#I’ve decided to turn this shelf into a memorabilia shelf!!

[shuffle-kerfuffle]

A fam update, seeing as I haven’t done one in a while!

[fanficshiddles]

The Redbridge Hunts, Chapter 11

Loki flew back into the city, but he didn’t head home. Instead, he found himself standing at the end of the path of the building where Claire lived. He wasn’t sure why he ended up there, exactly… his wings had just sort of carried him there.

He paused and just stared up at the building, before eventually deciding to walk up to the front door. He pushed the buzzer for her flat, but there was no answer.

‘Shit.’ Loki sighed and pressed his head against the glass door for a moment. Then again, her not being in was probably for the best, he still wasn’t sure why he was there in the first place. It was probably a bad idea.

As he turned to head back down the path, he stopped in his tracks as Claire was just coming back with some shopping bags.

‘Loki?’

‘Hey, Claire.’ He said sheepishly.

‘What are you doing here?’ She asked with a smile as she walked up to him.

‘I…’ He wasn’t entirely sure what to tell her at first, but then decided that the truth… well, partial truth, would be best. ‘I had a big fight with Chris, I then just found my legs took me here instead of home.’ He said as he rubbed the back of his head.  

Claire’s face softened. ‘Why don’t you come in, I’ve got stew in the slow cooker and it should be ready about now.’

Loki’s face lit up. ‘That would be nice, thank you. I don’t want to impose, though.’

‘Not at all. There’s plenty, I would be eating stew for the whole week otherwise.’ She laughed and juggled around the bags in her hands to get her keys out of her pocket.

‘Here, let me.’ Loki said quickly and took the bags from her.

‘Thanks.’

Claire and Loki headed inside, the lift was broken so they had to use the stairs. Thankfully she was only a few floors up, but Claire was secretly glad that Loki was there to carry the heavier bags for her.

‘Come on in. Sorry it’s not the tidiest, wasn’t expecting company so haven’t tidied.’ She said sheepishly as she opened her door.

‘Don’t worry about it.’ Loki chuckled. ‘Though if you say this isn’t tidy, I’d like to see what you think is tidy. This looks pretty neat to me.’ He said as he glanced around.

She had a small kitchen, but plenty of cupboards and counter space to make up for it. Her living room was a decent size, she had a corner of books and music memorabilia behind one of her sofas, a small glass coffee table was in the middle of the room and a TV hung on the wall next to a large window with a wide window ledge she had set up for a comfy reading spot, with cushions and a blanket. Her view of the city wasn’t too bad either.

‘Bat would love that window ledge.’ Loki grinned.

‘You know, that’s what I thought too the other day.’ Claire laughed.

Loki luckily had vaseline in his pocket, so he applied some around his nostrils when she disappeared into the kitchen. He had been hit with her smell as soon as he walked in and it was very overwhelming for him, obviously being surrounded by her everywhere. He began to think it maybe wasn’t a good idea coming here, he was going to have to use all of his strength to resist pouncing on her.

‘It’s a lovely home you have here, you’ve certainly made it your own. Very homely and cosy.’ Loki said as he followed her into the kitchen, she had started to unpack her shopping.

‘Thanks. I’m really happy with this place, just the right size for me really.’ She smiled brightly at him.

She was stretching right up on her tiptoes to try and put a packet of pasta on the top shelf, her t-shirt rode up, exposing her stomach a little. Loki breathed in sharply and tried not to stare, he quickly moved closer and offered to put it away for her.

‘It’s unfair how short I am.’ Claire laughed when Loki put the pasta in its place with ease.

‘Nothing wrong with being short and cute.’ Loki grinned and ruffled her hair playfully.

Claire wasn’t sure whether to be giddy about being called cute by him, or offended at the way he ruffled her hair. She batted his hand away with a laugh.

‘Do you want anything to drink? I’ve got soft drinks, tea, coffee or do you want something of the strong variety?’ She asked as she opened a cupboard that had quite the range of alcoholic drinks.

‘I’d kill for a gin.’ Loki said honestly.

‘One gin coming up.’ Claire poured them both a drink, then she checked on the stew. ‘Another ten minutes and it should be ready.’

They went through to the living room and got comfortable on the sofa together, Loki noted how she sat down quite close to him.

Loki began drinking his gin and almost finished it all in one go.

‘Wow, I’d say you really needed that. I’ll grab the bottle.’ Claire said with a gentle smile as she rushed to the kitchen and brought the bottle back, topping him up.

‘Sorry… I’ll try not to finish all your alcohol.’

‘I’d like to see you try, I have more in the utility cupboard.’ Claire laughed.

‘I’m starting to wonder if you’re an alcoholic, my dear?’ Loki raised an eyebrow at her.

‘I wonder that myself sometimes.’ She smirked and Loki chuckled. ‘I like having a drink at weekends, I’ve found its good to have a big stash too for any emergencies.’

‘Very wise.’ Loki smiled.

He’d actually almost forgotten why he had ended up there in the first place. Just being around Claire made him happy, she was like a ray of sunshine.

‘Are you ok?’ She asked when she noticed his smile drop.

Loki sighed and ran a hand down his face, he took another swig of his drink then placed it down on the side table next to him. ‘Not really. Chris and I had a huge fight, it got pretty bad.’

‘Are you hurt at all?’ Claire asked, concerned. She put her drink down too.

‘No. Well, I was a little but I’m fine now. I gave as good as I got.’ He chuckled a little bit. ‘Dad saw us fighting though, he’s not happy about it.’  

‘What were you fighting over? It must have been bad, you don’t strike me as a violent person, I’m sure you had a valid reason and your dad understands.’ Claire said softly.

Loki knew that Claire would find out soon enough, as would everyone in the city, about Stevie being murdered.

‘Do you know the twins, Stevie and Kirsten? They’re in year five?’ Loki asked.

‘No, I don’t think I do.’ Claire shook her head. She had a bad feeling, she didn’t like where this was going.

‘They took my class last year, lovely kids. Bright and popular. They…’ Loki swallowed hard as he still couldn’t believe it. ‘Stevie was killed earlier, Kirsten saw it happen too and was lucky to get away.’

Claire was speechless, her heart broke at the thought of a student being murdered in this city. She was also heartbroken for Loki, she could see how much it was affecting him, he cared deeply for his students.

She reached over and put her hand on his forearm, to give him a reassuring squeeze. ‘Oh, Loki. I’m so sorry… Is Kirsten ok? Probably a stupid question.’

‘She’s as ok as can be.’ Loki nodded, he was trying not to react to the feeling of her hand on his arm, though he was so warmed that she was comforting him. ‘The police don’t know who did it, but it seems they were mixed in with a bad crowd… drug related.’ Loki said sadly.

‘So, why did this cause a fight with you and Chris?’ Claire asked.

‘He found them with drugs yesterday, apparently. Kirsten said that Chris took the drugs off them, even though they told him they had to pass it on to the buyers or they’d be in trouble. Chris didn’t report it, or tell anyone. He didn’t keep them safe, he sent them to slaughter.’ Loki said angrily, his hands balled into fists.

He was glad he’d thought of what to tell the humans in the first place, though he still felt rather bad for lying to Claire, even though it was for a genuine reason.

‘I… I’m sure he didn’t realise that would happen.’ Claire said softly.

‘No, he did. He knew they would be in trouble, that the drug gangs around here are ruthless and don’t give a shit about anyone, even kids.’ Loki said angrily, but he quickly calmed when Claire gave his arm another squeeze.

‘Hopefully the police will get the bastards that did this.’

‘I doubt it, the police aren’t very competent when it comes to this kind of thing.’ Loki sighed.

‘I suspect tomorrow is going to be a bit of a mess at school. Is there anything I can do?’ Claire offered.

Loki put his other hand atop of hers and smiled. ‘I don’t think so, thank you. There just might be a lot of unsettle for the next few weeks until things… sort themselves out. Students might be on edge, so any extra support we can give them will help.’

Claire nodded. She could understand now why Loki had argued with Chris, if he had at least told the police about the drugs or told the kids to stay home or something, maybe Stevie would still be alive.

The beeper for the slow cooker went off, so Claire went through to dish up the stew. She returned to Loki with a bowl each.

‘I don’t have room for a dining table, so we just have to eat off our laps I’m afraid.’ She said as she sat down again.

‘That’s quite alright, this sofa is far too comfy to move off of anyway.’ Loki said with a smile.

Claire felt a little nervous as she waited for Loki’s reaction to the stew, she hoped he would like it.

‘Mmm, this is delicious! I’ll need to come by uninvited more often.’ He grinned.

Claire laughed. ‘You’re welcome any time. I’m glad you like it, I’m not used to cooking for other people.’ She admitted.

‘Well, this is definitely the best stew I’ve ever had, and I promise I’m not just saying that.’

‘Glad to hear it. There’s plenty, so if you want seconds feel free.’ Claire grinned.

‘Oh, I most definitely will.’

After eating, Loki stayed for a little while longer, they talked a bit more about the school and what they might expect tomorrow. Then they changed the subject and talked about various things, movies and music mainly. Loki felt much more at ease than he had been earlier in the evening, more grounded again. Like he could see clearly through a thick fog.

When he was getting ready to leave, Claire gave him a container with some stew he’d requested to take home for tomorrow nights dinner.

‘Thank you, darling. Will save me cooking tomorrow.’ He grinned.

‘I’ve got some for myself too tomorrow. At least I won’t be eating it every night this week!’

‘I certainly wouldn’t complain if I had to have it every night.’ He said cheesily.

Loki couldn’t help himself, he leaned in and kissed her on the cheek. He hesitated big time with his lips just hovering over her skin after kissing her. He glanced down at her lips, then back to her eyes. She was blushing hard as she looked at his lips too, then they both cleared their throats at the same time and leaned back awkwardly.

‘Thank you again, Claire. Truly. Not just for the food, but for helping to calm me down and letting me rant.’

‘Any time, Loki. Whatever happens tomorrow, or any other day, we will get through it. You’re not on your own.’ She assured him.

Loki desperately wanted to just grab her and hold her tight, to never let her go. Though it was as if she had read his mind.

‘It’ll be ok.’ She said as she stepped in closer to him and wrapped her arms around him tightly.

Loki froze for a split second, but then he wrapped his arms back around her and hugged her back just as tight. His heart was hammering against his chest, he could even hear it. Then he realised that he could hear her heart too, beating just as fast at being in his arms.

He turned his head ever so slightly so his nose was in against her hair, he inhaled deeply, yet secretly, and almost swooned on the spot. When she pulled back, it was just in time before he lost control of himself.

‘Thank you… Goodnight, Claire. I’ll see you tomorrow.’

‘Night, Loki. Take care going home.’ She called to him as he headed out the door.

‘Don’t worry about me, I’ll be careful. I promise.’ He smiled widely at her and gave her another wave.

When Claire saw Loki disappear around the corner at the end of the corridor, she ducked back inside and closed the door. She let out a small squeal of happiness at the moment they just shared. Even though she had to remind herself he was her boss, and this was probably not allowed, she couldn’t help her feelings towards him.

Even though he had come to her needing some comfort, she was delighted that he’d chosen her to go to, and she got ready for bed with a big smile on her face.

Though when she got into bed her mind began wandering about those poor twins, she couldn’t believe one of them had been killed. It was horrible, and she knew that tomorrow was going to be a tough and challenging day.

[moonsquaremars]

S Y N C H R O N I C I T Y

i’ve been adept to recognizing synchronicity in my life since i learned what it was, years ago. it’s not exactly a household word, but thankfully enough people know what it is that i’ve had great conversations.

usually when it happens, i feel at ease, and my anxieties wash away, if only for a little while.

in this post, i’ll be talking about all the crazy synchronicities that happened with the guy i was seeing this summer.

it first happened with a visit from a ghost. yes, you read that right. and no, i’m not crazy, and i know it wasn’t a hallucination.

i’ve felt spirits here and there since i was young. sometimes i’m not sure if it’s just a projection of my consciousness, but other times it’s been rather undeniable. this was one of those times.

one example of synchronicity in my life was when i was driving around my neighborhood. i wanted to play a specific CD, but i was driving and i didn’t want to get distracted so i was like oh well. then, out of nowhere, my radio which was turned off, suddenly turns on, and the cd that was in ejects. my radio has never malfunctioned like that before, and hasn’t since. but, taking it as a sign, i pulled over and switched the cds.

now. to the story.

it was a summer day. i was on my phone looking for a hookup online, and i felt a presence outside of my bedroom window. i didn’t recognize it. usually i feel family members or friends who have passed away, but i didn’t know who this was. i shrugged it off and went to go meet up with a guy.

i get to the motel, and he doesn’t show. i get back online, and a guy who has pestered me for years messages me. i give in, for no particular reason. i had been ignoring this guy for a while.

when i get to his house, i know within minutes that i want to marry him. he has a house, is just my type, and there’s other factors i’d rather not get into. but i know almost immediately.

he feels something too. we hit it off, exchange numbers. and i’m back over there the next day. we end up spending every day together for the next two months.

a couple weeks into the relationship, i feel the same spirit that i felt outside my bedroom window. once, outside his bedroom window. and the second time inside his bedroom. perplexed, i eventually make the connection that it is his ex boyfriend who recently passed away.

he told me within the first few days getting to know each other, and he has a picture of him over his bed. i can still feel the grief he has over what had happened. he tells me the exact day it happened, and what ensued.

it’s not until we are sitting on his couch and he shows me a picture of them that i make the connection. the spirit that had been visiting me was tall. his ex was tall. excited, i tell him that i felt a presence that i believed was his ex.

i told him how i believed that he led me to him, since that day i was supposed to meet up with someone else, and it just so happened that it didn’t work out and i ended up going to his place.

i’ve always been a spiritual person. i carry sage and palo santo on me. i saged this guys house, and played youtube videos to raise the aura of his home. i left palo santo on his living room shelf that had pictures and memorabilia of his family members.

i left a cigarette out beneath a photo of his deceased ex, to honor him, and i was very thankful for being brought to this new guy i liked so much. at this point i believed his ex brought me to him to help him with his grief. i would often pray to his ex to decide on what to do, especially later when things got ugly.

through the course of the summer, things got more serious. i started planning a life with him. he was coming over to my house, something which i had never really done before. i live with my grandma and never really brought romantic partners over. he was a first for that, and made me feel like i got the stereotypical high school relationship i never got.

things with him clicked. our sex was electrifying. i never felt that sexually honest and compatible with someone. i would imagine us having sex in so many different locations. i started to see him as a husband.

however, the spirits i had communed with started to give me concern. i’ll get more into that after i discuss the dream.

T H E D R E A M

i’ve had psychic dreams since my early 20s, or so i thought. recently i’ve had two childhood dreams come true. anyway —

i had a dream about a year before i met this guy. i was at my mom’s house, and i remember waking up from it and getting the sense that it was important. it was vivid, and something in me just knew it was important for some reason.

in the dream, i’m behind my car, it’s night time. i’m in a sketchy neighborhood, and jacob, a man who i was intensely in love with, was helping me put art in the back of my car. a painting.

some things happen in between and i don’t remember. the next thing i know, i am sitting or laying and there is a gun. a man with a gun. just before there is a shot, i immediately wake up.

i went downstairs and got some water. over the next few months, i didn’t think too much of the dream. however, it started weighing on me more and more. i stopped traveling with art in my car (i’m an artist and also move between houses, so i often have miscellaneous art). i thought it would mean that i would get robbed.

however, over time i started thinking about jacob. eventually, it got to the point where i was thinking about the dream often. i wouldn’t have art in my car, and if i did, i told myself it couldn’t be about to happen since i hadn’t talked to jacob.

fast forward to meeting the new guy. he was a perfect blend of characteristics that made him suitable to be liked by both of my parents. this was important to me. i saw him as fitting perfectly into my life and my family, and my circle of friends. i was ecstatic.

i had been wanting him to meet my friend nadia. i always introduce new boyfriends to her to get her approval. one night, i tell him we’re going over. i don’t make a big deal about it, it’s casual.

but he puts on jeans. i hadn’t yet seen him wear jeans. he always wore his work uniform, or basketball shorts. i thought it was cute that he wanted to dress up to meet my friend.

the night goes smoothly. we talk and hang out with nadia. she had just moved into the apartment upstairs in her building. i cuddled with him on the couch, with nadia on the other side. another boundary breaking thing, cuz i usually wouldn’t show affection like that in my friends home.

well, we had recently had a falling out with our friend zoe. when i got a new bed, zoe painted my old bed frame and nadia had it hanging above her tv. she said she didn’t want it anymore, and asked me to take it.

thankfully, i had my knight there to help me cuz it was heavy. he carried it to my car while i kept watch. it was dark, around midnight. nadia doesn’t live in the best part of town, and i always had to be cautious and look over my shoulder when leaving her place at night.

we get to my suv, and i open the back hatch. he lifts the painting up, and as he is putting it in the back, it hits me. the dream.

now, i’ve talked to my friends before about my dreams and how they predict the future. the caveat is that i don’t know when it will come true, and i don’t always know which dream.

often times it is just something trivial. like a specific image or detail, but i will run into that specific thing that day and realize i saw it in my dream the night before. or, at times i will have minutes go by and as things are unfolding around me, i realize i had dreamt it the night before. i saw what would happen that day.

i had actually told nadia about this specific dream with the artwork only days before. i was thinking about it so much at this point, but it was bothering me because i couldn’t make sense of it. and i wasn’t in contact with jacob and didn’t foresee that happening anytime soon.

so i run back upstairs and tell her that the dream is coming true. she doesn’t react as strongly as i would like. this is a very big deal to me. after all, i had seen this dream almost a year prior and it was constantly on my mind. it shaped how i acted. i was cautious about having art in my car, cuz i thought i would get robbed while i had art in my car.

i explain to the guy what had happened. how i had seen me and my ex jacob putting art into the back of my car at night time in a sketchy part of town. the reason it was jacob in the dream is because our brain cannot see someone who we haven’t met or seen before. i hadn’t yet met this guy, but i was falling madly in love with him just like i had been in love with jacob. so, jacob just took the visual role of a romantic partner in that dream.

as happy as i was, i became scared. i knew how the dream ended. since the dream had finally began coming true, i unfortunately knew how it ended. and end it did, loyal to the original plot and all.

the ride home, i am terrified. it’s late, and every stop light i am looking around, seeing if anybody is suddenly approaching. homeboy insists that the dream hadn’t come true, cuz he wasn’t jacob. i don’t know if that was rooted in jealousy or what. but it annoyed me. i know what i saw, i knew what had just happened.

over the next couple of weeks i was weary about driving at night. i was expecting to get robbed by a random person on the street. i remember the gun being silver, and i somehow decided i was in the passenger seat in the dream [wow. i’m just realizing this detail was in fact true after all]

so i drive everywhere instead of letting him, like i usually did.

now back to the spirits. i began to sense some issues. as i would lay in his bedroom, one night, i began to feel like extremely hazy. like i was in another dimension, and nothing made sense. it was not a good feeling. it was like there was fog all around his house, and i felt uneasy.

as i prayed to his dead ex like i did, i started to lose trust in what i was really praying to. the stable, reassuring spirit started to become strange. not making sense. acting weird. then, it seemed like it was making fun of me. laughing at me. i stopped trusting it, and became confused.

his ancestors also gave me less confidence. there was a particular spirit, a woman. i see her as short, with brown hair and glasses. she laughs at me. every. single. time. i pray about a decision to make, and all i get is laughter in return. i don’t like it, but i try to ignore it.

fast forward to the end of the relationship.

i wake up on the morning of my birthday, i wake him up to ask if he wants panera. he sounds irritated. his tone starts to escalate, like he is arguing. we hadn’t yet had an argument. whenever i date someone, i always wonder what our first argument will be. i couldn’t figure it out with him, since until this point we had so much emotional rapport.

as he keeps arguing, part of me is like wow. he’s really about to start a fight, our first fight, on my birthday. i don’t quite remember what happens next. i know he’s angry and i’m trying to leave, since nothing i say or do is calming him down. only making it worse.

i go downstairs, and i pray. his ancestors are telling me to get the fuck out of the house immediately. i don’t like this answer. it’s my birthday, and i’m so in love with this guy. part of me doesn’t believe he’ll ruin my birthday, and i don’t want to leave. so i go downstairs to his basement.

he follows, says something irate as he lets the dog out. at this point i just decide to leave. so i pick up a box, and he comes in the room. he’s yelling at me. i’ve never seen him like this, and i don’t think a partner has ever yelled at me like this before. especially over something i wasn’t even sure what it was. and i kept trying to make it better.

he comes over to me and smashes the box out of my hands and onto the floor. he is twice my size, so i begin for the front door. i don’t know what happens next cuz i black it out. but next thing i know i am in my car. he is chasing me, and smashes his hand on my windshield as i speed in reverse out the driveway.

i lay on my bed paralyzed that morning. the panera driver has to come to my grandmas after i explain my situation over a sob filled phone call.

later that day, he texts me. he’s hateful, saying so many insulting things. i have a humiliation kink, so when he starts saying things like faggot and little dick bottom, it turns me on. but the telling me to kill myself hurt.

long story short, i forgive him, even though i’m walking on egg shells around him cuz i’m still not sure what had actually happened. he had told me he had bpd. this must have been an episode. part of his argument was that i didn’t actually care about him, that i was constantly looking for an excuse to get away from him. which wasn’t at all true.

anyway, he ends up doing something evil on his birthday, and it turns into something even more intense. his ancestors told me not to go back to his house, but i did anyway. i was so in love with him, and desperate for connection over what i would learn was from a trauma bond we shared, and i felt like i was losing friends and my ex dennis so i really just needed this new guy.

well, the next episode is on his birthday a few days later. it ends with me having to drive frantically to my father, and he has to drive over to guy’s house with me sitting in the passenger seat. he had locked me out of the house, i had no phone or wallet or any of my belongings that had accumulated at his house. and i had work in an hour.

my dads friends come over and we are standing on his front porch. i had gotten most of my stuff back, except some money and personal belongings he took out of my bag. my dads friends want to get it back. next thing we know, we hear a bullet enter a chamber, and hear a gun cock behind the front door.

this was the end of the dream. not only was he the one who helped me put paintings in the back, but he was also the one with the gun.

