#Phoenix is a girl dad above all else and we need to remember that

[science-lings]

That one video where this couple is getting married and after the vows are read the guy brings out his fiancées kid to give them their own set of vows and the wife is just in tears, anyway, that but with Narumitsu and Trucy.

Just… Edgeworth surprising Phoenix by giving Trucy her own ring and promising to love and protect her, like Phoenix loves her so much and Miles knows that and I’m sure the whole ‘being a father’ part of their relationship scared him at first bc of his past but he loves Trucy too! So Phoenix is just on the verge of bawling bc Edgeworth has grown past his fears and Trucy is his light and they’re a family. Okay yeah he’d be full on sobbing

[twoidiotwriters1]

Written In The Stars CVIII (Harry Potter xF!Oc)

A/N: Tomorrow I’m posting a hidden moment about what happens once the kids are at school and two former marauders are left alone. Stay tuned! -Danny

Words: 4,225 

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Listen to: ‘Better Off’ -by Jeremy Zucker & Chelsea Cutler

Chapter Six: Hidden Nightmares.

"Prefect, eh?" growled Moody, his normal eye on Ron and his magical eye swivelling around to gaze into the side of his head. Harry had the very uncomfortable feeling it was looking at him and moved away toward Sirius and Lupin.

"Well, congratulations," said Moody, still glaring at Ron with his normal eye, "authority figures always attract trouble, but I suppose Dumbledore thinks you can withstand most major jinxes or he wouldn't have appointed you..."

Mel took her friend away from Moody in case he decided to continue trying to scare him to death.

"I was never a prefect myself," said Tonks as she walked past them. "My Head of House said I lacked certain necessary qualities."

"Like what?" said Ginny.

"Like the ability to behave myself."

"Same reason why Mel didn't get a badge," Emily walked past her daughter. "I hope this works as a lesson..."

"Sure does, now I know I'm doing something right," Mel smirked.

"What about you, Sirius?" Ginny asked.

"No one would have made me a prefect! I spent too much time in detention with James. Lupin was the good boy, he got the badge."

"I think Dumbledore might have hoped that I would be able to exercise some control over my best friends," said Lupin. "I need scarcely say that I failed dismally."

"What about my dad?"

"Matthew was a brilliant student but Dumbledore knew that giving him the badge would've been like given us green light to go around doing whatever we pleased," Sirius grinned.

"Again, same the reason why Dumbledore didn't give you a badge," Lupin smiled.

"You really think I would let my friends do mischief without any consequences?" Mel feigned indignation.

"Yes," The three adults replied.

"Well, I think I'll sort out that boggart before I turn in... Arthur, I don't want this lot up too late, all right? 'Night, dears."

Mel walked into Harry just as he was getting up and she stumbled backwards.

"Sorry," He said quickly.

"It's fine..."

"You all right?" Moody asked them.

"Yeah, fine."

"Lovely dinner," Mel smiled tensely.

"Come here, I've got something that might interest you," He told them.

From an inner pocket of his robes Moody pulled a very tattered old Wizarding photograph.

"Original Order of the Phoenix," growled Moody. "Found it last night when I was looking for my spare Invisibility Cloak, seeing as Podmore hasn't had the manners to return my best one... Thought people might like to see it."

Harry took the photograph and Mel leaned closer to take a look.

"There's me," said Moody. "And there's Dumbledore beside me, Dedalus Diggle on the other side... That's Marlene McKinnon, she was killed two weeks after this was taken, they got her whole family. That's Frank and Alice Longbottom — Poor devils, better dead than what happened to them... and that's Emmeline Vance, you've met her, and that there's Lupin, obviously... Benjy Fenwick, he copped it too, we only ever found bits of him... shift aside there–

That's Edgar Bones... brother of Amelia Bones, they got him and his family too, he was a great wizard... Sturgis Podmore, blimey, he looks young... Caradoc Dearborn vanished six months after this, we never found his body... Hagrid, of course, looks exactly the same as ever... Elphias Doge, you've met him, I'd forgotten he used to wear that stupid hat... Gideon Prewett, it took five Death Eaters to kill him and his brother Fabian, they fought like heroes... budge along, budge along... That's Dumbledore's brother, Aberforth, only time I ever met him, strange bloke..."

It was the first time she'd ever seen of her grandfather. He looked a lot like Dumbledore, but he lacked the warm gaze and the fancy robes. He had the same hair colour as her though, and there was a similarity between his nose and her dad's.

"That's Dorcas Meadowes, Voldemort killed her personally... Sirius, when he still had short hair... and... there you go, thought that would interest you! Eh?"

Five people were staring up at them: Petter Pettigrew, Lily and James Potter, and her own parents.

"That's great," She tried to sound enthusiastic. "Look at that..."

"Yeah," Harry's voice sounded heavy. "Er... listen, I've just remembered, I haven't packed my..."

"What's that you've got there, Mad-Eye?" Sirius asked loudly from the table.

Harry left so quickly she almost thought he'd disapparated, she understood though, that picture was full of ghosts, and for some reason, she felt kind of responsible for them– maybe Harry felt that way too, after all, it was him Voldemort was after...

The adults surrounded the table and stared at the picture, there were tons of quiet exclamations and nostalgic chuckles as they examined it, but what made her leave the room was the way she knew her mother and Sirius had finally found their friends' faces staring up at them, she could see something dark and heavy falling on their features.

Mel didn't feel like sticking around to hear stories about when they were all young and alive, when Peter was still Peter and not the traitor that had gotten his friends killed. It was stupid to remember something they couldn't have back.

She was in the main hall when she heard someone crying.

"No! No... riddikulus! Riddikulus! RIDDIKULUS !"

Mel ran up the stairs and found Harry looking at Mrs Weasley... She was sobbing above a second Harry, only that this one was dead.

'Boggart', Mel thought.

"Harry, we need to get help–"

"Mrs Weasley, just get out of here!" Harry's eyes fixed on the vision of his own body. "Let someone else —"

"What's going on?" Lupin rushed in followed by Sirius and Emily. Moody was right behind them."Riddikulus!"

Mrs Weasley wept harder.

"Molly– Molly, don't... Molly, it was just a boggart," Lupin patted her head gently. "Just a stupid boggart..."

"I see them d-d-dead all the time! All the t-t-time! I d-d-dream about it..."

She had been dreaming the same thing that summer– hell, her boggart had been the same thing years before that! Seeing it again that night caught her off guard. A thousand different images of Harry trapped in the cemetery came to her, the pain she'd felt that night, the memory of Cedric's body laying on the grass...

She tried to get out of the room as fast as possible.

"D-d-don't tell Arthur– I d-d-don't want him to know... Being silly... Harry, I'm so sorry, what must you think of me? Not even able to get rid of a boggart..."

"Don't be stupid," said Harry, sounding impressively calm.

"I'm just s-s-so worried– Half the f-f-family's in the Order, it'll b-b-be a miracle if we all come through this... and P-P-Percy's not talking to us... What if something d-d-dreadful happens and we had never m-m-made up? And what's going to happen if Arthur and I get killed, who's g-g-going to look after Ron and Ginny?"

"Molly, that's enough," said Lupin. "This isn't like last time. The Order is better prepared, we've got a head start, we know what Voldemort's up to — Oh, Molly, come on, it's about time you got used to hearing it — look, I can't promise no one's going to get hurt, nobody can promise that, but we're much better off than we were last time, you weren't in the Order then, you don't understand, last time we were outnumbered twenty to one by the Death Eaters and they were picking us off one by one..."

"Don't worry about Percy," said Sirius. "He'll come round. It's a matter of time before Voldemort moves into the open; once he does, the whole Ministry's going to be begging us to forgive them. And I'm not sure I'll be accepting their apology..."

"And as for who's going to look after Ron and Ginny if you and Arthur died," Lupin looked up to Emily and smiled a bit, "what do you think we'd do, let them starve?"

"Certainly not!" Emily kneeled beside her, hugging her by the shoulders. "Not after all you've done for us! After seeing how much you care about Harry! You're one of the best friends I've had in a long time, I would never abandon your children..."

Harry turned and locked eyes with Mel. He had a distraught expression on his face as he watched her cover her mouth, struggling to breathe.

One time when she was six, Mel had to be taken to the nurse because some kids cornered her in the playground and she lost it; a teacher carried her out. When her mother arrived they told her Mel had suffered a panic attack.

A panic attack wasn't exactly a good omen nor the best way to spend her last night before going back to school, but she had no control over it.

"Deep breaths, Mel..." Harry muttered, quickly making his way towards her. "It's okay–"

The boy tried to touch her and that stirred her into action. Mel slapped his hand out of the way and ran out before someone could stop her. She ran up all the way to Buckbeak's layer and she locked herself there until her crying stopped.

"WILL YOU LOT GET DOWN HERE NOW, PLEASE!" Mrs Weasley yelled.

Mel let out a pained groan, her head was pounding after last night and all she wanted was to get to the train so she could take a nap. Mrs Black's portrait was howling, but no one tried to close the curtains since the house was loud with voices coming from every floor, all gathering their stuff before leaving.

"I'm dying," The girl leaned on her mother's shoulder. The woman ran her fingers through her hair tenderly.

"You had a rough night. Been years since you had one of those..."

"It was the stupid boggart," She muttered. "I'm okay now. I'll see Erick, so that's kind of cool..."

"You and Harry haven't talked, then?"

"Mum..."

"I'm not trying to force you–"

"Oh, for heaven's sake, Sirius, Dumbledore said no!"

A dog ran into the hall, looking rather lively.

"Oh honestly... well, on your own head be it!"

Mrs Weasley, Emily, Mel, Harry and Sirius all left the house together.

"Where's Tonks?" Harry asked.

"She's waiting for us just up here," said Mrs Weasley.

"Wotcher, guys," Tonks -disguised as an old woman- winked at them. "Better hurry up, hadn't we?"

"I know, I know... but Mad-Eye wanted to wait for Sturgis... If only Arthur could have got us cars from the Ministry again... but Fudge wouldn't let him borrow so much as an empty ink bottle these days... How Muggles can stand travelling without magic..."

Sirius was having the time of his life though, running around chasing pigeons and barking loudly. Mel and Harry laughed at his antics, Emily rolled her eyes and mumbled something about him being a child.

As they walked through the streets watching Sirius chase cats and go crazy with the poor birds, she felt Harry glancing at her from time to time. Mel knew he only wanted to help, and perhaps he was a little hurt about the way she'd reacted last night. However, she was far from even acknowledging that she'd cried in front of so many people.

"I felt it, you know?" Harry said when no one was paying attention. "Your panic attack..."

"I figured," Mel said numbly. "It's the lifeline... doesn't matter, I have it under control."

"I could've helped," He insisted. "When we were little–"

"We're not little anymore," She replied sternly. "You handle your stuff, I handle mine. That's what we agreed on."

Harry's jaw clenched, he didn't speak after that.

It felt like a type of rebirth when she crossed the platform and found herself in front of the scarlet train.

"I hope the others make it in time," said Mrs Weasley.

"Nice dog, guys!" called Lee Jordan.

"Thanks, Lee," said Harry.

Sirius made a show of himself, acting as the perfect puppy.

"Mel, come here for a moment," Emily drew her away from the group, looking anxious.

"What is it?"

"I didn't say anything until now because I didn't want to make you uncomfortable during your stay but... oh, well..."

She noticed how her mother glanced at Sirius, who was rolling around at Harry's feet.

"Mum... Are you and Sirius... a thing?"

Her mother hesitated.

"I know you've noticed how... I mean, we've... we're not exactly together."

"Oh," She frowned. "Why not?"

"What?"

"If you want to be a couple, then be one."

"I... you... you're not upset?"

Mel gave her a small smile. "You deserve to be happy. I want you to be happy. If being with Sirius gives you that, I have nothing against it. He's a good man– bit stubborn, but he treats you well, right?"

"He was always a good friend..."

"I hope all goes well, then."

The woman stared as if she'd mistaken Mel for someone else.

"You have more of Matthew than you could ever have of me, you know?" Emily beamed. "I'm thankful for that."

"Sirius would be an idiot if he rejects you, to be honest."

Her mother laughed.

"Don't get your hopes up about this, though..."

"I trust you," Mel brushed it off, hugging her one last time before going back to the group.

Five minutes later Lupin was wishing her a safe journey. Mel held onto him tightly, his scent filling her lungs.

"I'm going to miss you lots," She mumbled against his chest.

"You'll see me soon," Lupin rubbed her back. "Now, just because you weren't made a prefect doesn't mean you're allowed to misbehave. Make us proud."

Sirius ran up to her and crashed against her legs, she kneeled and hugged him as well.

"I'll miss you too, Snuffles... look after my mother while I'm gone, okay?"

He barked, snuggling his face closer to hers.

"Well, look after yourselves," Lupin told the rest of the teenagers. "You too, Harry. Be careful."

"Yeah, keep your head down and your eyes peeled," said Moody. "And don't forget, all of you — careful what you put in writing. If in doubt, don't put it in a letter at all."

"It's been great meeting all of you," said Tonks. "We'll see you soon, I expect."

"Quick, quick," said Mrs Weasley as the whistle blew a second time. "Write... Be good... If you've forgotten anything we'll send it on... Onto the train, now, hurry..."

For one brief moment, the great black dog reared onto its hind legs and placed its front paws on Harry's shoulders, but Mrs Weasley shoved Harry away toward the train door hissing, "For heaven's sake act more like a dog, Sirius!"

"See you!" Harry yelled from the door.

The black dog chased the train barking madly until they turned, then he vanished.

"He shouldn't have come with us," Hermione murmured.

"Oh lighten up, he hasn't seen daylight for months, poor bloke," Ron shook his head.

"Well, can't stand around chatting all day, we've got business to discuss with Lee. Are you coming with us, Lady?" Fred asked.

"Maybe later," She shrugged.

"All right, see you later!"

"Shall we go and find a compartment, then?" Harry asked.

"Er..."

"We're — well — Ron and I are supposed to go into the prefect carriage," Hermione said awkwardly.

Suddenly Mel felt really bad about not going with Fred and George.

"Oh," Harry tensed next to her. "Right. Fine."

"I don't think we'll have to stay there all journey," said the girl. "Our letters said we just get instructions from the Head Boy and Girl and then patrol the corridors from time to time."

"Fine– Well, we... might see you later, then."

"Yeah, definitely. It's a pain having to go down there, I'd rather — but we have to — I mean, I'm not enjoying it, I'm not Percy."

"I know you're not," said Harry.

"I'll tell Erick you say hi, Mel," Hermione offered, thinking that would ease her mind.

"Brilliant," She said without much excitement.

"Come on," Ginny spoke, Mel felt immense relief as she turned to look at the girl, "if we get a move on we'll be able to save them places."

"Right," said Harry, and he looked as pleased as her.

After a while of silent walking, they ran into Neville, which was even better, more people to talk to.

"Hi, guys– Hi, Ginny... Everywhere's full... I can't find a seat..."

"What are you talking about?" said Ginny. "There's room in this one, there's only Loony Lovegood in here —"

"I don't want to disturb anyone..."

"Don't be silly," Ginny chuckled. "She's all right."

They all followed her inside.

"Hi, Luna! Is it okay if we take these seats?"

The girl beside the window looked up. She had straggly, waist-length, dirty-blond hair, very pale eyebrows, and protuberant eyes that gave her a permanently surprised look. Harry knew at once why Neville had chosen to pass this compartment by. The girl gave off an aura of distinct dottiness. Perhaps it was the fact that she had stuck her wand behind her left ear for safekeeping, or that she had chosen to wear a necklace of butterbeer caps, or that she was reading a magazine upside down. Her eyes ranged over Neville and came to rest on Harry. She nodded.

"Thanks," said Ginny.

In the middle of all the movement of putting away trunks and pets, Mel and Harry somehow found themselves seated together. The girl thought it'd look suspicious if she were to move now, it would confirm that she was actively avoiding him.

"Had a good summer, Luna?" Ginny asked.

"Yes. Yes, it was quite enjoyable, you know. You're Harry Potter."

"I know I am," said Harry, frowning slightly.

Her eyes then moved to the next person, which happened to be her.

"You're a Dumbledore."

"Yeah, people keep saying that," Mel said.

Luna moved to Neville. "And I don't know who you are."

"I'm nobody," He said.

"No you're not," said Ginny. "Neville Longbottom — Luna Lovegood. Luna's in my year, but in Ravenclaw."

"Wit beyond measure is man's greatest treasure," sang Luna.

"Guess what I got for my birthday?" Neville asked them.

"Another Remembrall?" Harry teased.

"No– I could do with one, though, I lost the old one ages ago... No, look at this... Mimbulus mimbletonia."

"Sick!" Mel beamed. "Er- in a good way..."

"It's really, really rare," said Neville excitedly. "I don't know if there's one in the greenhouse at Hogwarts, even. I can't wait to show it to Professor Sprout. My great-uncle Algie got it for me in Assyria. I'm going to see if I can breed from it."

"If you do manage, I'd love to have one," Mel eyed the plant with interest.

Harry did a strange noise next to her and she stared back, daring him to speak.

"Does it — er — do anything?" He asked, glancing nervously at her.

"Loads of stuff! It's got an amazing defensive mechanism — hold Trevor for me..."

Neville put the toad on Harry's hands. Luna was staring again.

Neville held the Mimbulus mimbletonia up to his eyes, his tongue between his teeth, chose his spot and gave the plant a sharp prod with the tip of his quill.

Liquid squirted from every boil on the plant, thick, stinking, dark-green jets of it; they hit the ceiling, the windows, and spattered Luna Lovegood's magazine. Ginny, who had flung her arms up in front of her face just in time, merely looked as though she was wearing a slimy green hat, but Harry, whose hands had been busy preventing the escape of Trevor, received a face full. It smelled like rancid manure.

Neville, whose face and torso were also drenched, shook his head to get the worst out of his eyes.

"S-sorry," he gasped. "I haven't tried that before... Didn't realize it would be quite so... Don't worry, though, Stinksap's not poisonous," he added nervously, as Harry spat a mouthful onto the floor.

Mel cackled, cleaning her face without an ounce of grumpiness.

"That was amazing!"

The door of their compartment slid open abruptly.

"Oh... hello, Harry. Um... bad time?" Cho stared at the lot with an anxious expression.

"Oh... hi," Harry quickly tried to clean his face.

"It's a terrible time," Mel said brightly, "We stink."

"Um... well... just thought I'd say hello... 'bye then."

Cho Chang was blushing when she closed the door. She heard Harry groan and fall back on his seat.

"Never mind," said Ginny. "Look, we can get rid of all this easily. Scourgify!"

"Sorry," said Neville timidly.

"Don't be, that was really interesting to watch," Mel smiled.

Neville blushed at her comment.

"I'm starving," Ron walked in, Mel quickly made room between her and Harry, which he took without even noticing.

"Well, there are two fifth-year prefects from each House," said Hermione. "Boy and girl from each."

"And guess who's a Slytherin prefect?" said Ron.

"Malfoy," replied Harry.

" 'Course," Ron made a face.

"And that complete cow Pansy Parkinson," said Hermione to Mel. "How she got to be a prefect when she's thicker than a concussed troll..."

"Cheating of course," Mel shrugged.

"Who's Hufflepuff?" Harry asked.

"Ernie Macmillan and Hannah Abbott," said Ron.

"And Anthony Goldstein and Padma Patil for Ravenclaw," said Hermione. "Oh! Erick seemed fine, Mel– couldn't talk to him because of Malfoy, of course..."

"We're supposed to patrol the corridors every so often," Ron explained, "and we can give out punishments if people are misbehaving. I can't wait to get Crabbe and Goyle for something..."

"You're not supposed to abuse your position, Ron!"

"Yeah, right, because Malfoy won't abuse it at all."

"So you're going to descend to his level?"

"No, I'm just going to make sure I get his mates before he gets mine."

"For heaven's sake, Ron —"

"He's not being unfair, is he?" Mel defended him. "If anyone deserves detention, that's them..."

"I'll make Goyle do lines, it'll kill him, he hates writing," Ron then pretended to be the Slytherin. "I... must... not... look... like... a... baboon's... backside..."

Everyone laughed, but nobody laughed harder than Luna Lovegood. She let out a scream of mirth that caused Hedwig to wake up and flap her wings indignantly and Crookshanks to leap up into the luggage rack, hissing. She laughed so hard that her magazine slipped out of her grasp, slid down her legs, and onto the floor.

"That was funny!"

Her prominent eyes swam with tears as she gasped for breath, staring at Ron. Utterly nonplussed, he looked around at the others, who were now laughing at the expression on Ron's face and at the ludicrously prolonged laughter of Luna Lovegood, who was rocking backward and forward, clutching her sides.

"Are you taking the mickey?"

"Baboon's... backside!"

"Hey, Lovegood," Mel grinned. "We're going to be great friends..."

"Can I have a look at this?" Harry asked Luna. He was staring at the magazine she'd dropped. "Mel, have a look at this, will you?"

He was showing her an article over Ron's shoulder.

SIRIUS - Black As He's Painted?

Notorious Mass Murderer OR Innocent Singing Sensation?

For fourteen years Sirius Black has been believed guilty of the mass murder of twelve innocent Muggles and one wizard. Black's audacious escape from Azkaban two years ago has led to the widest manhunt ever conducted by the Ministry of Magic. None of us has ever questioned that he deserves to be recaptured and handed back to the dementors.

BUT DOES HE?

"What is this?" Mel asked, her voice slightly shaking with contained laughter.

"Hang on," Harry said distractedly. "This one's about Fudge.."

Cornelius Fudge, the Minister of Magic, denied that he had any plans to take over the running of the Wizarding Bank, Gringotts, when he was elected Minister of Magic five years ago. Fudge has always insisted that he wants nothing more than to "cooperate peacefully" with the guardians of our gold.

BUT DOES HE?

Sources close to the Minister have recently disclosed that Fudge's dearest ambition is to seize control of the goblin gold supplies and that he will not hesitate to use force if need be.

"It wouldn't be the first time, either," said a Ministry insider. "Cornelius 'Goblin-Crusher' Fudge, that's what his friends call him..."

"Anything good in there?" asked Ron.

"Of course not," said Hermione. "The Quibbler's rubbish, everyone knows that."

"Excuse me," said Luna. "My father's the editor."

Mel had to bit her lip to not make a sound.

"I — oh. Well... it's got some interesting... I mean, it's quite..."

"I'll have it back, thank you," Luna took back the magazine and buried her face behind it.

The door to the compartment opened again.

"What?" Harry snapped at Malfoy.

"Manners, Potter, or I'll have to give you a detention... You see, I, unlike you, have been made a prefect, which means that I, unlike you, have the power to hand out punishments."

"Yeah, but you, unlike me, are a git, so get out and leave us alone."

The group laughed. Mel felt something crawling up her chest, ready to pounce.

"Tell me, how does it feel being second-best to Weasley, Potter?"

"Shut up, Malfoy," said Hermione.

"I seem to have touched a nerve... Well, just watch yourself, Potter, because I'll be dogging your footsteps in case you step out of line."

"Get out!" said Hermione sharply.

Mel's heart skipped a beat.

Dogging.

Next Chapter —>

Taglist.

@dee123ksha @vampiregirl1797 @siriuslysirius1107 @stardusthigh @mikariell95 @vernon-dursley @thesuitelifeofafangirl @tomshollandz @kylosleftbuttcheek @reverse-hxlland @bloodorangemoonlight @omiwashere @t-rexs-world​

[astrologista]

Kristoph Gavin Character Analysis I

Part 1 of... fucking infinity, I hate this bitch so much lmao.

Well, it's Halloween time and I just thought, why not. So let's answer this question.

What makes Kristoph Gavin a scary character/villain? A soft spoken gentleman with a deadly secret... the Devil, who lives in his hand, that crazy evil scar thing, his creepy music theme... damn, he’s a scary dude. But scariest of all? His psychology, as we all know. (This is mostly gonna be headcanons. but ya know what, I have a license (hands you a piece of paper that says ‘i can do what i want’))

Kristoph seems like a person who is very aloof, particularly when it comes to personal relationships. At first he kind of just seems like the typical anime glasses guy whose main emotion is like whooa he does the glare thing with his glasses sometimes. But... what is he really about?

You know, let me digress for a moment, what's really interesting to me about the AA characters is how much depth they have in their writing. Case in point, Adrian Andrews. There's a character who you assume is just going to be the typical "anime glasses girl" who is a career woman who don't need no man, and is very aloof, cool, and as she says, not concerned with irrelevant topics or things. Later you learn about the true depths to her personality. The fact that she is codependent, that she needs other people telling her what to do in order to survive. Just because she masks these emotions doesn't mean they don't exist. I felt that really gave a lot of depth to her character and added another dimension that stories in this genre don't often address as boldly or fully (especially when it comes to a female character). So the quality of the writing is always really top notch with only a few exceptions. Take this as context...

Now getting back to Kristoph Gavin. Typical anime glasses dude, right? But no, though. One of the reasons why he's so interesting to me is how his emotional understanding of personal relationships really works. Or seems to, anyway. Based on the endgame testimony and his crimes, Kristoph Gavin is extremely dangerous because, should you get involved with him in any way, he will never, ever let go of you, ever. Once you are entangled with him he wants you to stay entangled, not unlike an overbearing parent who refuses to let you go. It's partly that he thinks he knows what's best for you (that is, to stay completely loyal to him). And also partly... because he is pretty dependent on what other people think of him. So he needs to keep them around him closely.

Kristoph's biggest fear was his lying being exposed for what it was. That Phoenix was really the honest, straightforward attorney, and not him. Kristoph would do anything to perpetuate his own false reality. He kept it going for seven years. His absolute worst fear of all was losing his reputation. Being seen for what he truly was in front of others. He could never accept that. That fear drove all of his murders. Fundamentally, he sees himself as benevolent... when nothing could be further from the truth of how he was hurting everyone who had the misfortune of crossing his path.

Kristoph has a need to perpetuate this false identity of himself above all else. A very adjacent second goal to that is to keep all of his personal associates very close and under his control in order to keep the first goal intact.

Reject him and he will stalk you until you are dead. By his hand, or otherwise. Slight him, and he will get you at the first opportunity, case in point, Zak Gramarye. (He only had to get a quick glance at the guy and his fate was sealed. Turnabout Trump is a chilling case.) Replace him, and he will tear your life and livelihood up into little itty bitty pieces. He will then continue to stalk you aggressively for seven years while pretending he is your best friend. Case in point, Phoenix Wright.

Create false evidence for him and you become a loose end. So does your daughter. Like I said, just don't get involved with him. If he feels threatened, Kristoph Gavin will not hesitate to end you. It's definitely an obsession. I mean the first word that comes to people's minds when it comes to Kristoph usually isn't "obsessed", because he gives off the aura of being calm and uninterested. But he is, he's obsessed. You have to be obsessed to do what he did. This shit consumed his every waking hour, and that's what he won't admit. That he was so sick, he completely lost the plot. Phoenix was already living in his head rent free the day he ordered the forgery. And even though Phoenix wasn't physically present at the Misham trial and was only watching everything by video camera, you can bet Kristoph was seeing Phoenix. Hallucinating him, images of him. Probably multiple images of him. That's how obsessive. Imagine letting something or someone control you to that extent. Imagine thinking that you're so important, that Phoenix taking Zak Gramarye's case at all was meant to be a slight against you personally. (It's funny because Phoenix mentions not even knowing Kristoph at all until after the disbarment. So Kristoph's own logic in thinking that Phoenix was just out to shame him absolutely doesn't track. Ob-sessed, dude.)  

It's actually pretty astonishing that someone like Apollo made it out alive. On a side note, I really think Kristoph enjoyed having someone to mentor. He sought someone like Apollo out. Someone naive and new to the field for him to indoctrinate. And maybe I have a post about that later, cuz that's a whole 'nother barrel of monkeys right there. (It kind of involves Apollo’s naivete (also, daddy issues, hello.) being a huge reason why he would gravitate towards having a mentor known for having a “caring” personality. And I think Apollo genuinely liked that about him, which makes the end result so much more awful for Apollo to deal with because to him, that was real.)

