”

“Shreya…please, literally the entire stadium is staring at us.”

who starts the most arguments

Shreya. It’s not usually on purpose, because she hates intentionally bringing problems into their relationship, but her temper sometimes causes her to snap. Sometimes, though, she finds it necessary to bring up problems they’re having, because Rhea’s the type to avoid conflict, even when it clearly needs to be addressed—that is, if Shreya never brings it up, it’ll never be resolved. Sometimes it’s over something small, like how Rhea keeps forgetting to lock their door, and sometimes it’s something bigger, like how Rhea always tries to pretend like she’s okay when she clearly isn’t, but they always talk it out, even if it takes some screaming at each other to get there.

Other times, Shreya finds herself picking arguments for no reason other than the fact that she’s had a bad day. When this happens, instead of arguing with her, Rhea will try her best to cheer her up—sometimes by grabbing her girlfriend’s hands, kissing them and making Shreya tell her what was really going on, and other times by simply, without warning, hoisting Shreya up onto her shoulders and running around like an idiot until Shreya devolves into fits of laughter. (Side note: Rhea is definitely nearly a head taller than Shreya, and is very much capable of carrying her for long periods.)

what tv shows they watch together

Shreya is absolutely the type to be into trashy reality TV, though it’s mostly Attuned TV shows. When Rhea introduces her to America’s Most Eligible, they both fall in love with how ridiculous and awful it is.

“Who the FUCK voted for Zeke over Bianca?”

“Okay, like, Ivy is an evil conniving witch and whatever, but that plot twist was… hot.”

They watch a lot of other stuff together, like true crime documentaries, which they both love, and weird, obscure indie movies that Rhea’s obsessed with and which Shreya tries to pretend to be interested in—but nothing beats AME nights together.

who is the best cook

Rhea, by default. Shreya’s skill at brewing potions unfortunately doesn’t translate well into the kitchen, but for the longest time neither Rhea nor their friends have the heart to tell her. When Rhea gets a cold and Shreya tries to make her soup (no magick ingredients, just good old-fashioned soup that her mom used to make for her), and Rhea is a little more out of it than usual and is unable to hide her distaste for the concoction Shreya has made for her, the not-so-secret comes out.

Shreya sighs. “You can stop pretending to think I’m a good cook, you know.”

“That’s not what I…” Rhea stops herself, partly because of the sudden wave of dizziness that hits her, and partly from defeat as Shreya shoots her a look that says, Don’t you lie to me. “I’m sorry, Shreya. I love you to bits, but God, your cooking is a nightmare.”

Her girlfriend rolls her eyes. Shreya is sitting next to her on the bed and is holding the bowl of soup in her hands, which she places down onto the bedside table. “Fine, I’ll go ask Beckett to brew something to help with your cold—”

“No!” Rhea grabs Shreya’s hands as she stands up as if to make to leave. “No Beckett. If I have to hear him tell me that I should’ve taken his advice and worn a protective ward before the Thief game so I wouldn’t get sick again one more time, I might just kill myself.”

Shreya narrows her eyes playfully and draws her hand back. “Hmph. I feel like that’s a pretty suitable punishment for you considering you’ve been lying to me.”

Rhea falls back onto her pillow, lifting a hand up to her heart like she’s just been shot. “They always say the lover did it…”

Rolling her eyes again, Shreya moves towards the door, for real this time. “Seriously. If you won’t accept my soup then I need to find some other potion to cure you. I’ll ask the infirmary.”

From her slumped position in the bed, even her exhaustion can’t mask the stupid smile that spreads across Rhea’s face. “Hey Shreya.”

“What?”

“I love you. A lot.” Rhea doesn’t miss the quirk of Shreya’s lip, a small smile breaking through the joking exterior. “Thank you for trying to make me feel better. I appreciate it even though it turned out terrible.”

Shreya’s face falls, once again replaced by a characteristic eyeroll. “Ugh, you were doing so well in the first half.”

She whisks out of the room and shuts the door behind her. A few seconds later, the door reopens and Shreya reappears. “I love you too, stupid,” she says, before slamming the door closed again, Rhea laughing like a little schoolgirl in love in her wake.

[theorynexus]

Double Fives are first, today-- or two together-arranged, 55, I should say.

Also, we’re at Meat 30.   It would seem Jake, Karkat, and Dave are spending time together, this time.

Oh gosh...   I hope Karkat wasn’t made to endure that, considering he supposedly only ever left his house once per year, even if that might be a hyperbole. @w@            His interests and Jake’s are strongly opposed on that from, it would seem.   Thus, it might have been bad for deal-making, for reasons of souring Karkat’s mood; regardless, let’s see whether their other interests might align, or some non-detrimental arrangement (for Karkat, but hopefully for Jake too) might be found between them.

Ouch.    On the other hand, at least Karkat seems to have (likely) become more comfortable with outward signs of his blood’s color.   I doubt he would have failed to realize that it likely gives that impression, even if he originally intended it to be a sign of his closeness with Dave. He almost certainly would have semi-paranoid-ly weighed the pros and cons for his emotional well-being and/or all other consequences involved, and only come to the decision that the suit was acceptable for him to wear after deciding both connotations were acceptable.

Honestly, all things considered, Jake is very much correct. Considering the boost from all his rungs on the escheladder, there’s no way his physical capabilities should be that bad.  ... Though Jake’s estimates probably would be wrong for any other sort of being that was traveling with him. I don’t think his expectations are probably all that well gauged to the individuals in his company. It’s not that I think poorly of his intelligence, mind you. It’s just that Jake can be... rather oblivious, sometimes, if memory serves.

Yeah, his judgment is totally based on his own experience. Still, though, even coated in like 5 layers of fur, Karkat shouldn’t be that worn out. At least, from a world-building perspective, this doesn’t contradict the established rule that-- oh, wait, that was ghosts changing to fit the person’s perceptions, not God Tier players’ appearances, wasn’t it?  Hmmm.

Yes. Karkat’s diplomatic skills are impeccable.  There is absolutely nobody that can beat this guy when it comes to maintaining good relationships and reputations among the important powers of the world--- nobody!

I would suspect that Alt!Calliope is being petty, here, but I think it’s just Karkat being so tired that his coordination has dropped a bit.   (Also, this is honestly rather cute, and I appreciate the opportunity to giggle at it.)