• • • /synchronicity

now i am a very forgiving person, especially in love. call it toxic, naive, or foolish. maybe you’re right. but i also don’t care.

i still pursued this guy. after all, i was convinced his dead ex brought me to him. we had trauma bonded. we had amazing sex. he was perfect, and if he was willing to go to therapy and not be domestic abusive again, i didn’t see the problem. he was just showing me how physically strong he was lol hehe jk unless

but we never went back to how we were.

he never blew up at me like that again. the few times i would go over there were tame. though, he was now closed off to me. not friendly like he had been. wouldn’t kiss me. was mean.

after deciding one day that that was it, that i was moving on and completely forgetting about him —

the strangest thing happened. taco bell gave me a mountain dew.

/ / N U M B E R S

i often looked to triple numbers to make sense of the world around me. if i got it on a receipt, or looked at the clock and saw it — it was a reassurance that i was doing something right. however, there was one set of numbers that i saw a little too frequently. numbers i didn’t like, and every time i saw them, which was often, i would get unsettled.

those numbers were 911.

now if you are to comprehend my insistence that this relationship worked out, you need to understand how much i relied on seeing triple numbers, amongst other things, such as deja vu, to reassure me that i was treading smoothly in life.

however i often saw 9:11. i realized it about five or six years ago. i would look at the clock and it would be 9:11, a little more often than normal. then it happened often. sometimes multiple times in the same week. it frightened me.

but with my knight of the summer, i thought it all made sense. i was seeing 9:11 because he used to be a police officer. that was a reason i fell in love with him. i thought it was so sexy.

all those years of seeing 911 constantly, was just the universe telling me that my police officer was waiting for me.

i believed this wholeheartedly. i wouldn’t give up. if he was the one i loved & desired, literally lead to me from a ghost, with the universe telling me for years that he was waiting or me and i just didn’t know it. i thought he was the one. my soul mate. THE soulmate.

but it all came crashing down.

and i decided. after i had had enough, after weeks of trying to get back the man i knew before those two episodes. i finally had it. and made the mental decision to leave him the fuck alone and move on.

then i go to taco bell. i go multiple times a week, often using mobile app to order ahead. i love taco bell and anybody close to me knows that. and they almost never get my order wrong. sometimes they give me a different flavor tea if they are out of dragon paradise, but even that was rare.

so the day after i decide i give up on mr shadow of the summer. taco bell messes up my order, and gives me a large mountain dew.

his favorite soft drink.

you can imagine my fury. he drank mountain dew all the time. at this point, when i saw it, i thought of him. i don’t like the drink. i never drink it, ever. the last time i did i was probably 7 years old. but he drank it all the time.

and so now the day after i decide to give up and move on, taco bell, which never really messes up my order, all of a sudden hands me his favorite drink. i was fucking pissed.

i considered giving it back. going back and saying something. hey assholes, thanks for messing up my order and giving me my now ex’s favorite soft drink ? the day after i decide i no longer want to pursue him ? makes no sense. and i’m thirsty. so i drink the damn mountain dew. and i am so mad about it.

genuinely mad. genuinely mad that he was dangled right in front of me, then snatched away like that. so, i try to do the right thing and stay away from him. AND THEN THE MOUNTAIN DEW. are you kidding me!

well, that’s all i have for now. currently i am not in contact with him, but i have gone over a couple times since mountain dew incident. i drank that whole thing.

but i decided that the spirit who visited me was la santa muerte. i had a candle i bought in chicago, cuz i heard about santa muerte in a tv show. i assume santa muerte was showing me the dangers of the trauma bond that connected me and homeboy. that’s the only sense i can make from this.

also, i saw a guy who looked JUST like his dead ex on grindr. same hair color, facial shape and features. i ask if his name is ____ and he replies yes. so i go off thinking he lied about his ex dying. then the dude does a 180° and says that i have him confused with someone else. so either it’s a strange coincidence that someone is walking around with the same name and face as his ex, or he lied about that being his name. or i don’t even know what.

most people will probably just think i’m crazy. and i guess i am. but i experienced all of these things.

- november 2023

[mrs-march-ahs]

James March Death Sentence

Summary- The story of an infamous serial killer, James March, and the murder that ended him.

Words- 912 Warnings- Death, suicide.

In this story James is not a ghost and ghosts do not exist.

This wasn’t requested, but nevertheless I hope you enjoy! :)

----

A security guard walked down the corridor of the mental institute, walking towards the room of not only the most notorious patient in the building, but also the most notorious serial killer of the last century. James Patrick March had murdered over 150 people in his mere 35 years of life, but the information only came to light earlier this year, after his last kill, and his only manslaughter. He was being closely inspected after being incredibly suicidal after the death of his wife.

He clearly had fallen in love with his guardian angel quickly, having married her only after a year of first meeting her. Their wedding was far from humble, taking up majority of his murder palace, more famously known as the Hotel Cortez, where between celebrations he murdered three of the guests that joked about his bride. He was clearly a protective husband, refusing to tell her about his dark hobby until it the secret became a strain on their marriage.

His maid Hazel Evers, who helped in the murderous activities and was later sentenced to only 5 years, was for years infatuated with the hotel owner. She wasn’t above rude comments to every bride he had and the occasional eye roll at their affection. Although the lady of the Cortez was patient, after a putting up with verbal abuse from his maid for over a year of their marriage, she eventually had to tell her husband. But with every uncertain word and hesitant noise from him, she couldn’t help but assume the worst. When she confronted him about his affair with the maid, he defensively refused, assuring her that the secret Miss Evers was hiding wasn’t based on love, but death.

He eventually knew that he could hide it no longer, but instead of telling his wife, he decided to show her. They went hand in hand to his Trophy Room, filled with severed body parts of his victims that he kept as memorabilia in glass jars on lit-up shelves. She was not only devastated, that the love of her life had proven to be a psychopath who fed on the pain and anguish of others, but also mortified, that one day if their love dies, having her heart metaphorically won’t be enough for him, and he will rip it out of her chest for his shelf.

She was rightfully fearful that he would hurt her, and no matter how many times the sobbing killer assured her it wouldn’t happen, she was proven right. When she reached for the handle of the heavy door to the freezing room, his heart skipped a beat, thinking she may not keep his double life a secret and he would end up in jail without her, for the rest of his life. As he leaped towards her, wrapping his arms around her tightly, he pushed her against the door, trying to keep her from leaving. But when the back of her head, the medulla oblongata, hit the metal lock on the door, impaling her just slightly, her body flopped in his arms as she instantly became his first manslaughter, and last victim.

He proved his devotion to his wife, turning himself into the police immediately, only being let out of prison in his first month once, to attend her funeral, at which he for the first time tried to jump into oncoming traffic, only to be held back by the guards. With every attempt to end his life and join her, his sanity deteriorated, until there was no other choice but to be put into a mental institution, where he was to spend the rest of his life.

The cells were far from the luxury he was used to, but James March had to be observed often, making sure that the few things he was allowed to have in his room wouldn’t end fatally for him. But as the guard entered his room, he noticed just the body of March and dropped the key in his hand to the floor. He was laying lifeless, with only his diary by his side, and his bedsheets tied around the bars in the windows and at his neck. When the guard walked over slowly to him, he picked up his diary and flicked to the entry before the last.

Although I yearn for the release of death and any numbing of my suffering, the only thing that alludes me about sleep and keeps me far from it, is the knowledge that tomorrow I will miss my beloved even more than I did today. This is the longest I’ve been away from her since the day I met her and it is proving to be unbearable. The second she took her last breath and her life ended, as did mine.

No amount of training before working in this dark depressing place will prepare a guard to witness something like this. He squatted by the body and flicked the page to look at the last entry.

I was the person who was meant to protect her from everything bad in the world. It was my only goal since the day I met her. Instead, I forced her to live through her worst nightmare and her experience her biggest fear, death, with the thought that I mean her harm and do not love her. I ache harder than ever to be along side her and I will achieve that no matter the cost.

I’m on my way, dearest.

━━━━━━♡♤♡━━━━━━

@milly-louise  @amourtentiaa  @kitwalker02  @tatestripedsweater  @therenlover  @maria-akira         @tatesimper  @thxc0untessesgl0ve  @mossybank  @ahsxual  @mxlti-fand0m-imaginess  @mrs-march-ahs-biggest-fan  @kitwalkerangel  @kitisagoldenretrieverboy @darlingkitt  @blackbat2020 @elaineygrace @kaiandersonskoolaid  @undeadcortez @whiiiiplaaaaash

[guardianofthepeanutwrites]

Skirts and Dresses Part 2

Part 2 is here. I hope you will like it! Part 1, Part 3, Part 4  and Part 5 To my Powerpuff Girls ! I love you all <3 Many Thanks to Gypsywoman13 for beta-readig!

@mayucerise @starkeraddictbaby

Iron Dad Tony

Since the Widow had learned his secret and been so understanding, Peter became a bit less careful. While he used to only wear his old skirt when he was alone in the compound, now he would wear his new clothes when only one or two people were present or if Natasha decided they needed special training nights, which were girls nights where they would train and then watch action movies while making fun of the bad scripts and stunts. They would also paint each other's nails and do each other's hair. It was awesome.

As promised, Natasha burned his old skirt to ashes, but with his consent. Three days later, she gifted Peter a frame with a small piece of the skirt inside and it made Peter’s heart swell with love.

He could now say that his old skirt had been awful; it had too many colors and some nasty stains, but it still had been his first, so he had put the small memorabilia on his shelf.

--

Today, Peter, Mr. Stark, and Dr. Banner were the only ones present at the compound, so Peter put on a nice skirt that was full of colors, and that kind of looked like silk. It was one of Peter’s new favorites because it would swirl and flare when he walked.

After dancing around for a bit, and watching the effect in the mirror of his bedroom at the compound, Peter decided it was time to work on his assignment for next week.

Peter was fully engrossed in his work when his phone buzzed loudly.

>> Kid, I know you’re busy with your assignment, but I have an emergency here. Could you come by? - TS

Without even thinking about it, Peter rapidly answered

<< Sure Mr. Stark. Omw

With that sent Peter left his bedroom, not remembering in his rush that he was still wearing his new skirt.

--

When Peter entered the workshop of Mr. Stark, the billionaire briefly took his eyes away from the armor he was working on.

“Kid, you may want to change before coming closer. Motor oil is a bitch to take out of silk.” The comment was said offhandedly, as if Mr. Stark wasn’t talking to his mentee wearing a fucking skirt.

Peter felt his cheeks redden, realizing he had left his room in such a hurry that he hadn’t thought to change. He was startled when Mr. Stark started to talk again.

“Pete, it’s kind of an emergency here. Can you change and move on, please?” The urgency in his mentor’s voice got Peter to move, but not to change. “Pete, you’re going to stain the skirt, come on.” But Peter didn’t listen.

“What do you need me for, Mr. Stark?”

The older man sighed but started to explain.

For three hours the two men worked seamlessly like they always do. When the part of the armor they were working on was done, Mr. Stark silently led Peter to the sofa in the lab. He made Peter spin once, to look over the skirt before he let Peter sit on the couch next to him.

“So, Petey Pie. When did you start to wear skirts, and why did you never tell me?” Mr. Stark sounded calm and not disgusted; Peter did not really know what to think about it. “And this isn’t silk. What for the love of Tesla is that thing?”

Peter sighed. Were they all going to criticize the type of skirts he was wearing and not the fact he was wearing them?

“I-I started to wear one, uh, 4 years ago?” Peter felt his cheeks redden again and bowed his head to look at his hands, avoiding Mr. Stark’s gaze. “I found it--well... it was truly horrid, Natasha burned i-” Before he could finish his sentence, Mr. Stark cut him off with a frown.

“Wait, hold on, Underoos. Natasha knew before me?” The billionaire puts a hand on his chest; always one for dramatics. “Why? Wait, no, she’s a superspy. Did she guess?”

“She walked in on me,” Peter admitted. He felt rough fingers against his chin to lift his head up and force his eyes to meet his mentor.

“You know, when I was your age - a little younger maybe - I had a... well, Dad and--Dad called it a phase.” Peter knew his mentor had meant Dad and Obadiah Stane. It made Peter want to punch the guy. “For an entire month, I wore nothing but very short skirts.” Peter’s breath hitched at the confession, making Mr. Stark smirk. “To be honest, I only wore them to make my dad angry, but I still liked it, and those skirts made my ass look like sin. Well, everything makes my ass look like sin, but the skirts...they were really nice.”

“But, then, why did you stop? And why does no one know about that?” Peter asked with a small voice, still looking at his mentor even if the man had let go of his chin sometime before.

“I--They made me. If I am being honest, they paid a lot of people a lot of money to bury every piece of evidence from that month.” Mr. Stark frowned suddenly. “FRI, baby girl?”

“Yes, boss?” The AI answered.

“Do we still have pictures of that time?” There was a short silence before the AI starts to talk again.

“Yes boss, we do,” the mechanical voice sounded, amused.

“We should leak those one day.” Peter choked on nothing, making the older man wink at him. “Oh, and before I forget, FRI, call Thomas and tell him to bring skirts and dresses for my protegé.” FRIDAY didn’t answer, but Peter supposed she already was calling whoever Thomas was.

Mr. Stark stood, making a gesture at Peter to stay put, and went to a little room where he kept a small desk to do things that didn’t warrant going to his main office. He came back with a kraft envelope and sat back while he simply gave the envelope to Peter.

“I was supposed to give this to you on your Birthday, but I think there will be no better occasion than this one.” Peter watched the envelope dumbly, asking himself what was inside. “Open it up, kid.”

However, before Peter could move, FRIDAY started to talk again.

“Sir, Mr. Watson refuses to ‘clothe a man with a dress’.”

Tony lifted an eyebrow. “Fire him.” Peter opened his mouth to argue that there was no need to fire someone over him, but Mr. Stark continued. “Wait, was he insulting?”

“Yes, sir.” If she hadn’t been only code, Peter would have said FRIDAY was angry, but Peter was probably projecting.

“Ok, sue him and then fire him or the other way around. Let Legal take care of that. Shit, Pepper is going to kill me,” Mr. Stark muttered, standing up to start to pace.

“Mrs. Potts has not been using Mr. Watson’s services for some years, boss. Not after they had an argument about the place of women.” Peter saw his mentor getting angry at hearing that. “She has another tailor. His name is Richard Bernard and he comes highly recommended by Mrs. Potts. Should I call him?”

Mr. Stark huffed. “Yes, you do that. And FRIDAY? Next time someone treats my wife badly, tell me. While she can take care of herself, I refuse to continue to employ assholes. Tell her that.” Peter smiled softly at the ardor in his mentor’s demeanor. Mr. Stark breathed deeply and turned to Peter. “Now, kid, open the thing.” Mr. Stark made a wide gesture to the kraft envelope still on Peter’s lap.

Peter carefully pulled the tab and opened the envelope, taking the papers before looking up at Mr. Stark to make sure he could read them. Mr.Stark nodded, encouragingly, so Peter started to read and was startled at the content on the first paper. Peter frantically began to go through all of the papers, but they all said the same thing: Adoption.

When Peter looked up from the papers on his knees, it was to see Mr. Stark kneeling in front of him, watching Peter with a smile, and taking one of Peter’s hands inside his.

“We have known each other for years, and I would never hope for a better son than you, and for someone better to inherit Stark Industries when my time comes, Peter Parker.” Peter wanted to interrupt; wanted to tell the man that while Peter saw him as a dad too...that Peter would love nothing more on this earth than to be his son, but he was not worth it. He was only Peter, after all.

But Tony Stark knew him too well and just continued to talk, gently squeezing Peter’s hand. “You are smart, kind, and brave. I once told you that I wanted you to be better, and the truth is, you always were better. No, Peter, I may have changed the last decade or so, but at your age, I was nowhere as good as you. I would never have been a hero if I had received your powers. I am so proud of the man you have become, and I want to officially call you a son.”

“But--I know nothing about business,” Peter said lamely. It made Tony smile.

“Well, it’s not knowledge I was born with, you know. There are some classes you can take, and Pepper and I are ready to teach you everything we know. We would have done this sooner, but we wanted to give you until your 21st Birthday to be a normal kid.” Tony gently stroked Peter’s hand. “And before you ask, no, I do not care that you wear skirts or that you are bisexual. Yes, I know about that, I’ve seen how you watch the Soldier.” Peter wanted to deny it, but he really couldn’t because he currently had a very big and hopeless crush on one James Buchanan Barnes. “There is nothing--except going to work for Hammer Tech, and maybe SHIELD--that will change the way I see you. You are my kid, Peter Parker. Will you agree to be my son?”

And what could Peter say? He loved the man like a father and looked up to him. He even loved the horrible dad jokes Mr. Stark started to tell every now and then.

“It-it would be my honor, d-dad.” And Peter couldn’t take it anymore as he jumped into his mentor’s...no, his father’s arms.

And if both of them cried while hugging the other for a long time, it was no one’s business.

--

Richard Bernard made Peter the most awesome clothes, but Peter had to admit that while he loved them, (silk was such a pleasure on his sensitive skin) the ones he bought with Natasha were still his favorites.

Natasha looked at him like he was a moron, but did not comment. Peter was emotional, so sue him.

Pepper gifted Peter with some make-up, and with Natasha’s help, they taught him how to use it.

Now that Peter had more freedom to put on his dresses, skirts, lace, and silk, he discovered that he did not crave it as much as before. He even started to have fun with his other clothes, especially since Tony gifted him a great collection of graphic tees with all the best science puns.

It’s not as if he didn’t want to be pretty anymore, Peter did, but it’s not a desperate need anymore. Some days he wanted to look cute, and others, he wanted jeans and t-shirts.

Peter was very lucky.

[vs-redemption]

Scenario where Aizawa catches his partner crying really hard and he asks what's wrong and they answer with "I just love you so much" And it turns out that they're just having an overwhelm of emotions lol Please and thank you :)

Thanks for the request! I was glad to write something kind of sweet since I’ve been doing a bit of heavier stuff recently. I hope this turned out the way you wanted!!!!

Memories (Aizawa x Emotional!Reader)

Saturdays and Sundays were often just as busy for you as weekdays. Criminal activity didn’t take time off for weekends or holidays, so neither could a hero like you. Every once in a while though, you’d make a big arrest or help out in a fight and earn yourself a day off to rest up and recuperate. Today was one of those days, and normally you had no trouble entertaining yourself since you had friends, family, and a fiancé who were more than willing to fill up your spare time. Today, however, was a rare occurrence where everyone you wanted to see seemed to already have something going on. You hadn’t minded at first, thinking that this was a great chance to actually relax for once, but the boredom of being home alone soon set in. You’d flipped through the channels on your TV enough times to know nothing good was on, so you decided to do something a little more productive instead.

“Let’s see,” you look around the house that you and Aizawa shared with a critical eye. Between the two of you the place was kept fairly tidy, but there was always something that could use a good cleaning if you searched hard enough. You thought the obvious place to start scrubbing was the bathroom, but soon everything in there was sparkling clean so you moved on to other parts of the house. You’d just started pulling stuff off the bookshelf to dust when a certain scrapbook caught your eye. It was a collection of pictures and memorabilia you and Aizawa had put together to document your relationship since getting engaged. Feeling like you could use a break from housework, you plop down on the floor and flip the scrapbook open.

The first couple pages were decorated with pictures of you both from back when you were students at UA. You had been in a different class than him but managed to end up in a few of the same shots taken at various training camps and school festivals. You couldn’t help but laugh a little at the quiet, reserved boy Aizawa had been back then. You remember being intrigued by him right away and wondered how someone with a quirk like his had ended up in a hero course. He had always seemed apathetic about everything as he trudged around the school campus, but that impression quickly changed once you saw him in action the first time. A fire had ignited in his eyes as he worked himself ten times as hard as his classmates just to keep up with their powerful quirks. He had really impressed you.