But now think of Klavier, right. Being forced to grow up with that. To live with that your entire life. To have a familial relationship that is that smothering, that suffocating, that strangling. That controlling, to criticize every single thing that you do or say right down to the way you say it. And remember... He's never letting you go. I would go on a world tour as a rock star, too. Anything to be anywhere he isn't. This is horror movie tier stuff. (now im imagining a horror movie trailer for aa4 focusing on gavins stuff... eep!)

And Kristoph Gavin markets himself as someone who simply doesn't care. He's the coolest defense in the west and he doesn't care for what you may think about it. Except... he does care. It totally consumes him. Your perception, your opinion, is everything to him. He has shitty self esteem, deep down, because he knows Phoenix is better than him. And tries to mask it with narcissism as the two duke it out. Appearances are everything, evidence is everything. What people think is true is the only thing that matters, truth doesn't. And it makes sense that his closest contacts and associates are the targets for his constant narcissistic abuse and gaslighting. Their opinions matter even more than the common crowd - of course, Kristoph hates them. Which makes it even worse for him when the jury decides unanimously that Vera is innocent (and by implication, he is therefore guilty). The jury verdict was kind of like the ultimate confirmation that guess what, the evidence doesn't matter. The common and boorish masses have passed judgement, no matter how "mindless, emotional and irrational" they are, even they can see behind his crappy little facade. Even a blind woman like Lamiroir can see that insecurity; even a common person can understand it just by looking at the facts. That's what absolutely wrecks him... that his “poker face” couldn’t hold a candle to Phoenix’s. And he loses the “hand” again (because of his “hand”... get it??).

The identity that he needs to maintain is part of how he sees himself in his mind. As Phoenix's protector, not as his stalker. As Klavier's benevolent big brother, not as his abuser. As Apollo's teacher and mentor, not as someone guiding him into ruin. He lives in a false reality.

Try to bring this up in any way, shape, or form and he will write it off. You're just imagining things...

Because at some level, Mr. Black Psyche Locks himself doesn't even realize. (I feel like that might just be basically canonical fact, based on Pearl’s explanation of how black psyche locks are supposed to work.) That’s pretty freaking terrifying.

At the end of the day this is a big part of the reason I think his character is just so interesting. In a very messed up way, Kristoph is one degree away from being such a good person. He could've been obsessively protective of Klavier - the way a big brother is supposed to be - instead of abusive, could've actually been very caring of Phoenix instead of manipulative. Terrible people can have good traits, just as good people can have awful traits. His attention to detail and understanding of psychology (like getting Vera those gifts she would like so much) could've been used for genuine good. He could've been someone who cares deeply about other people because he does care deeply about other people. But only in terms of their relation to himself, what do they think of him, how are they useful to him.

Maybe this is why I kind of like his character. Intelligent, semi-neurotic protective characters are just my ish. But, no, he has to have a narcissistic bent that skews everything into complete abuse. That’s what makes him awful... that he’s devoid of a moral compass or true compassion for other human beings.

So in closing, fuck off, Kristoph Gavin.

Postscript, he's also such a good foil for Phoenix for this reason. Kristoph does everything for himself. Phoenix does everything for Trucy, because he's a dad and he understands the weight of what it means to really care for someone. Kristoph couldn’t understand motives like that. And Phoenix can't help it if he's an order of magnitude smarter and more mature than Kristoph is. He was just born like that. Classy as fuck. You know what, Kristoph Gavin is like the dollar store version of Phoenix Wright as an attorney. Has many of the same functions but actually doesn't have a leg to stand on and will fail you when you need it. And is revealed to just be a cheap knockoff of the real thing.

[ginger-grimm]

Underground tunnel at night and shadow figure just at the corner of your eye

She walked down the pathway towards the tunnel that she had to walk through on her way home everyday. It had gotten late at the library and she already knew how much trouble she would be in with her mother. She was late for her curfew.

Normally she would have never chosen this path in the dark, even with the full moon making the are brighter. She would have chosen the safer way through town as it was well-lit by street lights.

Lord knows more than one person had gone missing in town. But she couldn't risk getting in trouble with her mother, so she balled up her fists and trudged forward.

She shone her flashlight ahead. The tunnel was old and covered in graffiti. She was surprised it hadn't collapsed after all these years, the brick foundation was already starting to crack.

If it hadn't been for the steady stream of disappearances and murders in town, she was sure they would have torn the thing down.

She halted when something scurried across the tunnel. Her breath hitched. No, there was no way. She was imagining things because it was dark out.

She put one foot forward, determined to keep going, only for see a shadow out of the corner of her eye. It was right next to her.

She gulped, trying figure out her next move. If it was someone coming to get her, they were now somewhere behind her. And they were fast.

She couldn't turn back and she refused to become another disappearance. She balled up her fists tighter and started to run.

Her footsteps were heavy on the gravely ground. Her eyes were trained on the light just beyond the tunnel. She tried to steady her breathing, not daring to look back. She could hear something faintly. Growling.

She held her tears at bay. There had been unexplained animal attacks in the past, but she had never thought she might be one of them. The tunnel was coming to an end and salvation was not far away.

Her heart was racing. There was a bump above her. Another growl. A slight whimper escaped her, but her eyes stayed trained on the end of the tunnel.

She reached the end and sprinted out of the tunnel, only to be yanked of the side violently. She released a blood curdling scream as the figure dragged her around the floor. Sharp teeth bore itself into her neck. She could feel her throat being ripped open.

She tried to catch her breath. Blood started flowing into her lungs as the creature moved on to her torso. It ripped into her stomach. She gurgled as the creature dragged her around the woods beside the tunnel like a rag doll.

----------

As the fog started to dissolve in the morning and the town of Beacon Hills got lively as the new day started, Bear Wallace woke up naked and covered in blood in the middle of the woods.

He blinked heavily, the sudden brightness hurting his eyes. There was no one around. No body to explain the blood on him. It couldn't have been his, he healed. But it could have meant the person had crawled away to try and save themselves.

Bear got up slowly. The werecheetah hadn't lost control this hard since his first few full moons. He looked around. There was no one in sight. He had to get back to the apartment he shared with Tilly before someone called the cops on him. Sure, the Sheriff was one of his friend's dad, but it would still be hard to explain.

He covered up as best as he could and started walking towards the tunnel, making sure to stay as far from the path as possible. His feet were cold and stung as he walked across the leaves and twigs strewn across the ground.

Bear had no idea how he got out of his restraints. He hoped Tilly was okay. The closer he got the tunnel, the more he could hear voices coming from the area. He was scared that it was hikers but soon made out his friends' voices.

"Hey!"

The group looked up at him. It was Marlow, Coop, Liam, and Oz.

"Hey, bud, where have you been?" Oz asked in his usual fatherly tone. But something was off. He sounded hesitant. Like he was hiding something.

"I don't know. Out, I guess. I don't really remember what happened last night. Is Tilly okay? What about you three?"

His eyes wandered between Marlow, Coop, and Tilly. The two werewolves and werecoyote had this thing down pat at this point. They had their anchors. Tilly was his, but she was pulling away from him. Oz on the other hand was a Phoenix and usually had himself under control at all time.

Oz nodded. "Tilly's fine. She's home. Everyone else is fine too. Are you okay?"

The worry in Oz's voice was starting to worry Bear too. He nodded. "I'm fine too. Just cold, and hungry. Tired."

Liam nodded. "Makes sense. Why don't we take you home?"

"Did something happen? You guys are freaking me out."

Marlow started wringing her hands. "Well, uh...Bear..."

Bear walked up to them and looked past his friends, his eyes opening wide in horror. There was blood and guts everywhere. It was even on the walls of the tunnel.

Behind the three lay the nearly hollowed out corpse of a girl he knew from shool. Her mouth hung open like it got stuck that way. Her eyes were open wide and staring up at the sky.

"Oh, God," Bear gasped.

He put a hand up to his blood-covered face. The girls blood was all over his body. This had never happened before in eighteen years. He had killed someone.

"We need to get you out of here before someone sees you."

TAGGING: @hughstheforcelou @firsthorror @eddysocs @raith-way @foxesandmagic @reggiemantleholdmyhand-tle

[liebegott]

Passing Cars. | Joe Liebgott

as requested by lia_hale_ on wattpad

(click here to read on wattpad)

feel free to send me a request!

pairing: n/a

wc: 1.5k

synopsis: easy goes to liberate the women’s camp in landsberg.

a/n: she had requested a fic based upon the liberation of the landsberg camps in episode 9. this fic is entirely in liebgott’s pov. in no way, shape, or form am i belittling the experiences of the men. i’ll never know what impact finding those camps had on them.

i’m sorry in advance if this has offended anyone. any thoughts or feedback would be much appreciated. ++ i used almost all my german for this fic plus some help from my dad, so sorry if i butchered anything or got stuff wrong. i’m not fluent 😓 

i hope you enjoy this one! thank you for reading.

i mean no disrespect to the real joseph liebgott. this is all purely based on ross mccall’s portrayal of him in band of brothers.

tagging: @floydtab​ @alienoresimagines​ @order-of-river-phoenix​ @julianneday1701​ @hellitwasyoufirstsergeant​ @wexhappyxfew​ @rarmiitage​ @mavysnavy​ @punkgeekchic

***

Laying on a mattress that felt like clouds, your had your hands over your head to cover your eyes. “Germany might just be the best fuckin’ place we’ve ever been to,” you mumbled, nearly choking on the cigarette between your teeth, “No snow, no Krauts. Hitler shoulda shot himself ages ago.”

David looked up at you from the notebook in his hands, shrugging, “It really is, but there’s something definitely wrong about this place.”

“Aw, shit Web” you replied, tossing your helmet at him, “You’re just jumpy. We’ve had the best food we’ve eaten in months here.” David caught your helmet and set it beside him, ignoring your comments.

Returning to his notebook, you rolled your eyes at him and lay back down on your bed.

Suddenly, “Joe, Web,” a voice called, breathless, and you looked up to see Frank, “You two better get out here. We found something in the woods, and it’s crazy.”

David looked at you, an I-told-you-so look on his face, but the look on Frank’s meant it was serious. “What is it?” you asked as David handed you your helmet, and you flicked the cigarette to the floor.

“I,” Frank paused, trying to catch his breath, “I’m gonna be honest, I got no clue.”

***

When Frank said they had found something in the woods, what you saw was the furthest from what you had imagined. You couldn’t believe your eyes, and the first thing that hit all of you was the smell. What in heaven’s name happened here? You understood now why Frank was so jumpy. Turning to look at him, he had a terrified look on his face. In fact, everyone had it on their face.

You turned away, walking back slowly to the truck. All the men were gathered up in front of the gates, and on the other side, prisoners faced them, clinging to the gate like their lives depended on it. Prisoners? Was this a prisoner camp?

“Liebgott,” Lipton called for you, “Major needs you up front, right now.” You bit your lip and jogged towards Major Winters who was trying to speak to one of the prisoners. You began talking to the man, his frail form trembling in front of you.

“Was ist das für ein Camp?” you asked him, What kind of camp is this? The man responded with a word you didn’t know— Unerwunscht. “Unwanted, disliked maybe?” you said to Major Winters, whose eyebrows were furrowed.

“Criminals?” Major winters asked, and you asked the man in front of you in return.

“No,” you translated as the man spoke, “Doctors, musicians. Tailors, clerks. Farmers, intellectuals. I mean, normal people.”

“Juden,” the man cried, “Juden.” And your heart started beating in your ears, the air escaping your lungs.

“They’re Jews,” you mumble, fighting the thoughts that clouded in your head, “Poles and gypsies.” The man turned to the east, and pointed towards beyond the fence.

“Liebgott?” Major Winters asked, looking at you expectantly.

You sighed, biting down on your lip to control your emotions, “The women’s camp is at the next railroad stop.”

You stood there briefly, watching helplessly as the man knelt and cradled a body on the ground, cries escaping his lips. I can’t take this, you thought, quickly turned, heading back to the truck.

Crouched down behind the truck, your head in your hands, you wondered to yourself, What was so wrong with who they were? What was so wrong with who you were?

***

At the women’s camp, you never expected it to be worse. Again, the smell was overbearing, but your heart hurt so much you couldn’t move. You had cried in the truck on the way here, the men holding onto you so tightly, reminding you where you were.

“Hey, Web,” you said quietly, nudging him with the butt of your gun, your voice still hoarse, “I take back what I said. Germany is the fuckin’ worst.” David didn't say anything in response, and instead squeezed your shoulders tightly.

Stepping in, you nearly dropped your gun, your hands trembling. Women clung to you and all the other men as they swung open the gates, tears threatening to fall from your eyes again.

I can’t breathe, you thought to yourself, as thin hands gripped onto yours, and sobs filled the air. Major Winters spotted you, saw the look on your face, and instead called for Webster to translate. You gulped, prayed a silent thank you, quickly turning and walking away from everyone else.

Taking out a cigarette, you cried softly, your shoulders shaking. You couldn’t understand what was happening. Where the hell were you? We weren’t too far from the town. Why didn’t anyone say anything?

Suddenly, you heard a whimper from below you, and you looked down to see a young girl, her back against one of the huts. Her small frame was shivering in fear.

You tried approaching her slowly, crouching down to be eye level with her, but she quickly crawled away, fear taking hold of her body. The young girl grabbed at the ground and sobbed, shaking her head rapidly.

“Fuck,” you yelled, and she shuddered at the sound of your voice, startled. You bit down on your knuckles and released a whimpered cry, running a hand through your hair. At that, she stopped, and although her hands were bloody, she was no longer crying.

You sat across from her, a considerable amount of space between the two of you. She watched you lower yourself to the ground, her eyebrows furrowed, and her eyes still wet. “Warum bist du hier?” Why are you here? you asked softly, raising both your hands to show her you weren’t holding anything.

The small girl didn’t reply at first, watching you cautiously, and you realised then how pale she was. You took out your canteen, poured a little water on the ground to show her, then slid it across the grass. She grabbed it so quickly it surprised you, and she hurriedly took in big gulps.

“Mama sagt, es ist, weil ich ein Jude bin,” was all she replied, wiping her mouth with her scarred arm. Mama says it’s because I’m a Jew.

“Du bist?” You are? you said, trying to plaster a fake smile on your face, “Ich bin auch.” I am too. The tremble in your voice had given away your facade.

She tilted her head at this and gently put down the now empty canteen. “Warum bist du dann in Uniform?” she answered, wiping her hands on her torn up shirt. Then why are you in uniform?

You stood, believing you had earned her trust, but at your movement, she once again began crying, crawling further from you. “Bitte verletz mich nicht,” she begged, her hands balled up into fists, her fingernails digging into her skin. Please don’t hurt me.

Standing above her, only then did you notice the bruises on her legs and around her neck. You shut your eyes tightly, taking deep breaths, and once again you backed away.

“Wie alt sind Sie?” How old are you? you asked, trying to steady your shaky voice, “Ich were rich night verletzen.” I’m not going to hurt you. You didn’t sit this time, anger clouding your brain.

“Ich bin elf,” she whispered, “Bitte nicht.” She was eleven, and you cursed under your breath. At eleven, you were throwing eggs at passing cars. At eleven, you were drawing on the sidewalk with chalk. But here she was, at eleven, begging you not to hurt her.

“I’m American,” you whispered softly to her in English, in hopes she would understand. Thankfully, she did, and the young girl slowly opened her eyes, allowing you to sit by her. Taking out bread from your bag, you handed it to her, and she devoured it hungrily.

As she ate beside you, you leaned your back on the hut she was perched by and watched as all the other women were being fed slowly.

“Ich möchte, dass du rich erinnerst,” I want you to remember, you said to her, and she looked at you with wide eyes, the bread in her hands already finished, “Es ist nichts falsch mit der Person, die du bist.” There is nothing wrong with the person you are. The young girl nodded slowly, and you stood, extending your arm to help her up.

As you both walked back towards the other women, hand-in-hand, you now fully understood the meaning behind all the sacrifice, the bloodshed, and the tears. You looked down at her, her hand still tightly wrapped around yours, so small and fragile, and yet so strong. She looked up at you and smiled. Despite everything, she still smiled.

Soon, she would be back to drawing with chalk on sidewalks, and throwing eggs at passing cars. And you were glad she could raise hell.

Countless men have lost their lives for that very reason.

[kathyprior4200]

Zoophobia: The Remix

All characters, art, and settings belong to Vivziepop/Vivienne Medrano, no copyright intended. https://zoophobiacomic.com/

Chapter One: “Cameron’s Early Years”

“Greetings. My name is Salvia, a human staff member at Zoo Phoenix Academy. Don’t mind my thick red hair, it often covers my face. I love romance films and novels and I play violin. I also have extensive knowledge of psychic powers and prophecy. Me having existed since ancient times could explain it.”

 “Let me tell you an incredible, albeit bizarre story about the world I’m from. It is what mortals call ’Zoophobia.’ First, a provenance about said world…”

 “Safe Haven…it is a sanctuary, an oasis for animals, anthropomorphic beings and other creatures. The Zoo Phoenix Academy is part of it. We sustain ourselves here…and serve as a utopia and protected escape for all kinds of creatures that are ostracized by the human-dominated world beyond the Oceania Forest. That is why there are so few humans here.”

 “Safe Haven is split into seven districts and each district has an important purpose and contributes to the society as a whole. The Animal District, Capital City, the wealthy E! District, Marine District, Avian District, the Farming District and the District of Magic. (Do not go to Xirxine Labs, they do horrible experiments on beings deemed ‘troublesome.’) Pacts were made and spells were cast to prohibit malevolent forces from entering the boundaries of Safe Haven. But to maintain the peace and tranquility of this thriving culture, very specific rules were put into effect by the original peacekeepers who founded Safe Haven.”

 “Evil forces include evil spirits, rogue vampires, true demons, and blood hunters. (And don’t forget many of the entitled angels in Heaven, they can be deceiving.) The laws here are strict and they keep the dangers out, while keeping the citizens inside and safe. But this is why no living being is permitted to leave for good. It goes against the pacts that protect us. And breaking those pacts could lead to the corruption of the magic that shields us. Without magic, we would be at the mercy of not only dark monsters, but also outside humans who have wanted to hunt us all down. We would be overcome with the dark forces that have been wanting to enter Safe Haven for centuries.”

 “Safe Haven has not had a violent crime or a dangerous predator in years, and we do everything we can to keep it that way. But one circumstance changed all that we knew.”

 “This story first begins in the human world…and follows an ordinary female by the name of Cameron Walden…”

 0 0 0

 “Are you ready to go, sweetheart?”

 “Coming, mommy!”

 A jubilant fair-haired girl jumped for joy before dragging her small suitcase behind her down the hall. She was around six years old and her hair was slightly messy. Her golden-brown-haired mother looked at her with loving eyes.

 “What will we do on our camping trip today?” little Cameron asked eagerly.

 “Hmm,” she said. “Last year we went canoeing at the lake and made crafts out of sticks. Remember when we roasted marshmallows under the stars?”

 “Oh yes!” Cameron said. “Those snores were delicious!”

 “I think you mean s’mores,” her mother chuckled. “Your face and hands were so sticky afterwards. You looked like a goopy little monster.” She playfully pinched her cheeks and made a funny face as Cameron giggled.

 “But I’m thinking this year, we’ll do some of your favorite activities. I know how much you enjoy fishing.”

 “Oh yay!” Cameron cheered. “I remember daddy catching at least two. And I got to feel their smooth scaly skin. Glad he let them go at the end.”

 “He might teach you this time. But you’ll have to be patient.”

 “Don’t worry, I will…maybe.”

 Her mother chuckled again. “Let’s go, your dad is waiting for us.”

 Cameron’s father also had white skin and golden brown hair, except he had a scruffy beard that he often let Cameron feel. His eyes were kind and thoughtful and a Christian cross necklace hung around his neck. All of them wore casual jeans, brown hiking shoes and shirts of gray.

 Soon, Cameron and her family piled into their car and Cameron’s father drove them through the city streets. The city was dull and gray, reminiscent of New York City but without the splendor. But even the smoggy city didn’t deter Cameron’s excitement. During the long drive to the woods, Cameron and her family sang some songs, played I Spy and that game where you call out a word and then have to call another word that starts with the end letter.

 “Salad,” said Cameron’s father.

 “Diver,” said her mother.

 “River,” Cameron said.

 “Ratable,” said her father.

 “Uh, lion!” said her mother.

 “Ha! You lose!” said her father.

 “No fair! Ratable has a silent ‘e.’ You cheated!”

 Her father just shrugged playfully and winked at Cameron before focusing back on the road.

 “Why’d I space out like that?” her mother mumbled.

 They entered through the woods, trees surrounding either side as they rushed by. The dullness of the city faded behind them as greenery whizzed to life as they drove.

 “Have you ever thought about what you want to be when you grow up?” her mother asked.

 “I don’t know,” Cameron answered. “But I do want to help people and make the world a better place!”

 “Great spirit you have there,” her father remarked. “Anything in particular?”

 “Maybe…a counselor! Or a zookeeper! Or maybe a marine biologist! Surely it can’t be that hard comforting animals and humans the same!”

 “Well,” her mother began. “I know how much you love animals, especially fish. But humans are more…complex creatures. You need to have good listening skills in order to start. And…” she said in a singsong voice, “That means making friends!”

 Cameron groaned. She was quite shy, even in her youth.

 “I know it can be hard,” said her mother. “But you can’t expect to be alone forever. There are so many different individuals out there. And it’s true some of them may be...strange at first glance."

 “What if they…don’t like me or hurt me?”

 “No one would hurt you,” she said. “If they did, I’d make them run for the hills. Plus no one could possibly dislike such a sweet angel like yourself. Just take it one step at a time. You’ll find someone special to love. And I know you will be confident and successful one day, whatever you decide to do.”

 Cameron smiled at the thought as they continued down a dirt path. Her mother had always wanted her to be happy above all else. The car swayed and bounced as they went deeper in. At last, they found their favorite camping spot and parked. It was a pleasant area with a few pine trees, a wooden bench and a small ledge overlooking a nearby lake. As Cameron’s father pitched the tent and gathered wood, Cameron and her mother gazed at the nearby lake. Sunlight shimmered and sparkled on the water, mesmerizing Cameron. A few ducks quacked off to the side and horsetail reeds swayed in the cool breeze. A dragonfly zoomed in and out among the reeds, occasionally touching the liquid surface. It was a relief to get away from the city and into the much cleaner fresh air.

 After a fun day of hiking (Cameron identified several types of leaves and tracks), hide and seek (Cameron climbed a small tree but was found anyway) and fishing (Cameron caught one small fish), they had an early evening dinner over the fire. Cameron inhaled the scent of sizzling bratwurst and hamburgers as the meat cooked. A few stars had already appeared as the sun painted the sky orange and gold. The meat was delicious and slightly overcooked. Then they had s’mores for dessert.

 “Aw man,” groaned her father as he stared at his blackened marshmallow on a stick, “I overdid mine.” Then he grinned playfully and proceeded to eat it.

 “Gross!” Cameron remarked with a face. “How can you eat that?”

 “A marshmallow is a marshmallow,” he said with a shrug.

 Cameron’s marshmallow was a perfect golden brown in between the chocolate pieces and graham crackers. Cameron’s mother had her marshmallow plain white.

 After the satisfying meal, Cameron was eager to explore some more. “Can we go on a quick hike, Dad?” she asked. “It’s not as hot now.” A refreshing breeze caressed her skin.

 Her dad nodded. “There’s still some light out. We can look around and gaze at the stars too.”

 “Just don’t go too far,” added her mother. “And take a flashlight with you.”

 “See you shortly,” called her father as he took Cameron’s hand and began their nightly hike. Cameron’s mother waved with a smile while sitting on a log and finishing her dinner. The fire crackled brightly.

 By now, the sky has turned a dark indigo. The moonlight lit the path in front of them but they were still careful not to trip over any stray sticks, holes or rocks. Along the way, they spotted a rabbit, several squirrels, and even a stag hidden among the trees. The natural world was a wondrous place for Cameron. She and her father eventually relaxed on a cool boulder, naming the various constellations above them.

 “This is the best camping trip ever, Dad!” Cameron smiled.

 “It sure has been lots of fun, kiddo,” her father smiled. For a while, they let themselves be mesmerized by the twinkling stars and the comforting sound of the still night air. Then all too soon, he sat up and said, “We should head on back. After all, an overnight sleepover never gets old.”

 “Yeah, let’s go!” said Cameron. She let out a yawn and was looking forward to being warm in her cozy sleeping bag. They got off the rock and walked back hand in hand.

 As they wondered the trails back toward camp, the forest was quiet. Eerily quiet. There were no bird songs or bugs or even the swaying of the wind. Even with the flashlight and moonlight, it grew much darker than before. Cameron grew silent and scooted closer to her father as they walked. A prickling feeling crept up to her neck…she felt like something was watching her. With every snap of a twig or rustle of leaves, she flinched slightly.

 “Are there m-monsters out here?” she asked, almost in a whisper.

 “Don’t be concerned. Other than the devil and wild animals, monsters don’t exist. Everything is fine,” her father assured her.

 Cameron grew less and less convinced as they continued their trek. Shadows flickered and warped this way and that, a trick of the eyes. Cameron whimpered softly. Something tall loomed up ahead. A large tree was in front of them, larger than the other trees around. It looked like an ancient oak tree with hanging branches and a worn down trunk. Cyan fog surrounded the tree and the area, giving it an enigmatic and ominous feel.

 A low hooting sound came from nearby. Cameron glanced at a black hole in the tree, at her eye-level. A smaller branch stuck off to the side of it. She peered inside and didn’t see anything.

 But then…a pair of glowing yellow eyes blinked from inside. And a white owl emerged onto the branch! She shined her flashlight at it and it didn’t flinch. Just stared intently.

 Cameron had never seen such a majestic creature before. It had white feathers, tiny black spots on its coat and a sharp hooked beak. But there was something peculiar about this owl. Looking closely, Cameron could make out zig-zag yellow stripes down the front of its body. And its eyes…they were big and yellow like an owl’s but seemed…older. Instead of being a single color, the large orbs glowed yellow with dark stripes like a bumblebee. It almost appeared as if the lines in the eyes were moving. Strange small jagged eyelashes jutted out from the sides of the orbs. The owl eyed Cameron like she was an innocent mouse; she did not like the look at all.

 Cameron blinked and for a millisecond, she saw a bizarre being; what looked like a bird but with the head of a woman with white blonde hair and pale skin. Before she could comprehend what it was (a harpy), it had turned back into an owl in the blink of an eye. After letting out an ominous hoot, it vanished into the hole as Cameron’s father called her name. She hurried off to catch up to him.

 Cameron shook her head, convinced it was just her fearful imagination. No owl would come out and look through her like that.

 A strange sense of foreboding flowed through Cameron. She and her father quickened their pace.

  Back at camp, a low growling sound grew steadily louder.

 Growl. Crunch. Crunch. Tap. Tap. Tap.

 The sounds of steps and shuffling grew closer. Cameron’s mother looked around, holding a bratwurst in one hand.

 Grooooowwwlll….snort, snort.

 Hot breath on neck. Snapping of twigs.

 Cameron’s mother slowly turned around, meeting large dark eyes…

 A scream echoed out into the night, almost paralyzing Cameron in her tracks.

 “Dad?”

  It was shrill and pleading…and then it rang out again.

 Longer lasting screams and roars seemed to be coming from everywhere. The world seemed to be spinning.

 “What was that?!” Cameron cried.

 “I don’t know, but I have a feeling we need to get back,” said her father with concern. For the first time, he appeared sacred as well.

 Without hesitation, her father grabbed hold of her hand and raced as fast as his legs could carry him. Cameron briefly tripped over a log but her father picked her up. A sudden gust of biting wind pushed against them, but they still ran. They flinched from the sudden cold and the dust that flew in their faces. It drowned out the screams until they faded away. The wind came to a howling peak and then halted as they reached the clearing.

 Her father suddenly gasped and froze to a stop, Cameron almost bumping into him. His flashlight fell to the ground. There was the tangy smell of…Cameron figured it wasn’t the cooked dinner they had.

 “Stay back, Cameron!” her father ordered sharply, pushing her behind him. “And don’t watch!”

 But of course she did…then wished she hadn’t.

 Standing over a figure in the dirt was a monstrous brown bear. The bear bared his sharp teeth, paw on its food, mouth caked with blood. Tearing and squelching was heard. Crimson splotches looked jarring in the limited light. And underneath the bear was…

 “M-mom?!”