Frack, Dave is good at bringing things up in the most awkward way possible. Also, that Karkat only estimates himself as being able to beat 99% of all humans in a “threshecution threshing match” is both quite comical and somewhat sad. ._. One Percent is a whole lot of people.

***facepalms with the greatest of groans***    SHE REALLY SHOULD FRICKING NOT!!!                        (Internet freedom for all!)   That said:  GAH, Dave, are you trying to sabotage Karkat’s chances, here? On the other hand: Maybe this propensity for blunt, careless words is one of the reasons that he decided he didn’t want to run for President, himself.   If so, good on him, I guess, for knowing himself that well.

( I will say, though, that that was honestly a nice segue, despite the fact that he sortof botched the lead-up to this via his rudeness.    Karkat gets a pass, though, because everyone knows he’s crude, and that’s part of the appeal.)

The real question is:  Are these campaign dollars as in a certain allocated amount that is allowed for each candidate, or money which was donated to the campaign by those who support them and/or Dave/Karkat?  That is a pretty important distinction, politically.  Not that either will likely be addressed and/or matter directly to the outcome of the race, probably. Oh, and those adds sound incredibly silly. I am not 100% sure that they will actually in all likelihood be effective, but they sure do sound comic-(sans)-ical. On the other hand:  Jake seems to be trying to mentally suppress what’s happening to him, probably due to his feelings toward Jane.   Welp.   :|

This is a very complicated issue, and for the sake of not offending either side, I shall choose to remain silent on the real world matter at hand, here.  On the other hand, I love the way that Karkat is just like, “SHUT UP, ALREADY.”   XD

Reminds me of Caliborn.     Indeed, that is definitely the reason why such committees are actually put into place (other than the compelling economic reasons incentives).    Doesn’t mean that they actually succeed in doing so perfectly, however.    It just makes it a grey “I guess maybe they were involved,” regardless of whether the person actually suggested such adds ought go into effect or not. Buuuuut... I’m going to refrain from pushing my promised non-commentary further than that-- and only did comment with this because of its relevance to Jake’s thought process.

It seems that Karkat agrees with my assessment of this matter.  Also, Alt!Calliope sure is quite sassy, compared to the grim and highly reserved person I thought she was. I wonder if it’s because she’s been watching essentially television for eons in order to properly understand humanity+maybe the trolls or whatever, or if it’s because she’s doing it on accident, as was my initial guess/impression, as related earlier in my liveblogs.

That’s not the point, Dave. The point is that, for one, it probably makes the audience think of you as irresponsible; secondly, it wastes the most precious resource in politics: the citizens’ limited attention spans; finally, it may actually make the two of you come off as being condescending and/or not having any actual idea what you’re talking about, which would be absolutely horrible for your chances, come election time.    While campaigns can indeed turn around in the latter months of election season, first impressions are also very important!

That is a very interesting point/question. And very ironic for him to ask; not that Dave actually can’t be properly understood through his layers of irony-- but rather, while he does indeed have a talent for that, his other qualities obscure it so badly as to make it seem quite unremarkable and hidden. And there Dave goes again, saying “thats basically true [sic.]”.   Magnificent. ***will not touch the matter of how straight-forward Dirk is***

...     Man.  Hopefully, this will serve as a lesson to the both of them.    Jake’s reaction is so bloody on the point, though. @w@

I do honestly appreciate that too.  Wow, though, he is being surprisingly civil and respectful as a result of this.  It shouldn’t honestly be a surprise, considering who Jake is.  It’s just... wow. I really appreciate the breath of fresh air.

Yeeeeesss!!!~    <3       I love everything about this that follows!    While he can be quite oblivious at times, I have always thought that Jake’s intelligence was top-notch, and I quite appreciate his flexing it, as well as that wonderfully noted breath of FREEDOM whizzing into his sails!

Boooooo!!!~     I really quite appreciate the correct and excellent display of entomological knowledge, here, but DANG, if Dirk isn’t a slimy piece of garbage, sometimes!     I mean, my gosh, the sociopathic logic, here.  It’s horrific! As for Jake:  I am very proud of him, and appreciate his very appropriate question. Everyone should ask the qualities that politicians bring to the table, policy-wise, and their (+ dis-)advantages--- not just how charismatic they are. Of course, such a statement is stating the obvious. ‘s still good to see it in practice. ... Wow, I really love Alt!Calliope’s sass. So much.

HECK YES! :’D

***grooooaaan***    

FINALLY, CERTAINTY!!!

Aside from his lack of attraction for her, which says nothing of importance, I do in fact agree with Karkat, here.  This is essentially the equivalent of the moment when the United States switched to the Constitution, and the country absolutely needed a Washington.  If Adams had actually been elected, instead of getting the second-highest sum of votes, then both the contry and the entire world could have turned out quite differently.  I, too, do  believe that Crocker could be reasonably said to have a fair chance at acting as a President who doesn’t really shake things up too terribly, and actually manages to set a perfectly fine, perhaps above average standard for Presidents to come.   There are, however, certain points in history which require great leaders if things are going to pan out well in the long-term. Crocker just presents far too many potential problems while not offering enough in the way of positives for me to give a strong endorsement of her, despite my desire to see a female president eventually take office in the United States’ equivalent of the station she and Karkat are competing over.

(SUPPORT KARKAT FOR HIS BETTER APPRECIATION OF FUNDAMENTAL PHILOSOPHICAL ORDERS OF IMPORTANCE.)

Yeeeeaaaahhh...   She was already quite twisted up (read: pained) inside during the session as a result of her concern for maintaining appearances and manipulating peoples’ perceptions of her, unless my memory is horrible in this particular act of dredging up long-ago readings’ implications, so I could certainly see that growing to be a problem as she grew up.    I’d sortof hoped that that would cease to be so much of an issue, after their session was won, considering the rewards involved/gained as a result of that.    :/

...    Yeah, that is a good deal of whiplash. I am honestly pained.

Dangit, I was so swept up in my spiel about the direct political consequences of that decision/strategy that I forgot to emphasize the very obvious danger of it actually alienating Jake from her!

***sobs***   I am so proud of him!    (Though this is not exactly the best reason for choosing one’s political decisions, I can definitely get behind the idea of him striving for independence from that manipulative cur.) 

What Dave said, but less profanity-laced! Also:   Am I incorrect in remembering that God Tier players past a certain Tier are able to wield any weapon they desire, regardless of whether they have a       Kind Abstratus of the appropriate sort in their strife specibus?  That could become relevant, some time in the near future.