It hadn’t been until after graduation that you really became friends with Aizawa. You had joined an agency that had you patrolling a district right next to his, so you were often rushing over to each other whenever there was a particularly difficult villain situation. There were a handful of newspaper clippings in the scrapbook about some of your more impressive team-ups. Aizawa looked so tired in those pictures, and you knew it was the dark events of his last year of High School that weighed him down. The fact that he had still chosen to get a hero license after that and put every ounce of his passion into saving innocent lives made you admire him even more. And as exhausted as he always seemed to be, he’d always invited you to join him for coffee if your patrols ended around the same time.

You flip to the next page and find photos from your first official date. You had been invited to a charity event and felt brave enough to ask Aizawa to be your plus one. Honestly, you hadn’t even expected him to accept, so it came as a surprise when he easily agreed. He had been so calm about at it that you suspected he might have assumed you meant to go as friends. Your mind was blown when he showed up at your place looking extremely handsome with his hair combed back and wearing a full tux. You’d never forget the way your heart had hammered in your chest when he’d taken your hand into his the first time to walk you into the venue. Somewhere along the way, the quiet boy from school had grown into a confident man. Watching him overcome so many obstacles had earned your deepest respect, so how could you resist falling in love with him?

Feeling nostalgic now, you continue scanning over the pages, reliving the moments you had shared together. The scrapbook was filled with ticket stubs from movie dates, stickers from your favorite cat café, wristbands from the summer music festival you’d dragged him to, and countless other items that each brought back emotions from precious memories. All of them led up to the last page which contained the first picture taken of you both after he’d asked you to marry him. Of course you’d said yes. Aizawa was the love of your life and you couldn’t imagine a better person to spend the rest of your life with.

All the reminiscing suddenly hits you full force and you feel tears well up in your eyes. How had you ended up with such a resilient and compassionate man as a partner? You couldn’t wait to marry him and be his forever. The sound of him calling your name surprises you and you whirl around to see him standing awkwardly in the doorway. He must’ve finished up work a little early or come home for lunch.

“Are you okay?” He asks in concern as he takes in the sight of you on the floor, surrounded by the other items you had taken off the bookshelf earlier and blubbering like a baby. You close the scrapbook and hop up to go wrap your arms around him tightly.

“I just love you so much!” you say through your sobbing and Aizawa lets out a small laugh, keeping you in his arms as he begins rubbing the back of your neck gently to sooth you.

“I love you too,” he states confidently even though he was still a little confused. “But what happened?”

“I found our scrapbook while cleaning,” you sniff and finally pull away to go find a tissue. “I just got a little emotional looking at all our pictures.”

Aizawa hums in understanding while walking over and picking the scrapbook up off the floor. He thumbs through the pages and a small smile grows on his face before he tucks the book back in its place on the shelf. “We’ll have to buy a new one soon,” he says while pulling you back into a hug, “since I plan on making lot more memories with you.”

Aizawa Taglist (Let me know if you’d like to be added!) @clovertitan

[shinsousbedroom]

Plus Ultra! Go Beyond the Screen!

celebrity AU drabble series, 3K~, quirkless actor Midoriya Izuku gets interviewed

[Read on AO3.]

GO BEYOND!

A conversation with Japan’s rising star Midoriya Izuku on standing up on set and off as the next symbol for peace. A GQ Japan exclusive.

By Taneo Tokuda | Correspondent

[Image of Midoriya Izuku, leaning next to a window, his body arched off the wall. His head is tilted up and over towards the camera, the left side of his body illuminated from the light coming in, the right side fading into the shadows. He’s wearing a sheepish grin, tugging at the tie around his neck with a single hooked finger, jacket sliding off his shoulders. He’s wearing Best Jeanist’s exclusive non-denim line, and the monocolor layering of velvets in the lighting make his green hair, red shoes, and tie pop in rich color even more.]

I’d been warned that Midoriya Izuku has no regard for outdated formality. He’s far from callous or jaded — sweet and optimistic are two words often used to describe him — but propriety is something he has never been concerned with.

I’d been warned, but I didn’t understand.

Any journalist who’s worked the entertainment beat for a while knows there’s a cadence every interview follows. The details may change, but there are conventional practices that help an interview go smoothly for both the interviewer and subject, to make the most of a complicated relationship between celebrities and the media.

This interview starts behind the scenes, as most do, with the e-mail I send out to Midoriya’s manager, laying out a request to speak with his charge. The enthusiastic response comes just an hour later and references details from a number of stories I’d written across the entire span of my career.

It isn’t his manager’s response. It’s Midoriya’s.

That was my second warning to assume nothing, but I still stumble into Midoriya’s apartment expecting a clean, contemporary, moderately-sized apartment. It’s rare to host interviews in celebrity homes, and when it happens, it’s meant to be a statement — power, wealth, pride, affected sincerity.

Instead, Midoriya opens the door halfway and apologizes because he moved in recently and there’s still a stack of boxes blocking him from opening it any further. The door handle nearly catches between the buttons of my shirt as I squeeze through the crack. Once inside, I trip over his trademark red shoes and nearly take him down in the process.

He catches me in his arms and says with a wry grin, “Don’t worry, I am here!”

That, of course, is a classic reference to his latest role: All Might. All for One will be a Netflix reboot of the old '80s superhero film franchise that turned Toshinori Yagi into a household name. In a casting coup that stunned fans and industry insiders alike, Midoriya fell into the role shortly after making headlines for saving a life during a villain attack on the set of long-running soap opera The Quirked and the Quirkless. The villain had been looking for Toshinori, and in his absence, grabbed a crewmember hostage. Midoriya attacked the villain despite having no quirk.

Soon after, Toshinori reversed his longstanding refusal to produce an All Might reboot and gave the studio a green light — with a stipulation. Just as the franchise had brought him up from obscurity, so must the franchise fill its ranks with youths aiming to catch their big breaks. Enter: Midoriya Izuku.

Midoriya sets me back down gently — yes, he picked me up when I fell, even though I’m a full half meter taller than him — and I’m more inclined to see his suitability as Toshinori’s successor.

Physically, he still looks nothing like his mentor. Where Toshinori is buff, Midoriya is lean, tall to his short, loud to his soft. Toshinori held his strength in the brash, nigh-cocky attitude that got him into as much trouble as himself as it did in the show as All Might. Midoriya carries strength like woven spider silk; it’s graceful and dangerous, but all too easy to overlook for those unused to subtlety. But he carries the same bright aura of unwavering love and determination.

More to the point, I also felt his arms and abs in the fall, and he may not look like he has the muscles of All Might, but they are definitely there.

“You can take a seat anywhere in the living room if you’d like,” Midoriya says, ushering me down the hall with a light hand on my back. “Breakfast will be ready in just a few minutes, but I haven’t put together the kitchen table yet, so living room it is.”

“Breakfast? Did we decide on a working breakfast?” I replied.

“I couldn’t invite a guest into my home without offering snacks! Since this interview coincides with breakfast, I made breakfast.” He pushes me towards the sofa and wags a finger at me when I try to follow him to the kitchen anyway. “No guests allowed to hover or help in the kitchen. It’s too small!”

The rest of the apartment is half unpacked, and haphazardly at that. Boxes are open, dumped out into piles on the floor where they will likely be permanently placed. I perch on the arm of a ratty sofa by the only portion of the room that’s been set up. It’s a veritable shrine to pro heros, fictional and real alike. Two of the five shelves are devoted solely to All Might merchandise.

Midoriya appears behind me, as if by quirk. “Ah, do you collect hero memorabilia? I’ve been a big fan of All Might since I was little, and then I started following hero society in general when I got into middle school, so I’ve built up a lot over the years especially rare items like if you look at the back corner there’s a particularly cool figure of All Might from the emerald era which if you remember was received so poorly that most of the merch was shelved in one location and subsequently destroyed during a villain attack…” He goes on without end or pause, taking me through the history of each item on the third shelf. At minute six, he abruptly tenses mid-sentence. I can almost feel the heat from his red face as he starts stammering apologies for wasting my time and gingerly puts his collection away again.

“You've got a lot of stuff I haven’t seen. It’s interesting.” It makes me uncomfortable how much he clearly doesn’t believe me. “It’ll be good content, that you have such a long history being an All Might fan.” He shrugs my words aside, and gestures behind me to a giant spread he’d laid out on the coffee table before seeing my interest in his collection.

We sit. For a moment, the only sound in the apartment is the clatter of silverware, the muffled bustle of Tokyo’s streets at midmorning a soothing counterpoint. I’m considering how to break the lingering tension I caused. But then —

“I’m a quirkless soap opera actor who seemingly got the biggest role of the decade for doing something completely unrelated to acting. I’m optimistic, not an idiot.” There’s a taut line to his shoulders again, at odds with the quiet, delicate way he drinks his miso soup.

His eyes trail back to the curio shelf of hero merchandise. A heaviness builds between us in the seconds it takes him to think. “I grew up in a neighborhood hostile to me and my mother. I mumble my thoughts out loud and have an obsession for heroes that edges past societally acceptable as an adult. I have no quirk, she had no husband, we had no money. Any insult you could say about us, I’ve heard it.”

He looks me dead in the eyes and leans forward. I can’t help but mirror him. “It would be disrespectful to everyone who supported me to get here if I let the back talk get to me. I worked hard for this role, and I earn it with every new day of effort I put into it. All Might is the symbol for peace, and I intend to embody that legacy. No one will be able to doubt me when I’m done.”

Anyone who’s familiar with Midoriya’s reputation knows not to be surprised by his humility, but it’s a revelation to see this drive, his earnest focus pinning down my full attention. The last bit of the puzzle that was his casting choice is answered in one overwhelming look. If All for One does it right, his magnetism is going to Detroit Smash every heart in Japan.

“The waffles!” He springs up and mutters his way back to the kitchen, cutting past the moment. “I forgot the waffles, Kirishima gave me a waffle maker the shape of All Might’s crest as a housewarming gift, they’re so cute and surprisingly detailed…” In just a few seconds he plops the plate down amid the overfull table and settles back into his seat with a smile. “So? Should we get started?”

Interview has been edited for length and clarity. For the full article, visit us online. Catch the first season of All for One on Netflix, streaming xx xxx.

[Image of Midoriya Izuku sitting outdoors on some sidewalk steps in workout gear, leaning back on one arm, the other hand raised to cover his face from the sun. He’s wearing bright green short shorts and a very loose tank top, the arm holes cut out so deep that the angle lets the photographer capture the sheen of oil and sweat across his ribs and back as light filters through the shirt. One sock is pulled up taut, the other scrunched down, same classic red shoes still on his feet. His legs and arms and hands are haphazardly wrapped in carefully grimed bandages, as is his makeup, smudges of dirt across his cheeks along with make up to bruise his lips a deep, pouty red. Boxing gloves hang over his shoulders, and a bandana mimicking the famed mouth guard from All Might’s most iconic outfit hangs around his neck.]

TT: Congratulations on your first starring role! How does the move from semi-recurring character to protagonist feel?

MI: It’s a huge challenge, one I’m incredibly excited for! My character in Quirkless wasn’t supposed to be mine. I’d already been involved with the show as a quirkless consultant but one day on set, they’d had a huge scheduling conflict, and Director Ryuko remembered I’d originally auditioned for the show for a character that was ultimately cut. She brought me in as a literal last minute replacement, and soon enough a three-episode run expanded into a semi-regular spot next season. At least with All for One I’ve had tons of time to prepare.

TT: Take us through what it was like getting the role of All Might.

MI: I think the media explained the villain attack that brought me to the studio’s attention plenty. What's more important is when after I recovered, Toshinori-san contacted me and connected me to his talent agency, and my new manager was the one that successfully nabbed me an audition for the new show. They had us go through a few standard readings and chemistry checks, and then I got the part.

TT: You auditioned?

MI: I did! That’s what makes the rumors of favoritism even more frustrating. I promise I didn’t get the role because I stopped a villain attack on set! Well, I hope I didn’t.

[File photograph of Toshinori Yagi and Midoriya Izuku post-hostage situation. The stage is in disarray, black goop covering the furniture and floor of a fake hospital waiting room in a thick layer of sticky slime. They stand off-center in the foreground, Midoriya rubbing a fist over his eye, exhausted, possibly crying, as Toshinori pulls him into his side for a hug. Both have shock blankets draped across their shoulders. Emergency respondents case and clean the scene in the background.]

TT: How does it feel to take up the mantle of one of the most iconic comic book characters of all time?

MI: I’d be lying if I didn’t say nerve-wracking, but I’m more excited than anything. I’ve dreamed about this since I was 5, when the doctors first told me I’d never have a quirk and never be a licensed hero. All that love was redirected toward All Might. Some people might say being too big a fanboy will make playing him hard, but I’ve been preparing for this my entire life, and that’s what I’m trying to hold on to instead of anxiety. Toshinori-san has also been a spectacular mentor to me through this whole process.

TT: It's been said that Toshinori-san implemented a rigorous vetting process to work in any position on the crew. Recommendations, mentorship networks — because everyone is new to film.

MI: That’s only true to a certain extent. I wouldn’t say most of us are complete newcomers; we’ve all been around the industry for a fair number of years making our careers off it one way or another. We definitely wouldn’t have gotten hired to such prominent roles without Toshinori’s interference, yes. Because of his stipulation, the studio wanted to minimize as much of the havoc inexperience might cause such a beloved, big budget reboot by offering us close, mandatory support networks featuring industry professionals who’ve been working in their field for decades.

So far, the idea has really worked out well. We get to implement fun new ideas we don’t realize are impossible yet, and the mentors temper our more […] impractical ideas with logic and experience. The cast also has gotten a lot of support from the old cast of the '80s run!

TT: You’re known for being an advocate for quirkless rights in the entertainment industry. Has that impacted the way you approach your career and what opportunities you take?

MI: It isn’t just the entertainment industry I’m interested in for my advocacy work. Society’s rabid obsession with quirks is a problem across all of Japan, for both the quirkless and those with quirks. But as an actor, I happen to have personal insight with the roadblocks that prevent quirkless individuals from succeeding in film. We make up a fourth of the Japanese population, but less than 1% of the Japanese Film Union, in the mere century from when quirks first showed up across the globe. There’s no other explanation for such a miserly diversity rate than discrimination.

Studios have gotten so used to using quirks to sift through application stacks, looking for who can offer the most with just a quirk name and description. Toshinori-san has easily admitted that the electricity he emits when engaging his strength quirk was one of the reasons he won the role of All Might over better known actor Todoroki Enji. It was one less special effect the studio would have to spend money and time on. Viewing accommodation as a costly complication is historically dangerous to all types of minorities across the globe. How am I supposed to compete when people think I can’t offer anything unique compared to the host of wild quirks out there?

TT: Wow, that’s quite the speech.

MI: I’ve practiced a few times.

TT: Really?

MI: Quirk discrimination was my thesis topic at UA.

TT: You went to UA? That didn't show up in my research.

MI: Oh, I […] was in their support program for a while.

TT: Why did you decide to pursue acting instead? They don’t have a fine arts program, do they?

MI: As much as I love support work, it’s a stressful field. [Laughs] I started looking for an outlet that had nothing to do with hero work when an old friend dragged me onto a set. I’d completely forgotten how much I loved acting, and it wasn’t long before I decided to pursue that over support work, for however long it would have me.

TT: Would you ever consider returning to support work?

MI: Yes, but it gets harder the longer you’ve been away. I still keep up my qualifications, and keep up with my old classmates. Some consulting here and there. But for now, I’m happy using my background to help me act a better All Might.

[Photograph of Midoriya Izuku sitting in an office chair, facing three-quarters towards the camera even as he lays half across a desk. The decor is rich: old, dark wooden furniture, ornate work across the frame of the chair and desk, half-filled bookshelves in the background. His cheek rests against his arm stretched along the edge of the deck; one leg is tucked under the seat and the other is extended out. His outfit is artfully ripped name brand jeans and a tight shirt, color blocked in All Might’s classic red, white, and blue. Tiny figurines of All Might in his various costumes across all his comic book and screen appearances dot across his body as if they’ve climbed across his body, and Midoriya is an Atlas holding the weight of these ideals across his shoulders and arms and legs, a Gulliver tied down and overwhelmed. But his expression is vibrant, determined. Not quite a smile, but nowhere near defeated.]

TT: Does it bother you, having your quirklessness constantly be the focus of your career and identity?

MI: Of course! I’m a lot more than the superpower I don’t have. I’m a pretty private person, but I want to do great things. I want to inspire people, to make everyone feel safe and like they belong. If that means I have to feel some discomfort, it’s more than worth it. I’m a big kid with a therapist, so I’m prepared to balance my needs with those of my career.

TT: I’m not helping, am I?

MI: Like I said, I’ve deliberately opened myself up to that focus when I’ve put myself out there as someone willing to talk about these important issues publicly. You’re not asking anything I wouldn’t expect of any good interviewer.

TT: Speaking of privacy, your co-worker Todoroki Shouto is infamous for his taciturn personality and complete seclusion from the public eye, even during personal interviews. What is it like working with him on set?

MI: I have a bone to pick with you journalists about that! Remember what I was saying about how quirk reputations hurt those with strong quirks as much as those without? Todoroki Shouto is a wonderful person, and I’m so glad we get to work together. But boy, that reputation of his does him a disservice. He’s more than just Endeavor’s son and a powerful quirk. […] He’s his own man with a lot to say — it’s just no one’s asked him the right questions, yet. Once you do, you’ll find he shines brighter than any of the characters he’s played. It’s frustrating to see a good man overlooked again and again in favor of easier topics like a flashy quirk and flashy father.

TT: One last question. Isn’t it a hassle to squeeze past those boxes each day to use the front door?

MI: I don’t use the front door.

TT: Then…?

MI: Wouldn’t you like to know? ■

[holyyrose]

And They Were Roommates - H.H

A/N: This has been in my drafts for a long time and I’ve been in love with this concept for a while, but apparently I struggle to string a simple sentence together lately lmao.

Hyunjin x Fem!Reader 

Summary: Roommate AU/Collage AU - The Reader is strapped for cash and much to their dismay Hyunjin seems to be the only one who can help.

Part One / ?

Word Count: 1809

______

“What do you mean you can’t pay the rent, I thought Minho was paying half? He is your roommate after all.” Seungmin questioned, as Y/N, Seungmin long term best friend followed him into a café, thankful that this place had warmth, which contrasted significantly to the weather outside that had nipped at her skin, making her deeply regretful for leaving her apartment this morning without a coat.

After a long day of work, Seungmin became fed up with disorderly customers that came with working in retail and was in desperate need for a break. Therefore, as Y/N’s self-proclaimed best friend, he took it upon himself to interrupt her studies and insist that she meet him at a café in the centre of town. Much to her dismay, he insisted she come instantly, meaning the work she had left far too late to start, would be put off once again, probably not to be completed until late night with yet another caffeinated drink buzzing through her system, but  being equally exhausted and frustrated, she agreed, hurrying out of her small apartment to meet Seungmin.

“He was.” She has exasperated, moving along the queue alongside Seungmin, pulling out her purse so she could pay for her order, however, Seungmin had waved her off, insisting he’d pay.  “So, he just stopped giving you his rent money without any warning?” His face scrunched up with distort, confused by what it seemed she was insinuating.

“What? No. Minho would never. His mother had knee surgery a few weeks ago and she’s been struggling with the recovery. Minho thought it would be best if he moved back in with her for a few months, considering his father works away a lot. I couldn’t tell him that without him living with me, I wouldn’t be able to afford this apartment.” Seungmin sighed at her remark. Grabbing their drinks from the barista, he made his way over to the sofa that was nestled in the corner of the cafe, with fairy lights strung between bookshelves, creating a welcoming and content environment.

“Things haven’t been too great for him. He lost his job at the music store because they went bankrupt then his mum needed surgery. I couldn’t do it to him.” She continued, letting out a low sigh before slumping back into the sofa, letting the plush pillows welcome her. A part of her feeling idiotic for not telling Minho, even more foolish when the words were coming out of her mouth, but it didn’t feel right. She couldn’t burden Minho even more. However, it was evident how strapped for cash she was therefore, she was relieved when Seungmin had decided to pay for her drink.

“You’re too nice y/n/n,” Seungmin laughed, sliding her coffee across the table. “You need to be more direct.”

“This isn’t funny, ok. I need your help, not your laughter.”

“What you need is to find a temporary roommate, someone who can afford to pick up the rent when you’re short.” He continued, rolling his eyes.

“You know,” He paused, drawing out his words. “I happen to know that Hyunjin is looking for an apartment, he has the cash, quite a lot if I do say so myself and-”

“No, no!” She had exclaimed, cutting him off completely.  “Anybody but Hyunjin. You know I can’t stand him.” She exasperated, looking at Seungmin pointedly.

“His house got infested by rats. He needs a place to stay. He’s currently crashing Chan’s sofa because he doesn’t have a spare room, but I’m sure he’d appreciate sleeping on an actual bed.”

“Absolutely not!” She contested, as she took a sip of her drink.

“I’ve overheard him telling Chan and Jisung about those dumb parties he throws, and I can’t afford to lose my deposit on this place.”