 In one swift motion, her father retrieved a gun he had safely secured behind him and took aim.

 Bang! Bang!

 Several shots rang out, deafening like bombs. Cameron covered her ears and yelped. A primal bellow of protest followed. The bear roared one last time before bounding and stomping away. Bush leaves rustled as a few more shots rang out. Her father yelled curses and raced toward where the bear had left.

 Creeping closer, Cameron sank to her knees and stared in disbelief. It was her mother…or what was left of her. Her face was ashen, dirty and pale, scratches all along her body. Her back and belly had disastrous bites, thick dark red blood oozing onto the grassy ground. Muscle and viscera were visible from the gashes.

 Cameron turned her mother’s face around and was met with guttural heaving breaths. The unnatural agonizing kind right before death.

 “Oh god, oh god, oh god…” Cameron muttered, voice cracking, eyes wide. “Somebody help! Help!” The smell made her gag, but she still stayed.

 Her mother’s eyes fluttered. She slowly reached a pale shaking hand toward Cameron. Cameron moved closer as both their hands met. The cold clammy hand squeezed her little fingers.

 “S-safe Haven…” she wheezed, staring long and hard into Cameron’s eyes. “You’ll do…g-great things. Unite them all. Stay safe, safe…”

 “Mom, w-what do you mean? Safe Haven, what?”

 “My a-angel…”

 Her mother wheezed and croaked again before her hand went limp, letting go of Cameron’s fingers. Her mother gave her one last kind look before her eyes glazed over. She had stopped moving. Nothing but cold flesh, blood and a lifeless form.  

 “Mom? Mom! Mooooom!!!”

 Cameron’s father pulled her back a bit. Without a word, Cameron’s father cradled his wife’s body as Cameron buried her face in her bloodstained clothes.

 Her father pulled her back a bit after gently lowing her mother to the ground. He closed her eyes with his fingers. She looked like she was asleep, even though she wasn’t. (Or if she was, it was eternal and dreamless. Or maybe she was already in Heaven; Cameron didn’t know). Cameron and her father stood silently still, embracing each other. Tears rolled down their faces, Cameron’s primal sobs echoing through the night. Her hands were stained with leftover blood. After about ten minutes of utter grief, her father looked at her.

 “Cameron, get in the car.”

 “W-why?”

 “Just do it.”

 A sternness and aloofness look appeared on his face, a look Cameron had never seen him make in front of her. The bright color and spark in his eyes had been snuffed out. Without waiting for another answer, her father picked her up, carried her over to the car and placed her in the back seat. The door closed. From outside, the fire was put out, leaving only dying embers and sad orange sparks. The light gray smoke curled into spirals, doing somber dances in the breeze before vanishing.

 Cameron waited in the back seat, curled up into a ball. She couldn’t believe what had just happened. Her mother had been mauled by a bear before her eyes…and she could’ve been next! The ruthless face of the bear would haunt her memories for many years. Not long after, she saw flashes of red and blue light through the dirt-spotted windows. Her mother’s body was covered by a white sheet and taken on a stretcher by medics who had driven by. Fortunately, they still had decent cell phone service. Without another word, her father packed up the tent and all their belongings, tossing them in the back. He got in the driver’s seat and took them home on a long solemn drive.

 0 0 0

The funeral went as well as one would expect. Prayers and condolences were spoken and family members talked in hushed tones, all wearing black. Cameron glanced around passively at the stained glass church windows, sad and bored at the proceedings. Her mother’s coffin was gently lowered into the ground afterwards. Vivid flowers were placed everywhere; red, pink, white, yellow and purple. Being so young, Cameron later didn’t remember the funeral at all. All she knew was that an important part of her life had vanished.

 She and her father were never the same afterwards. As Cameron grew up and went to the dismal public school, he became preoccupied with his work. She hardly saw him much anymore. They grew distant, not in a bad way but similar to how different friends grow apart when their interests take them down new paths.

 Cameron went to therapy for a while, with Mrs. Winkler, a kind old lady. But the sessions didn’t seem to help. For one thing, Cameron’s fear of animals grew worse each passing year. The fact that she had taken a trip to the zoo with her father only deepened it.

 Her father had hoped that a new trip would cheer her up. But the animals would scare her as they roared and pawed at her through the glass when she watched. No one noticed a glowing golden apple which appeared in the exhibits…it let out light and made strange humming noises. The animals all threw themselves menacingly at Cameron with roars, hisses, and growls: Lions, tigers, bears, cheetahs…But it wasn’t just the predatory animals that somehow grew agitated at her. The flamingos squawked nosily, the gators snapped their jaws, and the monkeys would laugh and throw food at her which bounced off the cage wall. The sharks and birds, and oh goodness, the snakes too. The only animals that didn’t appear to pay her any attention were the fish. They just swam around and around as if nothing happened.

 Strangely enough, her father didn’t notice.

 “What has gotten into you, Cam?” he asked in disbelief after she screamed and sobbed. “Those animals aren’t attacking you.”

 “Y-yes they are!” she cried. “Didn’t you see?”

 But no one else seemed to notice either. They were just smiling and observing the animals like regular visitors. And the animals were doing their normal routines. A few people gave Cameron looks and raised their eyebrows.

 Her father pulled her close. “You’re almost a teenager. Stop acting like a sacred child.”

 “I-I know what I saw!” she sobbed. “I know it!”

 Her father sighed and merely said, “Let’s go home.”

 Cameron lowered her head. She used to enjoy the zoo more than anything…now she had an unbreakable fear of animals. (It had gotten bad to the point where she didn’t even want any pets.)

 Cameron didn’t see a grinning yellow face with matching eyes blending within the trees when she left the zoo. Nor did she hear its high pitched cackle. A slender hand held up a golden apple and the illusions replayed.

 Another thing that didn’t help was school. Cameron was smart enough in class (especially in literature) but was often bullied for her meekness. Many of the bullies would make animal sounds and jump at her from behind corners.

 “Look how sacred she is!” they would mock. “Who’s afraid of the big bad wolf? And everything else in existence? Lamb Cam!”

 “Don’t call me that!” she spat. “It’s Cameron!”

 “Scram, Cam! Scaredy cat! Scaredy cat! Mrrow!”

 And the creepers too as she became a teen.

 “Ride me like an animal, Cam! Damn!”

 “Are you a turtle, dearie? Cause I’d love to fly through your tender shell…”

 “You must be a kitty cat, ‘cause you’ve got some fine pus…”

 “Don’t you finish that sentence!”

 After finally graduating high school hell, Cameron went to college. After hard work, she got her degree in Guidance Counseling. She figured she’d stray away from animals and gear more toward helping members of her own species. Helping others was her purpose…and getting her degree was a great accomplishment. Friends and boyfriends came and went. She soon lived on her own.  

 Getting a job, however…much easier said than done. No matter where Cameron looked or how many interviews she went to, they all seemed to dismiss her.

 “I’m sorry, you don’t have the right qualifications we’re looking for.”

 “We are currently reaching out to other applicants at this time. Thank you for your interest.”

 “No social skills…no experience…hmm…not quite fit for this position.”

 They always changed their minds at the last minute. Cameron never understood why.

 Cameron buried her face in her hands in her room. The fear and sorrow would never go away. The gray skies and the pattering of rain over the glum city matched her mood. She was now twenty-five years old, unemployed, and utterly alone.

 Her last hope was a new job position offered to her by a lady with white blonde hair. She had given Cameron her business card and office address: “KayCee: guidance counselor position interview, 12:00 sharp tomorrow.”

 Another failed interview, but she figured she’d give it a try.

 And then her nightmares. The nightmares that always seemed to come back. They were always the same. Cameron racing through the forest, being chased by every animal and mythical creature in existence. The gnashing of teeth, swipes of paws, being chewed on and swallowed into darkness. Then, thinking it was all over, she’d wake up…

 …only to see her mother’s dead body on the floor in front of her.

 “Monster! Monster!” a shadowy crowd chanted, surrounding her. But they were pointing their fingers at her, their glowing white eyes accusing.

 “No! No, I’m not a monster!” Cameron cried, looking down. Her mother’s head snapped up and her eyes were yellow and black stripes, eyelashes curling out on all sides. “Monster!” She let out a crazed laugh, white teeth sharp, tongue out, eyes rolling back.

 Cameron felt herself falling, falling, being watched by dozens of eyes. Eyes, eyes everywhere. Staring into her reflection, she gasped and screamed in horror. She saw her frightened blonde face, but her body consisted of white feathers, talon feet, a thin neck and bat-like wings. She was a harpy. An abomination…becoming what she feared itself.

 More screams as she fell down, down, her black pupils growing wider…

 0 0 0

Cameron’s pupils shrank back as she lay on her back on a couch. She wore a business casual light gray shirt and a dark skirt. A back headband sat on her golden brown hair, while a few strands hung from either side of her freckled face. The walls were stark gray on all sides. A lone palm frond plant sat in a pot to the side. A grandfather clock ticked quietly in the room, the pendulum swinging from side to side in rhythm.

 “I had that dream again…it was so vivid this time,” Cameron told Mrs. Winkler.

 “Perhaps your upcoming job assignment played a part in that?” The elder Mrs. Winkler suggested. The therapist wore a gray dress and took notes on a clipboard.

 “Maybe,” said Cameron. “But why that dream? I haven’t had it in so long. It was just…so unexpected.”

 Cameron sat up. “It was like reliving the whole thing. And bringing back all those memories.” She shuddered slightly, glancing off to the side. “I mean, I’ve been stressed out lately but…I’ve never had that dream so suddenly…”

 “Well, dear…” the therapist began, looking at her clipboard. “It sounds to me like…”

 Cameron glanced up at the clock, which chimed 12:00.

 “Oh! Oh my god, I’m late!” she cried. She leaned in, hands clasped. “Thank you so, so much for listening, Mrs. Winkler! Wish me luck!”

 Cameron grabbed her handbag, turned the doorknob and hurried out of the room. “Taxi!” she yelled as she bounded out of the building and down the steps. The rain poured down as she got in. She soon arrived at the other building.

 Inside the office, a voice came over through the PA with a bzzt.

 “Ms. KayCee. The 12 0’ clock is here…late.”

 “Send her in,” replied the woman. She had a tan face, long white hair and narrowed eyes that appeared to glow. She wore a gray business suit and a green pendant around her neck. She sat at her desk with an apple and a pencil holder off to the side. She glanced down at some paperwork in front of her, pen in hand. Rain pattered from outside the window.

 Cameron appeared in the doorway. “I’m so sorry I’m late!”

 “Come in,” said the woman.

 Cameron caught her breath and hustled over to the desk. “I uh…lost track of time.”

 “It’s quite…alright…”

 The woman glanced up in surprise, noticing Cameron’s wet hair.

 “It’s, heh…r-raining outside…” Cameron stuttered nervously, making a gesture.

 “Take a seat please,” said KayCee. “So we can begin to discuss your placement with this program.”

 Cameron lowered herself into a chair.

 “Again, so sorry for being late,” Cameron said.

 “It’s alright,” KayCee replied.

 Cameron nervously glanced off to the side. KayCee stared intently at Cameron, a faint yellow glow around her eyes. She rested her chin on her hands.

 Cameron raised an eyebrow, a faint chill racing through her body. “Do…I know you from some…”

 “Yes,” KayCee cut her off.

 Cameron knew that KayCee didn’t want to get into the déjà vu moments. After a brief moment of staring, KayCee cleared her throat and looked at the forms in front of her.

 “Well looking at your report and resume, I wasn’t able to find a suitable position for you. We don’t seem to have a vacant job here with need of your skills…”

 ‘Oh no. Not again,’ Cameron thought with dread.

 “I’m afraid there is not much I could do…”

 Cameron leaned forward and put her arms and elbows on the desk in a begging position. “Please! I really need this job! I have been waiting for an assignment for so long, there has to be something!”

 Lightning flashed and thunder cracked from outside as KayCee looked over the form again.

 KayCee observed the form. It read “Classified” in bold letters at the top. “Needed positions” “Possible applicants” were shown. “Guidance Counselor” was heavily circled underneath it. Off to the side read: “Agreement to transfer required.” “Must be informed of where.” Below was a “job applicants” list.

 “Well…” KayCee began. “You do have a degree in counseling, do you not?”

 “Yes! I do!” Cameron said. She didn’t even question how this lady knew that fact. “I’ll take it! Please!”

 “It’s a transfer position, it would require relocation,” KayCee mentioned.

 Cameron stood up and leaned into her face. “I’ll take it! Wherever it is, I’ll take it!”

 “Very well then,” said KayCee. “A private jet will take you from this building on Thursday, 9:00. I suggest you pack all your things.”

 Cameron raced over and hugged her. “Yes! Oh yes! Thank you!” KayCee’s eyes briefly turned white with glowing yellow stripes. She narrowed her normal eyes and deadpanned, “Don’t be late.”

 “Oh I won’t!” Cameron declared, stepping back. She put her hands together. “Thank you so much!”

 “You are quite welcome, Ms. Walden,” KayCee said, reaching for the red apple.

 “Oh! Call me Cameron!” Cameron took her bag and opened the door. “Thanks again!” she called before shutting the door with a click.

 “Hm, hm, hm, hm, hm,” KayCee chuckled lowly. Her fingers grew crooked and her black nails grew sharp. The apple in her hand vibrated and a golden spiral emerged from the center. Soon the apple was golden and glowing in her hand. KayCee lounged on her desk, knocking over the pencils in the holder off the desk with a foot.

 “No Ms. Cameron…” She then spoke in a high pitched echoing shrill, “Thank you!”

 In a flash of magic, KayCee had turned into her true form. A being with wild white poufy hair that sizzled with white electricity strands. She wore a white dress with holes in them. She grinned a sinister grin of sharp golden teeth. Her black and yellow striped eyes and long jagged eyelashes made her appearance all the more untamed. She let out an evil maniacal laugh.

 0 0 0

 “Salvia here again. As you probably have figured out, KayCee is no ordinary human. She is Eris, the Greek Goddess of Strife and Chaos. For she was the one who tossed the Golden Apple of Discord to provoke arguments between Aphrodite, Athena and Hera over who was the fairest goddess. Paris of Troy chose Aphrodite, igniting the Trojan War. Eris, along with Jestine and some other deities, exist to cause discord, nightmares and all sorts of trouble. KayCee/Eris indeed, sent Cameron to Safe Haven, knowing full well that she had no knowledge about the denizens of the destination. Her plan is thus: with Cameron fearing the animal residents and Safe Haven having been discovered by an outsider, the magic protecting it weakens over time. Eris hopes the barriers will eventually break, resulting in war and mass murders from the dark forces…and the humans. For the more chaos there is, the more her power grows. And she won’t stop until every world becomes her chaotic playground.”

 “None of us knows what Eris truly wants, but one thing is for sure. Cameron and all of us have to keep our guard up. Eris thrives on manipulation, deceit and black sorcery. To her, the apocalypse is an entertaining musical.”

 “For now, we continue our story of Cameron, who soon departs her hometown and embarks on her journey toward Safe Haven…”

 Chapter Two: “Cameron’s Arrival to Safe Haven” 

 It wasn’t long before Cameron arrived outside the building where she had her meeting with KayCee. The sky was clear but smoggy with tan pollution. The city silhouette stood in the background. She soon spotted the jet…which looked more like a dull forest green plane. The plane was old-fashioned with a propeller in the front and two wings on either side of the craft. It was dull green in color and decorated with black stripes. Cameron wore her usual gray clothes and carried her suitcase. At the ramp of steps, a figure stood waiting for her.

 “I’ve never been on a private j…plane, before. Are you the pilot, Miss…?”

 “Snake.” The woman answered in a low voice.

 “Snake?” Cameron asked in confusion.

 The woman had light green skin and strangled forest green hair decorated with dark specks. A pair of sunglasses rested on her head. She wore a green tank top, an emerald green scarf and a green-gray skirt. Long elbow-length gloves covered her hands and a white cigarette was in her mouth.

 “Interesting name,” said Cameron. “Does it mean anything?”

 Snake did not answer.

 Cameron continued, “Because I have never heard of someone naming a child something like that.”

 Had Cameron been anyone else, she would’ve gotten a harsh slap for the insult. Instead, Snake crossed her arms, holding her cigarette between two fingers. “Save the jaw-flappin’ fer later, hunny. I don’t wanna fly with a headache.” She dropped her cigarette and crushed it with her green high heel on the ground.

 Cameron flinched. “Oh! I-I’m sorry! I’m just a bit anxious…”

 Cameron walked up the steps and into the aircraft. “Going to new places and everything, ya know?”

 “Sure,” Snake answered with disinterest. “Just put a sock in it ‘till we get there.”

 Snake sat down and pulled various levers and pressed buttons. The plane was soon off the ground and flying over the city. The propeller spun fast and they zoomed away. Cameron sat nervously in her seat. ‘I hope this was a good idea,’ she thought to herself. ‘There’s no turning back now…’

 As the plane swooped over a vast forest, a spectral form of KayCee/Eris grinned mischievously against a large boulder, watching the plane. The sun rose over the hill in front of them, a promise of a new life and adventure.

 Snake piloted the plane, sunglasses over her eyes, lost in thought. She briefly cleaned her teeth with a toothpick in one hand, going around her two white fangs.

 Snake was in fact, a loner and shapeshifter, who could transform into a green snake at will. One of her friends was Taxi, a yellow werewolf who worked as a cab driver, mechanic…and merrymaker. She would drive monster trucks around while Snake would fly and fix various planes. The two of them bonded over their love of machines, smoking and drinking. Snake was also a secret agent in Safe Haven, skilled with guns and weapons. Her skills in stealth were so great, that she was soon hired by the Zoo Phoenix Academy staff to travel to the human world to retrieve recruits.  

 Snake, Taxi and Taxi’s werewolf friends would often party, drink and get into trouble. Although Snake had enjoyed it, she also was not proud that she had killed other people on the streets. So in a way, this job was fine with her.

 But then Cameron broke the tranquil silence.

 “Wow! I didn’t know the forest was this big,” she exclaimed. “We’ve been flying over it for hours…it’s like, endless!”

 Snake scoffed. “Yeah…why ya think it’s called the f*ckin’ “Oceania” Forest, hm? ‘Cause it’s big. What’d I say about talkin’?”

 Honk!

 Honk!

 Cameron looked out the window with a loud gasp. “Oh my…” A giant sky blue bird was honking outside her window. It was larger than any regular bird she had seen.

 “Snake!” Cameron wailed out loud, making Snake flinch. “T-there’s a giant bird outside the window!” Cameron grabbed onto her.

 “What?” Snake asked.

 “G-giant bird! It was huge…giant…! What if it attacks the plane?!”

 “Get back to yer seat!” Snake yelled, baring her fangs.

 ‘Snakes on a plane!’ Cameron thought in fear, after spotting her fangs.

 Cameron obliged and looked out the window. The bird was gone.

 ‘Great, now I’m seeing things…’ she thought.

 The sun set outside, turning the sky pink and yellow. Cameron sat, bored. She fell asleep as night fell. The next day, Cameron woke up, sunlight shining through the window.

 Snake was nowhere to be seen.

 “Hello?”

 She stood up and walked down the dark empty aisle.

 “Uh…what’s going on?”

 No answer.

 “S-Snake?!”

 Cameron looked out the window and saw a bunch of shadowy creatures outside.

 “Oh god.”

 Trying to be brave, she peered out the window.

 “Oh god, oh god, oh god, oh god…”

 “Surprise!” hollered the bizarre creatures.

 Cameron walked down the steps, stunned. There were so many strange new faces, she couldn’t keep track. Fabian the fox, Perci and Malcom the red and green dragons, Carrie the blonde demon, Zechariah the cheetah, Principal Winston the one with the yellow squid head, a teal eel with a monocle, a person with orange and yellow hair, a midnight blue stag, a yellow fox, and Salvia too. All the Zoo Phoenix Academy staff were there to welcome her.

 Cameron stared off into space, seeing the creatures. Was this some kind of prank? Were these just people in costumes trying to bully her again?

 Just then, Perci the dragon got into her face and said, “Welcome to the zoo, Cameron Walden! Well—hah! Of course it isn’t really a zoo! Sorta ironic that I just called it that, really! Hahahaha!”

 Cameron gulped. She felt like it was a zoo…a dangerous wacky one with escaped mythical creatures. Perci put an arm around her. The eel shook her hand. “Pleasure to make your acquaintance, my dear!”

 Were these really talking animals?

 A strong hand lifted up Cameron’s arm as a tough light gray face with blonde hair inspected her.

 “She sure is a scrawny-gangly-shaky li’ thing, ain’t she?” Carrie remarked in a gruff voice.

 “Oh nonsense Carrie,” said Fabian the red fox. “I think Ms. Cameron looks perfectly fine.” He gave her a wink and a sultry look, Cameron cringing in disgust. Was that fox hitting on her?

 “I’ll take your word on that, Fabian!” called the blind green dragon teacher Malcom. His hair was black, skin light green. He walked up to her. “Good evening? Morning? Day!”

 There was a brief silence.

 “How about a kiss, pretty lady?” Fabian cooed, getting close to her with his tongue.

 “Eeeeiiiiahhhhhhee!”

 Cameron screamed at the top of her lungs. “S-stay back! A-all of you! Don’t come any closer!”

 The animals glared at her, teeth showing. Any moment, they would pounce on her. For several moments, Cameron could only hear growls, slurps, mutters and hisses.

 The cheetah rumbled in thought as the squid principal slurped his tea loudly beside him.

 Cameron took more steps back. “I-I mean it! Stay away from me! Stay away! D-don’t come any closer!”

 “Calm down, dearie,” Perci reassured. But Cameron only heard a strange growl from him that sounded like “Raaalmm, rrowwn, geeerrek!” She was too scared to properly comprehend the human speech.

 Cameron suddenly pointed behind them. “Look! What’s that over there?” She promptly dashed away with a zip while only Perci glanced behind him. The others narrowed their eyes in confusion.

 Cameron screamed some more before skidding to a halt. She gasped. “Oh my! What on Earth?”

 Before her lay a vibrant magical world beyond her greatest imagination. It was a cross between Jurassic Park, Zootopia and a child’s version of New York. A blue sea creature eel with three eyes slithered across a teal street with dark stones on it. A slender red bird appeared to be pulling a covered wagon in the distance. A yellow cab drove by a golden dragon and a yellow bird with long feathers. The buildings were curved, concaved and had glass coverings around them. There was a small pond, several sidewalks and lamps illuminating the small park below. Birds of many colors flapped and fluttered freely in the air, some of them looking like pterodactyls. A large red spotted wall had several archways of different sizes, green vines going up it and a large golden eye in the center. Several birds were perching on the top of the wall. A few waterfalls flowed through the arches of the wall. There were several dinosaurs too; a two headed blue longneck, a golden dinosaur with multiple eyes and a flap of skin on its head, and a violet triceratops that looked like a pincher beetle. Nearby buildings of blue, yellow and pink read “Gym,” “Liquor,” and “Le Crumbles” respectively.  

 Cameron shook her head. “This is not happening…I’m dreaming this.”

 Cameron felt something soft and furry press against her back. Without a word, her eyes darted upwards and met the gaze of a cheetah.

 “Is there something wrong, Miss?” asked the cheetah.

 But of course, Cameron only heard hungry growls. She saw the cheetah’s teeth and maw and felt lightheaded.

 “Uhhh…”

 This was it…she was now cat food. Her eyes rolled back and she fainted onto the ground. The cheetah rolled his eyes and sighed in concern.

 “Somebody get our new visitor to the infirmary.”

 “I can do it,” Fabian purred.

 “No. I got it,” barked Carrie, lifting up Cameron’s form easily.

 0 0 0

“Wuuuhh?”

 Cameron groaned and slowly opened her eyes. Her vision cleared and she saw a man with tan skin and blonde hair with bangs jutting off to one side. He wore a sky blue shirt, a torn white tie and dark pants. Cameron was lying on a table. In the dark room, a sky blue poster with a yellow smiley face read “Smile! It’s almost over!”

 “You okay, hun?” the man asked. He was Chastopher the nurse.

 “W-what’s going on?” Cameron asked, sitting up.

 “You are in the nurse’s office, my dear!”

 Cameron rubbed her head. “Oh thank god…I just had the worst dream ev…what is that?” Her face turned pale.

 The man held a red power drill in one hand. As he turned around, Cameron swore she heard the screeching music from “Psycho.”

 “Willis said you needed a checkup!” he babbled, leaning close to her face. “Willis is very smart, you know!”

 He hugged a stuffed lime-colored unicorn with a black button eye and flicked on the drill. The drill buzzed loudly, mixing with his crazed giggles.

 “Help!” Cameron screamed. She dove under his legs off the table and scrambled away. Cameron flung open the door and gulped with a pause. The cheetah was back, blocking her way.

 “Are you feeling better, Miss Walden?”

 “No.” Cameron replied, eye twitching. Why was she talking to a cheetah? Animals didn’t talk, yet here they were. She turned around, clutching her head. There had to be a way to escape.

 “Okay! O-kay! T-This is just a big crazy dream! Wake up! Wake up Cameron! Wake up!”

 “Wake up,” the nurse sang with a dopey expression, holding his toy. After closing her eyes, she opened them again. To her disappointment, she was still in the same place.

 “Are you finished?” the cheetah deadpanned, an annoyed look on his furry face.

 Cameron sighed. “Okay…I give up…w-what’s going on?”

 “Were you not informed about…”

 “About what? Informed about what?!”

 The cheetah stared at her in confusion. “You were not informed about this place before being sent here?”

 “Sent where? Where am I?!”

 Oh dear, this was going to be hard to explain. They needed a better place to talk.

 “Follow me, Miss...” said the cheetah, moving on four legs.

 Feeling like she had no choice, Cameron awkwardly obliged. Cameron peeked back toward the room and saw the nurse sleeping against his toy.

 “S-So…” Cameron began as she raced to catch up to the cheetah. “Y-you’re a giant cheetah?”

 “Yes.”

 “Just checking…”

 They walked past green lockers and into an office.

 “Have a seat, Miss,” said the cheetah. He mentioned to a large purple desk chair as Cameron slowly sat down.

 Sluurrrrppp!

 The principal with a yellow and red squid head with three lip-like designs on his forehead was slurping loudly from a pink teacup. He wore a dark business suit with buttons. A matching pink teapot sat at his desk and slobber dribbled onto the desk surface. Cameron darted her eyes toward him in bewilderment.

 The cheetah smiled. “Oh this is Principal Winston. He is quite harmless.”

 “Right…” Cameron breathed, pulling her knees closer together.

 The cheetah stared at Cameron with concern. He felt bad for this newcomer who had been so traumatized on her first visit. He remembered when he himself first arrived to Safe Haven, formerly being a regular cheetah and accidentally falling through a portal. He had magically gained the ability to talk thanks to Salvia and became one of the staff members at the school. Although he missed his original family, he had found other creatures like himself…a new family.

 Perhaps he could help Cameron be a part of it…quirkiness and all. But the hard truth had to come first.

 The cheetah straightened his spine and cleared his throat.

 “Well my dear Miss Cameron. I have some news for you. My name is Zechariah, and I regret to inform you that there seems to have been some sort of mistake with the company that employed you. You were hired to be a guidance counselor, correct?”

 “Y-yes.”

 “Well, all humans employed or chosen to be sent here are given strict details about this world, and it is their choice to be transferred.”

 Zechariah’s eyes glowed yellow and narrowed in suspicion. “Whoever sent you, did an incredibly dishonest thing…for once here, you cannot return to the outside world you once knew…”

 Cameron could hardly breathe. “S-So I’m stuck in the crazy magical world of oversized talking animals?”

 “I am afraid so, Miss.” Then he added in a more professional tone, “Also, this is an interspecies society. There are many different creatures. Not just ‘animals.’”

 Cameron shuddered with renewed terror. “Like what? Other scary things? Vampires?”

 “Yes.”

 “Mermaids? Demons? Ghosts?”

 “Yes.”

 “Aliens?”

 “Aliens do not exist, Miss Cameron.”

 “Where am I right now?” Cameron wondered out loud.

 “You are in the Zoo Phoenix Academy,” said Zechariah. “This is where you were employed. So we brought you right here. Would you like a tour?”