[imnotinclinedtomaturity]

Love Yourself (Chapter 30)

title: Love Yourself summary: A lot of things about Dan’s life are pretty great. He gets to make the music he wants, he’s got a great fanbase, and his manager is his best friend. A few things about his life suck a bit more. He’s currently lacking inspiration, he’s rather lonely, and he’s stuck in a rut. Dan’s been going to the same coffee shop for years. It’s quiet, it’s quaint, it’s near his home. Most importantly: none of the employees give a shit that’s he a world-famous singer. Things change when he meets the new barista. chapter words: 7.6k story words: 240k (so far) chapter: 30/? rating: m warnings: language, alcohol, sex mentions, some bi/homophobia, eventual explicit smut, some depression genre: singer!dan, coffee shop au, barista!phil, slow burn [[ao3]] [[first chapter]] [[previous chapter]]

a/n: thanks to my one true love @auroraphilealis giving up whatever she was doing tonight to beta, even though she had a headache and unlimited lives on her fave mobile game of the moment xx 

Dan woke up early, groggy from jetlag. The hotel room was shrouded in dark shadows, and in his sleepy state, he couldn’t tell if it was from the thick curtains or if it was still dark outside. Whichever it was, it really made him not want to move — well, that and the warm weight of Phil’s arm wrapped around his waist and the soft, rhythmic tickle of Phil’s breath against the back of Dan’s neck. Sometime during the night, they’d shifted from their original position of Dan’s head on Phil’s chest. They hadn’t drifted far from each other, though. Somehow, they’d ended up spooning, and Dan secretly loved that even in their sleep, they’d wanted to stay close together.

But despite the serenity, worry nagged at the back of Dan’s mind, and he found himself itching to check his phone. He’d spent the majority of the plane ride ruminating about Isabella’s interview, his mind spiraling and dreaming up worst case scenarios. During the one hour of the flight he’d managed to sleep, he’d dreamed that Isabella had told everyone he’d cheated on her with Phil.

Luckily, last night he’d slept peacefully — he couldn’t imagine trying to film an interview in front of a live audience on a fitful night’s sleep. Dan suspected that Phil had something to do with why he’d slept so well, but now didn’t seem like the time to explore that thought.

Careful not to disturb Phil, Dan stretched forward to swipe his phone off the bedside table. He clicked it on, and was surprised to find that it was only half past seven — his alarm wasn’t due to go off for another half hour. Less surprising was the fact that there were already two text messages from Louise; it was five hours later there after all.

The messages had only come in an hour ago.

There was little doubt in Dan’s mind that the messages had something to do with Isabella’s interview, because Louise would have waited until a more reasonable time to text about anything else. Wiggling further back into Phil’s embrace, Dan took a deep breath and opened them.

Louise [6:28AM]: Tatler has already posted about the interview. They must have wanted to get it out fast, because it’s pretty much just a transcript, not a proper article. I’m going to read it now.

Louise [6:37AM]: You’re going to hate it. Honestly, it’s not that bad, there’s nothing so damning that you can’t fix it. But… you won’t like it :( Here’s the link: www.tatler.uk/18572650

“Fuck,” Dan muttered, apparently a little too loudly. Behind him, Phil stirred; his leg shifted, wrapping fully around Dan’s, and Phil pulled him in closer.

“What time’s it?” Phil asked, his voice deep and scratchy with sleep.

“Half seven,” Dan answered shortly.

“What’re you doin’ up?” Phil slurred. His hand dipped just inside the hem of Dan’s pyjama pants, his thumb stroking Dan’s bare hipbone. On any other morning, Dan was certain that this would be pleasant — peaceful even. But this morning, Dan’s mind couldn’t detach from the real world enough to enjoy the touch.

“Louise texted. The interview is up.” Even to his own ears, Dan’s voice sounded flat. Flat and tight.

The news seemed to affect Phil just as much as it had Dan. The gentle caress of Dan’s hip stopped abruptly, Phil’s hand gripping his waist tightly instead.

“How bad?” Phil asked warily.

Dan tipped his head slightly so that he could at least sort of see Phil. “Dunno yet. I haven’t read it. Louise said I wouldn’t like it, but it, and I quote, isn’t too bad and there’s nothing too damning.”

“That’s… contradictory.” Phil’s brows were furrowed; he looked just as confused as Dan felt.

“Fucking tell me about it,” Dan grumbled. Louise had never been one to sugar coat news about publicity, so he objectively knew this couldn’t be that horrific. But still, the fact that his best friend knew he’d hate what Isabella had to say… He had a feeling that meant that Izzy had probably gone for the jugular.

“Well,” Phil said with a sigh. “Should we read it?”

“Unfortunately,” Dan huffed. One hand dropped from his phone, reaching instead for Phil’s arm that was wrapped around his waist. Slowly, Dan slithered his hand down until his fingers linked with Phil’s. Looking over his shoulder, Dan’s eyes flickered back and forth between Phil’s. “Together?” he asked hopefully.

“Of course,” Phil agreed, leaning forward and pressing a chaste kiss to Dan’s forehead.

“Alright, here goes nothing.” With a sigh, Dan rolled back onto his side, and clicked the link Louise had sent. He felt Phil raise up on his elbow, his head hooking around Dan’s shoulder so he could read too. The page loaded, and Dan dove into reading, knowing that if he procrastinated at all, his anxiety might stop him from ever being able to read it.

—

The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly of Love with Daniel Howell

This morning, I sat down with one of Tatler’s favorite models, Isabella De La Renta, to talk about her recent split from singer Daniel Howell (see here, here, and here for our past coverage of the shocking break up). For those curious, Isabella ordered a green tea (maybe inspired by her recent trip to China; see here for more details) and a yogurt parfait (no granola because she doesn’t eat carbs to maintain her perfect figure!). Isabella dished on everything from Dan’s shocking announcement about his sexuality (see his instagram post here) to how their relationship was going before their split.

You and Dan dated for a long time —

IDLR: Almost a year!

What’s life like now that you’re broken up?

IDLR: It’s been a hard adjustment. In so many ways, Dan was my best friend. It still feels weird to not be able to call him after a long day or to share good news.

I think it goes without saying that your breakup was a huge shock to your fans. Were you surprised?

IDLR: Yes and no. By the time we broke up, I knew it was the right thing to do, but if you asked me earlier this year, I never would have guessed. Just a few months ago, I went to Adalina’s birthday dinner — that’s Dan’s little sister — and his mum and I were talking about rings. His whole family was so welcoming and seemed really supportive of the idea of marriage.