“You know what, I take it back. You’re awful y/n/n,” He laughed, shaking his head. “You barely know the guy, I’m sure he’ll respect your decision to be boring.” Seungmin smirked, knowing how easy it was to annoy her. He rummaged through his bag, pulling out his phone before typing away. Her phone lit up, alerting her of a text.

“Here is his number. I know you’re too stubborn to admit it, but you’re desperate and Hyunjin can help you.”

She tried to ignore Seungmin’s stare by looking down at her coffee and fiddling with the lid.

“I don’t hate him.” She had murmured. “Try despise.”

“Y/n/n!” Seungmin exclaimed, furrowing his brows. “You can be so difficult sometimes.”  

“Ok, I’m sorry.” She sighed, holding her hands up in defence. “He’s just so arrogant ok.”

“He’s one of my best friends, Y/n/n, please consider it. I know you find him infuriating. I do sometimes, but he has the cash and he’s currently sleeping on Chan’s couch, at least feel some sympathy for him.”

“Sorry for Chan.” A few moments had past and Seungmin had yet to speak. The silence was deafening, and he knew that.

 “Ok!” Sitting up straight, Y/N hoped to cut the tension. “Give me a few days and I’ll think about it.”

“Good.” Seungmin smiled, changing his demeanour instantly. “Now let me tell you about what a shitty day I’ve had.”

Day’s seemed to have passed like lightning, Y/N easily becoming consumed by work. It seemed finding another source of income had gone to the back of Y/N’s mind. Instead, deadlines and reading had become the forefront of worry. Although her rent was due in a matter of days, she had pushed to the back of her mind hoping that if she ignored it long enough it would just go away. It seemed that balancing getting a degree and a part-time job as a hotel receptionist was becoming increasingly harder, especially when she had to pick up twice as many shifts as possible to ensure she had enough money to live. Luckily her boss allowed her to do some work during the graveyard shifts as it seemed not many people need to check-in at 2 in the morning, however, maintaining these shifts did mean an unhealthy sleeping pattern which took an overall negative impact on her day to day life. Perhaps ignoring her problems wasn’t the answer.

The day had been long, a 7-hour shift on her day off from University was usually fine, but with the little amount of sleep she had consumed over the past few weeks had started to take a toll on her well-being. Therefore, when she entered her apartment to find heaps of boxes scattered everywhere and 3 boys lounging on her sofa, she deemed it to be a hallucination.

“Ahh, there she is! Y/n/n! How are you?” The voice of her self-proclaimed best his friend, Seungmin, had snapped her out of her thoughts, making her realise this was not, in fact, a hallucination, but real life.

“What are you guys doing here?” She questioned, stunned by the unexpected appearance of Seungmin, Jisung and Chan.

“Erm.” Chan had started, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly, almost as if he found himself caught red-handed.

“And what are these boxes doing here?” Stepping closer, she kicked the side of a box, regretting it instantly, as her foot collided with the hard surface, causing her to let out a string of profanities.

“Oh, I wouldn’t do that sweetheart.”

This particular voice had caught her attention, causing her to freeze and the hairs on the back of her neck to stand. Meeting the gaze of this unknown voice, she felt dread coarse through your veins.

Hyunjin.

“I’m moving in, what do you think it looks like?” Moving further into the room. Hyunjin appeared in full glory, a smirked staining his lips. He brushed past her, nonchalantly, picking up the box she had just kicked and turning to walk towards Minho’s old room.

“I never officially said you could move in.” She yelled, exasperated by his presence, hurrying past the three lounging boys on the sofa who appeared amused by this interaction, groaning as she pushed past their dangling legs to follow Hyunjin into Minho’s room, who had already unpacked most of his belongings.  

“Well I was getting a little impatient waiting for you to make up your mind and Seungmin here said it would be no problem.”

“Excuse me?” Spinning on her heel, she looked directly at Seungmin who, alongside Jisung and Chan had followed you into Minho’s room. If looks could kill, everyone in the room would be 6 feet under. Looking around, Minho’s room was looking extremely different than the last time she had stepped foot in here. If she was to admit, she hadn’t actually been into Minho’s room for a long time, however, she vaguely remembered photos of his cats which stood proudly on his shelf and memorabilia from concerts they had attended together streamed across his dresser had been replaced with a large bottle of vodka and small trinkets. Most of the stuff she didn’t recognise, but the posters that littered the wall caught her attention. They were almost like Minho’s, but Hyunjin’s taste seemed to vary. His taste seemed to be a little darker.  Seungmin froze at Y/N’s exclamation, stunned by her outburst.  

“You heard me, sweetheart.” Hyunjin pressed, smirking slightly, almost as if he was thriving off her irritation.  

Her face heated at his remark.

“I can’t believe you three are letting him do this.”

“You need the money,” Jisung started, slowly moving from behind Chan, raising his hands in surrender. “And you can’t keep this up.”

She shrugged him off and crossed her arms. “I don’t need you to tell me what to do.”

“It isn’t healthy,” Chan interjected. “And Hyunjin here has money.”

“I don’t care if he has money, I don’t want him living here.”

“You look a mess.”

“Excuse me!” She gasped, turning to face Seungmin, who had appeared next to her. He let out a small cough before continuing.

“What I mean is, you’re exhausted, and you can’t keep pulling extra shifts just to get enough cash. You’re a student and have a lot of responsibilities, so I think it’s only right for us as your friends.” Seungmin spoke, gesturing to surrounding group.

“Hyunjin isn’t my friend.”

“That’s a little harsh don’t you think?” Hyunjin laughed, as he flattened one of the boxes that had previously held his belongings. 

“As your friends,” Seungmin continued, becoming irritated by her stubbornness. “We think it’s only right for us to intervene when we think necessary.” Scoffing, she turned to leave the room, refusing to hear the reality of the situation.

“I’ve already paid 3 months of rent in advance, including your half, so it looks like you’re stuck with me sweetheart.”

She stepped forward, yanking the piece of card out of Hyunjin’s hands, huffing as she did so, but not before saying, “3 months. That’s it. But one slip up, and you’re gone.”

[percabeth4life]

The Crossroads of Destiny

First Chapter || Previous Chapter || Next Chapter || AO3

I moved into my dorm.

Setting it up was fun.

My roommate hasn’t arrived yet, so I picked the side by the window and started setting up.

I put my bedding on the bed (blue of course), my clothes in the dresser (his school ones and his nice clothes from Triton), my rainbow stone and star globe on the table by the bed, my books on the shelf, I put the candy my mom gave me in the drawer, put my collection of stuff from the sea (assorted gifts from my mer friends and some cool shells and coral pieces I like) on the shelves, and finally set up the fish tank for the human fish I’m still trying to turn back human.

The fishes name is Carl, which is really boring but…

I also put my copies of Avatar on the shelf, and small amount of memorabilia around the room. I’ve heard rumors of a sequel, how fun!

I frowned, studying my side of the room. I don’t think I’m missing anything…

Other than Triton and my mer friends…

Ugh, I hate boarding school already.

I sulked but moved to shove my notebooks on the shelf too.

Classes don’t start for a few days, so I suppose I could spend the next few days looking around the campus. Hopefully this year there wouldn’t be any… incidents.

I grabbed my ocarina and my music book and settled on the bed to practice.

I really like the ocarina, it makes such nice tunes, and it’s made from a really dense coral, it’s brilliant.

I began the warm up tunes, carefully running through the notes, furrowing my brow in concentration.

I’m going to get amazing at this. Triton said that if I get good enough at it by the winter solstice then he’d give me the next book on the Siren’s Song! Then I’ll get to practice actually using the Siren’s Song, using the ocarina of course. Triton said I wasn’t to try it with just my voice until Triton cleared him.

That’s fine though, I’m was still excited.

I started playing one of the simple tunes to start.

Carefully placing my fingers and following my memory of practicing this song until it was perfect.

It was one of the most basic, but I still like it. It’s soothing to practice.

I finished that song and turned to the next one.

I’ve only mastered the first two, I can do those two without looking at the instructions at this point. I’m also pretty good at the third one and alright at the fourth. I can play through the fifth song if I really focus hard.

I haven’t gotten around to trying the sixth yet.

I reached the fourth song in my play throughs. I started playing it for the second time to fix a note I keep messing up but paused when the door opened.

I looked up to see a boy with pasty skin, curly red/brown hair, and a rainbow tie-dye shirt.

“Uh, hi?”

I nodded in greeting, “Hi, are you my roommate?”

“Yeah! Or well,” the boy glanced at the paper in his hands, “You are… Percy, right? Hang on let me check the room number again, this is- Yeah okay, I think you’re my roommate!”

I offered a smile, following the lessons Triton drilled into me, “I’m Percy Jackson, glad to be roommates. What’s your name?”

“I’m Grover, nice to meet you!”

OO OO OO OO OO OO OO OO

Grover’s side of the room was nice, he had some books, a few plants, his school supplies of course. It didn’t have the sparklines of my side, what with my Rainbow Stone and Starglobe, but it was nice.

I noticed Grover giving Carl some odd looks when Carl commented on how boring Grover’s side was, or how he needed better clothes, or how he was hungry ‘Percy feed me’.

I of course fed him, I’d hate to be locked up like Carl. Least I can do is make it comfortable.

Grover blinked slowly and stared more confused.

It was almost like he could hear Carl.

…

Please say I’m not rooming with another mythological being that wants me dead.

…

Nope, not dealing with that today.

I grabbed my ocarina and music book and told Grover I was going outside to play.

OO OO OO OO OO OO OO OO

Grover wasn’t bad, he went with me to explore the campus despite the limp he had.

I made sure to keep my walking slow, I don’t want to strain Grover. La’akea had a permanently injured tail so had to use currents to help her move and while she’s pretty quick now, Grover couldn’t do the same with land.

We found where all our classes would be first, then found the nearby bathrooms and water fountains. Then we went to find the library, we already knew where the cafeteria was thanks to needing food.

We only ended up exploring the inside today (mainly because I got distracted in the mythology section of the library, it had a few books in ancient Greek, which, while not as easy as Halmaheran language, is still easier than English).

The next day we explored the grounds. I like the fountains I could see around the grounds, they’re pretty, and the water sparkles in the light.

We met a few other students, I did his best to smile and act like Triton taught me, it seemed to work better on these kids than the ones from his other schools.

But befriending Grover already seemed to be getting negative views.

I resisted the urge to glare at the student I heard mutter something insulting about Grover. Did they have no manners for disabilities? Triton would kick their butts if he heard it. But Triton would also lecture me if I lost my temper on the first day.

“Ha, look at the cripple, I don’t know why schools let those people in, don’t they want to keep appearances up? Having a loser like that here just ruins the schools rep.”

I smiled sweetly at the boy, “Well you would know if someone should be kicked out for appearances, wouldn’t you?” I gave the boy a brief look over, making my meaning as clear as possible, then turned and walked away.

I walked away with my head held high, Grover following me.

“You didn’t have to do that. But thanks man.”

I huffed, “he was rude, you didn’t deserve that. Just cause you have a disability doesn’t mean he gets free range to insult you!”

Grover grinned, “thanks again”

OO OO OO OO OO OO OO OO

Classes started again, they were boring.

I covered the math with Triton, and as long as I wrote in Halmaheran it was easy. Of course, then I have to go back and translate to dumb Arabic numerals but…

Geography was as annoying as ever, land geography was so boring!

I do enjoy Latin, I’m not bad at it I don’t think. We’ve only just started the basics of it, learning some word meanings and not yet at conjugating, but I don’t think I’ll struggle too much if it stays this easy.

Honestly my biggest trouble will probably be grammar in that class.

And of course, in English class.

I hate English class.

They also have art which I enjoy. I would prefer music, so I can practice my ocinara, but it is fun to make things. I figure I can give what I make to Triton or mom.

Science is dumb though.

OO OO OO OO OO OO OO OO

Carl is seventy percent sure that Grover can understand him, so I have to be careful not to reveal I can also understand my fish.

OO OO OO OO OO OO OO OO

So, there are clubs, Grover was nervous to sign up for them, and I’ve never signed up for a club before.

But Triton would probably encourage it, so I decided to look through the clubs to see.

I shouldn’t do swimming, if Grover is a Mythological being than that would give me away real quick.

I decided that model UN should be good, it will let me practice my “princely” stuff, since I won’t have Triton bugging me about it.

And… ooh, the music club. That would give me more opportunities to practice my ocarina!

I couldn’t help but hum happily, I can practice my ocarina, and I can do some fancy talking (that will make Triton happy probably) so it works out!

“What are you going to do Grover?”

“Uh, I’m not sure, what about you?”

I grinned, “Model UN and music club!”

“Oh well, those sound good, maybe I’ll join them too?”

“Do you know an instrument? Or are you going to learn one in the club?”

“Er… I play the reedpipes?”

“Oh cool!” I bounced on my toes, “I’ve never played the reedpipes before, do they sound nice? Are they hard to play? What songs do you know?”

“Uh- they’re nice, I’m not that good yet, they’re kinda hard to play, and I know a few calming songs.”

“That’s cool, let’s go sign up!”

I planted myself beside Grover and tried to copy Triton’s ‘I will end you’ smile that he used at the events, pointing the smile at the jerk that tried to cut Grover in line.

“Whatever,” The guy grumbled, stomping back and kicking Grover’s crutch on the way.

I fought really hard to keep my smile in place as I helped Grover steady himself.

“I’m fine,” Grover muttered.

“He’s a jerk,” I grumbled back.

OO OO OO OO OO OO OO OO

We went to the first club meeting of Model UN. It went fine, they just introduced what we’d be doing in the club this year.

It was kinda boring.

The first meeting of music was more fun though.

First everyone picked their instrument, then the teacher had all of us that already knew how to play our instrument demonstrate some.

I played the first song I know on the ocarina, I have it memorized so I looked good when I did it.

Grover played the reedpipes, I did my best not to show that my ears hurt.

Maybe Grover could use a little more practice… just a little…

OO OO OO OO OO OO OO OO

The Latin teacher disappeared?

Like, he was there one day, then a new teacher in a wheelchair appeared.

My eyes narrowed on the wheelchair.

It gives me the same feeling that some of Triton’s gifts give me. That’s no ordinary wheelchair.

OO OO OO OO OO OO OO OO

I pulled my Rainbow Stone out when Grover was away for a bit.

I tossed in a drachma resisting the urge to bounce, “Oh Iris, goddess of the rainbow, please accept my offering and show me Triton, where ever he is.”

I grinned when Triton appeared.

I’ve called Triton a few times before and I recognized the backdrop as Triton’s room.

“Percy.”

“Triton! How are you?”

We talked for a while, just trading stories.

I told him about model UN and music club, Triton was pleased.

Triton told me about some of his duties, and how annoying the fish were now that I’m not there anymore. Apparently, they’ve grown fond of me.

I finally started explaining my suspicions.

I explained Grover being able to understand Carl and explained the teacher with the wheelchair that was definitely enchanted.

Triton nodded, his gaze serious.

“It doesn’t sound like a harmful being but keep an eye out. Update me when you can but be careful, if I’m right this Grover is likely empathic, and you should keep your emotions in check around him.

I nodded, what mythological being was empathic?

Oh well, Triton would tell me if it was important.

OO OO OO OO OO OO OO OO

Welp, apparently there was a robbery right near the school. The person had a gun, so all the students were locked in the classrooms.

I was in Latin when the announcement came. Mr. Brunner had all of us students put the desks in front of the door, then wedged some of his old shields in the way too.

I don’t know if they’ll help at all, but I guess it’s better than nothing.

Mr. Brunner quietly told us stories about the rise of Rome until the announcement came that it was safe to leave again.

That was scary, hopefully nothing else like that happens again.

I really want this year to be calmer.

OO OO OO OO OO OO OO OO

Apparently, a computer in the library overheated, and promptly blew up.

I didn’t know that was possible but now we’re were standing outside in the rain waiting for the fire department to clear everything.

Or everyone else was, I was trying one of Katara’s tricks, the rain was sliding away just above me!

This year was going great so far, hopefully it was just these things and nothing else…

I purposefully ignored Nancy mumbling that it’s a shame Grover made it out.

I also ignored the way that the rain around her became just a little colder, just a little harder, just a little more like sleet than rain.

That was just a coincidence, I certainly didn’t do that, Triton wouldn’t have been happy.

OO OO OO OO OO OO OO OO

Music club was going great! I’ve now mastered the first six songs in my book and I’m practicing three more.

It’s so much fun!

The first ten were fairly short, after those it would start taking a lot longer to learn them.

But for now, I’m enjoying the simple songs.

Grover was slowly improving some too so that was good. I know that some students have been mocking his reedpipes behind his back, I usually have a snappy comeback if they do it in front of me, but it’s still hard on Grover.

OO OO OO OO OO OO OO OO

Model UN is going great, I get to watch Grover argue for environmental reforms. It’s delightful.

This club seems a whole lot more interesting now.

I ended up having to go against Grover, so I promptly channeled all the knowledge I have about the pollution in the ocean and rivers and started arguing for it (I don’t enjoy going against Grover, especially on this subject).

Of course, the students get switched around, and I’m easily able to reverse my argument, it’s the side I actually stand for anyways. I’ve been cleaning the rivers in Manhattan for a while, I know loads about the negative effects of pollution, at least in water environments.

Grover does not like arguing for pollution, that was nearly as fun to watch as him tearing others apart in the against pollution argument.

OO OO OO OO OO OO OO OO

I opened my eyes.

I was deep in the ocean, a faint red glow from underwater magma spots.

I stared, I’ve of course read about them in the books Triton has given me, but I’ve never seen them before. They weren’t in the territory that Triton would bring me too.

I turned around and gasped when I saw the palace in front of me.

It’s definitely not Poseidon’s palace.

A mermaid swam towards me, glowing in the same way that Triton did, her tail more flowy than any I’ve seen before and glittering blue and silver.

She opened her mouth, her head tilted.

I woke up.

OO OO OO OO OO OO OO OO

Apparently, a student claimed they saw a guy that matched the description of a criminal. So once again the school was emptied so the police could search the grounds.

On the bright side we all got a field trip to the aquarium.

On the down side we all got a field trip to the aquarium I got expelled from before.

Hopefully that guide didn’t work there anymore.

Grover and I ended up separate from the rest of the group, it was fun, they looked at this fish, I complimented their scales, and their swimming, and their coral. It was nice to talk to fish again.

Grover laughed at me for talking to the fish, but it was friendly.

I’ve never had a human friend before.

I supposed I still haven’t, but at least now I have a land-dwelling friend.

…

Hopefully.

OO OO OO OO OO OO OO OO

I’m doing alright in math, even though the teacher sucks.

English was going to end me though.

I have to write the papers in Halmaheran first, then in English, and of course I can’t read the stupid books because they’re in English.

I wish I had audio books for the class, but noooooo.

I’m pretty sure it’s illegal for them to not help me with my disabilities. But I don’t know much about land laws.

I should probably fix that.

OO OO OO OO OO OO OO OO

Latin is fun, even if I’m suspicious of the teacher, and I was making sure to tell Triton what I notice.

We’re were having a test today though. I can do the words, I’m great at remembering the meaning of the words, but the grammar was killing me.

I lost half my points on doing the grammar wrong.

It’s annoying.

OO OO OO OO OO OO OO OO

I moved towards the palace this time, it’s not like Poseidon’s palace, from what I’d seen from a distance (a large distance).

This one is dark, carved out of the side of the trench that I’ve now realized I’m in.

But it’s still lit up.

Lantern fish swim all over, some coming near me with their sharp teeth.

I’ve never been afraid of the beings of the sea though, so I didn’t flinch back. I made sure to complement their lights, I’m not sure they could hear me.

There’s also a sea serpent this time, it’s eye focused on me.

It’s massive, easily able to circle Poseidon’s palace at least three times over.

I decided respect was for the best, and quickly did the proper twist of my hand, even if I have legs and not my tails like I would prefer, this would still show the respect that the great serpent deserves.

I made it to the entrance and, after hesitating, pushed in.

I woke up.

OO OO OO OO OO OO OO OO

I just cannot catch a break.

Some student brought a cursed item to school.

I can feel it.

Everyone else is just convinced the school was haunted.

Carl thinks it’s funny. He would.

Grover is jumping at shadows and even more nervous than usual. I’m not worried though.

I’ll know when the cursed item gets close enough, I’m good at sensing that.

OO OO OO OO OO OO OO OO

It took three weeks, but I’ve finally found the cursed item.

A stupid book.

Everyone was baffled that the ghost vanished.

I just sighed and focused on rereading the chapter in one of the books Triton gave me on Purification.

It took me a week to do it, but at last the book is curse free.

I know have to sneak it back to the owner, ugh.

OO OO OO OO OO OO OO OO

I was standing at the edge of a deep pit. I can’t even begin to see the bottom.

A burning sensation edged my senses.

“How interesting, so faint yet there. It’s slowly getting clearer…”

I frowned, “Hello?”

A low chuckle filled the area, “Hello little Half-Blood.”