 “Okay?” Cameron hesitated.

 Zechariah held up his tail which had a watch on it. He spoke into the device. “Jackie, can you come to my office please?”

 “Absolutely!” a voice replied.

 Cameron grabbed onto Zechariah’s tail. “Who’s Jackie?”

 Cameron soon got her answer when a woman strolled into the room. “Hey, hey hey!” she trilled in a sing-song voice. Jackie wore a long dress in different shades of blue; navy blue at the top to sky blue at the bottom. Her dress had yellow trim around it and she wore matching yellow shoes. Her skin was light brown and her hair was in vibrant shades of blue, with yellow tufts toward the back and a green tip that served as a bang. Her hair was reminiscent of parrot feathers.

 She was a parrot shapeshifter…and she chatted like one too.

 She walked over to Cameron and eagerly shook her hand.

 “Hello, hello, hello! I’m Jackie! Drama instructor. So you are the new girl everyone’s talking about? What’s your name?”

 “Cameron,” she replied nervously.

 “You caused quite a scene huh, Cam?”

 “It’s Cameron.”

 Zechariah leaned over.

 “She is in need of a tour, Jackie.”

 Jackie put an arm around a stunned Cameron and guided her through the door.

 “Not another word, Zech! I got this!”

 0 0 0

 Jackie eagerly showed Cameron around the vast campus. Despite being inhabited by strange beings, Cameron couldn’t help but admire the buildings and scenery. The grass was bright green and fresh and the trees provided ample shade for hot days. The building exteriors were made of smooth glass and round in globe shapes. They walked through a cobblestone courtyard, where a fountain trickled in the center. On either side of the entrance, there were statues of phoenixes made of bloodstone, garnet and rubies. The phoenix was the mascot, symbolizing rebirth and new hope. “Rise from the ashes, soar into success!” was the academy motto.

 “I love our mascot, don’t you?” Jackie asked Cameron. Cameron mostly zoned out as Jackie chatted on and on. “Though I’d much prefer parrots! They’re so beautiful and lively. The school would do good to spread some more musical cheer. And parrots would be perfect! Just notice how well they can talk and sing. The Zoo Parrot Academy, wouldn’t have to worry about changing the acronym.”

 They soon walked through some double doors and into a vast chamber made up of the red spotted wall.

 “I really think you will love working here, Cam! This is the main lobby. All the subject wings branch off from here.”

 Reflected watery light of an aquarium danced around the floor and walls. Jackie guided Cameron through a large room with an elevator and long tan chairs off to the side. A winding green staircase swirled up to an upper level with glass panes and a marvelous view of the outside. Several archways branched off to different sections. They passed under an arch, which was against a light blue wall, leading to the aquarium. Inside, Cameron could see a friendly-looking fish, a hammerhead shark, a swordfish and a bottlenose dolphin gliding playfully through the water.

  “Have I gone insane?” Cameron breathed as she looked up at the aquarium ceiling in wonder.

 “No, not really!” Jackie replied.

 One archway had a grandfather clock beside it, another was adorned with red curtains and another was supported by Greek pillars.

 Cameron stopped for a moment as Jackie turned around.

 “You ready?” she asked.

 Cameron stood there puzzled as Jackie wandered off toward the stairs. Jackie looked at her and laughed sheepishly.

 “What? Did you think I was gonna be like ‘Come, I’ll show you my wing first?!’”

 Cameron nodded.

 “Oh, that would be kinda silly. I mean, why not save the best for last?! There are so many great places to explore here, wouldn’t want to deprive you of the diverse experience, ya know?”

 Cameron let out a small understanding smile. “Thank you.”

 “Alrighty! Let’s flutter on up! Heh…or walk, rather…”

 Cameron rolled her eyes as she followed Jackie up the stairs.

 They walked into the first wing supported by Greek pillars, and Cameron could smell the scent of dusty books.

 “This is the library!” said Jackie. Then she covered her mouth, speaking softer. “I forgot I’m supposed to whisper in here!”

 Going inside, there were rows and rows of books on shelves all around them. Some were leather bond with yellowed pages while others looked brand new. There were also magazines and modern computers on round desks where students were doing their work. Several winged birds were busy organizing the books on the higher shelves, which arched toward the high stained-glass ceiling. The ceiling had glass designs of owls, phoenixes and trees. At the front desk, a camel lady with thin glasses was busy exchanging books with passerby.

 “Here you’ll find everything you need to study on counseling techniques, textbooks or just reading for fun. It’s the go-to place for research of all kinds. The students here are teenagers but we have majors and college-like courses in this high school!”

 “Quiet!” whispered a nearby gray owl with a monocle at Jackie.

 “Sorry!” she whispered.

 “Well…that’s quite something,” said Cameron.

 “I know, right? Trying to combine different curriculums, school systems and diverse races and species of students can be a lot of work. But thankfully the founders of Safe Haven helped out tremendously.”

 “And they are?” Cameron asked.

 But Jackie instead got distracted and waved at a red-haired woman in the distance.

 Toward the back of the library was a shadowed section labeled “Restricted Section,” which housed books on dark magic. Sitting at the edge of that section on a chair was Salvia with a book in hand. Jackie guided Cameron over to the red-haired woman. They stopped just short of her.

 Salvia lifted up her face slightly from a book labeled “Romeo and Juliet 2: Love and Lies.” She wore a black dress with red etched patterns.

 “Can I help you?”

  “This is Salvia, one of the staff members,” said Jackie in an excited whisper. Jackie gestured for Cameron to introduce herself.

 “Uh…hi,” Cameron said with a nervous grin and wave. Salvia peered at her closely, her eyes hidden behind her hair. “You’re the newcomer, right?”

 Cameron nodded.

 “Welcome to Z.P.A.,” she said.

 “Huh?”

 “Zoo Phoenix Academy, the place you’ll be staying at briefly until we can get you a new home nearby.”

 Cameron paced back and forth, anxious again. “No one has explained exactly what is going on here, what this place is, what’s it called?” Cameron asked. “I know you guys are trying to keep me from getting scared but I’ve had it with being confused! Explain things to me.”

 “Shhh!” several voices shushed Cameron when she raised her voice.

 “Oh of course,” said Salvia, putting the book down and conjuring magical images and sigils in front of her. “Might as well explain it to you now rather than wait three whole weeks later after witnessing a vampire attack to do it.”

 “W-What?” Cameron asked before she was shushed again.

 “I can see glimpses of the future,” Salvia mentioned. “Anyway, Cameron, you’ve only been exposed to the Zoo Phoenix Academy and its grounds…we were gonna wait until you felt more comfortable with the school but, if you insist on knowing this place…”

 “Yes, I’m still a capable adult,” Cameron added.

 “This place is much bigger than what you have experienced. It is called…Safe Haven.”

 (“Salvia here. For the next few minutes, I described the magical protection and the origins of Safe Haven that I had already verbalized in the introduction narration. Feel free to go back if needed but let’s skip and continue on.”)

 Cameron stood, jaw dropping. “Oh my God! There really are monsters out there?!”

 “Do not worry,” said Salvia. “As long as you’re here, you should be safe. I’m hoping you’ll get more used to this place and not cause the magical barrier to eventually collapse.”

 “I’d never do that!”

 “Not intentionally. But someone else wants to make sure that happens.”

 “Who is it?” Cameron asked, but Jackie stood in the way, much to the annoyance of Cameron and Salvia.  

 “Thank you Salvia,” said Jackie with a nervous chuckle, pushing Cameron along, “But we better get going! Heh, heh! So many things to see.”

 Salvia gave Cameron a knowing apologetic look before going back to her book.

 Moe shushes followed them out of the library. “Whew, I can speak again!” Jackie boomed as they entered a hall with brass walls. Jackie’s voice echoed off the walls. “Echo! Echo!” Cameron flinched and grit her teeth.

 “On with the tour!” They passed through another archway flanked by torches and five golden rings overhead. “This is the Sports Wing!” said Jackie as they walked down the hall. “Here you’ll find our gymnasium, our pool, outdoor courts and dance studios.”

 Cameron looked through a glass window at an indoor basketball court. The court walls were decorated with vines. A monkey was busy swinging from the vines with his tail, dribbling a basketball in his hands. A bear, a bull, a ram, a goat and a chipmunk were stomping around, trying to get the basketball. The monkey dunked it into a nearby hoop as a zebra coach blew his whistle.

 Outside in the courtyard, a few lions were practicing fencing while a fox and a hare did gymnastic tricks on bars. Several cheetahs raced each other along a round track and a black bearded centaur hopped over hurdles along the way. A dog and a cat were busy playing hand ball. A few hyena hybrids snickered as they taped a “kick me” sign on the back of a student with peacock feathers.

 In a swimming pool, a boy with shark features and a girl with blue scaly skin laughed as they raced each other down the lanes. A woman with swan feathers was preening herself in a hot tub as several male ducks peered for a closer look. A mermaid relaxed beside her, staring at her reflection.

 Several brightly colored werewolves were listening to blaring electronic music in the weight room as they lifted barbells and rapidly punched hanging bags. A lone black-wearing vampire stood in the corner drinking dark red liquid from a bottle. The boxing ring was currently being used by bi-pedal boxer dogs.

 “Too much sweat and exertion for me,” Jackie mentioned. “I’m more for the grace and beauty of the theater! Onward!”

  They soon left the Sports Wing and headed through the arch with the grandfather clock.

 “Here is the History Wing!”

 They walked around what looked like a museum, with a variety of items on display. There were ceramic pots from ancient civilizations within glass boxes all around. Various paintings were hung from the walls, with signatures. Several weapons were on display further back. Among the weapons were a few that glowed white with swirls and crosses.

 “Oh, those are angelic weapons. They are highly valuable and rare. It is said that they can kill any demon in Hell.”

 “Why not use them to fight off the monsters?” asked Cameron.

 “Good question. Some demons gather the weapons and sell them on the black market for later use. They kill each other off, causing lots of chaos. Heaven’s been using the Exorcists who wield these weapons to eliminate demons each year for centuries. Archangel Adina’s idea to insure ‘purity’ up there.”

 “How do you know all this?”

 “A friend of a friend of an ex told me. Horrible stuff, I’m telling you. Best to lay low and stay safe.”

  They continued onward past treasure chests, antique clothing and various art of mythical creatures in battle or passionate embraces. Exiting that wing, they turned toward another wing made of metal.

 “Ah, the Science and Engineering Wing! Perhaps the most confusing and loud section there is. Try not to touch anything!”

  It was indeed very loud. Clanks, hisses, bangs and booms permeated through the rooms. Cameron had to cover her ears as she followed Jackie. In one area, raccoons, cats and a few dwarves were working on a metal machine that bellowed smoke and sparks. It had wheels, engines, pipes and canvas wings on either side of it. “Primitive flying car” was labeled next to it. A gopher was working on a computer as green 0s and 1s blinked down a screen. A few other students were taking notes on a steampunk blimp made by a snake inventor of the Industrial Revolution.

 There were also several dimmed laboratories illuminated with teal blue fluorescent lights. Blue flames flickered under Bunsen burners while students peered through microscopes at their ant friends. A blue anglerfish man was pouring colorful contents from different vials together, snickering. A mad scientist in a lab coat was instructing one class on how to make a serum that could strengthen the DNA of animal hybrids.

 “Let’s move on,” Jackie coughed, swiping away the nearby smoke.

 They exited the wing and had arrived at the vast bustling cafeteria.

 “The heart…erm, stomach of the campus!” Jackie joked.

  Rows of white tables hosted hungry students and staff. Several birds were slurping up bowls of worms. Werewolves were munching on raw meat while horses chewed casually on hay blades. There was also regular food for the more human-like beings as well: salads, sandwiches, soups, potatoes, tacos, casseroles, stews, banquet style meals, fruit desserts and ice cream. There was even a stand giving out spectral food for ghosts. Like many college eating areas, there were various sections serving different kinds of dishes like a miniature food mall. It was an all-you-can-eat paradise.

 Cameron’s stomach grumbled as she inhaled the scents of exotic foods. But Cameron soon led her out and back to the main lobby.

“And now, for the best and last part of the tour…” she led Cameron through the wing with red curtains. Rusty and another spotted animal watched them go from the top of the stairs.

 “This is the Arts Wing!”

 Jackie held her arms in the air as they walked down a hall. The walls were red and decorated with spirals. A poster with a comedy and tragedy theater mask shone within a frame of lights. There was a red “Just Dance” poster and a green movie posted with a clawed black hand labeled “Now showing: The Ded.” There was a painting of a waterfall and a nearby forest.

 Cameron looked around. “Oh my, never woulda guessed…”

 Jackie laughed. “Hahaha! Sarcasm! I like you Cam!”

 They stopped by the dance room and pushed open the double red doors.

  “Baby! I got someone for you to meet!” Jackie trilled.

 A man with the same colored skin as Jackie, clapped his hands. A group of girls, Mia and Ava, Penelope and Camilla were in pink tutus and ballet slippers doing practice.

 “Okay girls! Once you’re warmed up…Jackie!”

 The man turned around and beamed.

  “Oh god…” Cameron looked in disgust.

 The man wore a vibrant red pinstriped suit with blue vertical stripes on it. His bow tie was yellow with red and blue dots on it. His hair was mostly red with a white spot to the left side and blue tips toward the bottom back. His hair also resembled parrot feathers. He currently wore dark blue pants, pointed black shoes and a pink tutu. He also had a gold tooth.

 He leaned into Cameron, his eyes golden yellow.

  “Salutations senorita! Name?”

 “C-Cameron.”

 “Soopity, doopity to meetcha! My name is Alanzo but call me Al! It’s shorter!”

 He also eagerly shook Cameron’s hand before hugging his wife.

  “Heh, nice to meet you,” Cameron began. “So what subject do you…”

  “Dance!” Alanzo explained with a flourish.

 Jackie chuckled nervously, guiding Cameron out of the room. “Well honey, we gotta run. Got a lot of school to show!”

  “You do yer thang, gal!” Alanzo said with a snap of his fingers.

  “So he was…” Cameron began as they walked out of the room and down the hall.

 Jackie smiled. “That was my husband. We both work in this wing!”

 Jackie showed Cameron more rooms.

 “And here is…the Art Room!”

 Addison and his adoptive Indian snake mother Latika were busy painting on a canvas. A vivid painting of a flying phoenix hung in the background.

  “The Music Room!”

 Calvin, a yellow crocodile with a black and yellow back with squares on it, played a tuba, which matched his color scheme. A smiling brown fox named Christopher played a white saxophone with blue swirls on it. A black porcupine named Priscilla played a black cello.

 Dodododo do-do-do-do…they played a cheerful tune that sounded like Gooseworx’s two Zoophobia themes. (Look it up on YouTube!)

  “The Film Room!”

 A white and gray wolf twin (Leonardo or Vincent) held onto a fire hydrant with a joyful expression as a fan blew him back. A green screen was in the background. A cheetah, a gray-haired student and the other wolf twin looked at a screen in bewilderment. Another guy with a black hat, flinched from the force of air.

  “Why do the animals have giant fans?” asked Cameron.

  “Guess they got a bigger budget!” Jackie exclaimed.

 “But why?”

  “Their last film almost did win at the festival,” Jackie pondered.

 At last, they entered a vast auditorium.

 Jackie spread out her arms. “And here is my domain! The Theater!”

 Cameron glanced down at a group of figures sitting on the stage.

 “A-are those your students?”

 Jackie wiped a tear from her eye. “Yep! They are my little prodigies!”

 Then she trilled in a sing-song voice: “Good afternoon my sparkling little turtle doves!”

 “Hey Jackie!” the students harmonized in song.

 To Cameron’s bewilderment, an orange fox named Spam, peered at her from atop her head…then licked her face randomly before scampering off.

 Spam, Penelope, Jack, Makenzie, Zillion, Kayla, Sahara, Daimon, Taylor and Vanexa were all there.

 Penelope wore a stylish white dress and a teal headband with two peacock feathers on it. She was currently admiring herself in a small hand mirror. Mackenzie the cat girl had messy red hair, pale skin and a lavender shirt with a cat on it. She saw herself as a cat after being raised by her equally cat-loving mother Margo.

 Jack was a light brown jackal with a worn down body and droopy ears. Zillion was a mix up of creatures and had yellow skin, purple eyes, purple antennae-like ears and a small green snake for a tail. Taylor was a guy with red sclera eyes, light brown hair with purple sides, and he wore brown clothing. He and Zillion were currently locked in an arm wrestling match.

 Kayla the beautiful kangaroo was Zillion’s girlfriend; she was happily perched on top of the black grand piano. Sahara was a dark skinned woman wearing a pink head scarf over her dark hair. She had an affinity for magic. Behind her was a darker colored jackal Damion, with red pupils, black sclera and wearing tattered clothes of red and black. Finally, Vanexa was a purple bi-pedal cat, reading a book with a disinterested look on her face. She viewed those around her in a detached annoyance.

 ‘These are her students?! Just more magical freaky animals?! How crazy can this world get?!’ thought Cameron.

 Zillion pinned down Taylor’s arm, much to the latter’s annoyance. “Who’s your friend, cracker jacks?” he asked Jackie.

 Jackie put an arm around Cameron. “This here is your new guidance counselor fellas!” Cameron awkwardly looked off to the side.

 “Oh good!” Jack and Damion called at the same time.

 Damion smirked sarcastically, “I need a lot of ‘guidance!’”

 Cameron walked over and pointed at Zillion. “Um sorry, I hate to ask but…what exactly are you? I want to know how scared I should be…”

  “Well I…” Zillion began to explain but Jack snickered with a “Kekekeke!” from beside him. Zillion glared at Jack.

 “Pass,” Zillion deadpanned. “Not even I know what I am.”

 McKenzie sniffed Cameron for a moment, then let out a “Hiss!” It was her habit among strangers. Cameron flinched in confusion.

 Damion chuckled and leaned toward Cameron. “You really got your work cut out for you, lady! Just sayin’.”

 Cameron stared at him. “H-how are you floating like that?”

 Damion grinned. “Oh well it’s because…” He turned on a flashlight under his face and bared his fangs wide, his eyes swirled stripes of red against black. “I’m the Antichrist! Hahahahaha!”

 Cameron almost felt like fainting again.

  Jack inched closer to Cameron with an apologetic look. “I’m really sorry about my cousin!” He smiled and clutched her hand. “Hello! My name is Jack! And I would like to schedule with you as soon as possible!”

 Cameron raised an eyebrow. “Uh, okay?”

 Jack let go. “Sorry! It’s been a while since I had someone to talk about my problems…”

 Clang!

 A stage light fell down and collapsed on top of Jack. He fell to the floor in a heap. A pool of dark blood was visible on the floor around his head. One of his paws had an exposed bone. Cameron covered her mouth in fear and shock.

 “Aw man! Not again! You okay dude?” Zillion asked in concern.

  Zillion turned to Cameron. “Yeah, this happens a lot. He’ll be alright.”

 “Hey, Jackie! Another light fell!” Taylor called.

 “I saw it!” she answered.

 “So Cam!” said Jackie. “Do you wanna stick around for the class?”

 “I’m sorry to say…I’m feeling a bit overwhelmed,” Cameron breathed in almost a whisper.

 “Understandable, hun! Vanexa, would you mind escorting Cam to her office?”

 The purple cat nodded and led the way, book in hand.

 Jackie turned back to the class and clapped her hands. “Alright guys! Showtime!”

 They soon reached a pair of wooden doors underneath a sign that read “Guidance.”

  “T-thank you. V-Vanexa was it?” Cameron asked nervously. Vanexa did not answer. There was an awkward silence as they looked each other in the eyes. They each seemed to be trying to decipher the other’s thoughts. Cameron coughed.

 “W-well…yeah…good evening to you, talking cat…” Cameron stuttered.

 “Enjoy your stay,” said Vanexa before she walked back down the hall.

 0 0 0

Cameron slammed the door shut behind her, catching her breath. Her office was small and dimly lit with a few books on one shelf to the left. A palm plant was off to one side and blinds were in the center of a yellow wall. In the center was a desk with a couple chairs and “C. Walden” on a label. A pink gift bag lay on her desk with a bunch of strange items inside; a pink flower with yellow tips, a green dragon figure, and what appeared to be cosmetics. Cameron read the tag on the gift: “Dear Cameron, Welcome to the Family! Z.P.A. Staff.”

 Cameron smiled slightly at the thoughtful gift.

 Cameron was reminded of Mrs. Winkler’s office…and then was reminded of home. This small space didn’t feel much like home.

 “How are you coping with things thus far, Cameron?”

 Cameron whirled behind her and spotted Zechariah the cheetah.

 “Holy mother of…please d-don’t do that…”

 “My apologies,” he said.

 Cameron sighed. “Yeah…well all things considered…” She slide down onto the floor, overwhelmed.

 “I’m sure this is a lot to handle,” said Zechariah.

 “Yeah…”

 “This place will take some getting used to, Miss. Miss?”

 To Zechariah’s surprise, Cameron was sniffing and sobbing, burying her face in her knees. This was not how Zechariah imagined the newcomer would feel.

  “I am truly sorry this has happened to you, Miss,” Zechariah said empathetically. “I wish there was more I could do…”

 Although stern on the outside, Zechariah had a sweet and protective heart. Being a staff member had gotten him exposed to more human emotions. As the ZPA staff had welcomed him during his arrival to Safe Haven, it was no wonder that he went out of his way to try and do the same for others.

 Zechariah nuzzled his furry face into Cameron’s like a comforting cat. Cameron didn’t flinch this time. In fact, she cried and wrapped her arms around the cheetah. She didn’t care that he wasn’t a regular human. She just needed something…someone to give her comfort. Someone to let her know she wasn’t alone in this strange new world. Zechariah’s warm soft chest felt good to Cameron…like a comforting blanket or a pet. Zechariah stared in brief surprise, before closing his eyes and embracing the gesture. Cameron reminded him of when he had been a young cub, trying to find his place.  

 Cameron’s animal-loving side from her childhood briefly came back…before it faded with the moment of their separation.

 “There is…something you may like to see,” mentioned Zechariah in a soft voice. He had an idea. “This way, Miss.”

 Cameron followed Zechariah up the stairs and into the observatory.

 “W-what’s up here?” Cameron asked.

 Then she looked skyward and gasped.

  “Oh my god…”

 Shimmering in the starry night sky were glowing yellow koi fish floating in the air. They had yellow skin, glowing white eyes, white lines and spot designs across their bodies. One large fish had a yin-yang symbol on its forehead and was as big as an airplane. Their fins were transparent and flowing gracefully like they were angel wings underwater.

 “These are guardian fish spirits,” said Zechariah. “The Fish of Peace. They appear when everything is safe. Similar to the butterfly orcas, used to calm anxiety.”

  “How…how’d you know I like fish?” Cameron breathed. “This is…beautiful!”

 ‘Salvia’s magic of course,’ Zechariah thought.

 Zechariah purred. “Welcome home, Miss Cameron.”

 A magnificent ocean-colored whale swam by among the fish, decorated with bioluminescent spots along its back.

 For several minutes, the two of them stared in wonder at the ethereal spirits. Cameron felt like maybe this place wouldn’t be so bad after all. Especially with her new furry friend and mentor.

 Then a question spilled out of her mouth.

  “So…where am I going to live anyway?”

 One of the fish in the sky turned a deathly white and took on yellow and black stripped eyes. She peered closely at Cameron. “And so it begins…”

 0 0 0

 One day later, an earth-colored griffin-like creature named Skoni pulled a cart of packages around the street. He sang the “Mail Time” song out loud:

 “Here’s the mail

It never fails

It makes me want to wag my tail

When it comes, I wanna wail

Mail!”

 He stopped and knocked on Cameron’s door.

 Cameron cracked open the door of her new small home. “Y-yes?”

 “Package, ma’am!”

 Cameron took the package and stared at Skoni. He suddenly appeared to be sprouting eyes all over his body…

  “Get away monster!” Cameron cried, waving a bat at him.

 Skoni looked taken aback. “You just arrived yesterday, lady! I’m here to deliver your mail! Gaah!”

 “Demon!” Cameron yelled, squirting hose water in his face.

  “Fine!” Skoni scoffed. “Have a nice day!”

 Cameron blinked a few times and saw a regular pouting Skoni trot away. “Oh you were just delivering the mail again... Sorry!”

 Eris (or “KayCee”) laughed as the Skoni illusion replayed from her golden apple. She ate a sub sandwich in the darkness. “So let’s get this party started then, shall we?”

Chapter Three: “Jack’s Counseling Session”

Cameron’s first test of her new career began several days later. Jack had mentioned that he wanted to get an appointment with her as soon as possible. And by sheer luck, his desire was granted. (However, he had to deal with several shoves from Rusty, slipping on a banana peel and tripping on the sidewalk several times on his way there.)

 Cameron glanced at a long list of confidential session notes provided to her by Salvia for the week:

 Client One: Jackson Wells. Concern: Daily bad luck.

Client Two: Addison Woods. Concern: Trauma from experimentation in Xirxine labs.

Client Three: McKenzie Payoray. Concern: Daily bullying and coping with feline lifestyle.

Client Four: Damion Beelzly. Concern: Proper educational environment.

Clients Five and Six: Zillion Martinez and Kayla Christling. Concern: Anniversary troubles.

Client Seven: Vanexa Pierce. Concern: Solitude and fitting in.

Client Eight: Camilla Jimenez. Concern: Dancer, hopeless romantic, doesn’t like her rep.

Client Nine: Autumn. Concern: Increase self-worth.

Client Ten: Tom. Concern: Break up with Addison and stealing souls.

Client Eleven: Daphne Dafadellia. Concern: Being less judgmental toward men.

Client Twelve: Rusty (Call him by his real name Reuben, he hates it). Concern: Bullying issues.

 (Don’t mind my mind reading.)

 Cameron smiled as she stood on a chair and hung up a sign on her office door that read “Ms. Walden. ZPA Guidance.”

 She placed a small green tree in a pot on a side table, hung up a blue poster of two fish that read “Just keep swimming,” and placed a golden dragon statue on a side table as well. Her desk was polished and had a label on it with her name. She stepped back and observed her handiwork.

 “Mhm! Much better!”

 She glanced at her watch and sat down at her desk, arms folded in front of her.

 ‘Okay, you can do this,’ she encouraged to herself. Her heart jolted when she heard a knocking at the door.

 Jack peered into the room.

 “Um Ms. Walden? I’m uh, here for my session…”

 “Oh yes! Jackson, good morning to you,” greeted Cameron. She mentioned to a purple beanbag chair on the floor. “Please take a seat and we can get started! Hope you don’t mind bean-bags…”

 Jack settled onto the bean-bag, enjoying the comfort. “Naw, they are actually really nice, heh…Also I, um, like what you did with the new room! It’s very humble!”

 “Thank you!”

 Cameron placed a hand under her chin with a sheepish grin. “Yes I’m…very thankful to Zechariah for letting me change rooms. I kinda have a weird connection with my surroundings. The old room was just a little too intimidating on first arrival…”

 “Yeah, I understand what you mean…” mentioned Jack.

 Cameron cleared her throat. “So! You are my first official counseling session here at Z.P.A.! Is there um, anything bothering you at all that you would like to talk about? Anything!”

 Jack stuttered, already beginning to feel a sort of crush for her. Cameron had appeared so nice on her first day and he figured maybe she could ease his current situation a bit. “Umm…well…I think for things I tell you to make sense…I have to kinda fill you in a bit about...myself...and my “condition,” or well…my curse…”

 Jack then explained his origins.

  “You see…my parents were extremely close…according to my mother. And when she got pregnant with me, they were very excited. But…before I was born, my father was killed in a very freak accident. My mother was devastated by it. In desperation, she turned to her sister. My aunt Narissa, who…well is married to the devil…as creepy as that sounds. She begged him to make a deal but as a gift to his wife, he granted my mother her wish. To give her unborn child the gift of eternal life…But the devil’s magic works in very odd ways…so his gift was really a curse. When I was born, he cursed me with immortality…along with a supernatural affinity for bad luck…and, heh…thing is…I still feel pain…”

 He barely remembered himself as a pup, flinching in a grass bed as Lucifer’s long dark finger shot a bolt of hot magic through him…burning him to his very core.

 His mother was grateful she didn’t have to worry about him dying, but was concerned about the bad luck.