Oh wow — rings. How did that come up?

IDLR: Dan’s mum was wearing a gorgeous diamond ring that he bought her for Christmas, and she made a point to tell me that. It was so clearly a sneaky way for him to get my opinion on what kind of rings I prefer. It was kind of sweet actually.

From ring talk to breaking up, that’s quite a change. You said that you knew breaking up was the right thing to do. Why was that?

For the first time since we sat down together, Isabella fell silent. Her eyes drifted out the window, and she was silent a long time. By the time she spoke again, her voice was choked up with tears and the model’s response was interrupted by delicate sniffles. It’s clear that this topic is still hard for her to talk about.

IDLR: We dated almost a year and, like I said, we were best friends. I thought I knew everything about Danny. And then in January, he told me he was attracted to guys, too. I really didn’t want it to affect our relationship, but I felt so betrayed that he’d kept such a big part of himself secret from me that it was hard to trust him anymore. In the end, I knew I couldn’t be with someone who wasn’t willing to be completely authentic with me.

Did you feel like he continued to be inauthentic with you after he came out to you?

IDLR: Yes, yes definitely. Dan assured me — just like he announced on his insta — that he’s bisexual. But after a year of dating him, and seeing how he is with a certain boy, I think maybe… maybe he’s not bisexual if you know what I mean.

Interesting. So what do you think that means about his relationship with you?

IDLR: Honestly, I feel really used. Before he told me about his sexuality, there were definitely moments where I felt like he was dating me for reasons he wasn’t letting on. But I never would have guessed it was a coverup for being gay.

I don't think any of us anticipated that! How did Dan handle the breakup?

IDLR: He really didn’t want to break up — he asked me several times to reconsider. I think he liked being able to show the world that he had a girlfriend, and ultimately, we did have a lot of fun together. Even if it did turn out to be not genuinely based on sex or romance.

Since you teased about it, will you tell us what the sex was like?

IDLR: Nosey nosey! For a while, it was good — maybe because it was new or him exploring or whatever. But that must have worn off or something. For the last few months, he wasn’t interested in it at all. He’d always find an excuse to get out of it, and the few times he didn’t… well, let’s just say it didn’t work and it wasn’t my fault. That was really hard to come to terms with and I felt so rejected.

That would be difficult for anyone to handle.

IDLR: I feel like it was extra hard for me because I’ve, like, never been rejected like that before. I grew up always being the pretty girl that everybody wanted, so to have Danny not want me in that way… Well, that’s when I knew for sure that he wasn’t bi, and realized our whole relationship was totally fake and I was just his… beard.

His beard — wow. That’s not something you hear much anymore.

IDLR: Maybe people are just better at keeping secrets now. Besides, it doesn’t take a genius to notice that I’m the only public relationship Dan’s had. Why else do you think that would be, if it wasn’t that all his lovers were men?

I asked Isabella if she had any final things to say about Daniel Howell, and she left us with this powerful message:

“Danny had me fooled for almost a year, and we were closer than I thought two people could be. Don’t hesitate to think that he might be fooling you too.” -IDLR.

—

“Fuck fuck fucking fuck!” Dan cursed. Every single word in the article was complete bullshit, but that quote at the end — that quote was the final fucking straw. How fucking dare Isabella twist the story like that, and then use her twisted, fucked up version of events to make everyone question everything he was going to say?

Adrenaline was coursing through Dan’s veins, and he couldn’t possibly stay still for another second. Dan chucked his phone towards the foot of the bed, not bothering to check if it landed safely — it was cracked anyway — and abruptly lunged out of Phil’s arm.

Pent up energy was eating at him, making him itch to move, so he began pacing their room. With vehement quickness, Dan marched up and down the small aisle between the foot of the bed and the dresser, pacing from the sofa to the bathroom and back, over and over and over.

“Fuck her, fuck her, that fucking cunt!” Dan spat, bringing one hand up to tug roughly at his tangled curls.

“Dan, I know you’re pissed off, but —” Phil started to say, but Dan wasn’t having any of it. He just barely glanced over, only fleetingly noting that Phil had pushed himself up to a sitting position and was now leaning forward like he wanted to say something.

“Pissed off?” Dan asked incredulously with a bitter laugh. Pissed off didn’t even begin to describe how Dan felt right now — he was downright livid, and he literally could not remember a single time where he’d been more upset than this. Not when his dad had sold his car without his permission, not when a group of obnoxious young fans had tried to harass Adaline for information, not when an unreleased, private song had accidentally been released to the public.

This — this was a whole new fucking level of anger, and there was only one way Dan knew how to cope with it.

Music.

He wanted everyone to know that Isabella was the one trying to fool the world, that Isabella was the one lying out of her ass. And what better way to do it than singing a song that practically screamed how fucked up Isabella’s behavior had been?

And if he sang it tonight, just hours after Isabella’s interview was released, people would know he’d written it beforehand — it would be at least one piece of evidence that would corroborate his version — the real version — of the story.

“That bitch isn’t getting away with this,” Dan muttered fiercely. His hands were clenched into tight fists at his side, his breaths coming in harsh huffs.

“Don’t do anything too rash, Dan,” Phil half-heartedly pleaded from the bed. The words knocked Dan out of his thoughts, and he froze mid-pace to spin around and face Phil.

“It’s not considered rash if I already planned on releasing the song at some point, right?” He raised his eyebrows pointedly.

Phil narrowed his gaze, though, eyeing Dan carefully. “I thought you said you only had one song you could perform without the backup band?”

Dan narrowed his eyes. He understood Phil’s rebuttal — Dan had told Phil that there was only one song he could play with just his guitar. My My My was Dan’s only acoustic song. But that didn’t mean it was the only song he could play without having his full backup band with him.

“Well, technically,” he admitted slowly. “But I do have another song — a perfect song — that’s basically ready. The band’s already recorded the instrumental parts, so I could just sing to that,” Dan suggested tentatively.

To Dan’s surprise, Phil pouted at the news. His bottom lip stuck out pitifully, his arms crossed in front of his chest.

“I thought my song was perfect?” he whined.

The anger that had been curling at Dan’s edges receded slightly, utter adoration for the man in front of him creeping into its place. Despite the urge to retaliate against Isabella’s accusations, Dan found his entire body, his entire demeanor, softening. Phil was so cute, and yet so petulant, that Dan couldn’t help melting. There was a happy glint in Phil’s eyes that was never there when Isabella had pouted at Dan, a spark that told Dan that this was different.