“Who are you?” I called, leaning over the edge.

“You may wish to step back little Half-Blood. A fall would be dangerous.”

“You didn’t say who you were.” I replied, but I did step back.

The being chuckled again, “I am-“

I woke up.

OO OO OO OO OO OO OO OO

I’m excited, field day is here!

I’m signed up for the tug-of-war, the water sponge, and one of the running events.

It’s fun, I won the water sponge by a landslide, and my team came in second for the tug-of-war. I did alright at the running, I’m certainly not the fastest, but I have decent stamina from all the time I’ve spent swimming and running from the river to my apartment.

I didn’t do the worst, so I suppose that’s good.

Field day is actually a lot of fun, even if Grover can’t participate.

It would’ve been perfect if the field hadn’t caught fire afterwards though.

I have no idea how that happened.

OO OO OO OO OO OO OO OO

I hummed as I read through one of the more advanced books on Purification magic, this chapter talked about how to infuse items with purifying energy to keep a room clean.

It was really interesting, when Grover was gone I’d try it out.

Carl’s happy about it too, he wants a stone infused with purifying energy in his tank.

I was beginning to wonder if Carl even wants to be turned back human again, Carl seems to like being a fish.

It’s weird.

OO OO OO OO OO OO OO OO

Grover and I are working on our speech for Model UN, we’re were arguing for environmental reform.

Shocking.

I’m pretty confident in our ability to do this. Grover is really well informed on land pollution, and I have first-hand experience with sea pollution.

I even managed to get Triton to tell me about dealing with oil spills and stuff to help!

We’re gonna kill it.

OO OO OO OO OO OO OO OO

I glared at the palace in front of me.

Am I gonna wake up the moment I get close again?

I just want to see what’s inside.

It’s strange though, only some of the fish and beings around seem to actually see me.

I sighed and started moving towards the palace again.

This time I got inside! I looked around in awe.

“Well, it appears I have an uninvited guest.”

I turned to see a merman with almost glowing blue hair, and sharp sea green eyes. His tail a deep green with flowy glowing blue on it.

It kinda reminds me of my tail, but his was greener and has specks of blue in the scales too. And it’s not quite as flowy.

The Merman studied me in turn, “And what is your name little Half-Blood?”

“I’m Percy-“

I woke up.

OO OO OO OO OO OO OO OO

I’m getting really annoyed this year.

Other years normally have one big disaster that end in my expulsion, this year though, it seems as if the universe just wants to make me suffer slowly.

The Principal had a heart attack.

And I was in the room with him when it happened.

Only I was in the room when it happened.

I did try to help with healing water, but I’m not good enough at that to heal others like Katara. It just hasn’t been a focus of mine with all my work on Purification.

Plus, I don’t have anyone to practice on.

I got a teacher but I still had to explain the symptoms to the emergency responders.

Next thing you know the schools gonna have a pandemic, honestly.

OO OO OO OO OO OO OO OO

So, the school had a Pandemic.

A flu pandemic to be precise.

Nearly everyone’s gotten sick at this point.

Grover, Mr. Brunner, me, and a handful of other students are the only ones holding strong.

On the bright side it meant we don’t have to attend class for a few days while the teachers recover.

On the downside everyone has makeup work, and also, I’m was stuck inside with Grover.

Now don’t get me wrong, Grover is a great friend! We hang out a bunch and agree on a lot of stuff and I keep the bullies off his back.

But I can’t call Triton with Grover there, or practice my waterbending, or my Purification magic.

I’m bored.

The flu pandemic just can’t end quickly enough.

OO OO OO OO OO OO OO OO

I’m at the edge of the pit again.

“Welcome back little Half-Blood.”

“My name is Percy, not little Half-Blood.”

The voice hummed, I think it’s a guy but I’m not sure.

“Well then little Percy,”

The voice is totally just trying to annoy me.

“Where do you live?” It finished.

Faint whispers reached me, I can only pick out a few odd words, something about disgusting and mortal? He heard a faint whisper of clearer, and last time?

I wonder what that was about. They sounded like multiple voices now, I don’t know who they are.

“I’m not supposed to give my location to dream strangers Mr. Pit Voice, my mom said so.”

And why does the voice want to know where I live anyways? That seems creepy.

The voice chuckled again, I swear I that heard some snickers beneath it too.

“A fair point little Percy, very well then. What-“

I woke up.

OO OO OO OO OO OO OO OO

I’m working on my present for Triton for the winter solstice.

I maybe kinda might be sulking about missing the equinox.

I did manage to get my hands on some pearls (the normal kind) while I was in the ocean over the summer. Now I’m trying to make Triton an arm band to go with the ones he normally wears.

They’re basically part of his crown (they show his station and the carvings show how significant he is). Most sea beings with any kind of rank have them. They’re valuable.

I don’t have any mind you, but I’m technically of land. And family is supposed to give them. Hopefully Triton doesn’t take me making him one as an insult.

Thankfully I don’t need to do complicated carvings, I managed to get nice wire from the art room, I was carefully shaping it into some runes shapes, then I’m gonna (very carefully and did a lot of practice before doing it) carve careful strengthening and color changing runes in.

I only have like a dozen runes mastered to the point that I can safely use them, two preservation ones, two color changing ones, three peace inducing ones, two purifying ones and then the new ones, three strengthening ones.

Runes are a lot harder to master than people think.

I’ll add the pearls last, the order and colors are important too.

And of course, I have to make my other friends something too.

Oh, and Grover, I figure I can make a wood carving of a tree for Grover, I’ve already gotten the wood too.

I’m planning on doing some fancy shell and pearl necklaces for Samoa and Elei, colors matching to their scales of course. I’m still trying to figure out how to infuse them with gentle purifying energy, it’s a work in progress.

For Masina I found a really nice spiral shell and I’m infusing it with purifying energy, using a rune base to help hold it.

For Fetu and Lagi I’m painting some cool rocks I found, I’m also planning on infusing them with purifying energy.

So, sue me, I’m running low on gift ideas. And I’m not super close to them, we only see each other every now and then.

I still don’t know what they might like as a present.

OO OO OO OO OO OO OO OO

I’m standing in a hall, looking around I realized I’m back in the undersea trench. I peered out the window to see the lantern fish swimming around.

Well at least this time I don’t have to make my way into the palace.

I turned to try and find my way through.

Wandering around I stared in awe at the sparkling inner walls of the palace.

For all that the outside is dark and scary, the inside is bright with glowing walls and misty effects at the ceiling.

The patterns on the floor are cool too.

“I see you’re back little half-blood.”

I whipped around to see the merman from last time there again.

I noted more details this time, like the bands around the merman’s arm.

…

OH

I quickly twisted my hand into the proper show of respect, this was… this was…

“What are you doing in my palace little half-blood?”

I bit my lip, “I didn’t mean too, I went to sleep and ended up here.”

The merman hummed, “Prophetic dreaming then? Interesting…”

Going here without permission could end badly.

“I’m sorry for intruding.”

The merman’s eyes gleamed, “I sense my power on you, you’ve interacted with something of mine.”

I frowned, I have no idea what he’s was talking about. But maybe he’s…

“What’s your name again little Half-Blood? I didn’t quite catch it last time.”

“I’m-“ It feels like I’m drifting, but leaving without answering wouldn’t be smart, “I’m Percy Ja-“

I left Oceanus’s Palace and woke up.

OO OO OO OO OO OO OO OO

I’m back home for winter break, I finally get to see my mom again (I missed her a lot), and ignore Gabe. The best thing though, I get to see Triton in person again at last!

I couldn’t help wondering at my dreams though, apparently prophetic visions? That’s what Oceanus said.

I got to meet Oceanus, my probable dad. He even made a comment about sensing something of his, maybe he just didn’t realize it was me?

I’m honestly almost giddy.

OO OO OO OO OO OO OO OO

I traded gifts with Triton first, giving Triton the arm-band I made, Triton thanked me for it. He didn’t seem insulted, but he ducked his head so I couldn’t really see his face.

He seemed pleased when he left though, so I’m satisfied.

In return Triton gave me a knife. It was made of Abyssal Platinum, found in deepest parts of the ocean trenches. It’s a valuable material, rare but highly coveted in ocean warfare.

The knife is small, but would do damage, it’s hilt is coated in sea serpent scales. And wrapped in Kraken leather.

It’s amazing.

I love it so much. I’ll make sure to keep it in perfect condition. It’s worth a lot more than my partially Celestial Bronze trident.

OO OO OO OO OO OO OO OO

I traded gifts with my friends, I left my gift for Grover with him before I left, and now gave my merfriends their gifts.

Somoa gave me a shell that played the sounds of the sea, since they knew that my teacher went on land a lot.

That way I could always have a bit of the ocean with me.

Elei gave me some armor for my chest, interlocking plates that were apparently made of sea serpent scales.

It’s really pretty, I’m definitely going to treasure it.

Masina got me a stone that would still the waters if I tossed it. It would be useful for low level storms and the like, but apparently it wouldn’t work for much else yet. They were still improving the technique.

Fetu got me a book on the Siren’s Song, he apparently found out I was working on it. It was a rarer one from his parents library. I’m really looking forward to reading it.

Lagi got me the start of a healing kit. I really need to work on my healing more, but Purification is so interesting, and so’s Siren’s Song. I just haven’t had time for it.

I’ll have to try to make time.

Overall, it’s been a great Solstice.

Of course, that’s when the Ocean erupted into a storm.

OO OO OO OO OO OO OO OO

I was back on shore quickly thanks to Triton, he told me to go home and stay there while Triton finds out what happened.

It took a week for Triton to get back to me. And even then, he didn’t appear himself, or Iris message.

He sent one of his most discreet messengers, a seagull that was exceptionally good at avoiding attention.

Apparently, Poseidon was being accused of a theft, a really major one.

It could mean war.

I’m supposed to lay low. Iris messages couldn’t be trusted until the situation calmed down.

Triton would contact me when it did.

Until then I’m to act as if nothing happened.

OO OO OO OO OO OO OO OO

I went back to Yancey Academy and pretended that I wasn’t sick with worry.

I acted like nothing was wrong, nothing at all.

We got a new teacher, Ms. Dodds.

I have a really bad feeling about the rest of the year.

[yellsatyouinrogerwaters]

End Of The Night - Rick Wright

 A/N: I'm sorry it took so long, I took a little break.

L E N G T H: 1,582 words W A R N I N G: Nothing really. I N S P I R A T I O N: End of the Night - The Doors

Y O U R    P O V

 The phone rang, causing me to wake from my slumber. I groaned from the sudden noise and lifted myself from my bed, trudging my way to the phone. Pulling the receiver out of its slot, I press the receiver's speaker on my ear. 

"Hello..?," I mumbled.

"[y/n]? Did I wake you up? I'm so sorry if I did,"

"Its fine, Rick. No worries." 

"Alright. Anyways, would you like to come with the band and me on a trip to the forest for a few days? Possible a week for that matter," he asked with his gentle tone. Tittering, I nodded. 

"I'll tag along, I'll bring tons of snacks and essentials," I grinned and let out a little humming laugh. 

"Alrighty! We'll all meet at the studio at 3 and head on to the forests."

"Okay, see you soon," I hung up the phone and dashed up the stairs. I opened the handles on my closet doors and walked into it. Digging through sections of the closet, I found a camping backpack that I kept since I was younger just in case I wanted to go camping again, but this time as an adult. Grabbing it, I opened it up and found some memorabilia, then set it down on a shelf across from me.

 After an hour, my bag was finally packed with everything I needed. Before walking downstairs with the bag, I grabbed my towel. Once downstairs, I plopped the bag down on one of the cushions of the couch and paced to my bathroom. 

After a few minutes, I came out of the shower and changed into comfortable, but casual clothing. As I walked back to the living room again, I dried hair and turned on the T.V. to see if anything was interesting. After a few minutes, I found a Hollywood drama that I couldn't take my eyes off. 

T I M E  S K I P 

R I C K ' S   P O V 

 I arrived quite early at the studio and sat outside on the steps. Taking a deep breath and sigh, I took a book out of a small pile that I packed and slid my finger done the pages, letting the book open up by itself. I began to read and felt the activation of my imagination. 

About 30 minutes go by and I was already one third into the book,

"Hey, Rick!" A voice called, I looked up and saw that it was Nick. I placed my bookmark into its new spot in the book and shut the book, 

"Hello, Nick."

"What'd you pack for the trip?" Nick asked. 

"Not much actually. Just some food, a journal, books, and of course a tent," I elaborated.

It didn't take long until David and Roger arrived. We all stuffed our stuff into the back of the van that's owned by our manager. He would let us borrow it whenever we needed it. 

I gazed down at my wrist and saw what time it was, 3:16. I sighed to myself and fiddled with my fingers. 

 "Rick, is [y/n] coming? We have to get on the road soon before it gets dark," David explained. 

"She's running a bit late, I kno-". The sound of panting became audible and nearby, it caught my ear. I faced the opposite way from the band and traipsed my way over to the gate. Peaking my head slightly over the gate, I saw [y/n] running towards the gate. I swung the door open for her to come in. Once she made it in, she gasped for air with her head facing the ground and her hands on her knees; I took out a canteen from my bag and handed it to her. 

"[y/n], were you running the entire trip here?" she flung her head back and nodded as she drunk from the canteen. Once finished, she handed it back to me and I rubbed her back as she began to struggled less and less with her breathing. 

"Are you okay now?", I asked. 

"Yes, thank you for the refreshment," she showed me a grateful smile. Nick clapped his hand, grabbing the attention of all of us, "Alright, now that we're all here, it's time to get on the road, I'll drive this time." 

"Let me get your bag, [y/n]" I said and got behind her and, in one fluid motion, slid off her bag and placed it with the other bags. 

We all got into the car; Nick in the driver's seat with David seated next to him, Roger having the middle row section to himself, and [y/n] and I in the last row chatting about whatever came to our heads. 

Nick started up the engine and got out of the parking lot in a matter of seconds and we were on way to the forest. 

T I M E  S K I P 

 Nick parked the van right outside of the campsite and turned off the engine. We all filed out of the car and got our stuff out. Heading off to the entrance station, we all looked at our surroundings and soaked up the beauty of it, but I focused most of my gaze on [y/n]. She turned her head and made slight eye contact with me, causing her to display her pearly whites at me. I smiled back and tucked back a strand of my hair, 

"How do you feel about this trip?"

"I'm excited, I finally get to read some books that I haven't been able to read and be outside, which doesn't happen as often as I want it to," she explained. I paid attention to every detail I could, the way she talked, her body language, anything really.  

Arriving at the campsite, we set our things down and set up. I opened the bag that carried the tent and let everything spill out. Spreading everything into its layout and grabbing the tiny hammer that came with the tent, I hammered down each peg deep enough for the tent to be held up steadily. Once I was finished, the tent stood up tall.

"Holy crap, Rick. Where did you get that giant tent?" 

"My father gave it to me, I never thought I would use it, yet here we are," I let out a chuckle. 

"Hmm.." [y/n] said, stepping closer to the tent, "seems like it could fit a whole family." We all laughed, but I developed a faint blush on my cheeks when [y/n] said 'family.'

 Y O U R   P O V 

 The sky began to darken as the sun slowly went to sleep. We all gathered in a circle and put a battery-operated lantern in the center, it shone enough to go beyond the circumference of the circle we've made. 

"Are we telling horror stories?" Roger chuckled. 

"No, we're singing songs and  doing "What am I supposed to do, grab two sticks and beat the ground with them?" Nick questioned.

"That doesn't sound bad actually," I laughed and patted Nick on the back. 

David picked up his acoustic guitar and began to strum the strings. 

"What are we supposed to sing about?" Rick asked.

"Anything," David reassured. Rick cleared his throat and began to sing. It was quite rare for Rick, let alone speak. We were are speechless and wonder-struck. David was slowly strumming slowly but softly, Rick's gentle tone merged perfectly with David's playing. 

"If the sun refused to shine"

"I would still be loving you"

"When mountains crumble to the sea"

"There will still be you and me."

We realized that it was Thank You by Led Zeppelin. Once Rick finished, we all clapped immensely, making him feel a bit shy.  

After hours of singing, joking, and telling stories, we decided to take a little break and each go to our respected tents. I sat in my tent and read The Shining by Stephen King. Being intrigued by the book, I kept my eyes focused on the pages and blocked out my surroundings until I heard a voice, 

"[y/n]," I turned my head to the direction of where the voice was coming from. Slowly getting up, I set my book down on its pages and made my way to the sealing of the tent, unzipping it. Behind the sealing was Rick. He looked a bit worried, 

"Oh, hey Rick. What's up?" I asked in a concerned tone.

"May I come in?" I responded with a nod and he walked with caution. We both walked and sat adjacent to each other. 

"Alright, Rick, what brings you here today?" I joked, chortling. 

"I wanted to open up about something that has been bothering me for a while now," he pinched the bridge of his nose. 

"Okay, what is it? I promise I would judge you," I reassured him. He took a deep breath and let out a sigh. He looked at his hands and fidgeted with them as he mustered the confidence to say his confession.

"I.. I think I've fallen for you and when I sang that song... it was for you" I smiled a little and nodded my head at him. 

"I've fallen for you too, Rick." 

He grinned at me and I hugged him tightly. He wrapped his arms around me and whispered in my ear, "I love you, [y/n]." 

Without leaving his embrace, I placed my lips on his and kissed him with all the love I could give.

"I love you too, Rick."

[blu-joons]

BTS Reaction: They Find Out You Are A Massive Geek

Jin:

Jin sat down beside you, admiring the pattern you had on your shirt. It was one of your old Star Wars shirts that you wore on lazy days around the house. Jin was unaware you even liked the franchise, himself a big fan.

“Is it just Star Wars you like?” He asked. Without saying a word, you took him upstairs into your bedroom, pulling out one of the drawers of your closet. Inside was an array of clothes, each dedicated to the fandoms you belonged in.

“This isn’t even half of my memorabilia, I’m a massive sci-fi geek, I love all of it.” Jin looked down in awe, how he had not known sooner how big a fan you were. He took out one of your Harry Potter shirts, holding it up against himself.

The image of Hermione depicted you perfectly, a strong, independent woman. “We’ve got so much more to talk about, none of the others ever understood my obsession, but you will.”

“We can fangirl together,” you teased, grabbing your Harry Potter hoodie, throwing it over you as the night got cooler. “I reckon there’s got to be a movie marathon coming up for date night soon.”

“It’s already a date jagi.”

Yoongi:

After his long day, all Yoongi wanted to do was cuddle up to you and wrap his arms around you. He guided your hand, so it ran through the loose strands of his hair, tickling out all the little knots that had gathered throughout his long day at work.

“The things I do for love,” you whispered. Yoongi jumped up, turning to face you with a wide smile on his face. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to push you off a tower now that I’ve said that.”

“How have I not found out sooner you watch Game of Thrones?” He gasped, already opening his laptop so you could start binging it together. “It is my favourite series of all time, who’s your favourite character?”

It was a difficult question for anyone to ask, but one character always sprung to mind. “Tyrion, he was easily my favourite from the start.”

“Me too!” He shouted, overwhelmed with excitement. “I swear he is the only television character who has managed to make me cry tears of joy and tears of sadness. I’m so glad he’s survived it all, he deserved it.”

“Babe, no spoilers, not if we are going to watch it all again anyway.”

Hoseok:

Your games console was set up for the both of you, as you threw Hobi the other controller. It was an old Nintendo, but it was one you absolutely loved. Hobi couldn’t wait to see all the old games you had still collected.

“A personal favourite is Mario Brothers? How does that sound?” You’d already loaded the game before he had the chance to answer, super excited to play one of your all-time favourites once again with him.

“I can’t believe I haven’t picked up on your nerdiness before. This right here is my idea of heaven, you, food, and all the best games in the world.” He too was on the edge of his seat waiting for the game to load.

Its age showed as you waited nearly half an hour for it all to finally set up. “I think last time I played I restarted it all back from level one.”

“That’s perfect!” Hobi squealed, “it means we can spend more time gaming together and complete the game together, we can be Mario and Peaches, a true love story right until the end.”

“That might just be the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard you say.”

Namjoon:

You grabbed your coat, and your rucksack, checking that everything you needed was in it. Namjoon laid out on the sofa, intrigued as to where you were going so early in the morning. “Got plans?” He asked, looking over at you.

“Only popping to the library, a new book is out today that I really want to read before everyone gets it.” His eyes widened, sure he’d seen the stack of books on your shelf, but he never connected the dots that you would be a keen reader too.

“Can I come?” He asked, grabbing his coat too. “I’d love to see what kind of books you read, there might be something there that I’d let to get too.” He grabbed his wallet and his phone, opening the door for you.

You nodded your head, slipping your hand into his. “I didn’t realise you were that into books Joon. There’s loads of books at this library, I’m sure we’ll find you something.”

“I love reading! I can’t believe you haven’t told me you like it too, now we can geek out together, maybe start our own book club, what do you think?”

“Don’t get too ahead of yourself sweetheart, one book at a time.”