 Jack glanced off to the side. “So, um, yeah. Not being able to die on top of the very crazy, often violent things that happen to me…with the pain…it um…yeah…not fun.”

 Jack looked at Cameron in concern.

 “You okay, Miss. Walden? I’m sorry if my story is a little strange…”

 “No…” Cameron replied. “I’m just…still getting used to hearing about the…supernatural things…and the devil being real…”

 Cameron continued. “Phewww…I am very sorry for your situation, Jackson. It sounds…simply dreadful. What else would you like to share about your hardships? I can tell there is a lot you have to tell…”

 Jack twiddled his thumbs. “I really hope you don’t mind me talking a lot about myself. I just think it’s a good idea to fill things in.”

 “No Jack, it’s fine,” Cameron encouraged. “It helps to know these things!”

 “Yeah, I’m sorry, it’s just…been a while since I explained this stuff. I don’t often tell people about the curse anymore.”

 “Why is that?”

 Jack buried his face in his hands as he explained.

 “Well because…It just gets hard explaining it over and over to people…why so much crazy stuff happens to me, around me. And the moment I mention that it is an actual “curse,” people immediately get sacred to be around me. I can’t really blame them; they don’t want to get hurt. But…sometimes I don’t really like it. I don’t like people avoiding me out of fear. And I don’t like people thinking I’m making it up for attention!”

 Cameron was reminded of how many people with disabilities felt similarly about having to explain their conditions to other people who didn’t experience them. Some had trouble walking or controlling their bodies. Others felt chronic pain or experienced constant negative thoughts in their heads. Their disabilities were things they were born with and had no control over. Similar to Jack’s bad luck.

 Jack continued. “It just gets a little stressful sometimes, plus some people think I’m pretty…well, weird ‘cause the whole curse thing and my luck has made me pretty superstitious. It really doesn’t help how people see me with all my behaviors and, um, customs. Heh. (You’d feel the same if you noticed me with four ladybugs on my ears, four leaf clovers and a dreamcatcher around my neck, a rabbit’s foot and dice hanging from my legs and me holding a cricket in a cage. Trying every good luck charm imaginable to counteract the bad. Of course, nothing works.) Most people here kinda avoid me for the most part just seeing what kind of stuff happens and finding me odd.”

 “Do you have any real or close friends, Jack?” Cameron asked.

 Jack brightened. “Oh yes! I have a few. And honestly, I don’t know what I’d do without my best friend Zill…”

 “I think I know him…in Jackie’s class, right?” Cameron asked. “What creature is he anyway?”

 “I have no idea! I’m not sure he knows either. In fact, he always seems confused about it.”

 “He doesn’t know?”

 “I don’t think so!”

 “So how long have you known Zill?”

 “Since I found him! About thirteen years now,” said Jack.

 Cameron appeared confused. “I…I’m sorry, you ‘found’ him?”

 “Yeah!”

 “What do you mean by that?”

 Jack chuckled a bit. “Oh heh-yeah sorry, let me explain!”

 Jack then explained the next part of his origins.

  “I was born in Safe Haven’s animal district. It’s a kind and more natural environment, so my upbringing was more ‘traditional,’ I guess. My mom never really explained my curse to me when I was younger. I just thought the world was against me and that she didn’t even care. So I ran away from home a lot back then. I just felt I had to escape somehow.”

 “It was never much help, but I seemed to kinda enjoy the time away from her. I remember the last time I ran away, I was like five, and during a really foggy rainy night, I took shelter in a tree. I heard some growling in the forest. It was really scary at the time, cause most animals in the district respect private boundaries, plus I was young too…heh. I heard this creature emerge from the bushes. He approached the entrance to where I was hiding. His eyes were glowing green. I had never seen anything like him before and I was extremely scared. He was just really curious of me I think, but he behaved much more…well bestial than what I was used to. He was like…well, an ‘animal,’ which was new for me. Most animals in the district can still speak universally! Especially upon first meeting.”

 “Zill was extremely wary of me and I was just terrified! But really he was just extremely curious of me. Unlike me, Zill was just unafraid and bold! Also surprisingly unfazed by my curse. (He put back my broken arm like it was nothing.) In fact, for the first time, I had met someone who not only was unfazed by it, but he actually…intervened! (After water poured on my head from a leaf, he used his wing to keep me dry.) So really, Zill meant a lot to me, almost right off the bat.”

 “We actually kinda lived together in the forest for like a full month, getting to know each other as friends. He didn’t talk to me at first, but when he started to talk, he only spoke Spanish! Which was like jibberish to be…heh. So the language barrier was still there, yet we still understood each other somehow. After a while I decided to actually bring Zill home with me! My mom was beyond happy I was back. But she actually didn’t take very warmly to Zill.”

 He remembered going along with Zill, with his mother being worried that Zill might harm him. He then told his mother that he didn’t need constant protection all the time.    

 “How did Zill get his name?” Cameron asked.

 “Oh! Well, he spelled his name for me in the dirt while we were in the forest.”

 Cameron listened with intent curiosity. “It’s interesting he was so intelligent, despite living in the forest!”

 “Well I mean lots of intelligent animals live in the wild! But I understand what you mean. Zill did come off as pretty primitive at first.”

 “So did you two live together?”

 Jack nodded. “Actually we did! For a little while before we officially started school! Zill was with us through the move to the city district. During those first years, I taught him how to speak English. (Notecards with pictures and words on it were helpful for us. He’d read words like “apple” and lots of food terms to start off with.) By the time we did first start school, he was already decently bi-lingual! A lot of other kids would call Zill names and stuff cause of how he looked. But he never let it get to him though.”

  “But when I was picked on…”

 Jack remembered Zill admiring a butterfly before he was knocked to the ground by a hard dodgeball to the face. Rusty the bully dog laughed after Jack had fallen.

 “Haha! Take that you wimpy loser!”

 Zill growled and his eyes flashed green. He shot a flaming dodgeball back at Rusty which hit him in the face with a “wham!” Green energy glowed around his hand.

“Zill didn’t take kindly to that. Neither of us ever really found out how exactly his ‘powers’ seemed to work, but he had a lot less control back then.”

 A young Kayla rushed over to Rusty. “Oh gosh! Are you okay?”

 But Rusty just elbowed her away, causing her to fall with an “oof!”

  “Get off me you dumb girl!”

 Zill growled in anger again.

 “Zill has always had issues with people who bully or attack.”

 Kayla stood up, furious. She separated the two boys. “Stop! No more! I’m fine,” she told Zill. “Both of you! No fighting! This is a playground!”

 Rusty scoffed at her. “Get out of my way or I’ll beat you up too! I’m not afraid to hit a dumb girl…”

 Kayla then smacked him hard in the face with a “pow!” before he landed flat on his back. Kayla let out a “hmpth” and strolled away. Zill instantly admired her courage and feistiness.

 “Zill met his girlfriend Kayla on the first day of grade school,” said Jack.

 Cameron gasped. “Oh my! They have been dating for that long? Oh how sweet.”

 Jack shook his head. “Oh, no, heh. Zill didn’t get with Kay for a while. Through most of school he was…well, um ‘loose’ with girls. Flirting with them, showing off his strength and dazzling them with his charm. Many teen boys are like that. He always had genuine feelings for Kayla, but he never had the guts to go for her. He just didn’t think she’d be interested.  Which I guess was understandable. He didn’t have the best rep with the ladies, growing up. He was a party animal…heh, sorry.”

 “But! He used to love to sing! And had a knack for it! So I suggested he try out for the school musical once we entered Z.P.A.! He scored the lead alongside Kayla in the show! (I remember them getting a standing ovation at the end. Zill wore a purple suit and hat while Kayla wore a cross necklace and a blue and white dress.) And that was when they really got to know each other! Once they really got together, Zill really slowed down on his party lifestyle. It was interesting how much of a change there was. But! I was really happy that he had found such a stable relationship. Plus Kayla was a wonderful girl honestly!”

 Jack faltered. “But once he started dating…like I said, our relationship kinda, I dunno, changed…”

 ‘”Our relationship changed?’ How so?” Cameron asked. “Was he just less close as a friend?”

 Jack stuttered slightly. “Um, well! I mean, maybe I said that the wrong way. It was just…so hard to explain! He just suddenly had so many friends and attention once he changed with Kayla. I guess I just missed a little of the constant we had before he had such a serious relationship. I’m just a little worried that the way things might progress…”

 Tears came to Jack’s eyes, his face glum. “That maybe he…eventually won’t need me as a friend…I’m sorry, it’s a dumb worry…”

 “No Jack,” said Cameron. “When a friend starts to change, or befriends other people, it’s normal to feel worried about where you stand. But I’m sure if the two of you are as close as you say, you will never grow apart!”

 “Yeah?”

 “Ya know, we talked a lot about Zill. Why don’t you tell me more about yourself! Do you have many other friends?”

 Jack pondered in thought. “I think that’s why I have this insecurity. Like I said before, I only have a few friends because people are scared to be around me, understandably.” He remembered getting his head sawn off, a beehive landing on his head and getting attacked by a green sewer monster.

 “I have one other really close friend but I rarely see her.”

 “What about your family?” asked Cameron.

 “My family?”

 Jack thought of Damion the troublemaker teen jackal, Lucifer and his jackal wife Narissa, Tentradora the succubus pink cyborg nanny and a blue demon guard named Major Styx. (Grumpy Major Styx wanted Damion to be his submissive love servant and Tentradora was very “touchy-feely” and overprotective. Narissa kept to herself and Lucifer was very prideful as a goat-like demon.)  

 Jack explained, “It’s complicated. I think deep down I love my family, but they do just remind me directly of my curse. My mom Mindy used to take me to visit my uncle and aunt a lot.”

 “Your uncle? The devil?”

  Jack sighed. “Yeah…”

 “I felt very alone when I went there. To Hell. That side of my family has nothing in common with me. Plus when Damian came along he just became a constant pain. Sorry if that’s mean to say. My family makes me look out for him a lot, so I tend to get frustrated with him often. Anyways, even though it was pretty stupid, I decided one day to sneak out of the palace just to clear my head. Hell outside of the protection of the palace gets pretty dangerous. But I kinda stopped worrying about my own physical well-being. So my carelessness caught up with me, and a demon attacked me!”

 “A one-eyed, stripped giant monstrosity! It had two slender legs and a tail…and a large maw under its red glowing eye. Yeah, I guess it was pretty freaky. Dangerous situations tend to shock me more than actually scare me. But then Jill showed up.”

 Jack remembered a purple cat demon leaping into the air and stabbing the monster with a triangular bladed scythe. After several deep stabs and Jill slicing off its hand, the monster tumbled down to the ground. Jack watched with fear and awe against a rock wall.

 “Jill?” asked Cameron. ‘Jack and Jill…’

 “Yeah!” said Jack. “I figured I was on the subject of my only close friends. Jill is definitely one of the most important people in my life…heh. She saved me. Besides Zill, she was the only one who ever protected me. Jill and I started spending time with each other after that. She was a stray demon who spent a lot of time fending for herself against other demons.”

 Jack added, “Sorry if it seems I’m jumping around too much. I get carried away.”

 “It’s fine, Jack,” said Cameron.

 Jack continued. “Anyway, I loved spending time with Jill. She was rough with everyone but with me, she was so soft. Her hugs were the best! I snuck out to hang with her during every Hell visit, and as we got older…”

 Jack let out a forlorn sigh. “I guess nothing really stays the same.”

 “I encouraged her to test herself to be a member of the royal guard. She passed the test with flying colors and was accepted to live in the palace! Lucifer gave her a black collar with a red diamond gem on it to mark her new status. I was so proud of her! She ended up head of the royal guard. I was so happy because we would be able to see each other more often. But then she met this guy she worked with. And kinda…ended up spending more time with him than with me. Which hurt a bit. I had always hoped we would stay close…maybe even get closer.”

 “So you had a crush on her?” Cameron asked.

 “Well, I crush easily,” Jack answered. “I’m happy she found someone though. She deserves that. So does Zill. I just get lonely...”

  After a few sad moments he muttered, “I’m sorry this took a turn. I don’t want it to seem like I’m complaining about the fact they are happy. I hope that’s not what it sounds like.”

 Cameron stared with empathy at Jack. “Jack, it’s fine. I can tell you are a very emotional person, and it’s normal to get lonely in your situation. But I really think you’ll be able to find someone for you in time. And talking about these feelings are the point of counseling. So no need to apologize. You seem to talk very highly of others. What about yourself?”

 “This event was…not a highly moment...I…there was one time Damion locked me in a locker for a whole week. All because he didn’t want me to tell Zill that he had missed Kayla’s anniversary. S-since I couldn’t die, I was just trapped inside my head…starving, deteriorating, not knowing what time it was. It felt like I was dying again and again in a nightmare. By the time someone found me and unchained me, it had been one week later. Took me a full day of fluids to recover, even though my body regenerated itself. It may sound strange to you but…I wanted desperately to die in those moments.”

 A chilling silence permeated the space.

 “Sometimes…I wish I hadn’t been born. I wish that dad hadn’t died. Then my mom wouldn’t have been so obsessed with keeping me alive. It feels like Hell much of the time. Sometimes I blame her, wishing she could experience the curse through my eyes. Other times I blame myself; what did I ever do to deserve…”

 A few books randomly toppled from a shelf and hit Jack in the head. “…this?” He groaned and rubbed his head.

 Cameron looked at Jack with a somber expression. “I’m…sorry you had to go through that. And regarding your curse…no one should have to go through anything like that. I guess death isn’t the worst thing in the world…”

 As Jack sobbed and sniffled for several minutes, Cameron walked over and gave him a comforting embrace. Jack breathed deeply, face blushing. Even after Cameron let go, he still felt her warmth and kindness. He wiped more tears away.

 “S-sorry…”

 “It’s okay Jack.”

  “Besides the curse and all the negatives. Tell me about Jackson,” said Cameron.  

 “Me?”

  “Yes! Your interests? Goals? Hobbies? Things that make you happy. Anything!”

 Jack thought hard about it. “Um…well let’s see. I play the drums! I play the drums while Spam does guitar and lyrics. Kayla and Zill sing and play piano and Vanexa helps too. I also, um, work part time at the Safe Haven observatory. I really love space. Just everything about the universe and its infinite vastness fascinates me! It’s inspiring. I love studying astronomy and science.”

  “Oh!” Cameron exclaimed with joy.

 “I also love to cook! That’s my favorite hobby! I don’t have many people to cook for, so I usually take food to the foster home, the same one that took Zill in for a while. I’m still deciding which path I’d like to take for a career, being like a real chef or going into astronomy.”

 Jack continued. “Next year is my final year at the academy so I need to decide soon what my final major will be. I’m still able to take plenty of classes for both, though!”

 Cameron was very pleased. “Well! Well working at the observatory and being able to exercise your culinary skills gives you a good way to sample your career options. I’m sure you will make the right choice and have a successful career, Jack!”

 Jack smiled warmly. “Thank you, Ms. Walden. Thank you for listening! You’re more attentive than the last counselor.”

  “Well that’s what I’m here for!”

  “So…are you still scared living here after the past few days?” Jack asked.

 Cameron glanced off to the side. “Well, uh, ya…I mean…I’m getting used to things. Talking to you wasn’t scary. You are very kind and not frightening at all, past the fur. Which alone is surprising but there are a few people here who don’t scare me as much. So thank you! For not being scary. Is there anything else you’d like to talk about in this session?”

 Jack stood up. “I think that’s enough for this time. I don’t want to overwhelm you.”

 He opened the door and looked at her one last time with a smile. “Thanks again, Ms. Walden. Welcome to Safe Haven!”

 Cameron waved. “Take care, Jackson!”

 As Jack was walking down the hall…

 Slam!

 Rusy slammed him into a locker and he slid to the floor. Rusty barked in laughter, leering over Jack.

 “Watch where yer goin’ wimp! Heh heh! You gonna cry or what?”

 “No?” Jack whimpered.

 “Yeah you are! P*ssy! Ha ha ha ha ha ha!”

 Rusty laughed as he strutted away. Jack made his way to the observatory as the setting sun turned the sky a salmon pink. He spotted a blonde man wearing glasses and a blue suit with a tight white collar.

 “Hey Dan!”

 The man smiled. “Jack! You’re early! It’s barely dark out!”

  “Yeah. I feel like coming in before my shift to relax a bit. Can I go up?”

  “Of course! Nobody is up there right now.”

  “Thanks Dan!”

 Jack slipped on a blue uniform and climbed up the stars. He made it to the top and his eyes grew wide in wonder. Yellow ethereal koi fish swam and glided across the starry night sky. The spotted bioluminescent midnight blue whale traveled beside the fish as well. The city lights and the greenhouse globe buildings illuminated the night in their spectacular vivid glows. One building was pink, the other a faded golden yellow. Jack became transfixed by the spirits. For the first time in a while, he felt hopeful and positive.

 Jack smiled and sighed contently as he gazed dreamily up at the Fish of Peace. “It’s never lonely at night.”

 Despite the bad luck, Jack knew he wasn’t alone. He had Zill, Spam, Vanexa, Jill, Kayla…all those who cared for him. His bandmates were the ones who helped save him from a monster, and it led to him being more tolerant of his curse. Zill had tried to “save” him multiple times by deflecting the bad luck events but Jack didn’t want him to get hurt. Instead of exhausting themselves to try and stop the curse, Jack’s friends helped pull himself together (literally and figuratively) and were simply there to support him after the bad moments. Although some of them were often preoccupied with lovers, they would always come back for Jack. For he was the silent supporting stone of their bonds.

 And now he had Cameron…a loving mentor…and perhaps a new mother-like figure in his life. Although he had a crush on her, it was not solely romantic. It was mixed with feelings of appreciation and friendship.

 Jack felt at home with himself for the first time in years. Because he realized an enlightening truth: not even a curse could keep his friends away.

 0 0 0

 Zechariah was busy jotting down notes at his desk when Cameron entered the room.

 “Z-Zechariah?” Cameron asked.

 “Miss Cameron!” Zechariah greeted. “Did your first session go well?”

 Cameron smiled, pleased to have helped out Jack. Helping others made her feel truly at home for the first time. “Actually, it really did!”

[harley-sunday]

The Draw (14)

Summary: The whirlwind starts at the 2018 ACE Comic Con in Phoenix but you’re not sure where it will end…

Pairing: Sebastian Stan x reader

Warnings: Language. 

Word count: 3.5k

AN: Slowly, very slowly, I’m getting back into this one. It deserves to be finished, but I don’t want to rush to a happy ending, you know? Anyway, here’s the latest installment in this crazy ride, hope you enjoy! This one’s for @aarontveitfic​ ♥

Masterlist

Something beeps somewhere and you let out a quiet groan before you decide to just ignore it, because well, you were cuddling up to Sebastian in a blissful state of half consciousness and you don’t want to have to wake up and realize you only have another day left before he has to leave again. But then you hear Sebastian mutter something about your phone going off and so you blindly reach for it, accidentally knocking off your book from the bedside table first. The notification on your lock screen lets you know you’ve got a new message from your brother, the first few words on their own not really making any sense. It isn’t until you tap on the notification to open it that you see the picture he’s attached and suddenly you’re wide awake, muttering quiet, “Fuck,” as you sit up. 

“What?” Sebastian asks from somewhere beside you, his voice still laced with sleep.

“Ugh. I hate him,” you look at the selfie again, channeling all your anger towards your brother, hoping some of it will make its way to him through your phone.

Sebastian must sense something’s going on, because he sits up as well, his lips ghosting over your cheek, “Morning.”

You shake him off and he starts to protest, but then you show him what your brother’s just sent you and see his eyes grow wider with every word he reads:

Guess who we just dropped off at the airport? They thought we should let you know in advance, but I told them not to ruin a good surprise ;) So anyway, can you pick up Mom and Dad? 2PM, flight number AA376. Good luck! xx

“Ok,” Sebastian says, running a hand through his hair, “ok. This isn’t that bad, right?”

You just throw him a glare you hope conveys how much you hate surprises like this and hit ‘call’ on your phone.

And of course your brother picks up on the first ring, “Hey, loser.” 

“I hate you.”

He just chuckles, “Good morning to you too.” 

You get out of bed, miming to Sebastian that this will only take a minute, before you walk to the kitchen, “What were you thinking, Nathan?”

“Oh shit,” your brother whispers and you think you hear Jake giggle in the background, “Tante is using my full name. We’re in trouble, bud.”

“Take me off speaker, will you?” You pinch the bridge of your nose as you lean against the counter. 

“I’m driving,” your brother counters, but you think you hear him tell Jake to put his earbuds in and listen to some music, before he returns to you, “The kid’s otherwise engaged. Go ahead. Hurl your verbal abuse at me.”

“I’m not- A little heads up would be nice, that’s all.” 

“What are you not telling me? Are you not in San Francisco?” He chuckles then, “Did I just ship off the parents on their own?”

“Nate. Of course I am in San Francisco,” you bite back.

“So then, what’s the problem?”

“The problem,” you let out a sigh then. “The problem is that Sebastian’s here and I haven’t told Mom and Dad about him yet.” 

Your brother starts laughing so hard then, that after a “We will talk about this later, Nathan.” which you know will fall on deaf ears, you hang up without warning. You tap the phone against your chin, unsure where to go from here. There’s still four hours left before they land, and so you think that maybe you’ll be able to pull something off, but then you turn around and see Sebastian standing there and your heart drops.

His arms are crossed in front of his chest, the fabric of his shirt stretching across his biceps and if he didn’t look so upset right now it would be such a turn on. Instead there’s something dark that has settled over his face when he asks, “You haven’t told your parents about us yet?”

You open your mouth to say something, but you don’t know if there’s anything that could make this better and so you just shake your head.

He doesn’t respond, just stares at you before he turns around and walks back to the bedroom.

“Sebastian,” you push yourself off the counter and go after him, finding him sitting on the bed, staring straight ahead. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him this upset. He doesn’t look up at you when you enter and so you sit down next to him, your arms brushing against his. You clear your throat, looking at the floor, “I’m sorry.”

He just nods.

“My parents, they are uh-” you hesitate, because you don’t want this to sound like an excuse, even though it’s definitely part of the cause. “Ok, so you know Monica and Ross’ parents, right?”

He looks up at you then, confused, even though you are sure he knows you’re talking about Friends.

Still, you take this as your cue to continue, “They’re a bit like them. Not that they’re bad people, or mean, but they’re just a little ditzy, if that makes sense.” You shrug, “I mean, I didn’t tell them I was going to help out at our office here until after I got here, otherwise they’d just- I don’t know. They’d just worry about everything.” You turn to him, “Nate and I decided a long time ago that sometimes it’s better to just not tell them something until after the fact.” 

“I know, I know,” you quickly say when he starts to protest, hands up in defense, “I should have told them about us- About you sooner, but I- I don’t know. I’m afraid they won’t understand.”

“Bullshit.”

It comes out barely above a whisper and so you’re not sure you’ve heard him right, but then he stands up and looks at you.

“It’s bullshit,” he says again with an angry shrug. “Clearly there’s something else going on. And why would you drag your parents like that?” 

“What?” You almost do a double take, because did he really just say that? You get up as well, so you can at least face him on the same level, “I didn’t drag my parents. I could entertain you for days with the shit Nate and I have kept from them.”

“Yeah?” he asks defiantly. “Does that include any of your other ex-boyfriends?” 

It doesn’t register. Not right away anyway, because you’re too busy trying to remember at what point you first introduced Mark to your parents. It couldn’t have been more than three weeks, maybe a month after you started dating. Which was way too soon and which you regret till this day. It would have been so much better for everyone if you’d just waited a little longer. 

Still, technically you guess Sebastian and you have been dating since the end of April, when he took you on that boat trip, but you’ve always considered your rendez-vous in Charlotte, right before he left for the press tour, as the moment you got together. That wasn’t that long ago, right? But then you start to count and realize it’s been almost seven weeks, so maybe he does have a point and you’re about to tell him you and your commitment issues are the real reason why you haven’t told you parents about him yet when finally his words hit you. You look up at him, “What did you just say?” 

“I asked if that includes any of your ex-boyfriends.” He doesn’t look at you, instead needs all his attention to look for his jeans. 

“No, no, no, that’s not what you said,” because you remember now. You cross your arms in front of your chest, “You said, does that include any of your other ex-boyfriends.” 

He finds his jeans, sighs, and looks up at you, “Fine,” but doesn’t say anything else.

“Come on, use your words, Sebastian” you mock, because really? You don’t want to fight, because this seems like such a non-issue to you even though, sure, this isn’t how you planned on introducing Sebastian to your parents, but you know, why not? At least it would spare you an awkward dinner at some point. Mostly you’re just mad at your brother for springing this on you without warning even though you know that’s not entirely fair. But, apparently Sebastian has taken great offense and wants to see this through. Fine, you think, might as well find out now if we can work through this or not, “So we’re done, or?”

“I don’t know,” his jeans are on now, and he’s picked up his duffel bag, putting the rest of his clothes inside like he’s getting ready to leave. “I just don’t understand why you wouldn’t have told them.”

“You are making this a much bigger deal than it-”

“I called my mom right after I dropped you off at LAX,” he zips his bag closed and when he looks up at you he looks hurt, “and told her I met this great girl who swept me off my feet and who I thought might be the one but who felt like she was slipping away. She was the one who encouraged me to go after you and I promised her I’d take you to go see her as soon as we’d had a chance.” He shrugs, his face now blank, “Guess now I get to call her to tell her it didn’t work out anyway.”

You’re a bit taken aback by his willingness to just give up on your relationship and so it takes for him to put his shoes on and grab his duffel bag that you realize he’s actually walking out on you. You follow him to the living room, “Really, Seb? This is it? We’re not even going to talk about this?”

He turns around, “Unless you can give me a good reason not to,” 

“I just told you!” Your voice is a little-high pitched, but fuck it, “I swear, if you meet my parents you would understand.” 

He scoffs, “Yeah, I can see that going well after all of this.” He takes a step towards you and kisses your cheek, a sad, “I’ll be seeing you,” escaping him.

You want to tell him to stay, want to work through this, but nothing comes out and so all you can do is watch him leave.

Your parents, bless them, believe you when you tell them you’re not feeling too well and think you might be coming down with something even though it’s mid-June. Your father offers to drive back from the airport and so you end up in the passenger’s seat, giving him directions back to your apartment, your mother admiring the surroundings from the back seat.

You tell them to make themselves at home, thankful there’s a spare bedroom for them, and that you’ll just go to bed for a couple of hours, trying to sleep off whatever it is they think you have. You apologize for not being able to show them around town, but your Mom tells you not to be silly, that they’re here until Thursday and that there’s time. 

Surprisingly you fall asleep the moment your head hits the pillow, exhausted from this morning’s strange turn of events. When you wake up some time in the late afternoon, you find your parents on your balcony, each with a glass of wine and sharing one of your mother’s famous cheese platters. A smile plays on your lips when you open the fridge and see it’s well stocked, because of course your parents have gone grocery shopping. It’s then you see a stack of freshly folded towels on the dining table and so you walk to the balcony and thank them for what they’ve done.

“Oh honey,” your mother says, “it’s the least we could do.” 

You lean against the railing, telling them a little more about your job here while one by one you steal the grapes from the plate until your father gently slaps your hand and mutters, “Leave something for the rest of us, will ya?”

“It’s ok,” your mothers throws you a wink, “I know how much you like them so there’s more in the fridge.”

“Listen,” you push yourself off the railing, “why don’t we head outside for a little? Take a little walk around the neighborhood and maybe grab something to eat?” You could do with some fresh air and some time away from your apartment, you realize. 

It isn’t until Wednesday night that you tell them about Sebastian. You’ve taken the day off work and toured the city with your parents, thankful that they already went to Alcatraz on their own on Monday, because it would have been impossible to fit everything into a single day otherwise. You’ve shown them the Golden Gate Bridge, visited Alamo Square, wandered around Chinatown, and ended up at Fisherman’s Wharf where you’re treating them to some of the best seafood in the city at Alioto’s Restaurant. 

They take everything surprisingly well, even though your father reprimands you for not telling them sooner, because they would have liked to meet Sebastian when he was in Charlotte and before all this.