Before Dan could process his own actions, he was moving again, this time walking with purpose towards Phil and coming to a stop at the very edge of the bed.

Reaching out, Dan cupped Phil’s face in his palms, tilting his head up until their eyes met.

“Of course your song is perfect, Philly,” Dan reassured him with a soft smile. “But I wrote My My My, and the rest of your songs for that matter, when I was happy and giddy and in—” Dan paused, a hot flush rising to his cheeks. “Well. When I wasn’t in this kind of mood. And I’d rather the world didn’t hear any of them for the first time with this mood tainting it.”

For a moment, Phil just held Dan’s gaze. Dan raised his brows hopefully, almost pleading for Phil’s sad look to go away. But then Phil’s pouted melted, and a small smile replaced it instead. A part of Dan — a bigger part of him than he’d like to admit, really — was surprised at how quickly Phil’s pout had disappeared, even if the pout had only been joking in the first place. After a year with Isabella, Dan was used to fucking groveling if he wanted those sad looks to go away without sex.

“The rest of my songs?” Phil marveled, a hint of astonishment lacing his voice and a pink blush tainting his cheeks.

“Yes you loser, the rest of your songs.” Dan huffed, but not bothering to hide an enamoured grin.

“I didn’t know there was more than just the one,” Phil said softly, a note of awe in his voice.

“Did you even listen to the concept of the album?” Dan shook his head and rolled his eyes. Humor and fondness were seeping into his words no matter how hard he tried to sound serious; it didn’t matter that he’d been delirious with anger fifteen seconds ago, something about this boy managed to swing his mood to the polar opposite in the flicker of a second. “Wanting you, getting you… doesn’t that imply a bare minimum of two songs?” Dan teased, quirking an eyebrow and running one hand along the short, buzzcut side of Phil’s hair.

Isabella wasn’t right, he wasn’t gay, but he definitely reveled in how much of a boy Phil was.

“I mean,” Phil’s tongue darted out to lick his lips, his mouth pulling into a broad grin. Through his teeth, Phil’s tongue continued poking out of his mouth, and for once, his hand didn’t shoot up to hide it. “I guess I objectively figured that. But I didn’t, like… know. For sure, I mean.”

“You’re a dork, but I like you anyway,” Dan teased with a smirk.

Leaning down, Dan closed the gap between them and pressed his lips against Phil’s. The kiss was soft, almost chaste, at first, but the adrenaline that had been plaguing Dan must not have settled yet. The gentle kiss quickly grew heated, Dan’s mouth parting and his tongue darting out to lick along Phil’s bottom lip.

The soft whine Phil let out made Dan grin smugly.

“Before I call Lou about the song change, I need to shower and cool down,” Dan panted against Phil’s mouth after a moment, only drawing far enough back to mumble the words. Tipping his head forward, Dan captured Phil’s lips once more, playfully, sucking Phil’s bottom lip between his own, and letting his teeth graze along the sensitive skin just inside of Phil’s mouth. “Come with me?”

Hot staccatoed breaths fanned across Dan’s face as Phil chuckled, chasing Dan’s mouth to press a final, chaste kiss to his lips. “I’m pretty sure me showering with you will do the opposite of helping you cool down,” Phil teased.

“But Phi-illllll,” Dan whined, his voice several octaves higher than normal. Childish petulance seemed to take over Dan, and he stomped his foot on the ground, tugging pointedly at Phil’s hair.

“But D-annnn,” Phil mocked, his voice somehow even higher than Dan’s. Smirk on his face, Phil lightly shook Dan by the hips.

Actions speak louder than words, or so everyone said, so rather than replying, Dan opted to slide his hands from Phil’s cheeks down down down until he’d landed on Phil’s hips. Even then, Dan didn’t stop; one hand drifted farther, slipping into the hem of Phil’s pants. His fingers grazed Phil’s hipbone, creeping farther and farther back towards Phil’s arse.

Dan wiggled his eyebrows and licked his lips in what he hoped was a suggestive manner. “Come on,” he said gruffly, his hand lightly squeezing what he could reach of Phil’s arse.

“I’ll tell you what,” Phil started with a mischievous glint in his eye, shaking his head at Dan’s offer but smirking all the while. “I promise we’ll do something fun when you’re done filming the show.”

Lips pursed, Dan raised his brows skeptically. “Why can’t we do something fun later and now? It seems unnecessarily cruel for you to lounge in bed and leave me to wank in the shower,” he whined.

“Jesus christ, Dan,” Phil muttered, his eyes squeezing shut. Against his hips, Dan could feel the way Phil’s fingers dug in, he could see the way Phil’s entire body tensed. Everything about Phil’s demeanor made Dan confident that Phil would cave, if not now, then soon.

It took a moment, but Phil opened them again, although he didn’t quite meet Dan’s eye. “We both know if I come with you, we’ll both get absurdly distracted.”

“So?” Dan asked petulantly, sticking his lip out this time.

“So!” Phil huffed, exasperated. “You have a big day today and should focus on that. Besides, I should really call my mum.”

Dan wrinkled his nose, horrified at the change in subject. “Your mum? Are you really dragging your mum into this to turn me off?”

“Shut up, you twat.” Phil rolled his eyes, finally tipping his head far enough back to meet Dan’s gaze again. “My mum’s only request is that I text her if I leave the time zone, and now we’ve traveled through like six, so I think I owe her a call.”

“Yikes,” Dan cringed, his face scrunched up in horror. “You should have called her from the aeroport or something!” Dan tapped Phil’s shoulder impatiently, trying to get his point across.

Phil smiled softly, one hand reaching up to still Dan’s hand, trapping it against Phil’s neck. “I didn’t wanna leave you alone,” he said warmly, his other thumb grazing over Dan’s hipbone.

“Ugh,” Dan recoiled instantly, his nose wrinkling up in disgust. He wrangled his hand out of Phil’s grip, lightly swatting him on the shoulder. “Gross,” Dan whined, but his lips were drawn into a beaming smile.

Phil flicked Dan’s shoulder with his free hand, and flashed him a cheeky grin. “Shut up and go shower, Howell.”

“Fuck you too, Lester,” Dan pouted.

“You can do whatever you want later,” Phil teased coyly, his hand dipping into Dan’s pants to squeeze the top of his arse. Even knowing that Phil wasn’t going to accompany him to the shower, Dan couldn’t help but arch back into Phil’s touch.