Jimin:

On his way up to your toilet his eye caught the unit on the landing of your apartment. Inside were a whole host of action figures, ones you’d collected for decades, from your early childhood. Once he’d finished, he couldn’t wait to go down and ask you about it.

“I didn’t realise you liked Marvel. How come you’ve never told me, all those toys looked amazing, how long have you been a fan?” He threw himself down beside you, desperate to hear more about your collections.

“My grandma bought me my first toy for my seventh birthday and from then I’ve just collected lots of toys. It’s my hobby.” You paused, chuckling to yourself, “does that make me sound really nerdy and weird?”

“A little, but we can be nerdy and weird together. I can’t wait to talk to you about all the comics and movies, finally I’ve met someone who appreciates it all as much as I do.” He took you by surprise, you never had him down for a geeky type.

All the same, it made you fall in love with him more. “I’ve got a few collectable comic strips to if you want to see them.”

“Of course, I do! This is turning into one of the best days ever.” You smiled, digging them out of the safe cupboard that you kept them in.

“Look after them, they’re special!”

Taehyung:

Your mind was lost in your book as Christmas was celebrated at Hogwarts. Each turn of a page gripped you more, you’d failed to even hear Taehyung walking down the stairs, noticing you laid out on the sofa, glasses propped on the bridge of your nose.

“What are you reading jagi?” He asked, grabbing himself a drink before sitting down on the sofa opposite you. You showed him the front cover of your book, keeping your finger in as a bookmark. “Just rereading the Harry Potter series, it’s something I like to do when I’m bored.”

“Rereading? I never had you down as a Potter fan, that’s so cool. I prefer the movies personally, I just can’t seem to keep the attention to read the books, they’re all so long.” You chuckled, grabbing your marker and placing it on your page.

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing, how had you not realised that Taehyung was a fan too sooner? “Have you ever had a Harry Potter movie marathon? Three words. Best. Day. Ever.”

“That sounds amazing, can we do one, as soon as possible. Are you free tomorrow? I’m sure there’s some popcorn lying around somewhere.”

“I can always make time for you, and Harry Potter!”

Jungkook:

This evening date night was at yours for the very first time, the two of you had ordered takeout, and now were deciding which movie to stick on for some background noise. You pulled out your box of DVDs, opening the lid to hear Jungkook gasp.

“How am I ever meant to decide between Star Trek, Hobbit, Harry Potter, this is all too much. I’m never going to be able to pick a favourite out of all of these.” You chuckled, pulling out a second box, exciting him further. “No way!”

“What can I say? I’m a massive film geek.” Jungkook had a ball flicking through all your DVDs, some of the series’ he hadn’t watched for years. “I reckon maybe put a few aside, that way we know what fandoms we both belong to.”

Jungkook grabbed a few of his favourites, one in particular on the top. “Harry Potter has to come first; nothing compares to the wizarding world that is Hogwarts?”

“Alright, how about the Philosopher’s Stone tonight? We might as well work our way from the start if we’re going to do this properly.”

“I agree. This is already the best date night ever!”

Masterlist

[zeldauniverse]

If you played The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild, you know that one of the game’s vital features is cooking. The possibilities felt endless; you can cook many combinations of food and get a seemingly endless number of results.

Have you ever wanted to taste some of the cooked food you cooked in Breath of the Wild? The Legend’s Cookbook is the gateway to those fantasies. The Legend’s Cookbook is a Legend of Zelda inspired cookbook featuring recreations of the amazing dishes from games we enjoy so much.

We sat down with three of the team members behind The Legend’s Cookbook, and they shared their thoughts about the cookbook and what readers (and eaters!) can look forward to.

Zelda Universe: What made you decide to create a Legend of Zelda inspired cookbook?

Peter Abreu, Lead Chef: There were a lot of factors that went into us wanting to do this. People are spending more money eating out than cooking at home, and we can start to change that trend. We figure if we make cooking something fun, uncomplicated and interesting, we can really change people’s lives.

We love the Zelda series, we’re huge fans. We are in love with the stories, characters and art style. Do you know what is at the very core of that series? Being a hero and saving the world. All of us on the team want to do something like that. The absolute goal here is that one of the recipes in this book becomes a staple in someone’s diet, that it changes the way they go about their dietary lifestyle and their life improves from that change. If we manage to do that, then we’ve done it.

We want everyone to cook like a hero, what better place to draw inspiration from than a series that brought that concept so near and dear to our hearts?

Matt Mannheimer, Producer: It’s one of those things where you play something and you’re like “what if that was real?” That was some of our mindsets when wanting to make some of these inspired recipes from the games. From there we poured our heart into it. With our passion for gaming and the [Zelda] series in general, it made us do our research and figure out what will be the perfect fit for these recipes.

ZU: What types of recipes and foods from the Zelda series are you taking inspiration from?

Peter: The recipes in this cookbook are original, real world recipes inspired by The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild. We have baked goods, breakfast foods, dinner items, healthy snacks, sweet desserts and so much more! We’re starting with 50 recipes and we want to add even more as stretch goals. For those stretch goals, we are going to add things like cocktails, more creative dishes, and even recipes inspired by the other games in the Zelda series.

Matt: This whole cookbook is from the perspective of the hero. The hero recollecting his time from his adventure, writing down these recipes, fighting monsters, going through dungeons. You know the whole drill! That’s what makes it special; it’s a cookbook that has a story behind it. Not just in the gaming world, but also in real life. If you have enjoyed Mother’s Cookbook or Batter’s Almanac, you’re probably going to enjoy this one.

ZU: Will this cookbook be enjoyed by those who may not know the Zelda franchise?

Peter: Absolutely, we like to keep cooking simple and accessible. This is not going to be a cookbook only for Zelda fans. This cookbook is not going to bash people over the head with references and in-jokes but there will be several subtle allusions and (literal) Easter eggs. We want this to be a guide for everyone, newcomers and veterans to the kitchen and the Zelda series.

The ultimate compliment is for someone to fall in love with the recipes, art, and photos in our cookbook, first, and then realize it draws a lot of inspiration from their favorite series, second.

Matt: You don’t have to know everything about the [Zelda] series to get into this book. I feel its for everyone. I definitely don’t know everything about the [Zelda] series, but whenever I look at these recipes, and the pictures, I’m drawn into it. There are recipes that range from easy to difficult, but they’re so much fun to make. They’re fun to make and are all delicious.

Patrick Deasy, Photographer: I’m probably the biggest normie of the bunch, I’m not much of a gamer. I’ve been able to try out these recipes and I can tell you from an outsiders perspective that this is definitely a cookbook first and a piece of nerd memorabilia later.

ZU: If you had to recommend a recipe to somebody who may be new to cooking, what would it be?

Peter: The rock-hard candy. Our rock candy recipe is simple and delicious. You can do it at home, it’s super easy and very enjoyable. This is for all those with a sweet tooth. Here, I’ll share it with you:

Rock Hard Candy

Ingredients:

2 Cups of White Sugar

1 Cup of Water

3/4 Cup of Light Corn Syrup

1/4 Cup of Pomegranate Juice

Powdered Sugar for Dusting

Directions:

In a saucepan, combine sugar, water, and corn syrup.

Heat up the pan over medium heat, stirring constantly, until the white sugar is dissolved completely with the water and corn syrup. It is important to stir gently after sugar has dissolved to prevent burning, Use a candy thermometer to watch the temperature of the mixture and let it hit to the hard crack stage of 300F (149C).

Once there, remove from it from heat and add in the pomegranate juice, slowly. Mix it in.

Then, pour the hot candy into a 9”x9” baking pan covered in parchment paper that’s been dusted with powdered sugar, so the candy doesn’t stick. Leave it out in the open air uncovered and let the candy harden and cool completely.

Then the fun part, break into chunks with a hammer and then enjoy.

Matt: The Legends Cookbook is here to give you a culinary adventure: just go for it. If there’s a recipe you really wanna make, just do it. Even if it doesn’t turn out the way you want it the first time, just keep trying. With these recipes, we just want you to become a better chef.

ZU: Which recipe from this cookbook are you most excited about?

In The Legend’s Cookbook, the Dubious Food tastes really good; a lot more than you would expect. It’s even pixilated, like in Breath of the Wild!

Peter: The recipe I am most excited for is the one inspired by Dubious Food. It was the very first item I wanted to try and make in the kitchen. It was something just so disgusting yet edible, it was a fun idea and I wanted to make it. It was hard but I really enjoyed all different ways to make the food turn purple and look gross yet taste amazing. The final product just came out so great and it tasted delicious.

I pulled heavily from learning how to cook coq au vin from Anthony Bourdain and his show Parts Unknown. He was a was a huge inspiration for me as a chef. I really resonated with him because, like him, I spent a lot of my traveling the world, learning different cultures and food. I wanted to bring that same spirit of travel and exploration, a concept also very core to the Zelda series, to this cookbook as well as honor him with one of my favorite dishes he made. Hours upon hours in the kitchen later, I’ve created a questionable but inviting twist on coq au vin that you will all enjoy.

Matt: The meaty rice balls. I couldn’t stop eating them! They were so good! I don’t know how Peter does it, but that meat was the most delicious thing I ever tasted. It’s sweet, it’s GOOD.

Patrick: This is pretty basic, but I was pretty amazed when I got to see Peter make the fried rice for a couple of the dishes. I’ve never been able to do it right, so knowing that it’s in the cookbook is pretty exciting for me. Also the Rock Hard Food is pretty rad. It’s like a hard candy that’s flavored with pomegranate juice and it’s great. Meaty Rice balls are fantastic. It’s spicy and sweet and wonderful. I almost forgot about the Dubious Food, that one is awesome. That one is definitely my favorite.

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ZU: How will this cookbook stand out from other video game inspired cookbooks?

Peter: Our cookbook stands out from other cookbooks because it has a unique style and page layout. Have you opened a modern cookbook recently? Go to your local Target and find your way to the book section and look for their book section. Find a cookbook on the shelf and pick it up, look at it. You see beautiful food and a recipe. That’s usually it.

Our cookbook stands out because from the very inception, we are designing it like a field guide. In the margins are little watercolor drawings of stunning vistas, charcoal studies of various herbs and plants, little notes tucked in here or there. Our cookbook is rough around the edges and that’s the point, we want it to feel like you’ve found something personal and real when you pick it up. We want you to bust out your own pen and inks and add to it, there’s space! This may be our cookbook but we want you to make it your cookbook.

Matt: This project consists of a group of best friends; we’re all working on this together; we’re on the same wavelength. But were also big fans of the [Zelda] series and gaming in general. Were putting time into each and every recipe. I know Peter has done countless hours of research on every single recipe.

Everyone on our team is professional; we have several animation students. We have someone who worked on the Archer (the TV show), we have someone who worked from SEGA, that’s me! This team has come from different sides of the gaming, animation and art community. I feel like our relationships show from this cookbook.

Patrick: The thing that really separates this cookbook, I know I’ve been saying this a lot, but most video game cookbook’s I’ve seen have been very novelty, and most of them are just decoration guides for baked goods. This is not just a novelty decoration guide, we are not internet celebrities, we are a bunch of people who just really care about cooking.

ZU: A Kickstarter for this cookbook is coming up (May 2019); why should people support and back this project?

Peter: We hope, we really do hope, that people support our project. This is going to be something you’ll want to show other people and it is going to inspire you to cook for them as well. If you like cooking, if you like games or you want to just have a real piece of art to hang out on your bookshelf, this is for you.

Matt: The Kickstarter were hoping to have that up in May. We’re working really hard on this, we’re trying to make recipes that everyone can enjoy; a culinary adventure. This is one of my favorite projects I got to work on my entire life. The food is SO good. I’m serious about those meaty rice balls! I feel like with the team, partnering with TheYetee and the recipes, this will make for an amazing product.

We’re also working with The Yetee on this project! They will help with distribution, fulfillment, back rewards. I think partnering with TheYetee was amazing, and you’re gonna see a lot of stuff in the future that we’re excited to show off.

Patrick: If you wanted to know what the foods tasted like in Breath of the Wild, this is pretty much the closest you’re gonna get.

ZU: Anything else you want to share about the Zelda cookbook project?

Peter: We have so much more to tell but we want to save a few secrets. I’ll tell you what is no secret, we’ve partnered with The Yetee to help fulfill backer rewards and also produce a few of them. They are an amazing company and we are so happy to work with them. They’re gonna be a big help.

Here’s something that is a secret, but I’ll share it with you. We have a discord server that people can join and hang out in. People are invited to join, cook with us, and go on a culinary adventure! Here’s the invite: discord.gg/wGznSn9. It’s a secret, tell everyone.

Matt: We’re opening our public discord right now! If you wanna chat with the team, look at behind the scenes content, talk about the cookbook, join up in our server! We’ll also have a Twitter and Instagram open to check out. We really wanna hear from everyone.

Patrick: We’re trustworthy dudes and definitely Not A Scam ™ :^) Our discord is neat :^)

Thanks to Peter, Matt, and Patrick for taking time out of their schedule for the interview. We hope you’re looking forward to their upcoming cookbook project. A Kickstarter for The Legend’s Cookbook is launching mid-May; we will continue to share new details as they are announced. We will update with a link to the Kickstarter campaign after it begins.

If you’d like to communicate with the people behind the cookbook project, you can follow them on Twitter or join their Discord server. The team is always looking to engage with patrons, food lovers and Zelda fans alike.

Cook like a Hero: An interview with the team behind The Legend’s Cookbook If you played The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild, you know that one of the game’s vital features is cooking.

[wardencommanderrodimiss]

the one where Trucy accidentally finds out

a fic I wrote start to finish today, based on this conversation yesterday and two very great comments from @anza-redstar and @runningwolf62​

--

It’s ten years, to the day, April 19, when Daddy and Uncle Miles come into the office with a box so big that Trucy has no idea how it fit into Uncle Miles’ sports car. “What is that?” she asks, tucking the book she was reading back onto the shelf so it doesn’t get lost in the mess, and scampering over to look at the box. “A new microwave?”

“No such luck, kiddo,” Daddy says. “We’re using this one until it explodes.”

Uncle Miles glowers, like he expects that the office microwave will indeed someday explode. (It’s not as old as Trucy, but it’s older than her time with Daddy. It’s older than his friendship with Aunt Maya. So is Charley. So are most of the things in the office that aren’t related to magic.) Then he fidgets, awkwardly -- Uncle Miles is a very awkward man, and when he isn’t in a courtroom or on a crime scene, most of his movements are awkward -- and holds his arm like it hurts, because that’s what he does when he’s uncomfortable enough to realize that he is being awkward. “These are items that the police held onto related to… to the case ten years ago. Your grandfather’s death.”

“Oh.”

“It’s mostly papers,” Uncle Miles continues, still awkward, and Trucy does him the favor of looking away from him and prying open the box. Whoever taped the top wasn’t trying very hard. “Anything the police hoped could help enlighten them on the case. Personally, I think it was unnecessary for them to seize all of this, but I was not on the case. I saw your parents’ wedding certificate, in there, for instance.”

“I wonder if this is where your birth certificate went,” Daddy says. “I had to pay a lot for a copy.”

Uncle Miles rolls his eyes. He almost smiles. Then the moment is gone and he is frowning. “Usually this wouldn’t be released for another five years -- the statute of limitations is fifteen years -- but considering that this case is… sort of solved, as best as it will ever be, I pulled a few strings.”

“Thanks for that, Edgeworth.”

There are two more smaller boxes inside the large box. Other papers are piled up haphazardly. It would give Uncle Miles a headache if he tried to sort through it for very long. At the top of the piles there is a small book that Trucy picks up and flips through. It’s handwritten -- a diary -- her grandfather’s handwriting, she recognizes from his book of tricks, the one that he left her father and he left her. She reads a page. Mundane, daily things. She’s glad for that. Life with the whole Troupe is fading from her memory, no matter how she tries to hold onto it. Maybe this will help refresh her memory. She flips through the pages and watches the words go by, until abruptly, the pages are blank. She runs her finger down the torn margin of a page. Something was ripped out, what might have been the last page.

She sets it aside. Daddy looks at it and his eyes widen. He looks a little sick.

“I don’t envy you having to decide what to keep,” Uncle Miles says. “Especially since you’re almost well-known enough to have cases, now.”

“Oh, come on.” Daddy shoves Uncle Miles in the shoulder. “One of these days, you’ve got to stop heckling me like I’m a newbie.”

“Hardly,” Uncle Miles says.

“Once I’ve had my badge again for as long as I did the first time, then you’ll be sorry.”

Trucy leaves them to argue and starts to shove the box out of the way. There’s almost a path clear enough on the floor for her to follow, and there’s space behind Polly’s desk for the box to sit. She picks up a stack of papers at random and plops them on the desk. There’s enough space on his desk and his chair for her to remove most of the loose papers from the box and get down to the other two, and a few folders. The first folder looks like insurance stuff. She gets up and walks over to Daddy’s desk and sets it down there. Hopefully it won’t disappear forever.

The smaller boxes look like they hold loose, non-paper memorabilia. Those will probably be the most fun to look through and so Trucy closes them and grabs some papers. She will save those as a treat for the end.

-

“Is that for a case?” Athena asks, absolute horror frozen on her face, stopped dead on the threshold. She would probably turn and sprint back through the office and out if Daddy weren’t standing right behind her.

He puts a hand on her shoulder to move her forward and aside. “Yep!” he says, cheerily.

Athena’s eyes are wide and she does not blink. She has not blinked for fifteen seconds. “You… you can take this one, Boss,” she says. “I’ve got, uh, another client, definitely -- Trucy looks like she’s got that covered as your co-counsel--”

“Athena. I’m kidding.”

The look she gives him, and then Trucy, is one of pure betrayal.

“It was from a case, a long time ago.” Daddy glances at Trucy, trying to gauge how much she’s okay with Athena knowing. Trucy shrugs. She likes Athena. She doesn’t care if Athena knows. She knows everything about Athena anyway. “When Trucy’s grandfather died, and when I adopted her.”

Died, not was killed, and while the latter is implied by it becoming a trial and a spectacle, Trucy always said died too because she never believed that either her father or Uncle Valant could ever have killed Grandfather. In her heart she knew that. And Daddy told her that was true, that Uncle Valant told him that was true.

Athena tilts her head. She must hear something. Trucy always knows if Daddy is lying but beyond that he is hard to read and that’s why he’s so good at poker. Athena has a better time figuring out what he is feeling. Sometimes Trucy asks her. “You had me scared for a minute there, Boss,” Athena says.

Trucy turns back to her papers, Athena sits down at her desk, and they both work in silence for a little while. Athena isn’t good at sitting still and eventually she is up on her feet, bouncing around the room to burn off some extra energy. “Anything interesting?” she asks.

“I’m looking at the boring stuff first,” Trucy replies. It isn’t boring, actually, not in her opinion. She’s a magician and a businesswoman and she knows now where she got it, her grandfather’s meticulous financial record-keeping. Maybe the police kept it because they thought he owed money to someone and that was why he was shot. There could be lots of reasons.

“Huh.” Athena stoops to examine the inside of the box and reaches in to poke at something. “Oh, boxes within boxes. Fun. That’s -- hey, who’s this?”

Trucy looks up. Athena is holding a small and rectangular page, a photo, examining it curiously. She must have pulled it out of one of the other boxes; Trucy doesn’t remember anything left lying in the bottom. “Let me see,” she says, extending a hand.

She knows the woman in the picture not by memory, but by the old Troupe memorabilia that she keeps carefully framed up on her walls, because she didn’t have photos her family together -- maybe this is where they all went -- and that was the best thing she had to remember all of them at once, Grandfather and Mommy and Daddy and Uncle Valant, because one was gone and then the other three were in quick succession. Athena should probably recognize her as well. She’s seen the old posters. “That’s my mom,” Trucy says.

Thalassa looks young, really young. How old was she when she had Trucy? How old was she when she disappeared? (Not died, because Trucy knows that disappeared can be a euphemism to shelter a little girl, but she also knows otherwise in her heart the way she knew that neither her father nor Uncle Valant killer her grandfather, and the way she knew that her father was only disappeared, not dead, until he was.) In the photo, she is more relaxed, posed naturally, than the posters, without any of the magician’s trappings. She has a smile like the sun, as bright as the bangle bracelets she has.

“Oh,” Athena says. Moms are a fraught subject for so many of them, Trucy (disappeared), Athena (dead), Apollo (gone), Pearl (jailed), Maya (dead).

“I don’t really remember her,” Trucy says. She turns the photo over in her hands looking for a date and finds the back is blank. “She’s been gone most of my life.” She avoids dead again, the way Daddy avoided was killed about her grandfather. “She was a magician. The brooch I have was hers. Blue was her color, too.”

“Oh, really?” Athena sits on the floor. She probably wanted an excuse not to do work and now she has one. “I thought it was blue like Mr Wright.”

“It’s blue for both of them,” Trucy says, because she can’t parse out what came first, looking again at the promotional material with her mother’s face or at the dusty suits in her new daddy’s closet. “You know, it’s funny, now. I’ve lived with Daddy longer than I ever did with my other daddy and the Troupe.”