Your mother hits the nail on the head when she tells you, “You think you’re doing what’s best for everybody by keeping things to yourself, not wanting to be a burden to anyone” she holds up her hand when you start to protest. “I mean it, honey. You need to talk more. Not just about the bad, but about the good as well. Don’t keep everything to yourself, it’s not healthy. And I’m not saying you should talk to us-”

“Your mother’s right,” your father chimes in and taps your head, “There’s always been so much going on in here that I’m afraid soon not much more will fit, kiddo.”

“We know you might not want to talk to us, per se-,” your mother puts her hand on yours, “but at least talk to Nathan. You two always were two peas in a pod.”

“Heck,” your father grins, “we knew the moment the two of you were born that we would be in the backseat for the rest of your lives and sort of counted on you two to take care of each other in that regard.”

“Or Lauren,” your mother suggests then. “She always seems to be able to talk some sense into you.”

“Nathan knows,” you offer, plucking at your napkin to keep from crying. You really should have given your parents more credit. You clear your throat, “He doesn’t know about our fight yet, but I’ll call him this weekend.”

“You do that, honey,” your mother says, giving your hand a reassuring squeeze. “And try to make things right with Sebastian, ok?”

Your first text after you’ve dropped your parents off at the airport on Thursday morning, after promising you’d come to visit them soon, is to Lauren:

911

Her reply comes seconds later

Calling you in five

She just sighs and you can hear the frustration seeping through your phone, “So you haven’t talked to him since?” 

“No,” you admit, merging onto the exit that will take you to the office. 

“Babe,” the accusation in her voice is very obvious and so you keep quiet, waiting for her to tell you you’ve fucked up. She doesn’t disappoint, “You’re an idiot.”

“I know,” you nod, even though she can’t see you. “I know, ok? I just-”

“You need to fix this.” 

You’re about to protest that you can’t, that you’re sure he doesn’t want to see you again, but you know she’s right, so you quietly resign, “Yeah.”

“Call that girl,” Lauren suggests, 

“Who?” 

“You know, who helped us last time you fucked up?”

“Julie?”

“Yeah!” You can hear the excitement in her voice, “I’m sure she’d help you out. Again.” 

“I guess,” you say just as you pull into your parking spot. “Listen, I gotta go, but I’ll keep you updated, ok?”

“You do that,” Lauren replies. “Love you, babe.”

“Love you too.”

Of course Julie helps you, because as she admits, she’s been rooting for you and Sebastian ever since the Infinity War premiere, although you might have told her you just wanted to surprise him. No need for her to know how bad you fucked things up. She tells you where he’s filming in Greece the next six weeks because even though it’s not a Marvel project she knows his schedule. She offers to find out where he staying and promises to send you the address details as soon as possible. You tell her you’ll come visit her once you’re back in San Francisco and take her out for dinner and some drinks as a thank you for all her help.

Julie comes through and sends you the address of the hotel where both cast and crew are staying at only a couple of hours later. Google tells you it’s both about half an hour from the airport and the city and that unfortunately they don’t have any vacancies. You find a hotel a few blocks away and book the room for a week, even though technically you still have to ask Deb for time off. When you call her she lets you go on the condition you’ll keep checking your emails at least once a day. 

And so, after organizing everything in just two days, here you are, ready to board your flight to Athens. You pull your phone from out of your purse and find your brother’s name in your contact list, calling him just like you promised your parents you would.

“Hey,” 

“Nate?” You’re worried, because you can’t even remember the last time he didn’t call you a loser when picking up the phone. “You ok?”

“Yeah,” he sounds surprised you even ask. “I figured you might not want to talk to me.”

“Dude,” you chuckle, “I called you, didn’t I?”

“Yeah, ok,” 

“So I guess the parents told you what happened?” You get up, grab your bag and walk to one of the big windows next to the gate, where it isn’t as crowded. 

“They did. I just- I’m sorry.”

“What? No.” You shake your head, “I fucked up, Nate. It’s all on me.”

“Well,” he says and you can just imagine the smug grin on his face, “if you insist.” 

“You’re still an asshole for not telling me earlier though,” you counter with a smile, “but no, this whole thing with Sebastian is on me.”

“So what are you going to do about it?”

“I’m about to fly to Athens-”

“Jesus Christ,” he scoffs. “Why can’t it ever be normal with you?”

It’s then you hear your row being called for boarding and so you end with an, “Love you, Nate. I’ll call you when I get back, ok?”

“Yeah, you do that.”

You try to figure out a game plan in the taxi that takes you from the airport to your hotel, but in the end you decide to just wing it. Losing a couple of hours of time difference during your flight means it’s already afternoon by the time you make it to your hotel. It’s hot and your clothes stick to you wherever they can and so you decide to grab a shower first. Rummaging through your bags once you’re done you find one of your favorite summer dresses, a mustard and white striped cotton dress that hits just below your knee. Of course you pair it with your trusted white Converse before you head out. 

There’s a line of cabs waiting in front of the hotel and when you tell the driver the address he lets out a low whistle, “Very fancy hotel.” 

“I guess,” you reply, smiling at him through the rear view mirror. The butterflies in your stomach prevent you from any small talk and so you stare out the window instead, admiring the view. It’s only a couple of minutes later when the cab driver pulls up in front of a beautiful white building, the name of the hotel in black letters next to the entrance. You hand him some of the Euro bills you took out of the ATM at the airport and tell him to keep the change.

He frowns when he counts the money, “You want me to wait for you, yes?”

“Oh no,” you’re quick to reassure him. “At least, I hope not.” You also realize you must have given him more than a generous tip if he offers to keep the car running, but it’s fine. You hope he at least gets to keep it and doesn’t have to give it to his boss.

As you get out of the car you take a deep breath, the butterflies still fluttering about, and straighten your shoulders, hoping no one at the front desk will ask you who you are.You walk in with purpose, nodding to one of the receptionists as you pass her and then you’re in the elevator, relieved when you see you don’t need a key card for it to work. You press the button for the fifth floor, remembering the room number Julie gave you, and when the doors open you follow the signs to his room. It’s in the far corner somewhere, last door on your right, and you get an overwhelming sense of déjà-vu when you knock and wait for him to open the door.

When he does, you can see his eyes widen in shock when he takes you in, surely not expecting you here.

“Hi,” you start, your voice barely above a whisper. “Can I come in?” 

He throws a look over his shoulder before he looks back at you and shakes his head, “I uh- Now’s not a good time.” 

[hazzabeeforlou]

On the eve of HS2, I felt I needed to reflect and write a diary entry of sorts, an ode to where I was and where I am now, a musing on how HS1 ushered in a whole new world for me. This is long and more personal than anything I’ve previously shared, but in honor of vulnerability and maybe helping someone else who’s struggling... here it is. 

The most exposure 2015 me had to pop music was occasionally listening to ‘hits’ radio. My old art teacher in high school had blasted the classics of the 60s and 70s daily, so I knew those, albeit not the names, but the music, the style, the melodic tropes and such. 2015 me didn’t have much time for pop music. I was getting a fancy degree in classical music from one of the best conservatories in the world, and I’d made it there after four years with a highly abusive teacher in undergrad who gave me horrible anxiety; by the end, whenever she would walk into a room, I would get chills and start shaking. She delighted in lying to me, in calling me out in front of my peers. Worse, I was arguably her highest-achieving student. The day I got into Juilliard she took me for “tea” to celebrate, where she proceeded to spend the whole time telling me how she had made this happen, how her connections got me to NY, how I should be grateful. 

Entering the world of NYC and Juilliard I was an awestruck, anxious mess. Everything moved too fast, the school was overwhelming, my studio mates were famous already, some of them having won world-famous competitions and been on the cover of magazines. I was in the elite place, a place my working class roots had never prepared me for. My dad was a millwright. He went to work every day in steel-toed boots and overalls and often returned so filthy mom wouldn’t let him wash his clothes in the household washing machine. But I was nothing if not adaptable, and grateful, and charming, and I did my best. I worked hard. But my health kept deteriorating. 

All through undergrad I’d been feeling progressively worse. I had horrible acne that I presumed was caused by stress, as I’d never suffered with it in high school. I was already an introvert, but body insecurity led me to hardly ever socialize. I would spent hours getting ready for things, never willing to show my bare face. But that wasn’t the worst; I’d developed what I now understand was an eating disorder, because no matter how much I exercised or dieted, I kept gaining weight, or rather, I lost all my baby fat but remained the same scale number. I kept telling my mother I was fat. I didn’t tell her that I hated the wind, that I hated running, because it made my stomach protrude and the whole world could see the extra pounds I carried. I never made an appointment with an OBGYN because I didn’t date much less have sex, and my mother had told me, well you don’t ever need to be seen until you do. I came to NYC well versed in wearing baggy sweaters and scarfs that hid my form. And for two years, as my breathing got worse and worse, as my energy levels dropped, as my skin hurt and itched, I pushed forwards. I remember practicing one day and my eyes going black. I couldn’t see, I couldn’t breathe. 

It was getting into an international competition that saved me. I got the news in early May of 2016; I jumped around my room and I started coughing, and the next day a hernia appeared above my belly button. I was only slightly worried, but I went to see the Juilliard doctor. She asked if I’d gained weight, she said even a couple pounds could do it. I was, as always, ashamed, red faced, embarrassed as she prodded around on my torso. 

She said I’d need surgery. So I scheduled it in NYC for two days after my graduation. I played my recital, but with a binder around my abdomen. I couldn’t breathe, I couldn’t remember my memorized music. I nearly passed out. I stumbled on the sidewalk afterwards. 

When I woke from the surgery I was in blinding pain, teeth chattering uncontrollably, in shock. I couldn't open my eyes, and every breath felt like knives slicing into my chest. I heard the nurses say, “We’ve given you three IVs of Percocet, do you want us to give you a forth?” I said no, thinking, ‘what if I die from an overdose?’ After two hours my mother came in search of me. It was supposed to be a day surgery. She demanded morphine. They sent me home on it, but two days later I’d thrown up twice and was back in the ER. A CT showed I had an ovarian cyst. The doctor said to me, “It’s 28 inches. It’s the size of a dinner plate.” I didn’t understand. They rushed me back for another surgery, and asked me to sign a paper saying I wouldn’t hold them responsible if I ended up paralyzed. I signed it. I joked with the nurses before they put me under. I was shaking with pain. I thought, if this is the end, I’ve had a good life. I’ll be with my doggy, my baby puppy. I’ve graduated from my dream school. I’ve gotten into an elite international competition. I’ll go out at the top of my game. It’s okay. 

But then I woke up. Over the next year, I would wish countless times that I hadn’t. I could barely walk. I couldn’t lift things like a fork, or my computer. I couldn’t shower or cough or even shit. I couldn’t practice or sit upright for more than fifteen minutes. Pain became a constant. I started to wake up with night sweats, my forehead creased in subconscious pain. I would jump at every loud noise, my heart lurching like a ruined engine, and I couldn’t remember names of flowers. I fell into a massive depression over the next few months, made worse by the 2016 election; because of my infirmity I had moved back home with my Trump-voting parents. The bravest thing I did that fall was ‘come out’ as a liberal on Facebook. My parents pretended not to notice when I stayed up late that cold November night, huddled with a blanket on the couch, crying my eyes out.

The Christmas 2016 season is a blur. I know I half lived in memories, half in grief, but all in self-pitying misery. I remember reading a passing article about Jay, not knowing who it was, and I remember adding a lost mother to the list of things I cried about. How could the world be so cruel, so unfair? My days were filled with PT and sleep, immobility and exhaustion, and questions, questions like if I can’t do what I love, what I’ve spent years training for, what’s the point? What does it mean to be an artist when you can’t do your art? What is left of me that matters? Is the future only more pain? It would have been better to have died. It would have been better to have died. 

Up until this point I had been unlucky in love. I could never find men attractive, though many friends pressured me to try, which of course had led to not good things. I’d been confronted a couple times about maybe being gay, but I’d shot this down immediately, my face bright red, my heart pounding. No, that’s not it, I’m just picky. Two girls in grad school had flirted with me; I’d accidentally gone on a date with one. I’d felt deeply, gut-wrenchingly uncomfortable about her. But how could I ever unpack all of that when just coming out as a liberal had given me anxiety for days...  

The new year came and I had nothing to look forward to. I could see no happy future. I wasn’t really in my right mind. I would escape as best I could, perhaps in masochistic ways; I’d watch SNL for humorous liberal comfort, and Colbert to feel some spark of angry solidarity. And that’s how I stumbled on Harry. He got me with his puns, because I love those. For the first time in months, I was giggling about something, this charming boy with curls and dimples who had replaced the scream-speech of James Cordon. For once I didn’t turn the tv off after Colbert. 

I began listening to Harry’s songs. As I had no reference for contemporary pop music, his old school rock album was familiar to me in a comforting way. I knew these sounds, these tropes, and yet they didn’t feel stale to me, they spoke to something I was feeling in the present. Because the album, in essence, was about pain, wasn’t it? Pain and escaping it. The lies we tell to survive, the dreams we cling to for hope, the drugs we use to forget. I’d never bought a pop album before, Harry was my first, and I listened to it for hours every day. 

HS1 seeped into my blood, but I’d been on a hopeless, aimless track for so long that the railway tie hadn’t yet switched. One warm, sunny spring day I wrote a note, filled a bag with rocks, and walked to the old bike trail, out past the freeway, into the marshes and pools of abandoned swampy wasteland. FTDT played in my head on a loop as I walked, as my brain hummed with the equation of worth. Was it worth it to stay alive?

Yes. I threw the rocks. I threw them as far as my fragile arms would allow, and they splashed into the murky water. And I turned around and called my mom to come get me. Harry had made something that was beautiful, that was touching, that was real. And if he could... then maybe I could too. Maybe I didn’t have to be just what I’d been before. Maybe I could try creating other things; maybe I could make art that, like Harry’s music, made other people feel less alone. 

There was something magical about that album. Not freedom, per se, but the promise of it, a glimpse of truth that kept me hanging on. 

I began writing poems again, songs. I got into an orchestra program, I healed month by month, I started carrying crystals, I found this crazy fandom and, little by little, grew to understand that my yearning upon looking at baby larry videos was really a cry of sameness that I had never before understood. After the Pulse shooting, during my horrible homebound year, I’d watched Lin-Manuel Miranda give his love is love is love speech, and I’d burst into tears. And I’d not known why. Now I began to realize. I remember the first tentative anon I sent to Phoenix @alienfuckeronmain asking if maybe I was... bi? I remember anxiously awaiting her answer, as if I needed an invitation to join the community, to be valid, to have this not just be a crazy swelling of hope in my chest. She replied while I was wandering through a corn maze in the frigidness of October. The next day I walked into rehearsal and I felt free, free of the way boys looked at me, free of being FOR them, and I’d never felt so... alive. Coincidentally I met my ex girlfriend that day too. 

Through Harry I found this fandom, and Louis. Louis, who has spoken to me on levels I cannot even express, whose class and political and emotional intelligence have challenged me to stand up for things I never thought I could. For me these last few years have felt like a journey WITH Harry. As he started waving them, I started wearing rainbows, just subtly. A knit scarf, a postcard, a bag. I started writing fic, the most healing thing I’ve ever done. I learned to create art away from the singular thing I’d been trained to dump my all into, and I learned that I have so much more to offer, even if chronic pain will follow me in some way or another for the rest of my life. 

I’m so thankful to Harry for taking me on this adventure with him; I don’t know if I’d have ever taken that first step by myself. It was like he held my hand through it all, like this fandom held my hand through it all. Like by being himself, Harry helped me be brave enough to evolve too. 

Through the catalyst of Harry’s art I’ve experienced more happiness than I’d have ever imagined. I cannot wait to go on this next journey, a second album, and reflect on just how far we’ve both come. 

[amintyworld]

Behind the Red Bandana (Aphmau Future Child AU) - Chapter One: From Wallflower to Troublemaker

A/N: NEW SERIES, EVERYONE! It's based on my Aphmau Future Child AU. Hope you enjoy, new chapters to come, let me know if you'd like to be tagged!!!! -Minty

TW: Slap, Bullying, Yelling, Ultima Powers, Getting in Trouble.

I always used to hear those stories, those tales about the Ultima Werewolf.

They were all supposed to be wiped out.

They were SUPPOSED to be...well, dead.

I never could have guessed the secrets lying right around the corner.

It all started with that one day...

------------

“Hey, Terrance?”

“Yes, Minnie?”

“Am I... different?”

Terrance paused. He smiled.

“Don't tell me those stupid bullies are getting to you again!”

“Ter-”

“They don't understand 1 plus 1, so how could they understand you?”

I smile.

“Come on,” Terrance said. “I need to read the story before I have to do my homework. Dang Ms. Steatserson!”

I laugh. “She give you more math problems?”

“I hate dividing fractions!” He groans.

We walk from our hangout secret place - underneath a fenced in willow tree- to my house. Purple and red adorned the walls.

My mom greeted us with a warm smile. “Hey Terrance! Wonderful to see you!”

“Nice to see you too, Ms. Lycan.”

“I just finished baking some cookies. Would you kids like some?”

“No, Mom. We're ok. We were just gonna hang out upstairs.”

“Alright! Be my guest, dear. I'll be down here if you need me.”

We walk up the oak wood stairs to my dark blue room. Terrence flops onto the red and black bed - my father's old musty blanket.

I pull out the heavy book we've read so many times. 

“And he struck down to town with the rage like no other!” I say dramatically.

“And the light came way to a horrible darkness.” Terrence finished. He looked at me. Our favorite part.

“The darkness leaves promising to return, and those who wish to stop it must make a noble sacrifice.” We said together. We both fell on the floor laughing.

“This is so stupid! 'Sacrifice'? As if!”

“Yeah, nothing exciting ever happens in this old town anyway.”

“Nothing exciting, huh?” A deep voice boomed from my door.

“Dad!” I yelled. He smiled and ruffled my hair. “I didn't expect you home so soon!”

He looked at both of us with a big smile. “You know I met your mom here, right?”

I froze in shock. “Woah, woah, woah, hold up. You met Mom here? In this dull town?!”

“Hard to believe romance happens in Phoenix Drop High, let alone in this town.” Terrance added.

“You'd be surprised, Terrence. Just goes to show that-”

“That what, Aaron?” Mom joked from behind, surprising my Dad.

“You know what? Nevermind.”

“No! I wanna hear this story!” I pleaded.

“Me too.” Mom added with a smirk.

Dad blushed, but turned toward us. “That magic…” he looked toward Mom and smiled. “...can happen anywhere.”

"Oh, PLEASE!" Terrence scoffed.

“Very well,” Mom said. “You're off the hook this time, Fluffy.” She returned downstairs.

My father picked up the old book. “You guys still like this old thing?”

“Well, yeah. I wish…” I looked away. “I wish life were like that. The..story.”

My Dad suddenly turned serious. He turned, walking out, mumbling under his breath. “Be careful what you wish for, Minnie.”

“Ok,” Terrence butt in, “I've never seen your father act like that, and I've been around him for years.”

“I'm sure it's nothing. May have just had a bad day at work.” I said. “Come on, Ter. Let's do homework.”

------------

“Have a great day at school, dear!” My mom smiled from the doorway.

I walked down the street and met up with Terrence at the bus stop. We quietly boarded the yellow bus and tried for another day, to be invisible.

Terrence laughed as we headed to 4th Period. It was just after lunch, when he made me laugh so hard the chocolate milk I was drinking went through my nose.

Rumors were spreading of a new student, and I was excited yet scared of who they were. I secretly hoped they were nice - not many were in this school.

We heard a noise up ahead.

“Your empty, ugly kind should do us all a favor, and just die!”

Terrence pulled me close to the wall and out of sight. “Minnie!” He whisper - yelled. “Bullies, 3 O’Clock!”

We were quiet. Perfectly still. We blended into the wall. We... disappeared.

I moved to get a better view of the situation. The three blondes who picked on us - we called them Right, Left, and Middle depending in the black moles in their cheeks - were standing over a blonde girl. Her hair was in a slight bob, clear white skin, and piercing pink eyes. She wore a grey hoodie pulled over her head, and a pair of ripped blue jeans.

“Shut up, you dirty blondes!” She yelled. “Give me my backpack, or else!”

Middle held the black leather backpack high in the air. She smirked. “Ha!” She laughed. She turned to Left and Right. “You hear that, ladies? New girl thinks she's a threat.” She stared down at the poor girl. “You...you are nothing. Just a small pest to live...to serve...and to die.”

She had Right hold the bag as the girl tried fighting Middle. “Oh, please. How pathetic.” Middle pushed the girl into the wall. She got down to her face. 

“I want you to remember this moment, anytime that you think you'll be anything other than the strange alien that you are!”

SLAP!

Middle stood, holding her reddened cheek. “Why, you little pest! I'll make you pay!”

She held the girl up by her throat, back pressed against the wall.

I...I dunno what came over me. Seeing that poor girl...it just filled me with rage.

To Terrence's dismay I stepped out into the hall. Right noticed me right away. “Here comes the worm, ladies! And look! She wants to defend one of her kind.”

Middle's ears perked up at that, and threw the beaten girl on the ground. She stared down at her with a mighty rage. “Don't you dare think about moving a muscle. Got it?”

From her injuries, I don't think she could if she wanted to.

“Leave. Her. Alone.” I said. My fists clenched at my side. Left laughed and tried to push me, but I quickly stopped her hand. I would've been in awe about that combat skill, but I was just so full of anger at these three, I barely noticed, and hazily remember.

“I said,” I yelled as I punched her. “Leave her ALONE!”

I punched her so hard she hit the wall. The anger started to dissipate as Terrence grabbed my hand and the blonde girl's and ran.

I don't remember much about that. Just running and...and tears. I was tired. So, so very tired. It felt from one punch, all the energy from my body just...vanished.

“Minnie! Minnie, wake up!” I wake up slowly. Terrence is shaking me. “Thank God.”

“What...what the heck just happened?!” I say.

“Wait….you don't remember?” 

“It's just all...fuzzy.”

“You punched Middle right into the wall! Left and Right ran away, probably to tattle. That was freaking amazing!”

The blonde girl was quiet. She finally spoke. “Hey, uh...thanks for saving my butt back there. I'm new here, and...yeah.” She quickly got up. “Sorry to cause you two trouble.”

“Really, it's nothing.” I insist. “We aliens have to stick together, right?”

She smiled. “I'm...I'm Rose, by the way. I hope to see you two around.” 

“Same.” I say.

She quickly got back inside the building. Terrence turned to me. “You okay, Minnie?”

He started checking me over.

“I’m really fine, Terrence. I’m just tired.” I look at the sky. “I...I didn’t know I could do that.”

“Ms. Lycan? Mr. Ro’Meave?” said a snappy voice from above. My whole body tensed.

“Ms. Steatserson.” Terrence said.

“You two. With me. NOW.”

Terrence helped me up and I leaned on him as we headed to the principal’s office. I was nervous as he helped me sit down, and gave me a small smile. Middle was in the far right chair, and I in the far left. Terrence sat down in the middle seat.

Ms. Steatserson’s stare went right through me. There was something off about her. I started to sweat. Middle held her arm and cried, or fake cried, I should say. Terrence held my hand. He knew how I am around teachers.

“Now,” Ms. Steatserson said. “I want the truth, and nothing but the truth here. Understand?” We all nodded. She looked around the room. “I have a heavily damaged wall, and hospital bills to worry about. I am VERY low on patience right now.”

“Ms. Steatserson,” Terrence said. “I am sure that we ALL know everyone’s history here. Is this really a question of truth?”

“Mr. Ro’Meave, should I look on the cameras, or will someone fess up?” She looked straight at me. “Or should I have your parents come down and tell you off themselves?”

We all went completely silent. Middle spoke up. “I don’t see why I’M here. I’m the victim! She punched me into the FREAKING WALL!”

Ms. Steatserson stood and pounded her hand on her desk. “HOLD YOUR TONGUE, Ms. Valentine!”

Middle went silent.

“Now,” she said, “someone tell me, or I will call your parents.”

“I was defending a girl! A innocent, helpless girl! Diana here would’ve left her in worst shape if I hadn’t stepped in!” I blurted out.

“And, Ms. Lycan, how do you know this? What evidence do you have?” She snapped.

“She and her gang have bullied us for years!” Terrence yelled.

“LIARS!” Middle yelled. “To even think that I-”

“THAT’S IT!” Ms. Steatserson yelled. “I’m calling your parents! Clearly no one here is mature enough to sort this out!” She pointed to the door. “Sit outside, all of you!”

[wardencommanderrodimiss]

Witches, Chapter 9: snippets of a day at the WAA, except the day is April 20, and nobody’s making weed jokes because all of them but Athena have something else to associate with this particular day.

Actually Clay’s making weed jokes but he doesn’t work here. You don’t even go here!

[Seelie of Kurain Chapter Masterlist] [ao3]

[Witches Chapter Masterlist] [ao3]

----

Apollo wakes in the morning, before his alarm, to the refrain of “I’m Clay Terran and I’m fine!”, which means that he isn’t fine, at all, and also that Apollo isn’t going back to sleep even if he had time. 

He rolls out of bed and pads into the kitchen in time to watch Clay, considering the coffee maker on the counter, turn away from it and grab an energy drink out of the fridge. “Rough work week so far?” he asks.

“Not your level yet,” Clay replies, “but pretty damn close.” He cracks the can open and drinks from it for four entire consecutive seconds. “The director’s been getting progressively more unhinged since Monday morning, and then that gets Mr Starbuck anxious, and then there’s a feedback loop, and then yesterday I was around to get to hear the director and one of the robotics engineers yelling at each other and she told him to go fuck himself - which, honestly iconic, you go, Aura, do it for all of us—” He pauses for breath and another sip of caffeine. “But it’s. Y’know. Not good, all considered.”

“Sometimes I feel like you shouldn’t be telling me all this,” Apollo says with a laugh.

Clay shrugs. “Whatever, dude - you know the director and Mr Starbuck, and I’ve only signed NDAs for tech stuff and the like. Nothing about fun personnel, uh—” He waves a hand and nearly knocks over a glass that was left on the counter by the sink. “Eccentricities. Anyway I hope you didn’t want to eat before work, because we have caffeine, and that is it.”

Apollo nods. He was supposed to do the grocery shopping on Sunday. Then Trucy dragged him out and it turned into three exhausting days of chasing yokai.

And the chase isn’t over, either. He’s relieved, the part of him that isn’t hypocritical and dead; ease his conscience for the low low price of tramping through the woods to find an actual giant bird monster and being forever afraid of how Blackquill managed to eavesdrop on that conversation. (He would swear Taka wasn’t there until it was.) That, and the higher price of knowing that it took the chief prosecutor to get them to move, that without him, and Blackquill, Apollo would’ve just stayed laying in the dirt. Athena might’ve gone mad, though.

“Maybe I’ll just get brunch at Eldoon’s,” Apollo says.

Clay feigns gagging, which turns into a real cough when he tries to stop too quickly. “It’s what you’d deserve.”

Apollo flips him off as he leaves the kitchen to shower and do his hair; Clay remains there to get caffeinated and scream. He has migrated to the living room when Apollo returns with dried and gelled spikes. “You know what day today is?” Clay asks.

All month, Apollo watched the calendar, watching the date come closer and closer. The twentieth of April, and a year ago, something. “The anniversary of me getting my boss arrested and starting down a path that ends with me working at the world’s worst law office, and you driving us on a road trip to pull a soul out of a tree stump?”

Clay blinks. “Dude,” he says. “No. It’s the day that we’re obligated to make stoner jokes even if you’ve never snorted a weed in your lives. Four-twenty bl—”

“Fuck you,” Apollo interrupts, very solemnly. Clay cackles. “‘Snorted a weed’, are you serious—”

Clay throws his empty can at him. Apollo catches it and hurls it back, missing Clay entirely and bouncing it off the coffee table. “Trying to give you something to think about that isn’t how fucked your life got this time last year! You’re welcome, dude!” Apollo snorts. “Or I’d try to regale you with more stories about the Center imploding but we’d be here for the rest of our lives.”

“Oh.” It’s not the route that Apollo would go for distraction, but that’s because he isn’t Clay, and that’s how they manage to be both best friends and a mostly-functioning household. “I’m gonna pass on that when I see Trucy, though. Not sure the thought counts when it’s weed jokes but her biological dad’s death was the thing happening last year.”