“Fine, but you better believe I’m taking you up on that promise,” Dan griped, taking a minute step backward.

“Good,” Phil said with a shameless smile. “I hoped you would.”

********************

As much as Dan had resented having to get himself off with a rushed and mediocre handjob in the shower when he had a perfectly good, sexy boyfriend right outside the door, Phil had been right. From the minute Dan had gotten out of the shower — literally, he actually got out early because Louise was ringing — until the time Dan had been plopped down in a makeup chair in a small dressing room, he’d been having non-stop conversations about logistics and planning. Between Louise, his record label, and the Tonight Show coordinators, Dan barely had time to breathe — much less fuck around in the shower.

All the planning had been good though. It kept his mind busy and held his nerves at bay — until now.

Now, as some random woman dabbed foundation onto Dan’s face, there was nothing to do other than let his mind wander. Phil had ducked out a few minutes ago, going on a quest for decent coffee for Dan. While Dan really did want some tolerable caffeine, he was beginning to regret letting Phil be the one to get it.

Phil’s grounding chatter had disappeared, and along with it, so had Dan’s composure. Nerves had settled deep in the pit of his stomach and were slowly taking over his whole body. Sure, Dan had been given a run-down of topics Jimmy would hit on — and allowed to veto any he was uncomfortable with — but the gravity of what he was about to do, what he was about to talk about on national television, was weighing on him.

The makeup artist finished with the foundation and grabbed a natural-looking dark brown mascara from the pot. “Look up, please,” she instructed.

Dan eyed the brown mascara — mascara that was basically almost the exact same shade as his own eyelashes. Something about it didn’t feel right tonight, and he couldn’t quite keep his gut from screaming about it. This whole week was a movement towards being more authentic, and in a sudden moment of brazenness, Dan interrupted the makeup woman.

“Actually —” Dan paused. Stalled in hesitation, his tongue darting out to nervously wet his lower lip. Fuck it. Tonight was about making a statement. A big, loud and proud statement. He wasn’t going to half-ass it. “Can you do some eyeliner first? And maybe the black mascara?” The words came out more unsure than he’d wanted them to, and his hand was shaky as he pointed to the most dramatic tube, but he’d asked all the same. That’s what counted.

Dan expected the woman to be surprised, to balk at his request for something more feminine than she was offering. But to his surprise, she smiled broadly and gushed, “Of course!” as she pulled a small bag out of her kit. “What kind of look are you going for? Something subtle that will bring out your eyes? Or something more dramatic like the mid-2000s emo trend?”

“Um…” Dan floundered, suddenly doubting his decision — he didn’t want either of those options. Eyes fluttering closed, Dan listened to Adaline’s voice in his head saying one deep breath and then do the thing that scares you. “Neither,” he said as he met the makeup artist’s gaze with a defiant stare. This time, his voice wasn’t trembling or uncertain. It was strong. Confident.

The makeup artist’s head tilted slightly, and her lips quirked up into a small grin. “Okay, tell me what you’d like.”

Dan’s gaze drifted to his reflection in the mirror, his eyes tracing over the features of his face. “Nothing too dramatic, but I want it to be… noticeable.” He contemplated his long lashes and the dark brown of his eyes. “Something… pretty.”

“I can definitely do pretty!” The woman assured him with bubbly enthusiasm. “What are your thoughts about a bit of highlighter and bronzer to make those cute cheeks pop?”

A warm blush flushed Dan’s cheeks, and he looked down at his lap to hide his smile. He was flustered. Not from her calling him cute, but from the fact that someone other than Louise was willing to indulge his interest in makeup.

“Yeah,” Dan agreed softly, glancing up to meet the woman’s gaze in the mirror. “Whatever you think will look nice.”

Mesmerized, Dan watched as the woman pulled palette after palette out of her bag, opening and closing them as she seemed to debate which products to use. It was all so much nicer than the kid’s kit he’d bought Darcy, and so much more than the small stock Adaline used to have in her bathroom drawers.

The woman brushed powders over his cheeks, some feeling like they were almost down to his chin, some feeling like the went all the way up to his eye. Having his makeup done — proper makeup, not just stage makeup — was more nerve-wracking than Dan had anticipated, and he forced himself to avert his eyes anywhere but his own reflection. If he saw himself before she’d finished, he worried that he’d lose his courage; it was better to wait until the whole thing was done, then it would be harder to derail.

And maybe it’d look nice enough that he wouldn’t want to.

He reached out for one of the untouched palettes and opened it, only to find an array of greys and whites and blacks, some shimmery, some matte, and some straight up glitter. They were pretty — prettier than he thought he thought makeup could be, honestly.

“What’s this?” he asked, raising the palette a bit so the woman could see.

“Eyeshadow. Do you want some of that, too?” She asked it like it was the simplest question in the world, not like Dan was taking a rather large step in his slow but steady defiance of gender roles and heteronormativity.

His eyes lingered on one glittery grey powder, his mouth opening and closing repeatedly like a gaping fish.

After a moment’s hesitation, he weakly responded, “I think… not today.”

The makeup artist considered him for a second before plucking the palette out of his hands. “It’s up to you, of course, but we could do something really subtle. Maybe like this?” She spun the palette around so Dan could see it again, and pointed to one of the lightest options, a pale white with the faintest of shimmer. Dan didn’t know much about makeup, but he doubted the color would even show up on his skin.

“Does that even count as a color?” he asked doubtfully.

“It’s more of an accent, usually.” The makeup artist shrugged. “But if we swept it across your eyelids, the light shimmer would catch in the light and it would look nice. Barely noticeable if you weren’t looking for it, but nice.”

Dan hesitated again, his fingers tapping the table in front of him as he considered her offer. For some reason, eyeshadow — even eyeshadow that was basically nonexistent — seemed like a bigger step than eyeliner and something to accent his cheeks.

“Here,” the makeup artist said in a soothing voice, almost as if she sensed his apprehension. Without waiting for a response from Dan, she pulled a brush out of her toolkit and reached for Dan’s hand. “I’ll swipe it on your hand so you can see what it looks like on your skin first.”

“Oh!” Dan breathed, astonished. The idea of testing it somewhere hadn’t occurred to him at all, and he was suddenly realizing how fucking little he knew about makeup. Pliantly, Dan let her guide his hand towards her, and he felt his cheeks heat up again as she swiped the brush against the inside of his wrist. It tickled far more than he’d thought it would — not necessarily a bad thing, though. The sensation only lasted a few seconds before she released his hands and raised her eyebrows expectantly.