She’s eighteen. It’s been a full decade. She grew up without any of the Gramaryes. It was why she was so excited to welcome Mr Reus to her performance, because she had dreamed of performing on stage with her family, and he was the closest thing left around. And then that went south, and she got Polly instead.

“Yeah,” Athena says softly, touching her earring. “It’ll be -- another year, year and a half, and then I’ll have lived half my life without my mother.” Her hand remains on her earring. “What was her name?”

“Thalassa.”

-

After a few days, bleary-eyed sorting through pages, more finances and ancient stage diagrams and bookings for performance venues that have been renamed and renovated, she sets the remaining stacks of papers aside and cracks open the box that Athena found the photo in. There are dozens of newspaper clippings of reviews of performances, some old TV Guides that mention the Troupe, and some more photos. There’s a few of the four of them, a few of five of them with Reus, and she quickly sets those aside beneath some papers to figure out what to do with. They’re valuable, important, but she can’t stand to look at his face, can’t stand to see him with them after what he did. She wonders why the police kept these, either -- maybe looking for other suspects. Maybe they just boxed up Magnifi’s life and didn’t bother to think about what might be important for his granddaughter to have.

She and Athena go out and buy frames for every picture of her family, her mother and her parents together and them and Uncle Valant and all of them, happy, smiling, and all of them and little baby Trucy. At the bottom there’s a photo of her mother and baby Trucy, but there’s a date written on the bottom and it’s years before Trucy was born. How did someone get the date so wrong? Was it thoughtlessly added later? There’s another picture of her mother, so young, so young, laughing with a man with brown hair and a guitar. Who is he? Another reject of the Troupe? Some friend outside of it? The Troupe was pretty insular, Trucy knows that much -- they had a lot of practice and performing to do. Of course it was always just them.

The two mysteries go in one of Apollo’s desk drawers.

The other box, at the top, has a certificate of marriage for Thalassa Gramarye and Shadi Enigmar. Trucy stares at it for a long, long time.

Beneath that, her birth certificate. She goes to wave it in her daddy’s face. “Look what was in there!” she announces.

He doesn’t look up. “A magic dove.”

“Daddy!”

He grins and takes the paper from her. “Now we’ve got an extra copy of it. Good to know.” His eyes travel over the mess on his desk. “As long as I don’t lose it here.”

Her grandfather has another diary, even older, some of the pen and pencil scratches starting to fade. She shelves that with the other one, intending to read them but not sure what she’ll find, almost afraid after Reus that there might be something dark in them. Or maybe she’ll learn for sure why he was kicked from the Troupe. What if it isn’t what she’s sure it was, that he didn’t have the attitude for it? What if it is like he thought? She doesn’t have the certainty that she does for other things.

When she comes back to the box, after standing in front of the shelves for a long time and then running off to Eldoon’s with Athena, she thinks for a moment that she for some reason put her parents’ marriage certificate back in. Why would she do that? She can’t afford to be absent-minded. She has a business to run. She has almost tossed it aside in annoyance when the name catches her eye.

It isn’t her father’s.

Her heart sits in her throat. Her mother was married before? No one ever said that. Is there anyone alive who knew that until Trucy found this? The name is Jove Justice. JJ. It’s a name Trucy has never heard before. There’s a wedding photo beneath it that looks like it was taken at a courthouse. The man in the photo is the brown-haired man. Her mother looks still so young. How young was she when she was married the first time? Would it be like if Athena got married now? If Trucy did? She hasn’t removed the photo from the box, just stared at it and stared, and beneath it she sees hints of another certificate, another birth certificate, probably, certainly, and she is ready to yell over to the next room where her daddy and Athena are working on a case, but first, she looks at it. She looks at the names.

That isn’t her father’s name either.

A sibling? An older sibling, going by the date on the marriage certificate, and she is afraid of what she will find next. A death certificate? That would explain why no one ever spoke of this, why she grew up with no one her age around her, why when all the adults were gone she was alone --

She looks at the names again, not just Thalassa Gramarye and Jove Justice, but the baby. Baby boy. Her brother. Baby, her older brother. Her brother --

She’s losing her mind. No, she lost it, completely, finally, and it’s been six months since she’s seen Apollo, she’s only seen him once since May when she was sure he would be a fixture in her life for the rest of it, when she was sure she would always have him around to tease and annoy, and it’s because she misses him that her mind is doing this, is putting that name there, and she touches the words printed on the certificate and wonders when her eyes will refocus and she will actually learn the name of the brother she lost, her half-brother, son of Thalassa Gramarye and Jove --

Jove --

Justice.

Not sure what else to do, not sure how to react -- how did Pearl react when she learned about Iris? She was young then and maybe it made more sense then, maybe this would have made more sense to Trucy when she was little -- she screams.

-

This is, to put it mildly, not the best idea when the two people she shares the office with are two twitchy people who have had loved ones murdered and are still paranoid or traumatized from it, two people who go together to crime scenes and see bodies and piece together murders and are doing that right now and are in the worst mind frame to hear screaming.

Her daddy’s face is bloodless, and Athena has her fists up, and they barrel into the room together and find Trucy sitting on the floor surrounded by loose papers and photos and boxes and holding one in her hands and screaming.

-

Athena does not have the time to parse out what exactly the emotions of the scream are, because that can wait until they are out of danger, so when she finds the danger is apparently the written word, she stops and listens. It isn’t pain, or fear -- there is no fear in Trucy’s scream. If she had Widget analyze this, they would be spinning out of control with shock, not fear. And no anger. Sadness, blue cold sorrow, and joy, too, something red and warm, butting up against each other and drowning together in shock.

“Trucy, what’s wrong?” Mr Wright asks, crouching down to her level. His voice holds pain, of a sympathetic sort, pain and sadness. It’s written on his face, too, plain enough that Athena doesn’t need Apollo to see it. (Mr Wright sort of can notice things like Apollo did, and Trucy a little better, but neither of them are like Apollo.)

“My -- my mom -- my brother my brother -- he’s my half-brother – he’s my brother!”

Mr Wright doesn’t ask. She can’t hear anything when he’s silent. Something Athena can’t name flits across his face.

“Trucy, you don’t have a brother,” Athena says gently, sitting down next to her, moving to put an arm around her shoulders, wondering what words written on a paper could turn bright, composed Trucy into a gibbering mess. Trucy pushes her away and shoves the paper she is holding at her instead.

“My brother!”

It’s a birth certificate, dated twenty-four years ago. Athena starts to read it off. “Born to Thalassa Gramarye” – that’s Trucy’s mother’s name, but this can’t be Trucy – “and Jove…”

Oh, god, she’s heard the name Jove before, and it was in Khura’in, and it was the story of a dead father and a lost child who was never returned to his mother–

“Jove Justice,” she says, her voice finally unsticking, and it trembles, and anyone without her ears could hear her shock. “And – Apollo Justice.”

That’s Apollo, that’s their Apollo, twenty-four years old and a father named Jove but that’s Trucy’s mother, their Trucy, Gramarye, and her mother, Thalassa.

“He’s my brother,” Trucy says softly. “Polly’s my brother – Polly’s my brother and that’s – that’s why – that’s--” She springs up, runs out of the room, comes back a moment later with a photo of her mother. “Bracelets!” she shouts. “Look, look, it’s like – like his!”

Golden bangle bracelets with a thin lined pattern encircling them. Athena’s head is spinning. She looks at Mr Wright, waiting for shock. Surprise. Anything. He has a good poker face but big surprises, he doesn’t quite hide. This, he’s hiding, and he’s still not saying anything, not moving, not reacting, and Athena can’t hear anything. Maybe Apollo could. Maybe Trucy could if she weren’t too torn up by her own shock to concentrate. Hers hasn’t faded; it still permeates her voice, entirely.

“Apollo’s your brother,” Athena says. “Apollo is – Mein Gott, Apollo’s your brother.” She laughs. She doesn’t know what to do but laugh. She looks back down at the names on the paper. They haven’t changed. “He’s not going to believe you when you tell him!”

“Can I see that?” Mr Wright asks, quietly, gesturing at the certificate. Athena hands it to him. “Thanks.” There’s only the barest amount of shock in his voice, buried deep, and there’s some other things, more complicated, a little too complicated for Widget. Some sadness that isn’t quite sad, not sorrow or grief, but something like regret. “Huh.”

He hands it back to her, and she runs for the scanner – it was a gift from Prosecutor Edgeworth that Mr Wright doesn’t know how to or want to use – so she can email proof to Apollo, while Trucy runs for a phone.

-

Apollo wakes to the buzzing of his cell phone beneath his head. It’s dark when he opens his eyes. What time is it, he wonders, knocking his phone to the floor with a thunk before he can manage to pick it up. Three am. Three am, and Trucy is calling. He fell asleep still fully dressed on top of the covers because he and Nahyuta were compiling their evidence for an overly complicated case until midnight, and when he went upstairs to the living quarters – after nearly a year, he still thinks of it as Dhurke’s, not his – and now, for whatever reason, he is being awoken by Trucy, who really should know what a time zone is at this point. “Hello? Trucy, what the hell--”

“Apollo you’re my brother!”

“Trucy, it’s three am.” Apollo sits up and regrets it. “I don’t know what conversations you’re having over there that – adopting people into your family -- but--”

“Apollo! I’m serious! Your mom is my mom! We’re half-siblings, Apollo!”

“What.” Maybe he’s still asleep. Does it really work to pinch yourself? Is that really a thing? “My – my mom--”

He doesn’t actually know what happened to his mother, just that Dhurke never found her. There are a thousand things that could mean in a country in turmoil.

“She’s my mom! Thalassa Gramarye! We’re siblings, Apollo!”

“Check your email!” That’s Athena’s voice, and some squeaks of a squabble. She probably ripped the phone from Trucy’s hands. “We sent you a copy of your birth certificate!”

“My – my birth certificate?” Apollo rolls onto his feet. There’s a little bit of moonlight spilling in through the windows. It had only recently, last year, occurred to him, after seeing Nahyuta again, that his birth certificate, all of his documentation, was forged. Dhurke didn’t even know his father’s first name. None of it could be real. He’s tried not to think about it since he came to Khura’in, about how he’s basically going to be immigrating back to his home country, the country of his birth, because his passport is built on a forged document, because all of it is, and he can’t in good conscience keep using it. He has a Khura’inese passport now. The birth date listed in it is still made up. “You’ve got to be kidding me with all of this -- if this is a joke -- it’s three am-- where’s my laptop?"

It’s downstairs. He isn’t good at taking these stairs in the dark. They’re slightly different heights halfway down.

“Apollo, we would not do this to you,” Athena says. He believes her. She was in the gallery last May as his family history was laid bare for everyone. She should know well what this means to him.

But then that means – and that’s stupid. Right?

He realizes too late that Nahyuta did not return to the palace and instead passed out at his kitchen table, and no matter how low Apollo keeps his voice, he has already woken his brother up. He remembers Nahyuta sleeping like a log when they were children, but there is so much about Nahyuta he remembers from when they were children that no longer applies, because even free of Ga’ran’s chains, the years apart, with the revolution, gave time for his brother to become someone else, someone who can personally help update prison security because he knows the best ways to break out of them, someone who can throw a knife almost as well as Datz. Someone who awakes at the slightest sound, because that might be the regime’s forces come to arrest them all.

Even if he lives in a palace now. Even if he rules the country now.

Apollo grabs his laptop off the couch. Nahyuta’s pale eyes are open. “What is going on?” he asks.

He lowers the phone from his mouth. “I have a sister.”

He says it automatically, even though he has no confirmation; he has only Trucy and Athena’s words at three am.

Nahyuta does not lift his head off his arms. Apollo can’t see his mouth but the skin around his eyes looks like he might be smiling. He definitely sounds like it. “I am glad you have finally accepted that you may call Rayfa such, but why at this time--”

“No, I mean, blood-related.” It can’t be -- she can’t be. But -- but this would be the cruelest joke to play -- and they wouldn’t. They aren’t like that. “A half-sister. My mother.”

Nahyuta raises his head.

“Apollo? You still there?”

He brings his laptop to the table, where Nahyuta has shifted aside crime scene photographs and copies of testimony to clear a space. He gestures at the lamp, giving Apollo enough time to brace himself for the light. “Okay, I’m checking my email now.” Sure enough, there is one from the main office email, with an attachment, and the subject line a keysmash. Either Athena or Trucy could have written that. “It’s loading… slowly…”

He helps Nahyuta reorganize their evidence while he waits. He wonders how long his brother was awake after Apollo went up at midnight. Maybe he wasn’t ever actually asleep. After about a minute, he returns, scanning what does indeed appear to be a birth certificate. And the names – Thalassa Gramarye, yes, Trucy’s mother – and – Jove Justice –

Apollo slumps down in his chair. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” he says. “There’s no way – there’s no fucking way--”

“We found it in a box of my grandfather’s things,” Trucy says, breathlessly, but she isn’t shouting like she was. “With my birth certificate, and my parents’ marriage documentation, and yours – it’s got to be real, Polly, it’s got to be! Your bracelet! Your power! Mine’s like it – like how I taught you what to do – it’s a Gramarye thing – the bracelet is our mother’s! There’s a picture of her – I’ll send that – Athena--”

There are more sounds of distant scrambling. Apollo stares at the screen. Apollo Justice. His name is there, Apollo, and Jove, and Thalassa Gramarye –

Nahyuta leans over his shoulder. “Your birth certificate?” he asks. Apollo pushes him away until his hair isn’t falling in his face. “Yes, your father, Jove Justice” – he’s reading it the other way, right to left, because that is how Khura’inese is written – “and Thalassa…”

“Yeah.” Apollo says. He doesn’t hear anything on the other side of the phone now. They probably dropped it.

“Gramarye,” Nahyuta says. “Gramarye, as in…” He presses his hands over his eyes.

Gramarye, as in the trial where they met for the first time in fifteen years. Gramarye, the trial where Nahyuta tried to get Trucy – Apollo’s sister, his sister – convicted of murder.

“Yeah,” Apollo says.

It’s quiet, nothing but the sound of the wind and the creak of the house settling. Or maybe a rat. Probably a rat.

“Now we know your real birthday,” Nahyuta says quietly. He sits on the table, still leaning over the screen to look at it, like he still can’t believe it either. “We’ll have to tell Datz.”

“Now we have proof that I’m an American citizen,” Apollo says. Now he has a sister. That’s hardest to believe. He said it earlier just fine, but now, with proof, with something real, something with those names, Gramarye and Justice, side by side, his tongue freezes. “And my mother’s name -- I have names for both of them. I have…”

A sister. A sister. He had his sister for two years and then he left to help his brother. When Phoenix told him about Magnifi’s death, that was the death of Apollo’s grandfather. And when he told him about Trucy’s mother being shot -- that was Apollo’s mother’s death, too.

His heart sinks. She’s dead. He can’t meet either of them. He saw the last moments of life of his father by blood; he reunited with his father who raised him in time for him to die; he found his mother to know that she already died without having to look for that information.

A faint noise arises from somewhere to his right and a few seconds later he realizes it’s voices through the phone. “Polly! Polly! Did you just abandon us? Apollo!”

“Sorry,” he says. “I was talking to Nahyuta.”

“Oooh, three am, you sounded so mad like I woke you up, and now you’re like, nah, I was hanging out with my brother instead.”

“We were working on a case, and you did wake me up--”

“Oh! If he’s your brother then is he also my brother?”

“Maybe? You’d have to ask him. He says that his sister is my sister, so I guess it would work backwards…”

Nahyuta is frowning. He probably can piece together what Trucy’s question was by Apollo’s answer, and his expression might either mean that he doesn’t want Trucy as his sister (unlikely) or that he is once again remembering how harsh he was in her trial and grappling with the fact that she is not only his brother’s dear friend, but now his own sister (much more likely).

“Does Mr Wright know this?”

“Yeah, he was around when I found the stuff. He hasn’t really said much. Maybe he’s trying to figure out whether he’s your dad or not, since he’s my dad and I’m your sister so you’re sort of, like -- maybe?”

Apollo wants to say that historically, being his father is something like a curse, but he wouldn’t say it to Trucy, who also has a dead father, or in front of Nahyuta, when that shared wound has not yet closed. (Apollo got the closest thing to closure. Nahyuta’s last conversation with him was while they stood as enemies in the detention center. Rayfa never knew him.) “Maybe,” Apollo says, and his mouth is dry.

A second email pops up, again from the office address. “Just sent you a picture!” Athena chimes in. Apollo can picture her leaning over Trucy’s shoulder to shout into the phone, the same way that Nahyuta is leaning over his shoulder to look at the laptop screen.

“It’s our mom!” Trucy adds. Our. Our mother. Apollo doesn’t know what to do with that phrase.  

The picture that loads is of a woman with braided light brown hair, wearing a white dress. Her hands are visible in the image, and around her wrists, two golden bangle bracelets. Two bracelets just like one that sits on Apollo’s wrist. He tears his eyes from his mother’s face -- his mother, his mother -- and looks at Nahyuta, whose eyes are on Apollo’s bracelet as well. “Oh,” Apollo says. He tabs over to google for an old Troupe Gramarye poster, to compare the face of Magnifi’s daughter there, to the photo with the bracelets. Like he expects to see it’s a different person. Like he expects somewhere, this will fall apart, and it hasn’t. It doesn’t. Trucy is saying something and the words don’t make it from his ears to his brain.

“Trucy,” he says, and she falls silent. “Can you give me… like, an hour to process this, and then I’ll call you back?”

“O-okay.” She doesn’t sound happy. Apollo’s heart sinks further. He hopes she’ll understand that this isn’t anything against her.

“You know we have a trial in the morning,” Nahyuta says.

“Yeah, and our strategy from the start was already just ‘fuck it’.” Apollo uncovers the phone. Trucy and Athena both know that’s always their court strategy, but he doesn’t want them to rag on him some more. “All right. Talk to you in a bit, Trucy.”

“See ya, Polly.”

Apollo pushes the laptop away and rests his forehead on the table. “How can one family have so many secrets?”

“The Gramaryes?” Nahyuta asks. He knows the tangled web woven beneath the surface. He saw it in the trial. Apollo doesn’t know what additional else he knows, how much he researched -- knowing Nahyuta, back when Trucy was on trial, he looked up the transcript of the trial that’s ten years ago now, and the ones three years ago.

“The Gramaryes, and -- our family -- every family I’m a part of, murder and -- secret siblings and -- long-lost siblings, and -- more murder.” Even if Nahyuta read everything on-record, he wouldn’t know how Thalassa died. “I just wanted a normal life, I -- god, I couldn’t have been normal even if my father wasn’t killed, or even if Dhurke found my mother, if I grew up with her family I--”

“Would have been a magician, or a singer, perhaps,” Nahyuta said. “Could, perhaps, have grown up with your younger sister.”

Athena would be able to figure out what he is feeling when he says it, but Apollo doesn’t have much to go on. Nahyuta can keep his voice level too easily. Apollo can guess, though: sorrow, longing, regret.

“I wouldn’t be here now, though,” Apollo says. “Wouldn’t have known you, and Dhurke, and--”

Couldn’t have helped you. Couldn’t have saved you. Nahyuta glances away. He must be thinking the same.

“I wish Dhurke could’ve seen this, at least,” Apollo adds. “That sending me back would, eventually, let me find my family. And that--” He stops. Something has crawled its way back to the front of his memory, something that he blocked out that then disappeared behind more important things. “Oh, god.”

“What?”

He must sound horrified, because Nahyuta looks incredibly concerned. “Dhurke met Trucy, when he -- when he came over with Maya” -- if he phrases it like that it’s easier to not have to relive the moment the truth hit him -- “to get the Founder’s Orb, and -- god, he was like, ‘hey, son, nudge nudge, this girl would be good bride material’ -- eurgh.”

“Ugh.” Nahyuta puts his face in his hands. “Why did he have to be like--”

“Dhurke, why?”

It’s a question Apollo asked a lot -- it’s a question he still asks -- but it usually hurts more than this. Even if he does still sort of want to die.

“By the Holy Mother, there had better be an earthquake at the palace,” Nahyuta says, “from Father deservedly turning over in his tomb.” Nahyuta pauses. “Isn’t she seventeen?”

“Yeah.”

Nahyuta sighs. “Too young for that. And too young to be framed for murder.” He doesn’t say much about that trial, always gets a sick guilty look on his face whenever they skirt close to the topic. “Perhaps he meant she seemed a good kid and would be a welcome addition to our family, which is in itself a new sort of irony, that she already is, no marrying her off to one of us necessary.” He isn’t looking at Apollo, clearly pondering something else too. “You know,” he adds after a minute, “Mother was only nineteen when she had me. Ga’ran… used that against Dhurke, at the trial. She could claim that she was still young and naive and easily-duped, even though Dhurke was only twenty then. And twenty-two at the trial.” His eyes are vacant. “They were too young.”

Apollo hadn’t done the math on that. “She was only twenty-one when her sister tried to kill her.” When he was twenty-one, he was studying for the bar. When Nahyuta was twenty-one, he was already under Ga’ran’s thumb trying to protect his little sister. “I wonder how old my mother was. When she had me, and when -- when she lost her husband.” Too young to have lost so much, without question. “And when she died.”