“Hard pass,” Clay agrees. “Just scream for a while.” He snaps his fingers. “It worked for us!” 

It wasn’t the twentieth, though, Zak’s death. It was a few days before: a weekend interim, and Apollo notified late Sunday night that Phoenix Wright wanted him to head up his defense. He slept for about four and a half hours. And if he remembers correctly, the actual date of Zak Gramarye’s death, in the early hours of the morning, was the seventeenth. 

And surely Trucy remembers that. A few days ago she would’ve started thinking of that. A few days ago - the seventeenth, Sunday, she called him up and told him he had a job and that job was coming with her to Nine-Tails Vale. Was that her choice of distraction - which makes him her choice of company. Because Jinxie was working, and Athena wasn’t here yet and Phoenix was picking her up. But surely Trucy has other friends?

(But Apollo’s the one who knows. Just like with Klavier; coincidentally, someone else Apollo needs to check in with on this particular day.)

“When does screaming not work?” Apollo asks, going to get the grocery list from the kitchen so that he can deal with it after work, try to set his life back to a normal schedule.

-

Trucy lies on the couch, her feet dangling over the arm, already there in the office under the dimmed lights when Apollo walks in. “Hey,” she says, without moving, without looking up, and most worryingly, without the mask of a smile forced onto her face.

Apollo drops his briefcase next to the other couch, unwilling to bother getting to his desk right now. “Hey,” he replies, sinking down into the cushions. The lights flicker like a blink and have a warmer tone to them on their return. 

Trucy’s hands unclasp and the blue mitamah falls onto her chest. “We met a year ago today, remember?” As if Apollo could forget. She handed him a playing card and he stepped out of one world into the next. 

“I didn’t know who you were that day, though,” Apollo says. A girl in a top hat handing him suspicious evidence; that’s the way Phoenix fell, too. 

“Yeah, Daddy didn’t tell me your name either,” Trucy says. Of course he didn’t. It stings more than it should. “Said to give it to the red guy with the hair and the bracelet.”

So those are his most prominent characteristics - those and his voice. “I see,” Apollo says, spinning his bracelet around his wrist. Trucy watches with big staring eyes, the mitamah back cradled in her hands. So damn complicated for both of them. “This bracelet was my mother’s,” he says. Clay knows this, Clay and no one else in this hemisphere. “It’s the only thing I have from her or know about her.”

Trucy blinks. She raises her head up an inch and falls back. “Not even her name?” Apollo shakes his head. “My mother’s name was Thalassa.” This, Apollo knows. Phoenix told him. “Everything I know about her, someone had to tell me. Daddy, my other daddy, didn’t like to talk about her, but Uncle Valant said that she had the most beautiful singing voice and that’s why I’m so good at it too.” Pause. Looks away from Apollo, again opening her hands to ponder the mitamah. “I can sometimes hear this - humming, kind of? Like some faint echo voice. Like she’s still trying to sing to me.”

Apollo can only remember how unnerving he found the sound. Unnerving, and more unnerving for the way he wanted to keep listening. A siren’s song, reeling him in. Better not to say that. Better to let Trucy just have any comfort she can take from it. 

She closes her eyes, faced turned to the ceiling. “I want to be a stage magician,” she says. “Like Uncle Valant. Do tricks that entertain people, not trick them to hurt them and be selfish. He made a career out of it alone for seven years. Sort of. Somewhat.” Her eyes open, remaining fixed above her. “But I bet I could. I just have to find my audience here. My Youtube audience is good but not really enough, but I bet I can make a niche. Like you have a niche, all the most impossible and complicated cases.”

Her tone is that of talking to herself, of talking without wanting response. Apollo leans against the arm of the couch. Not even 8:30 in the morning and they’re both exhausted and sad. What a week, and only half done. “Like we generalize that people in LA don’t trust magic but that’s just a generalization, you know? I want a spotlight. Disappearing acts, escape the coffin before the sword goes through - all that. Not just like Uncle Valant did, working in the wings for Lamiroir and Prosecutor Gavin.” She finally props herself up on her elbow. “I wondered if Prosecutor Gavin brought Uncle Valant on to try and ask him about Daddy’s last case, when Daddy disappeared. But that would be a really sneaky thing to do and Prosecutor Gavin is too pretty to be that sneaky.”

“You think so?” Apollo asks. “I think he knows he can get away with it because he’s pretty and everyone’s too distracted by that.” In a literal magic way. He’s pretty because he’s sneaky, and sneaky because he’s pretty, all because he’s glamourous. And all it cost him was his birthright. 

“Are you texting him?” Trucy pushes herself up the whole way, her eyes narrowed and assessing whether she can leap the coffee table between them to rip the phone from his hands. “Don’t tell him I said that!”

“I’m not telling him you said that!” Apollo is too complicit in that to be able to mention it. “You just reminded me that I was going to tell him about this last case.”

“That’s gonna be a really long text,” Trucy says. 

“It’s not like I’m gonna put the entire trial transcription in it!”

You would not believe the case I just went through.  Also, have you ever met prosecutor Blackquill?

“It’d be simpler to ask him on a date and just tell him about it.”

“I’m not doing that.”

“Why not?” Trucy leans forward and Apollo instinctively presses his back into the couch and pulls his phone close. He can only begin to imagine what she would do if she got her hands on it. “You’d be able to see how he’s doing with…” She swallows and slumps backwards. “Y’know.”

He does, and speaks past a lump in his throat. “Yeah.”

All three of them, inextricably linked. And Apollo should be the one who has it together, at least relatively speaking, in this regard. It wasn’t his family. 

(Just reminds him of it. Take solace in the fact that Nahyuta and I look nothing alike. Don’t think about the fact that Dhurke looked nothing like Nahyuta, either.)

-

Athena whirls into the office at 9:05 am with what Apollo now understands is her base-level excitability. He and Trucy cleaned up the residual evidence of their feelings before she arrived, anticipating her arrival. Lock it all away; Athena doesn’t need to know what they’ve been through. Trucy reattaches her smile; Apollo shoves his phone back into his pocket. “Am I late?” Athena asks, stumbling straight into the couch. “I’m sorry! It won’t happen again!” 

“You’re not late unless Daddy’s here before you,” Trucy says. “No need to apologize! We’re all friends here!”

Athena, beaming now, ventures further into the room, her eyes casting around with the same attentiveness she used for a crime scene. Her gaze lingers on the portrait of Zak above the piano, and then the piano itself, table as it is for Trucy’s smallest stage-magic props and a small half-finished canvas that Vera left the last time she came to visit and they ended up playing blackjack instead of Trucy doing her homework and Vera her painting. That was two weeks ago. Not much gets done promptly if it isn’t for a case. “Do we have desks or do we just work from the couches?” Athena asks. “Because I mean, I totally—”

“Next room,” Apollo says. 

“Oh,” Trucy says, suddenly downcast. “That means I don’t have a desk anymore.”

“You never use a desk,” Apollo says. “You just work on the floor.”

“Oh,” Trucy says again, brighter now, and she follows Athena back to the desks to point her to the right one. “Yeah. I do. Anyway!” Athena dumps her bag on what is now her desk. “Welcome to the Wright Anything Agency, Athena! I was planning a speech over the weekend and then the case happened and you weren’t even at the office, so I’ve forgotten it by now. But that’s the WAA way! That’s Daddy and Polly’s court style, make it up as they go!”

“I resent that statement,” Apollo says. 

“Yeah, I saw it right from the bench these past two days!” Athena doesn’t sit down in the chair and instead hops up onto her desk, kicking her heels off the side of it. “I kept thinking we didn’t know anything and we were gonna sink, and then bam! Apollo’s turned it all around again!”

“That’s what he does best!”

“Ah,” Apollo says. The girls both grin at him, this once, alarmingly sincere. “Th-thanks.” He’d rather be properly equipped for a major case, the way he’s occasionally fortunate to get a client not accused of murder, and so not have a worrying number of adrenaline spikes per court session - but he’ll take what he can get.

“Speaking of court,” Trucy adds, crossing the room and flinging herself into Phoenix’s desk chair, the momentum rolling her back into the wall, “Daddy said that we’ve got to track down the real Tenma Taro now, too?”

“He mentioned that?” Apollo’s heart leaps back up to his throat. And just after he had his confidence bolstered, too. 

(Phoenix came back from the Prosecutors Office and called it “an unfortunate necessity”, but none of them could argue that it wasn’t a necessity. For their consciences; for the proper administration of justice; for the safety of the entire town of Nine-Tails Vale. Mayor Tenma might be its guardian wrestler-yokai, but he’s also the mayor of Tenma Town, and herding a yokai back to its prison is not a one-man job. Phoenix and his fae friends have the plan, or will at some point; depending on how much demonic activity they see out of the Vale, the timetable will move up or down. “Ideally, we deal with it in June, wait for the summer solstice,” he had said. “Fae powers fluctuate some with the seasons; yokai shouldn’t be much different. Hit it when it’s weakest, if we’re lucky.”)

“A little bit.” Trucy shrugs. “But I can help too! I’ve never known anything to get out of my panties if I didn’t want it too, so if we need a more secure place than the Forbidden Chamber—”

“Why did they have to be magic panties?” Apollo asks. “Why couldn’t it be magic literally anything else?”

“Don’t look a pair of gift panties in the waistband—”

“Enough!”

-

Phoenix arrives some time after 11, bleary-eyed though he has coffee in hand. “‘Morning, everyone,” he says, sounding as dead as he looks. He blinks a few times. “Athena. Truce. Apollo, how’re you doing?”

Is that question just for him or all of them, and Apollo the last to be listed? He wouldn’t know how to answer that question today were it anyone else asking, either. “Uh, fine,” he says. Phoenix’s eyes narrow slightly and drift around Apollo, assessing him in some way. “Except for the part where Athena’s making us up a workout regime to prepare for yokai-fighting.”

There is a moment's delay, Phoenix still pondering him, and then the words must finally hit and he laughs. “Athena,” he says, “are you really trying to get everyone in on punching Tenma Taro?”

“No!” she says indignantly. “It’s a couch-to-5k plan, basically. So that everyone’s got enough stamina to run away from yokai when we have to bait it out, and then you can run a race with me after!”

“We’re not using people as bait,” Phoenix says. “Overruled.” Athena raises her hand like they’re in a classroom and Phoenix is their teacher and not a lenient boss and absent mentor. “No, not even if you’re volunteering to be the bait.”

Athena lowers her hand. 

-

3:43 pm, Apollo’s phone buzzes, removing him from the outskirts of Trucy and Athena’s discussion, continued from the prior afternoon, about how one actually manages to purchase a vehicle (they don’t know) and heckling Phoenix for not having a driver’s license. At this point Apollo realizes he doesn’t know how or if Athena is driving legally in America and decides that he’s rather glad for any distraction.

-heard some unfortunates had to face him -you and fraulein??

Something about the messages bothers him, something he can’t put his finger on. 

Not Trucy. Agency has a new girl who just passed the Bar and she and I had to deal with the crazy magic murder samurai. Everything about it felt like an unplanned hazing ritual

He expects an answer right away; once Klavier starts talking, he usually keeps going. A minute ticks past, then another. Apollo figures out what isn’t right. Fraülein isn’t properly accented. Klavier usually takes more care than that. Appearances are too important to him, even - or maybe especially - when Apollo can’t see him.

Another minute. Apollo doesn’t look at the calendar. He looks at Phoenix, hunched over some books to study for the Bar, as Athena recalls as much as she can about taking it earlier in the year, in Europe. Her, speeding along in her career, and him, trying to make up for seven years of lost time that never should have been.

Apollo sends another text.

Are you all right?

(It’s not too presumptuous a question to ask off of one typo, not today, and not when they both know full well that through text, Klavier can lie to him.)

-

Phoenix leaves not long after four, telling the girls now that he’s actually trying to read, they are far too loud and distracting and he’s going somewhere quieter. Apollo assumes he must mean his apartment, except Phoenix doesn’t take any books with him, and Trucy shouts, “Say hi to Mr Edgeworth for me!” so she obviously knows or guessed something more than Apollo could.

“And me!” Athena adds. “Wait, what happens if we get a client in the next hour and you’re not here?”

“You were emailing Edgeworth this morning,” Phoenix says to her. “Didn’t you include ‘hi’ anywhere in there? Anyway, you’ve got Apollo. Unless you think there’s magic involved, I’m not the one to ask for help.”

He waves over his shoulder and closes the door, leaving Trucy plunking away without rhythm at the piano and Athena wincing at each new out-of-tune note. And Apollo, waiting.

-

“I’m co-opting your office for study space, since you’re the one who’s pushed me into this,” Phoenix says. 

“All right,” Edgeworth says, which is the lack of reaction that disappoints Phoenix even though he expects it because they’re adults now and Edgeworth keeps himself so much more tightly guarded, except where his ability to fold paper cranes is concerned, still. Then he meets Phoenix’s eyes and a shadow crosses his face, left over from their conversation yesterday. Should I bring it up again, this matter of trust? that expressions asks, and then the decision, no, and the lines between Edgeworth’s brows smooth out some. “How’s Trucy doing?”

He had asked the other day, too, and the answer is still the same. “She’s been pretending that nothing happened, that there’s no significance to these past few days, even to me.” Phoenix sighs and slumps deeper into the couch. “I know she always opens up to me when she’s ready, but…” She might not. She hasn’t let him in to her thoughts about Zak beyond that one night after she and Apollo found Thalassa’s soul. He doesn’t know if there’s more than love and grief, if her feelings are turning conflicted. 

(Phoenix’s opinion of Zak isn’t conflicted. Neither is Edgeworth’s.)

“And Apollo’s hung up on it all too,” Phoenix adds. It was written plain on his face, if the Psyche-Locks when he said he was fine weren’t indication enough. (Though the one of the three did break when he talked about Athena’s hoped-for running regime.) “And I’m pretty sure I’m the worst person to talk to him about anything, and if I try I’ll dig myself deeper in his opinion.” Hell, forget saying anything. Existing around Apollo is probably a jackhammer to the bedrock at the bottom of the grave Phoenix has dug. Best to stay out of his way, let him and Athena now do their thing. He’s a smart kid. He’ll be fine. 

Phoenix doesn’t like the expression that Edgeworth is making again and pivots quickly to something he meant to ask at some point anyway. “And how’s this side of things holding up?”

“You don’t need to be so obtuse in asking,” Edgeworth says. “Gavin’s seemed fine. I lightened his case load last week and this, anyway, to give him room to breathe if he needs it.”

“That’s kind of you,” Phoenix says. Edgeworth’s frown returns, deeper than before, as though the implication is that he usually isn’t. “I’m glad you’re not holding a grudge.” 

(“Anymore” is the word they both know fits silently at the end of that sentence.)

“With the information I was given, you understand why I drew such a conclusion,” Edgeworth says. 

(And “if you had let me in, I would have acted differently” hangs in the air, a ghost over them both.)

Phoenix picks himself up to go investigate the law tomes on Edgeworth’s shelves. “I know.”

(The punchline: “And I’m not sorry because I’m afraid Kristoph would have killed you if you tried to get involved.” And then the words he won’t ever say, “I’d spend seven more lifetimes disbarred and disgraced than risk losing you again.”)

Behind him, Edgeworth sighs. And all he says is, “Though Gavin did call out today. I’m not sure that’s a good sign.”

“No,” Phoenix agrees. “I’m not either.” His hand twitches to move toward his phone instead the books in front of him. Give Apollo a call, tell him to check in on that. 

But he’s pretty sure Apollo wouldn’t appreciate him micromanaging his personal relationships, either. (Any more than he’s already given him nudges regarding Klavier. The way he wishes someone had nudged him to reach out to Edgeworth, not that he’s sure if Edgeworth back then would have accepted the offered hand.)

You can’t save everyone, whispers the bitter voice of his hard heart, calcified from years of drowning. Pick a priority, it sneers. Stop bleeding for every sad sorry soul that comes your way. Athena. Klavier. Vera. Blackquill’s blacked-out case file on his desk, not so much for him but for Edgeworth, who hopes they can piece the legal system back together if they just keep digging. 

And for once, he tells that voice to shut up, because if he can bleed he’s still alive. That’s how he can even know he is - not that he’s necessarily still human, but that he’s anything at all. 

-

“Do we have food at home?” Athena asks.

“We did,” Trucy says. “And it was enough for Daddy and me for a week. And you ate it all the past three days.”

It’s like in high school, in the last class of the day, with just a few minutes left on the clock and everyone getting antsy. Except it’s a law office, even if Athena is the age to still be in high school, and Trucy is still in high school. And yeah, maybe at the end of the day sometimes in the Gavin Law Office, some of them would be itching to go home. But they’d never dare show it. And Apollo still feels culture shock, sometimes, both from the memory of working for Kristoph, and from his concept of what he’s pretty sure a law office should be like.

He’s mostly used to it, mostly. It’s just odd, to have Athena here - another actual lawyer here. Like she’s part of an attempt to make this into a respectable business, but nothing else has changed.

“So what you’re saying is that as soon as we’re out of here I need to go buy more chicken,” Athena says.

“You want to do my grocery shopping too?” Apollo asks. “You’ve got the car for transporting it all.”

“If you give me your credit card, sure.” Athena’s grin says, in bold type, that she should absolutely not be trusted with anyone’s credit card.

“No.”

She blinks at him with poorly feigned innocence. “But that’s the fair way to do it, if some of your groceries are gonna be taking up the trunk space that I need to use for chicken.”

“How much chicken are you buying?” Apollo asks.

“I need protein for my workouts!”

“I can’t believe you got a gym membership here before you even looked for an apartment.” Trucy raises her eyebrow at him. Apollo considers what he just said and lays it against everything he knows of his new coworker. “Actually, I can,” he amends, and he has to laugh with her at her obvious pride in this fact.

She’ll be nice to have around. Good company. It gets quiet when Trucy isn’t around, and when it’s quiet he has even more time to wonder, to ask questions of people who he’ll never again see to answer them. And sometimes in the quiet he finds himself talking out loud, knowing there’s someone listening and not knowing how much capacity she has to repeat what he’s said. She can flicker lights and shatter mirrors; can she use a keyboard? An ouija board?

He likes the prospect of always having someone around who can talk back, even if he won’t be saying to Athena anything like the ponderings he’s put to Mia. 

“We’re heading out,” Trucy says. “It’s not quite five but I’m the boss here.”

“Okay,” Apollo says. “I’m trying to finish writing up what happened this case.”

“How’s that going?” Trucy asks. 

Apollo frowns at his journal and the ink that’s smudging in his haste to write. “It makes even less sense to me this way.”

“Oh, I’m glad I’m not the only one getting more confused trying to remember what all we just did,” Athena says. “What a needlessly convoluted murder plan.” She lingers with her foot propping the door open after Trucy has already gone out. “See you tomorrow! Good luck with your grocery shopping! Just remember I offered!”

“You offered to commit credit card fraud!”

The door closing doesn’t fully muffle her laughter. Apollo returns to his desk, finds that he’d left his phone there and in the fifteen minutes he had slowly migrated up to the front room with the girls, he missed several strings of messages, all from one particular person.

-have you ever been to kitaskis bakery -pretty sure its not even a money laundering fromt -but if it is its the best front I’ve eaten at -love to say it wins by being the only but - :| -lets not talk about that

He’s pretty sure that between the lines, all these read “not all right”. He keeps scrolling. The next set are timestamped just five minutes later.

-Vongole was mad I wouldnt give her muffin -so she ate salt packets -threw up the salt pakcets -now sticking her head in every trash can in the park -will update you if she finds panties -if she does I think this parkr is cursed -even if she doesn’t

Apollo closes his eyes and leans his head back until the ceiling lights bleed bright through his eyelids. He did ask, and here, the answer. Tossing his journal and pen in a drawer and deciding he’ll deal with the write-up tomorrow, he grabs his bag and heads for the door. If Athena isn’t arriving late unless she gets there after Phoenix, then Apollo isn’t leaving early if he’s the last to leave. 

The lights in the room blink out before he hits the switch, but when he looks back, they spring back on and again flicker off, like a question. “Yeah, I’m done for the day,” Apollo says. The blinds drop down over the windows and hit the sills with a loud clattering sound that makes him jump. Whether she meant to startle him or not, he has the urge to explain to her, justify himself. Better to be safe. Better to be sure. “Gavin’s finally lost his mind, I think.” 

He waves his phone screen at the ceiling. He has no idea how she knows what’s happening in the office, whether she can see everything or hear or something else, but he’s found himself imitating Phoenix, orienting himself toward the ceiling to address her. Their office, a shrine, and she, their patron god. The Holy Mother of the Wright Anything Agency.

The front door swings open for him, and the rest of the office darkens behind him.

[twoidiotwriters1]

Written In The Stars CXXI (Harry Potter xF!Oc)

A/N: The second half of the book starts here! If you’re scared, that’s great you should be -Danny

Words: 4,070

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Listen to: ‘Every Time You Walk Away’ -by D.A. Wallach

Chapter Nineteen: Waiting.

"What do you mean you felt it?" Ron asked her as they made their way to the Headmaster's office.

"It's a long story. I don't even know if I'm allowed to talk about it..."

"You bolted into the room and knew exactly what was happening to Harry, how?" He frowned.

"Can we talk about this later?" She retorted hastily. "I promise I'll tell you everything but please, don't push it, my head is pounding..."

Once inside the office, she heard her uncle's voice coming from the desk.

"Oh, it's you, Professor McGonagall... and... ah."

Mel was surprised to see he was wide awake.

"Professor Dumbledore, Potter has had a... well, a nightmare," said Professor McGonagall. "He says..."

"It wasn't a nightmare," said Harry. "Mel felt it too."

"Very well, then, Potter," McGonagall said, "you tell the headmaster about it."

"I... well, I was asleep... But it wasn't an ordinary dream... it was real... I saw it happen... Ron's dad — Mr Weasley — has been attacked by a giant snake."

Dumbledore avoided at all cost to lock eyes with Harry and directed his gaze to her.

"And you saw it too, you say? Like last time?"

Ron looked at her even more intrigued than before, Mel ignored him.

"Not exactly. I woke up but I was in Harry's bed... I was Harry, like last time," She said clumsily. "But I only felt the pain, I didn't saw his dream until I woke up and went to his room."

"How?"

"I... er..." Mel shrunk in her place, not sure if she was allowed to use her powers like that. "I used Legilimancy."

"How did you see this?" Dumbledore asked, and though he wasn't looking at him, it was obvious the question wasn't directed at the girl.

"Well... I don't know," said Harry, and she heard the tone of annoyance in his voice. "Inside my head, I suppose —"

"You misunderstand me. I mean... can you remember — er — where you were positioned as you watched this attack happen? Were you perhaps standing beside the victim, or else looking down on the scene from above?"

Harry and Mel shared a look. Then he looked back at the Headmaster and continued.

"I was the snake. I saw it all from the snake's point of view..."

Ron held onto her arm in a way he'd never done before, she felt him shaking, now almost as sick as Harry.

"Is Arthur seriously injured?" Dumbledore said.

"Yes," said Harry tensely.

Dumbledore stood up abruptly and the three students jumped back, he reached one side of the office in four large steps and talked to one of the portraits.

"Everard? And you too, Dilys! You were listening?"

"Naturally," Nodded the witch.

"The man has red hair and glasses. Everard, you will need to raise the alarm, make sure he is found by the right people —" He turned around and went straight to the perch were Fawkes was sleeping. "Everard and Dilys were two of Hogwarts's most celebrated Heads, their renown is such that both have portraits hanging in other important Wizarding institutions. As they are free to move between their own portraits they can tell us what may be happening elsewhere..."

"But Mr Weasley could be anywhere!" Harry exclaimed.

"Please sit down, all three of you," Dumbledore continued without paying attention. "Everard and Dilys may not be back for several minutes... Professor McGonagall, if you could draw up extra chairs..."

Professor McGonagall obeyed, and Mel forced Ron to sit down and to let go of her arm, it was starting to feel numb. Fawkes woke up with one gentle touch from the Headmaster, the bird tilted his head and stared at him.

"We will need a warning."

Fawkes vanished in a flash of flames. The old man picked up one of the instruments Mel had yet to learn how to use and placed it in front of them, tiny puffs of smoke rose until they formed the shape of a massive snake, Dumbledore stared at it in concentration.

"Naturally, naturally... But in essence divided?" He mumbled to himself.

The figure then split in two, and Dumbledore made the same expression he'd made when he found out about Mel's bursts of energy. She'd seen that enough times to know one of his theories had been confirmed, and he wasn't pleased. Her uncle tapped the instrument, and the snakes vanished.

"Mel," Ron called, his voice growing impatient and anxious. "What's going on?"

Mel hushed him, but tried to be gentle about it, she'd be acting way worse if this were about her mother; the girl reached for his hand and squeezed gently.

"Dumbledore!" Everard appeared in his portrait again.

"What news?" Dumbledore urged him.

"I yelled until someone came running, said I'd heard something moving downstairs — they weren't sure whether to believe me but went down to check — you know there are no portraits down there to watch from. Anyway, they carried him up a few minutes later. He doesn't look good, he's covered in blood, I ran along to Elfrida Cragg's portrait to get a good view as they left —"

Mel hissed at the way Ron's hand tightened around hers, but she didn't pull away.

"Good," Dumbledore nodded, but Mel didn't know how that could be considered something 'good'. "I take it Dilys will have seen him arrive, then —"

"Yes, they've taken him to St. Mungo's, Dumbledore," Gasped the witch as soon as she came back. "They carried him past under my portrait... He looks bad..."

"Thank you," Dumbledore looked at McGonagall. "Minerva, I need you to go and wake the other Weasley children."

"Of course... And Dumbledore — what about Molly?"

"That will be a job for Fawkes when he has finished keeping a lookout for anybody approaching, But she may already know... that excellent clock of hers..."

"Merlin..." The girl pushed a few locks of hair away from her face.

"Mel, come help me for a moment," The man told her from one of the cupboards behind his desk.

She got up immediately.

"What do you need?"

He handed her two books as he spoke.

"When you entered his mind, did you see anyone else standing next to Arthur or the snake?" He whispered.

"No," She replied.

"And when you touched him," He lowered his voice, she could barely hear what he was saying. "Did he feel... like himself?"

"What?"

"Could you perceive any traces of dark magic in him?"

"I..." Mel tried to recall what she felt when touching his skin, but she couldn't remember anything. "No... he felt like Harry. I mean, I could tell he was angry and scared, and worried... but it was him."

"Very well," He gave her one more book before speaking. "I see your Legilimancy lessons are working, those are greats news. I need you to give me your memories of his dream," He handed her a small bottle. "You know how."

"Ron heard me telling McGonagall that I felt Harry's... That I'm linked to Harry. He'll ask questions..."

"I can't stop you from sharing the information, but please be careful with whom you share it. Now please, the memory..."

Mel pulled out her wand from her pocket and touched her temple with the tip, slowly pulling and guiding the silver stream all the way to the tiny bottle. She tapped on it once and a cork appeared at the top, keeping the memory from spilling. At the same time, Dumbledore placed a black kettle in the middle of the desk, he mumbled 'Portus' and it shone blue for a few seconds before going back to its normal battered look.

"Phineas. Phineas." Dumbledore called to the portrait that had scolded her a year prior.

The portrait did not answer until most of the others were yelling at him too.

"Phineas! Phineas! PHINEAS!"

He jumped in his place, pretending to wake up abruptly. "Did someone call?"

"I need you to visit your other portrait again, Phineas. I've got another message."

"Visit my other portrait?" He yawned. "Oh no, Dumbledore, I am too tired tonight..."

"Insubordination, sir!" One of the portraits exclaimed. "Dereliction of duty!"

"We are honour-bound to give service to the present Headmaster of Hogwarts!" Professor Dippet shouted from his place. "Shame on you, Phineas!"

"Shall I persuade him, Dumbledore?"

"Oh, very well," Phineas grumbled, "though he may well have destroyed my picture by now, he's done most of the family —"

"Sirius knows not to destroy your portrait," said Dumbledore. Mel gave a start at the mention of the man. "You are to give him the message that Arthur Weasley has been gravely injured and that his wife, children, my niece and Harry Potter will be arriving at his house shortly. Do you understand?"