Slowly, tentatively, Dan lowered his arm, flipping it up so that he could see the soft, paler skin on the inside of his wrist.

In the end, the powder she’d applied was so light that he almost couldn’t see it. It wasn’t until he tilted his arm back and forth that he was able to see how the powder caught the light. She was right — it was just a faint shimmer, one he might not notice if he wasn’t trying to find it.

Still, the barely-there glitter was hypnotizing, and he found himself unable to look away.

“It’s so pretty,” he breathed, more to himself than to the woman.

“I’ll put it on your eyes, then,” she said definitively, leaving no room for Dan to refuse. “If you hate it, it’s easy to take off,” she added, softer this time, as she pointed to a packet labeled makeup wipes. Dan nodded, letting her do as she pleased.

As he pleased.

Tonight’s interview wasn’t a now or never moment — there would be plenty of other opportunities to make the statements he wanted to make — but it felt just as heavy. This appearance, this interview on The Tonight Show, was his first deliberate appearance after coming out just two nights before. Big gestures, actions that spoke louder than words — those had always mattered to Dan. Deep in his gut, something about this moment — a moment when he knew the largest possible audience would be watching — was calling for a grand display, and he was determined to do it justice.

“Go on then,” Dan whispered, taking a deep breath and then closed his eyes.

The tickling sensation felt different on his eyelids, but it still made his skin prickle in the same pleasant way. It was gentler and far more precise than when Darcy had tried to do it, and some part of Dan — a part of himself that he didn’t fully understand — relished the soft caress of the brush.

Truth be told, he didn’t quite know what to make of the fact that he liked the makeup brush — and the makeup — so much.

He liked being a boy, that much he knew. He liked his body, he liked his identity. But he didn’t necessarily like the box that society tried to confine him with. There were some things, some things that were traditionally labeled as for girls, that he wanted to be able to embrace on occasion.

And as the soft bristles brushed glimmer powder across his skin, Dan knew this was a particular box he wanted to break out of every now and again.

The brush disappeared, and Dan started to open his eyes, but was interrupted by a fierce cry from the makeup artist. “Wait!” she exclaimed hurriedly. “I want you to get the full effect before you decide!”

Dan clamped his eyes shut again, inhaling another long breath. “Okay, just tell me what to do then.” Nerves and excitement both chewed at his stomach, fighting for dominance. At this point, he wasn’t sure which was going to win out. He just hoped this wonderful makeup artist was fucking magical and could give him the confidence to actually do this.

“Just keep your eyes shut,” she instructed. Dan huffed out his breath, keeping his eyes tightly shut. “Well, okay a little looser than that,” the makeup artist chuckled, her thumb lightly brushing over Dan’s eyelid.

Dan did his best to relax his face and let whatever was going to happen, happen. If worse came to worst, he could have her take it off.

The sweeping, soft tickle of the brush disappeared, and suddenly a more pointed, but not quite harsh, touch replaced it. The touch sweeped right alone his eyelid, just barely dipping out onto his temple. Late night youtube binges told him that this was probably eyeliner — and that it was probably some amount of a wing (a term he only knew after three consecutive hours of Manny MUA).

After just another drag of what felt like a pen, the makeup artist prompted, “You can open now.”

For once, Dan didn’t hesitate tonight. He knew whatever he saw, it’d probably be nice. Even if he didn’t want to wear it on television, he’d interacted with this girl long enough to trust that whatever she had done was at least worthy of a private selfie before he had her remove it.

But when Dan opened his eyes, he was greeted with the lightest, gentlest glow on his eyelids, and eyeliner that was just this side of dramatic. It wasn’t wings, not in the way he’d seen on youtube binges. But it also wasn’t just eyeliner accentuating the natural line of his eye. The eyeliner stretched out from the corner of his eye, just a hair, forming into a subtle point — nothing large enough to be truly loud, but enough to be definitively there.

Dan opened his mouth to say something, but the words got caught in his mouth. To his great annoyance, he felt tears prickling at the corners of his eyes — tears he was determined to not let fall. With rough determination, he forced himself to swallow the lump in his throat, and cleared his voice before he tried to speak again.

“It’s great,” he murmured, his gaze never leaving his own eyes in the mirror. “Thanks.”

“Well let me put mascara on so you can get the full effect,” the woman said cheekily, waving a black tube in front of his face.

“Oh!” Dan gasped. Right — mascara. That was what had started this whole accidental makeup binge. “Go ahead, then,” Dan agreed.

He shifted his gaze up, prying his eyes open and forcing himself not to blink. The pull of the wand against his eyelashes was much more familiar — mascara was a pretty common part of stage makeup, a bit of makeup that was socially acceptable for guys to wear under certain conditions.

He loved that she was applying it after having put eyeshadow and eyeliner on.

“Okay, now tell me what you think.”

Dan’s eyes fluttered open again, appraising himself carefully in the mirror. The whole look seemed completed now that she’d added mascara. His eyes popped and his cheekbones seemed much more prominent than normal, the light reflecting off them more than usual. It wasn’t anything too radically different from how he normally looked, but still. The makeup was very clearly present. It was exactly what he’d wanted.

“Thank you,” he murmured softly, his eyes staying fixed on his reflection.

“Here,” the artist said, nudging something hard into his bicep. “You should keep this.”

Dan broke his own gaze, his eyes flitting down to his arm. In the woman’s hand was the eyeshadow palette, the one that was filled with shimmery and matte monochrome powders.

“I — I couldn’t, that’s yours,” Dan stumbled in surprise.

“I want you to have it.” She offered him a kind smile and set the palette down in his lap. “I can tell you like the colors.” Knocking her shoulder against Dan’s, she smiled softly and held his gaze in the mirror.

“Still —” Dan started, not quite knowing where his rebuttal was going, just knowing he felt guilty about taking something that probably cost decent money from someone. He swallowed thickly, glancing from the artist to the palette and back up again. “I could buy my own or something.”

“I know,” she said softly, shrugging. Her eyes met his in the mirror, holding his gaze steadily. “But now you don’t have to go find the courage to do that right away. Have fun with it, see what you think.”

Dan stared down at the dozen shades of white, grey, and black, at a loss for how to use them. “I — I barely know what to do with eyeshadow, much less this many of them.” Dan sheepishly looked up at the woman, not feeling nearly worthy of such a gift.