Nahyuta doesn’t ask how Apollo knows that she’s dead. They sit in silence, looking at her picture. His mother. His half-sister. Sister.

“Apollo Gramarye,” he mutters. He shakes his head. “Doesn’t have quite the same ring.”

Nahyuta doesn’t respond, but after about a minute, he starts laughing. “What?” Apollo asks. Is he finally having the breakdown that probably, honestly, he probably needs to have? Is Apollo the one losing his mind? Did they both lose it?

“That damned murderer -- the magician, Retinz, Reus -- what karmic justice he faced.” Nahyuta shakes his head, still chuckling. “He was convinced that, though his plots were exposed, he had won against the Gramaryes, because he fooled Trucy and she needed you to save her. But you are a Gramarye by blood just as well as she. So he did, ultimately, lose to the Gramaryes.”

“Huh.” Apollo only vaguely remembers Reus saying that. He just remembers how relieved he was that Trucy was safe. He just remembers the sick feeling in his stomach listening to Nahyuta. His sister, and his brother. What a shitshow: the Gramaryes, the Khura’inese royals, and the two families together. “Man, what were the odds? That my law career would start like that, that I’d end up at the right place--”

“The Wright place.”

“It wasn’t a pun, Nahyuta, shut up. -- The place where I just… my sister’s there. I end up working for the man who adopted my sister. What are the odds?”

“I think the Holy Mother puts people where they need to be,” Nahyuta says. “You, to find them -- you, to find us again.”

“She was definitely putting me through some trials, there, at the start.”

“Perhaps this is another sign from Her.” Apollo shrugs when Nahyuta does not immediately elaborate on the thought. “That your sister has discovered this, now. It’s been nearly a year you have been in Khura’in, helping me, has it not? Perhaps this is a sign that you are due to return and spend time again with your other family.”

Maybe he’s right. Maybe it is.

His sister.

“Once you finish your current docket of cases,” Nahyuta adds.

Apollo punches him in the shin.

-

Please leave your message after the tone, and I will return your call.

“Hey, Thalassa, it’s Phoenix. So, funny story about the kids…”

[sleeplessintothenight]

Love Your Shelf

Love Your Shelf

I took a deep breath hoping to calm my nerves before opening my eyes. The room felt empty despite the endless boxes that walled me in. I ran my fingers through the shaggy carpet as I laid on my back, contorting my body to fit between the towers I had yet to unpack. I began to feel my chest tighten as my mind began to list out all the tasks that remained incomplete. I took another deep breath in an attempted to postpone the mental list making for a few minutes.

I sat up and pulled out my phone from my pocket. I swiped around before opening my notes app and began to list out all the tasks I had already completed. Turns out I had accomplished more than I thought. All the foundational stuff had already been unpacked. The furniture placement needed to be fine tuned, but it was pretty much there. My clothes had been neatly tucked away into my dressers and the kitchen just needed a trip down grocery lane. With a plan of attack on paper and out of the endless thoughts in my head I set out to accomplish what had felt impossible moments ago. I stood up, using a stack of boxes as support and began to discover what each box had hidden away. Part of me wished I knew what I was unpacking or that I had been smart enough to label everything before I hid it away.

As I opened box after box, revealing parts of a home before this one, I began moving them to where they needed to be. Additional cooking supplies found its way to the kitchen room table. Toiletries to the bathroom. Shoes to a pile by the front door. And then the rest of it stayed in my bedroom. Despite clearing out box after box, it felt like I hadn’t removed anything. The stacks of boxes still lined my bedroom like a labyrinth from the door to my mattress.

Feeling overwhelmed again, I took a step back, put on my shoes and made my way to my car. I sat in the driver’s seat and took a breath. Surprisingly, the confinement of my car felt less claustrophobic than the boxes I had yet to unpack. Maybe it was less about how much space they took up, but rather the daunting task I shied away from. I looked up the closest grocery, turned the my keys in the ignition and started to drive away. I hoped I wouldn’t get lost in unfamiliar territory, but at the same time I didn’t mind if I never came back.

After strolling up and down aisles, I found myself pulling back into my driveway with even more bags to unpack. I laughed thinking about how I’m only hurting myself. I felt the cool evening air as I grabbed a couple bags from my trunk. I placed the bags in front of my refrigerator, prepping them to be put away. I stepped away for a second and closed my bedroom door, pretending that if it was out of sight, it would be out of mind. I finished putting away my food and sat down on the sofa to enjoy the takeout I had stumbled upon while I was away.

I finished up my last bite as the credits began to roll. I debated watching another episode, but I snuck a glance at my watch and decided I needed to get back to work if I had any hopes of not sleeping on this couch this evening. I said goodbye to my bed of yesterday and slowly opened the door the labyrinth. I cautiously peeked inside, fearing that a sea of junk would come pouring out. But it was just as I had left it hours earlier.

I opened a box to find it filled with the books to be placed on my shelf. Sadly, my shelf couldn’t hold every book I owned, but I had to bring my collection with me. Every book I’ve read and owned is like a personal memory. Some of them are my favorites, some I could barely remember, and others were just there. It was only fitting that atop the pile was “My Ideal Bookshelf” – a collection of interviews with famous people across all industries about the contents on their shelf and why.

I remembered back to when I found that book. I was a little bit younger, but not much. I was browsing the aisles of the local bookstore in my hometown searching for something to help me on my search for myself. I had given up hope that day until that book caught my eye on the way out. I lightly flipped through the pages to skim its contents. I flipped to a page about a chef and was surprised his shelf contained more than just cookbooks. Next I read about an engineer who had just as many self-help books as physics textbooks. Lastly I found my favorite actress. Her bookshelf ranged nearly every genre. There felt like there was no rhyme or reason to what she had chosen. As I continued to read, she mentioned that people probably assumed she had so many different books because of all the roles, but in reality, it was the opposite. She excelled in a variety of roles because she had so many interests. She wrote, “My passion for everything allowed me to chase so many dreams. All these things are a part of who I am.” I closed it up and noticed it was on sale, so I said to myself, “Why not?”

Ironically, I hadn’t opened the book since.

As I stared at my empty bookshelf, it felt like the perfect piece to start my rebuild. I placed it there, alone, waiting to be joined by its friends. Next I began to pour the contents of the boxes onto my floor. I estimated I could fit about a third of my collection on the shelf in a tasteful arrangement. If people came to visit, what would they think of my bookshelf? Would they sarcastically ask why I had that book or be confused as to why I didn’t include any from their favorite author? Would I be typecast? Maybe the off chance that they’ll see a random book and say it was their favorite as well.

Decisions had to be made. In preparation, I began to sort the mess around me into smaller piles based on genres. Books about photography were stacked next to the books about art history. Mystery was the neighbor to poetry. Sci-fi rubbed shoulders with sports. Romance flirted with self-help. The more I tried to pull them apart, the more I realized that most of my books couldn’t be categorized by one thing. They may lean more one way than another, but that wouldn’t be fair to neglect the other parts that made them so great.

A couple more hours had passed and the only progress I made was rearranging the piles once again. Frustrated, I started to shove books randomly into the shelf with a determination to fit them all into it. It was an impossible task, but at 2:00am anything felt possible. Minutes later the shelf was full after I was able to squeeze a tiny notebook in. I half smiled. The shelf was filled at last.

I still felt dissatisfied. I titled my head and stared at the bookshelf as I sat in a pool of my own books. It didn’t feel right. As I sifted through those that were left behind, I knew I had made a mistake. Some of my favorite lay next to me as one-night-reads took the forefront for all to see. I knew I had to make a couple switches. As I ran my finger across the spines of those neatly lined up, I began to pull them overboard one by one into the waters below until only one book remained safe. I was back at square one.

I double fisted books ready to start again, but I stopped myself. I took a deep breath and felt I needed to step away. Insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results. I put the books down and left the room to get some water. As I got up, I knocked over a box. This one was filled with little trinkets, Funko POPs, and miscellaneous memorabilia I had collected over the years. I laughed at opening Pandora’s box, even more for me to fit into this shelf puzzle.

In the kitchen I poured a glass of water. I popped down on the couch and scrolled through Instagram and Pinterest for inspiration. Every photo was different, yet still looked elegant, perfect in their own ways. Some were organized by height, others by color, others perfectly splicing them all together to create a rainbow. All of them balanced. All of them showing their best possible self to the world. I zoomed in on a couple and couldn’t even tell what books they were, but did it matter? They looked beautiful and had more likes than I could ever get. The best version of my bookshelf would never be as good as these. My inspiration was an unattainable goal, yet I felt saddened by the gap between the two.

If I’ll never be as good as those, what’s the point of even trying? I thought about this as I reluctantly waded my way back into the ocean of books, sending ripples outward as I made room to sit. If I’ll never be as good as those, what’s the point in even trying? Was trying to make the idea bookshelf an impossible task? Too many sports books and people would think I’m too much of a jock. Not enough “classics” and I’d look uncultured. Too many self-help books and people would realize I’m more of a mess than they thought. Too many design textbooks and I’d feel like a nerd. Without any comic books I’d be too serious. Paralyzed by indecision, all I could do was leer at the singular title that survived everything else: “My Ideal Bookshelf.” What pointless pressure I had brought into my life with this book.

It was hard enough figuring out who I was, how did I ever expect to represent that through a pile of books?

I angrily grabbed the last book standing and prepared to throw it amongst the others. I ran my thumb across its side as I flipped through it asking if it had any last words. About midway through, something had fallen out. I fished between my legs to find it. Nothing more than a receipt from that day. I let it drop once again. As I primed myself to finish what I started, I saw what page I had landed on. I backed my thumb off and reread about the seemingly random assortment of books. At the end of her section, the interviewer asked her if there was a method to her madness or if she just threw something together for the interview.

She replied, “Yeah, it does look pretty messy. It’s just a collection of my favorites. There’s no real rhyme or reason aside from ‘I like these books and that’s good enough for me.’ But each of them holds a bundle of memories. This one helped me get over my ex, my mom and I read this one together last year as part of a book club, this book inspired me to quit my day job to follow my passion. To be honest, if you came back again in a year or even a couple of months, this bookshelf would probably be different, but that’s the beauty of it. These books aren’t glued to the shelf, they’re meant to be taken out and read, shared with others, left on a couch somewhere. Maybe I’ll lend a couple out and they’ll never return, but I’ll find new books and rediscover old ones. The collection just keeps growing and growing. I love my shelf even if it’s bursting at the seams sometimes. Maybe one day I’ll realize I should probably build a library in my house, but I can’t afford that right now.”

I fished for the receipt and put it back into the book. I closed it up and returned it to safety atop the lifeboat. I was still lost at sea, but felt my internal compass start to point in a new direction.

[dreemurr-art]

Echo Flowers

I reblogged a picture the other day that I loved so much, it inspired me to write a short fan-fic. I’ve never written anything before, but I think it ended up being pretty good! Take a look if you’d like:

Toriel sat in her writing chair, chuckling to herself at her cleverness. “What did the skeleton keep his pet hamster in?” she had scribbled in her diary. “A rib cage!” She was alone, but for the first time in a long time she wasn't lonely. Her thoughts had been occupied recently by a new friend she had met behind the door that kept her sealed off from the rest of the underground. “This one is going to knock his socks off! ...Does he even wear socks?” she wondered. Closing the diary, she arose from her desk and returned the book to the bookshelf. It was packed with hundreds of books, that despite their length and the sheer number of them, were all intimately familiar to her. Her fuzzy paw slid across their spines as she recalled each of the stories they told. Extending a claw to make room for the diary, she pushed two books apart and one wiggled free, tumbling to the floor. It landed face-up, with its title pointed directly at her. MEMORIES. She eyed the fallen scrapbook, almost too nervous to pick it up. It had been a long time since she had revisited that part of her life. She knelt to retrieve the book, but instead of placing it back on the shelf, she decided to thumb through its pages. Photographs, drawings, memorabilia. All involving the children that she had called her own at one point or another in her long life. Flipping slowly through the pages filled her with a bittersweet nostalgia for times long ago. Then, she reached the very center of the book. A withered but well-preserved grayish-blue flower was pressed firmly to the page. Brushing her long, soft ear behind her, she brought the page closer to the side of her head. ***** “Where are we going, Mommy?” The young queen walked with her son through the temperate marshlands of Waterfall. “Today, Asriel, we are visiting Echo Flower Field,” she replied. “It is a beautiful place full of very peculiar vegetation.” Asriel’s eyes grew wide as the rolling cerulean hillside came into view. Despite the relative darkness of the underground, the unusual plants created their own hauntingly gorgeous light show. As they approached the flowers, her son grew curious. “Why do they call them echo flowers?” he asked. She took a knee, bringing herself closer to his height, but still towered over the small boy. Reaching to bend a flower close to her mouth, she whispered something into its petals, then directed it towards her son’s ear. “They repeat the last thing they hear.” The flower mimicked her words to Asriel, much to his delight. “That's so cool! What makes them do that mommy?” His enthusiasm brought warmth to her soul and a smile to her face. “It is magic, my son! We monsters are not the only ones that possess such magic, you see. It also exists in nature, and in... other beings.” Her thoughts briefly turned to the humans whose spell had caused her kingdom’s predicament underground. Her voice trailed off. “...Other beings.” The flower abruptly repeated the last of Toriel’s words and Asriel giggled. His laughter never failed to lighten up her mood. Her smile returned. “Would you like to try, my son?” she asked, pointing the flower in his direction. “Yes Mommy!” he quickly replied, excited to sample the plant’s magic for himself. “Yes mommy!” This time it was Asriel’s words the flower had unexpectedly repeated, bringing hearty laughter out of them both. She released the flower and it swung back into its upright position. “There is something else you must know about the echo flowers, Asriel. Their ability to repeat what we say only continues while they are connected to the earth,” she explained. “For it is their connection to the Underground that gives them this ability. Once plucked from the ground, they will continue to repeat the last thing they heard, forever.” A sly smirk appeared on Asriel's face. Suddenly, he darted away from his mother and into the flowers. Being of much shorter height than the flora, in an instant he had vanished from her. “ASRIEL! Where have you gone?” she shouted over the hillside. The flowers swayed in every direction, and she wasn't sure if it was from the gentle breeze or her youthful son brushing up against them. “Asriel! Where have you gone?” A chorus of flowers echoed Toriel’s words, calling out to the boy. She began to worry. He was only six years old, perhaps it had been too early to bring him to such a place. Much to her relief, the nearby wall of flowers parted, and Asriel returned. Carrying a freshly cut echo flower, it's deep blue petals shone brighter than any of the others she could see. She placed her hand on her sons head and patted him. “You know better than to run off like that, Azzy.” Her tone was equal parts scolding and loving. Silently, he handed the amazing specimen to his mother. She brushed her ear back and brought the beautiful flower to the side of her head. ***** “I love you, Mommy.” The pale flower had been severed from the ground an untold number of centuries ago, but still retained her son’s love. She wiped her misty eyes, then shut the book and hugged it close to her chest.

This short story was inspired by this post: http://furgemancs.tumblr.com/post/165428070554/commission-for-straviios by @furgemancs . Thank you for your beautiful work!

[goddamnitkastle]

Just Try Your Best

This was fun to write!

Karen was/is definitely a punk kid with punk music tastes, fight me on it.

I also tried to timeline this as accurately as possible. If it’s not oh well.

Anyway it’s #KastleRadio Week at last! Woo!

#KastleRadio Week Day 1: The Middle by Jimmy Eat World/All the punk music of my middle school years

He’ll swear up and down that it appeared to him. That he was not snooping into Karen’s things, he was just doing what she asked him to do: checking for any bugs or tiny hidden cameras. She called him, the paranoia barely concealed under the investigative tone she adopts whenever she’s onto something. 

“I probably sound crazy but the amount of roadblocks I’ve hit with this story, I wouldn’t put it past him or his people to…" 

“Track your every move to see how close you’re getting?” He concluded. 

“Yeah." 

"Alright I’ll take a look." 

"Thank you, Frank. I’m gonna be late tonight so feel free to…" 

"Gotcha I’ll text you if I find anything." 

"Okay and just so you know there’s some leftover Chinese from last night. In case you’re…" 

"Thank you I appreciate it." 

Smash cut to a few hours later and he’s in her closet, staring down into a shoebox she kept on the highest shelf. It turned out to be harmless, mostly memorabilia from her college days. Photos, letters from friends, a deck of cards. Her tassel, with the numbers ‘07 in gold. 

Everything inside screamed at him to put it back. But as he stared into those blue eyes, eyes faded by time and dust, eyes that still held the weight of the world even then, he couldn’t help but live vicariously through her. He was at the beginning of his Marine career at that time, college a forgotten dream. It was all so long ago, another life if he was honest with himself. He felt his chest tighten and he sucked in deep breaths. 

And then he remembered what made him sift through the box in the first place. The iPod. Electric Blue and looking borderline ancient. And she kept the charger. Again, he’ll swear that the following did not happen, he was just being thorough. After all the people Karen was looking into could have the ability to bug a generations old music player. 

(At least that was he rationalizes to himself later, when he’s alone in his apartment.) 

He plugged it in and ran to the bodega down the street to pick up headphones. He came back and the iPod slowly lit to life. As he scrolled through the artists, he chuckled. Karen was a punk. Or a pop punk. Maybe it was emo punk, he wasn’t sure.

Fall Out Boy. Dashboard Confessional. Linkin Park. Taking Back Sunday. The Spill Canvas.

There were the occasional number #1 hits. 

Umbrella. Hey There Delilah. Before He Cheats. The Great Escape. Teardrops On My Guitar.

But other than that, angsty white boys with their electric guitars dominated her iPod. 

He was in the middle of The Tide when he heard her door open. He bolted up and kicked the shoebox to the side, throwing the iPod near it. 

"Karen? That you?” He was finagling with the headphones, trying to wrap them but he ended up shoving them into his jacket. 

“Yeah, sorry I meant to text you…” he heard her call. He walked out of the bedroom and came into a sight he fucking hated. Fucking hated cause it happened too often. And even though he wasn’t always at fault for her tears, he still felt that twist of guilt. 

“What’s wrong Karen? What happened?" 

"Nothing I promise. The story… it’s over.” she sniffled.

“What happened?” He asked again. 

“He killed himself. The asshole CEO, I was this close to having an accountant come forward about the embezzlements and I had it half written and suddenly the CEO is found hanging from a ceiling fan by his belt." 

"But they’ll go through his company, they’re gonna find…" 

"I was at the crime scene. It looks like he destroyed everything. They’re not gonna find anything incriminating. And now Ellison is on my ass cause we have no front page. God everything just…" 

She put a hand to her mouth, closed her eyes. Frank always stepped back at this point, he felt better giving her space then getting into her space. But he decided to try something else. He doesn’t think he’ll ever be the hugging type for her but there was another thread. One he hadn’t tried but he felt like this would be the time to. 

"Hey I, uh, was in your closet and I found something. I’ll be back in just a second." 

She nodded, quickly wiping at her cheeks. 

He dashed back to her closet and found the iPod. He came back out, her back facing him. He placed the iPod on the island and she turned around. Her face went from perplexed to utter joy. A watery laugh erupted as she picked it up. 

"Trying to update your music tastes, Castle?" 

"Well you’re clearly not an Earth, Wind, and Fire fan." 

"Ah no.” She laughed again and her laugh had unknowingly become his favorite sound. 

(Something he’ll never say out loud. That’ll be for himself.) 

“Thought you’d be a musical theatre kind of girl." 

"Oh no that would be Foggy’s domain." 

"The counselor?" 

"You didn’t hear it from me." 

They both laughed and he noticed her shoulders dropping. 

"I actually went to Warped Tour. Twice." 

"Isn’t that some emo shit music festival?" 

"Hey, it’s not shit.” She defended as she slapped at his hand. 

“Well I did actually find one song I liked. May I?” She handed the iPod back to him and he reached for the headphones. They’d become a tangled mess but he still plugged them into the headphone jack. He turned the volume way up and he pressed play. 

Hey Don’t write yourself off yet It’s only in your head you feel left out or looked down on Just try your best Try everything you can And don’t you worry what they tell themselves when you’re away

She laughed again and turned to her fridge. 

“I would blast this song in my car.” She said as she handed him a beer. 

“Really? Was it in the car I crashed into?" 

"No. My fist car was a Jeep Cherokee. Her name was Cherrie." 

Frank snorted. He took a sip. 

"Yeah. Kevin had the same reaction.” She looked down at her beer. The mood always shifted with them but Frank knew it came with their territories. Their losses will hang over them, come hell or high water. 

“He accepted her name. But on the condition that we blast Mr. Brightside whenever I drove him." 

He was relived at the return of levity. She suddenly perked up. 

"Let’s go for a drive." 

"What?" 

"Come on. We’ll go on FDR Drive and we can revisit more of this music.” She had her coat on and keys in hand which meant there was no choice for Frank. 

“Alright. But can we get food?”