“There are loads of youtube videos.” The woman chuckled as she dug around in her purse. “But here, take my card and we can have a little skype if you don’t know what to do.”

“Wow,” Dan mumbled, numbly reaching out for the card and blankly staring at the bold black letters spelling Sofia Ricci against the stark white background. “Okay, um, I might take you up on that.”

“Good,” Sofia said definitively. “Now about those nails.”

Dan’s eyes shot down to his hands at the completely random observation, his eyes raking over his still matte-silver fingertips. His brows furrowed as he tried to make sense of Sofia’s comment.

“What about them?” he huffed, borderline offended as he glanced back up at her.

“I noticed some of them were smudged, and I was going to offer some nail polish remover, but…” Sofia trailed off, her eyes flickering down to her bag.

“But what?” Dan pushed when she didn’t finish her thought, eyes narrowed.

Bending over, Sofia dug through her bag for a second before holding out a small bottle of black nail polish in front of Dan. “Well, I thought maybe I could add some little designs over the smudges instead?”

Their eyes met in the mirror and Dan felt his heart fucking swell at how kind and supportive Sofia looked. Half an hour ago, she had just been a random makeup woman. And twenty minutes ago, she’d been offering to dress him up like Gerard Way à la 2006. But since then, she’d morphed into a supportive ally, someone who seemed to genuinely encourage Dan’s interest in all of… this.

“Hearts,” Dan said decisively, placing his hands on the table with purpose.

Sofia’s expression softened, a smile hinting at her lips. “Sure thing,” she assured as she unscrewed the black bottle with an air of confidence. Silently, she dipped a toothpick into the polish and gestured for Dan’s hand. Gently but confidently, she spread his fingers against the counter and began dotting the toothpick with intense concentration.

Somehow, the resolute attention that Sofia was giving to Dan’s nails was wildly different from the manicurist that Dan had occasionally gone to over the last few years. Sofia knew she was prepping Dan to go out in front of a massive public audience, Sofia was painstakingly painting delicate designs on Dan’s nails, Sofia was gently pushing Dan to be as authentic as he felt comfortable being.

Dan forced himself to look anywhere but his nails while Sofia worked. The whole nail polish thing — or at least wearing it in public — was new enough that it was still nerve-wracking, but he could still recall how lovely his nails had looked after the manicurist finished them earlier this week.

And he could perfectly remember the reverent look on Phil’s face when he’d noticed.

Sofia painted in silence for a few minutes, working her way through Dan’s entire right hand before she spoke again. The sound of her voice startled Dan enough that he glanced over at her.

“So,” she started tentatively. “I feel like I should confess that I saw your instagram post.”

Dan froze. “Oh,” he said, the one syllable coming out tight and short.

“I really liked it,” Sofia added softly, sounding far more tentative than she had since they’d been introduced.

Dread washed over Dan as he slowly began to process the meaning behind Sofia’s words — she clearly followed him on Instagram. She was probably a fan. In his experience, no secrets were safe with fans — that’s why he’d always had pretty much anyone he let close sign an NDA.

He hadn’t even hesitated with Sofia, though — and that was about to be his downfall. His interest in makeup was probably destined to be broadcasted all over the covers of the tabloids by this time tomorrow.

Frozen, Dan stared at himself in the mirror, unable to properly look at Sofia. Unfortunately, this meant he was forced to watch the way horror and fear flooded his own eyes. The terror was plainly written on his face, and it was impossible for Sofia not to notice it, too.

“Fuck — I mean, uh, frick, I mean —” Sofia stopped her dotting of his nails, instead looking up at him like a deer in headlights.

The expression was so startled, so genuine, that a little bit of Dan’s fears ebbed away. She looked so genuinely taken aback, so honestly scared of Dan’s reaction to what she’d said, that Dan couldn’t help but question if his worries were misplaced.

“Cursing is fine Sofia,” Dan assured her, his voice tighter than he wanted it to be. He drug his tongue along his bottom lip, trying to decide how much he wanted to allow. His eyes flickered to the eyeshadow palette and then to the business card on the table. He decided to take a leap of faith. “Just say whatever you want to say.”

“Right,” Sofia mumbled and flushed red, clearly embarrassed. “I just meant, I liked it… like, as a fan, it was good to see, but…” Her eyes didn’t quite meet Dan’s as she trailed off.

“...But?” Dan prompted, heart racing.

“But, as a fellow bisexual, it was the best post I’ve seen all year.”

“Oh,” Dan breathed, blinking rapidly in surprise. “I — I…”

Suddenly words seemed impossible to Dan — something that wasn’t exactly great since he was supposed to be talking about this very topic on national television in less than an hour. But he had hardly expected his makeup artist to broach this conversation with him (and he definitely hadn’t expected to ask for fucking eyeshadow from her).

“Sorry, I made it weird,” Sofia apologized, her gaze dropping back to her hands as she started steadily dotting another heart on Dan’s nails.

“No!” Dan exclaimed more forcefully than intended. “I mean, no,” he corrected, voice softer this time. “It’s not weird.”

Peeking up from Dan’s nails, Sofia caught his gaze in the mirror. “It’s not?”

“No. I — I didn’t realize until I came out how little bisexual representation there was out there.” Dan’s gaze flickered from Sofia’s gaze to his nails as he contemplated the decision he was making — the decision he’d technically already made. But with every word, the decision felt like more and more of an active choice. “And now… well, it doesn’t seem fair for us to keep being alone.”

“Thank you,” Sofia said softly, a hint of disbelief in her voice that Dan so desperately wished didn’t have to be there. That doubt wouldn’t exist if more people spoke up, if more people were authentic and tried to live their truth. “From all of us. It’s hard not seeing people like ourselves in the media, so what you’re doing… it means a lot.”

“Every listener I have is going to know that bisexuality is a real thing if I can help it,” Dan asserted, voice fierce for the first time that night.

“That’s the spirit,” Sofia whispered conspiratorially.

Dan nodded once, not saying anything else.

Of all the conversations he’d imagined having just before filming The Tonight Show, this certainly wasn’t one of them. But now that it had happened, it felt exactly like the conversation he’d needed — a conversation to remind him why he was so passionate about professing his bisexuality. Passion that stemmed from somewhere deeper, somewhere more important that Isabella’s whiny slander.

a/n2: look i was gonna have the interview in this chapter but i got fucking excited and carried away, okay?