"Arthur Weasley, injured, wife and children, niece and Harry Potter coming to stay," Phineas sighed. "Yes, yes... very well..."

The door behind them opened and the rest of the Weasleys walked in ahead of McGonagall.

"What's going on?" Ginny stared at her. "Professor McGonagall says you and Harry saw Dad hurt —"

"Your father has been injured in the course of his work for the Order of the Phoenix," said Dumbledore quickly. "He has been taken to St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. I am sending you back to Sirius's house, which is much more convenient for the hospital than the Burrow. You will meet your mother there."

"How're we going?" asked Fred, looking dazzled. "Floo powder?"

"No, Floo powder is not safe at the moment, the Network is being watched. You will be taking a Portkey. We are just waiting for Phineas Nigellus to report back... I wish to be sure that the coast is clear before sending you —"

There was a flash above their heads and Mel jumped, holding onto Ron's side and watching as the feather fell next to them.

"It is Fawkes's warning," said Dumbledore, grabbing the feather. "She must know you're out of your beds... Minerva, go and head her off — tell her any story —"

Professor McGonagall left the office without saying another word.

"He says he'll be delighted," Phineas was finally back. "My great-great-grandson has always had odd taste in houseguests..."

"Come here, then," Dumbledore urged them. "And quickly, before anyone else joins us... You have all used a Portkey before? Good. On the count of three then... one... two..."

A wave of pain crashed against her and she held onto the kettle, pushing it back onto the back of her mind. Even if she were to faint at that moment, it would've been impossible for her to fall. She kept it all in, but she found remarkably hard to push Harry's emotions away this time. They felt abnormally aggressive, his thoughts were almost bestial...

She was once again pushed forward and down by the middle, now with the addition of having to struggle with the impossibility of grounding herself when she was literally floating in space. As soon as she felt something firm under her feet, she was welcomed with the frantic insults of Kreacher.

"Back again, the blood traitor brats, is it true their father's dying..?"

"OUT!" Sirius yelled.

Mel was highly disoriented, she was still on the floor and fighting against the pounding on her head, she could see the dim light of the fireplace on her right, the smell hit her face so abruptly that she doubled and threw up, successfully turning off the only source of light in the room.

She heard her mother speak and moments later the lights were on, she kept her eyes close, her body facing the fireplace.

"Mel!" Her mother approached, placing a hand on her back as Mel struggled to breathe. "Move away from the smoke, darling, you're choking..."

"What's going on?" Sirius said behind her. "Phineas Nigellus said Arthur's been badly injured —"

"Ask Harry," said Fred.

"Yeah, I want to hear this for myself," said George.

"I'm fine," Mel mumbled to the woman, her face still hidden. "Seriously, Mum, stop it..."

"It was —I had a — a kind of — vision..." Harry said clumsily.

Mel half-listened to him as he continued, her eyes landed on the kettle, the first time she'd travelled via Portkey hadn't been so brutal to her, this definitely had to do with Harry. But he was fine... then what the hell was happening?

Emily gave up on trying to help her daughter after Mel pushed her away a third time.

"Is Mum here?" Fred asked.

"She probably doesn't even know what's happened yet. The important thing was to get you away before Umbridge could interfere. I expect Dumbledore's letting Molly know now." Sirius explained.

"We've got to go to St. Mungo's," said Ginny decidedly. "Sirius, can you lend us cloaks or anything — ?"

"Hang on, you can't go tearing off to St. Mungo's!" said Sirius.

"'Course we can go to St. Mungo's if we want," said Fred, "he's our dad!"

"And how are you going to explain how you knew Arthur was attacked before the hospital even let his wife know?"

"What does that matter?" said George hotly.

"It matters because we don't want to draw attention to the fact that Harry is having visions of things that are happening hundreds of miles away! Have you any idea what the Ministry would make of that information?"

"Somebody else could have told us... We could have heard it somewhere other than Harry..." Ginny offered.

Mel cleaned the sweat that was dripping from her upper lip and stood up, still facing the wall so she could give herself time to gain control before facing the others, who were too distracted to notice her behaviour. Her head wasn't hurting as much, but there was a massive pressure on the bridge of her nose making it hard to breathe.

"Listen, your dad's been hurt while on duty for the Order and the circumstances are fishy enough without his children knowing about it seconds after it happened, you could seriously damage the Order's —"

"We don't care about the dumb Order!" shouted Fred.

"It's our dad dying we're talking about!" yelled George.

"Guys..." Her voice came out too weak.

"Your father knew what he was getting into, and he won't thank you for messing things up for the Order! This is how it is — this is why you're not in the Order — you don't understand — there are things worth dying for! You would risk everything to keep your family safe!"

"Sirius!" Emily scolded. "We're not having this conversation again!"

"Again..?" Mel stumbled, her back hitting the wall and causing her to grunt.

"Easy for you to say, stuck here!" Fred continued. "I don't see you risking your neck!"

"STOP!" She shouted abruptly. The room trembled slightly, and she had a strange feeling, that it had happened because of her.

Whatever strength she had it fell apart when everyone turned to look at her and stared with wide and frightened expressions at her face.

"Mel!" Emily gasped, rushing back to her.

"What?" She tried to clean the sweat from her face again and when she lifted her hand to do it, she realized there were bloodstains on her sleeve. "What the..?"

Fred, Emily and Sirius all hurried to her side. Harry stood up, but he didn't move. Emily grabbed her chin and lifted it. Sirius frowned.

"Did you hit something when you landed?"

"No, I–" Her mother walked back to the table, giving enough room to Fred so he could examine her injury. "I mean, not that I remember... I..."

"Your nose is bleeding," Fred told her.

Her eyes found Harry's and something clicked. The pounding on her head was now diminishing, but that was probably the reason her nose was now bleeding, because she'd tried to push it in instead of out, and the tension had been too much.

"I'm not in pain," She said. "I mean it— Fred, stop it!"

The boy let go of her face and searched his pockets. Emily came back holding a wet, cold cloth and placed it under Mel's nose. Sirius guided her to a chair and sat her down.

"George," Fred asked urgently. "You got any Nougat on you?"

"Er..." George searched in his pockets and pulled out a tiny piece. "You're in luck..."

The twin threw it and Fred caught it in midair, he split the two parts and held out the purple one for Mel to take.

"Hold on—" Sirius started, but Mel intervened.

"It'll help..." She grabbed the piece and ate it. The candy was also helping with the headache and she silently sighed in relief.

The sudden moment of shared worry for Mel cause Sirius and Fred to go back to their senses, ending their fight.

"Listen..." Fred tried, this time calmer than before.

"I know it's hard," Sirius said, shaking his head. "But we've all got to act as though we don't know anything yet. We've got to stay put, at least until we hear from your mother, all right?"

"Bad news travel fast anyway," Mel replied calmly, leaving the blood-stained cloth on the table. "The longer it takes to know more about him, the better his chances of survival are..."

"Mel," Emily frowned. "Try and be less cynical, can you?"

"It's okay," Ginny sighed.

Ron sat down slowly, George glared at Sirius but didn't insist. Fred also looked annoyed, but he sat down next to Mel, took the cloth and helped Mel to clean her face. Harry hadn't moved, his eyes were fixed on her, he knew he'd caused her bleeding, but Mel was in no mood to be pitied.

"I'm fine," She repeated, stopping Fred's hand and looking at Harry. "I promise."

Harry blinked as if he'd just realized what he was doing and sank back on his chair.

"That's right," said Sirius, he then looked at Emily. "Come on, let's all... let's all have a drink while we're waiting. Accio Butterbeer!"

"I was going to make tea," Emily argued.

"You're in no state to make tea," Sirius said, and something in his voice sounded strangely anxious. "You've received enough shocking news for one night. You need to rest."

The woman crossed her arms. "What are you playing at, Padfoot?"

Sirius glanced at Mel and her friends, then he cleared his throat and insisted.

"Mily, you know what I mean..."

"Oh, to hell with that," Emily rolled her eyes, walking away from the stove. "Fine, let's drink butterbeer..."

"I don't know if you can–"

"I can drink butterbeer, Sirius!" Emily snapped. "I've done this before all right, I know better than you!"

"Do you?" Sirius scowled. "Because sometimes I still have my doubts about it."

Mel had no idea of what were they talking about. She looked at them and felt there was something going on, but she couldn't tell what. Why was Sirius acting like that with her mother?

Fred left the cloth on the table and stood up, giving everyone a bottle while Emily sat next to her daughter, gently rubbing her back. Mel drank in silence, now that her headache was gone there was now a dull ache on her chest and throat from the vomiting. After forty minutes a third flash appeared in the middle of the table and dropped a new feather with a piece of parchment

"I need to know how he does that..." Mel muttered.

"Fawkes!" Sirius picked up the letter. "That's not Dumbledore's writing — it must be a message from your mother — here —"

George took it and read out loud.

"Dad is still alive. I am setting out for St. Mungo's now. Stay where you are. I will send news as soon as I can. Mum... Still alive..." He said quietly. "But that makes it sound..."

"Let's not jump into conclusions," Emily said quickly. "Let me get you something to eat..."

"I'll do it," said Sirius, standing up abruptly.

Emily let out a scoff and sat down again, Mel got up.

"What's wrong?" Her mother asked. "Are you ill again?"

"No, just need to use the bathroom," Mel said quietly. "I won't take long..."

She reached the main floor and slowly made her way to the restroom. She washed her face and pushed loose strands of hair away from her eyes. She took a deep breath and held onto the edge of the sink. Ten seconds passed until the girl heard soft steps approaching.

"I said I was fine, Mum..."

"I know you're not, though," replied Harry.

She looked up to see his reflection standing at the door frame.

"It was me, wasn't it?"

"That depends," She turned around to face him. "Did you feel a sudden need to attack everyone seconds before we left school?"

Harry looked down in shame.

"I was..." Mel paused in shock. "I thought I was imagining things..."

"I don't know what happened— I just felt... the moment Dumbledore looked at me..."

She remembered what her uncle asked her, something about traces of dark magic in Harry... she wondered if he knew more than he was leading to believe.

"It wasn't your fault," She said. "Not entirely..."

"How come?"

"I have to ground myself so your pain can't get to me... But it was kind of impossible to do while I was flying around, and instead of, dunno, letting it out I just... pushed it inside— I guess that's not the best way to deal with it..."

"You wouldn't need to do those things if it weren't for me," He started, but Mel scoffed and walked past him.

"I'm not in the mood to hear your martyr speech, Harry."

"Is not— I—" He caught up with her, standing in her way. "Why do you insist on acting like it doesn't matter?"

"Because it doesn't matter!" She replied. "You can't do anything about it and I have no choice but to deal with it! Listen, the fact that it's happening to me doesn't mean it can't be the other way around. You felt my panic attack— I'm just lucky..."

"I wouldn't call nosebleeds 'luck'," He said.

"I meant that I'm not in constant danger. I won't die. You could die from one of those visions, we don't know, and do you see me moping about it?"

"No," He frowned. "But if I go you would be safer. If you die..."

"Oh, for fucks sake, Potter," Mel replied angrily. "My death won't be on you, alright? I'm not your responsibility, and you're not mine. We're not obliged to care— if I can do my homework even though I feel the stupid cuts on your hand, so can you. I don't care what my uncle says."

"Yeah, that makes two of us," He responded in the same tone.

After a few awkward seconds, Mel added.

"I feel like I should warn you— They'll ask about... about our lifeline."

"Who?"

"The Weasley bunch."

"It's not exactly a secret, is it?"

"Then why didn't we say anything 'til now? Why not last year, when they asked why I had the same bruises as you?"

"Listen, if you want to tell them I don't care. If you tell them that's the reason why we broke up—"

"You mean the reason why you left me," Mel corrected.

"You can tell them everything," Harry ignored her comment. "They hate me anyway..."

"No one hates you," Mel said tiredly. "Not even me... Wish I could, it would make things easier."

"Tell me about it," He said.

Mel could feel the remnants of their former energy still there, buried deep beneath their frustrations. It was weird to think how years ago Mel could walk up to him and just hug him, or how he would rest his head on her lap and she wouldn't even flinch.

Now everything felt fragile, the wrong step could ruin everything. She didn't feel the same way as before, she couldn't tell what was happening in his mind. It was odd, considering she could now technically see his thoughts if she wanted and even feel his emotions from time to time.

"We should go back," She said after a moment. "Otherwise they'll come to look for us thinking we murdered each other."

"I... yeah, let's go."

Harry turned around without a second glance at her. Not that she was paying attention anyway, it had been months since she'd stopped waiting for him to look back.

Next Chapter —>

Taglist.

@dee123ksha @vampiregirl1797 @siriuslysirius1107 @stardusthigh @mikariell95 @vernon-dursley @thesuitelifeofafangirl @tomshollandz @kylosleftbuttcheek @reverse-hxlland @bloodorangemoonlight @omiwashere @t-rexs-world​ @just-here-to-escape-from-reality​ @21bruhs @i-am-scared-and-useless-bisexual

[seekthemist]

Day 7 ~ Accidental Baby Acquisition

Here we come with @pynchweek Day7, a.k.a. “I can’t believe I almost survived this year as well” XD

I wrote this shamelessly fluffy thing while on a train, and it’s unbetaed so have mercy on my typos.

Paging: @cabeswaterlovesthem, @picapicae, @actuallymollyweasley and @bollywood-and-phoenix-feather This is a very very T-rated ficlet, just check your blood sugar levels :DDD

Partially under the cut for avoid cluttering, but you can always read it on Ao3!

A disembodied and emotionless registered female voice rattles off the loudspeakers of the plane, confirming the route and giving housekeeping announcements while the passengers take their seats.

Ronan looks out of the tiny window and watches airport stuff busying away on the asphalt. He's not such a big fan of flying but there is no other way to go and visit Matthew to make sure he's not getting himself killed in São Paulo, Brazil, during his very random three months stay.

He's still thinking about the neighbourhood of Matthew's accommodation — sensible at the first, second and tenth glance, but you might never know — when something tiny scrambled up the seat next to him.

"Hiiii!" The toddler drags out, immediately after catching his sideways glance. Dressed in a purple salopette and a light green cotton shirt, there is no way of telling if they are a boy or a girl, but they still stare at Ronan with a too-marked fascination. They can't be more than two years old.

"Hey, maggot. Are you here on your own?" Ronan muses, winning a broad smile with short teeth.

"Yes!" The toddler squeaks.

"No, you're not, Rachel" a voice comes from above them before Ronan can express his skepticism about a two years old alone on a plane.

Rachel giggles, all mischief, and looks up   in the aisle, where a tall, slender man is struggling to put his cabin luggage and baby bag up in cabin lock. He's pleasantly tanned by the Brazilian sun and his dusty blonde hair match compellingly with his complexion. There is something absolutely drained in face, as if he's running low even on the reserve gas, and yet his expression is patient and indulgent when he looks down at his kid.

Trust Ronan's luck to deliver him an unreachable hot dad for a several hours flight.

"Sorry, she just likes being silly," the man apologises, kind and courteous, while sitting down beside the kid.

"No problem," Ronan replies, ready to go back looking outside where the plane is preparing for departure. Watching Hot Dad fussing over his daughter is the last thing he needs, surely.

Unfortunately, said daughter seems to have a different idea.

"Whassyuv name?" She munches over words in a rush to deliver them.

It does take Ronan a few seconds to translate it, "What, my name?" He frowns but Rachel nods at him full of expectations. He sighs, "I'm Ronan."

"Raschel!" The kid counters, and slams a tiny chubby hand forward, as if requesting a handshake.

Ronan raises both eyebrows, because no toddler he has ever met tried anything like this, but then he snorts and grabs the tiny hand between three fingers to give it a shake. It's incredibly soft and too smooth not to be at least a bit endearing. "Nice to meet you, Rachel," he muses, looking up.

The men, seated and buckled on the aisle seat, is shaking his head and running two fingers along the side of his nose. "Sorry, she's always like that. Her father is...a bit posh, let's say. She imitates. I'm Adam, by the way."

Ronan bats his eyes for a fraction of a second. Considering that Adam presents himself as unmistakably masculine and yet is around with a kid without being posh, his luck must have delivered him the Hot Gay Dad to rule them all, and put him just out of decency reach. Causality is really a bitch.

"It's fine. Funny but fine," Ronan admits with a half smile, and gets aware that Rachel is still playing with his hand when she reaches the leather bands on his wrist.

“Rachel, let’s leave Ronan a bit of space, okay?” Adam says, persuading the little girl to give up the grip and helping her to buckle up the seatbelt for departure. He moves competently and precisely, expression always approachable, and finishes up the task by tickling Rachel’s belly. Ronan really didn’t need to see this.

When Adam gives Rachel a squared book full of figures — very nicely done in quality, for a kid, but Rachel seems to treat it surprisingly well — Ronan fishes out his iPod and settles in with headphones on. This should be the end of his kid — and Hot Gay Dad — interaction for the day.

As it turns out, he is very wrong.

                                                          ****

Thirty minutes into the flight, a small hand tugs at his sleeve until Ronan turns around and takes his earphones off.

“What, maggot?” Ronan asked, finding himself once again the focus of Rachel’s wide, hazel eyes.

“Roual, read?” she proposes, mauling Ronan’s name in the process. She dexterously unbuckles herself and turns around on the seat to hand Ronan the book.

“Oh God,” Adam murmurs from beside her. “Rachel, what did Mum and Dad tell you about playing with strangers?”

So now it’s Mum and Dad, but it’s weird to think of Adam referring himself as Mum. More confusing by the minute, but Ronan can’t do much more than silently mulling on it.

Rachel bats his eyes, looking at Adam and then back at Ronan. “Read, please?” she amends, as if it’s just a question of good manners.

Adam drags a hand on his face and Ronan snickers before the scolding can be amended. “Okay then, let’s see what you’ve got.”

“You really don’t have to…” Adam starts to say, even while Rachel squeals in delight and shuffles on the seat to get closer to him.

“Nah, it’s fine, it’s not like I’ve got anything else to do,” Ronan shrugs it out and picks up the book.

Adam sighs and unbuckles himself as well, picking up Rachel and settling her on his legs while he sits down next to Ronan, evidently determined not to leave his kid in someone else’s care. Ronand does appreciate not being treated as an impromptu babysitter, even though Rachel is strangely compelling in her whims. “I really don’t know how she’s so hyper,” Adam admits, defeated, circling Rachel’s tiny body with one arm while she settles with her back against his chest, still turned towards Ronan.

“Well, she’s a kid.”

“I know, I know, but we’ve been travelling since 6 o’clock this morning, she had her food before check in, she should be destroyed!” Adam protests, even while they open the book and Rachel quietly humming to herself while she shuffle around the pages and Ronan holds the book.

Ronan casts a careful look to Adam, skin tensed and eyes a bit glossy, circle with a couple of exhausted bags. Still stunning, Ronan’s treacherous mind provides unprompted. “I’m think you’re feeling this more than her.”

Adam leans more heavily against the seat, with a self-conscious smile. “Damn, I am. But her parents need to stay in Brazil for more than they planned to, so I’m bringing the little hell spawn back home.”

“Uncle Adam, we going granny?” Rachel pipes up, looking at him with all the trust and adoration of the world, uncaring about the hell spawn just as she was to Ronan’s maggot.

“Yes, sugar, I’m bringing you back to your grannies.” Adam confirms, more softly in addressing the toddler directly and with a vague drawl in his words that almost sounds Virginian to Ronan’s ears. “If we can survive this trip, I mean,” he adds, smiling at Ronan sideways.

Uncle Adam. So the kid is not his, and Hot Gay Dad is thus Hot Relative With Unknown Sexuality. Thank God for small mercies.

“Sure we can,” Ronan encourages, feeling a bit less on the spot in his helpless, intimate lusting. “Come on, brat, let’s see what you’ve got.”

They read it together, between the three of them, with the same infallible kid logic for which their favourite book is always entertaining. All things considered, Ronan must admit, it is a fairly entertaining book, the tale of a king sleeping under a mountain and the magic adventures of this group of mismatched kids trying to find him and wake him. It’s wonderfully illustrated and full of silly word jokes that make Rachel giggle her heart out even though she must already know them by heart, by now.

“Okay, this is kind of funny, you know?” Ronan confesses to Adam, at some point. “It might work also as a grownup book, with a bit of tweaking around.”

Adam laughs, kissing the crown of Rachel’s head and her thin dark hair. “I’ll make sure to tell it to Gansey. The author. Incidentally Rachel’s father.”

“Wow, maggot, I didn’t know you had conflict of interest!” Ronan tells to Rachel, that probably doesn’t understand the words but catches the playful tone and chirps out an excited laugh.

After that, Adam conscientiously brings Rachel to the bathroom, to make sure that she uses it and that her nappy is changed before disasters. Ronan eyes them between the edge of the seats, walking hand in hand in small steps, a bit wobbling from the toddler’s part. Rachel wins some cooing and elicits some smiles but doesn’t climb on anyone else.

When they’re back, Adam is evidently hoping to regain control of the situation and putting things in order for the rest of the travel, but Rachel jumps back in the middle seat and launches herself towards Ronan again, picking up the book from where it rested on Adam’s seat.

“Roual, read more?” She bats her really compelling doe eyes to him, seemingly unaware that the only reaction a guy of Ronan’s build and with Ronan’s attitude usually elicit is carefulness. “Please?” she adds, manners still remembered with some delay in favour of the excitement.

“Jesus Christ…” Adam defaults on the seat and picks Rachel up again.

“We could do,” Ronan suggests. Maybe because reading the books seems to compel Adam to make some adult chats with Ronan. Maybe because Adam is so evidently exhausted Ronan feels the need to do something.

“You’re spoiling her,” Adam points out, but still turn to Rachel. “Ronan is being very kind and playing with you but we read it this once and then we’re done. Do we have a deal?”

Rachel looks back, hearing the serious business tone that Adam is using for the ground rules. “Okay,” she nods, solemnly, but she’s still a bit bossy in pushing the books back in Ronan’s hand.

They settle back and this time Ronan, knowing the story, lets himself chat a bit over it — adding tales of the farm he grew up in, some childhood shenanigans with his brothers and some of the crazy story Niall used to tell the three of them when they were little.

Adam laughs together with Rachel, seemingly endeared. “You’re a very good storyteller,” he says.

So Ronan goes on, because if being a good storyteller is what makes Adam smile at him that way it’s easier to keep on talking than to look at him in the eyes.

He notices when Rachel falls asleep because she lulls back and forth a bit and then she curls onto Adam’s chest. He hadn’t noticed that Adam fell asleep — before her, even — but he definitely does now because he slides a bit more on the seat and tilts sideways, resting his head on Ronan’s shoulder.

Ronan stares at him up close, startled by the tension and by the feel of almost tenderness sneaking around his ribs. There is no way in hell he would move him, or wake him, so Ronan spends the rest of the flight as Adam’s pillow, while Rachel stays nested in the embrace of Adam’s arms.

It’s weirdly peaceful.                                                          ****

Rushing off to take his taxi, Rachel peaking up behind his shoulders where she’s buckled up in his hiking carrier, Adam grabs Ronan’s arm, suddenly. A pen in his hand, he scribbles on the back of Ronan’s hand.

With a tilted handwriting undoubtedly influenced by Ronan’s skin, he has written Adam Parrish, and what looks like a phone number.

“You should call me,” Adam says, easily but with a charged smile full of suggestions. “Bye, Ronan!”

He skips off, then, Rachel waving her tiny hand at him in turn. “Byeee!”

Ronan watches them go, bewildered and blinking stupidly but still waving his hand. This was definitely the weirdest, most successful flight he has ever taken in his life.

[candidlycaro]

Phoenix

Well, I haven’t been on Tumblr (besides a school project) since I was 15 years old. This used to be my place to vent, share my feelings, write creatively, and obviously post the impromptu emo-cutting GIF that this trash website used to be filled with nonstop. I’m just thankful that it’s popularity decreased and I was actually able to get this username? Kinda sick. You know what I mean.

SO-- what brings me back? There’s a lot of easy answers to this question and then I think there are deeper ones. The most obvious, glaring answer is that I got dumped last week. No, not the kind of dumped that makes me want to key his car (it’s a Honda, anyway) or punch him in the face, but the kind that makes you take a real big look at yourself on the inside. So I did that. I took everything that he said and I looked inside-- and for the first time in the entirety of our relationship I realized something. He was right. (If you’re reading this I promise this was a half-joke meant for dramatic effect, you deserve more credit where credit is due!)

But in all seriousness, I took a look at myself and I didn’t like what I saw. I saw a girl so consumed by negativity, fixation, and obsession that she forgot how to be happy. I looked in the mirror and saw someone whose idea of self care was skipping a meal or putting off smoking weed until AFTER doing something that was much more important (no friends, I am not getting rid of weed. I should. But right now it makes me laugh when I want to cry so I think I’ll be sticking to it for a bit). 

Anyways, the point that I’m trying to make is that he really did me a favor. Not a favor as in like leaving me, in fact I’m pretty sure we’re on fine terms considering we almost broke his bed and my knee having sex the other day but I’m talking bigger picture. He actually cared about me enough to be like HEY FUCKER. YOU’RE NOT YOU ANYMORE. And for a bit I hated him for that-- I really did! I was like dude, fuck, two years of my life and you’re telling me this isn’t SERIOUS? But, when I realized he had signed up for something completely different it kind of clicked with me. He didn’t sign up for this or this version of myself, he signed up for the happy go-lucky Caro that lit up every room she walked into. Not to say that our SO’s shouldn’t be through thick and thin, but when thick becomes your entire lifestyle it’s different. And I got it. I seriously stood in front of my mirror this weekend, took a huge look, and was like well, fuck, who is this?

I don’t really know where she went, but I used to like actually enjoy life. I used to like doing activities, getting up early for workout classes (something I think I’d rather swallow literal shit for than do now), being incredibly kinky, cooking, taking my dog places-- I don’t know, point being, I was a person. Now all I seem to do is sit in my job from like 9:30 (fine, 10 if we’re being honest) to 7, maybe I have a good day if I’m lucky, I would leave, go to my (ex)boyfriends apartment and complain up the wazoo, smoke, sleep, and repeat. Is that ANY FUCKING WAY TO LIVE? I THINK NOT!

Like as much as what he said hurt me, he was completely right. Who the fuck was I? Why was I making both of us so unhappy and why couldn’t I at least see it? And I think the most hurtful question or the one that pains me the most rather is why did it take me so long to realize? Because it’s not like he never told me or gave me the chance to change, he really did. But I didn’t want to change and I wasn’t ready to. I was content being that type of person for some reason and didn’t really realize what was at stake.

And it wasn’t just the relationship that was at stake-- if it was then the whole point of this post or whatever would be so fucking dumb. I didn’t realize that MY LIFE WAS AT STAKE. I’m 22 why the FUCK am I hung up, sad, complaining nonstop, wasting my life smoking it away (once again, I love you weed but only in doses. Like crack!-- kidding. kind of) instead of having amazing sex with someone I was so infatuated by, getting in the best physical shape of my life (I was an exercise science major, after 25 shit goes DOWNHILL!), spending time with family friends and just enjoying. I actually started hating GOING OUT too which like if you know me you know I’m not a huge drinker but I always was down to go out and just like socialize? What happened to that? 

Bottom line: shits gotta change. And like I kind of wish it could be one of those self-discovery things where I’m like “what do I need to change? I’ll do it and find myself randomly in Thailand with the elephants, ah!”-- but I know exactly what I need to change. And I’ve made some INTENTIONS. 

1. Appreciation

Something me and my (ex)boyfriend agreed on heavily was that we took each other for granted. When we spent time together we’d just be there on our phones, not really appreciating and recognizing how lucky we both were to be in the presence of someone that loves you. That lack of appreciation turned into resentment, and I don’t want that to happen in any of my relationships-- family, friends, lovers, whatever. I won’t let that happen again. I want everyone in my life to know that I appreciate them, I want to be present with them. I don’t want to go on my phone when I’m at dinner with friends, I want to give my parents all the attention they deserve, and frankly I want everyone in my life to know they’re loved. Ex boyfriend included. 

2. Motivation

I don’t really know where this one went. When I was in kindergarten I remember kicking a middle schooler in the nuts simply because he told me I couldn’t go on the swing because I was a girl. My ultra feminist chic 5 year old self would kick ME in the VAGINA if she knew that I was acting like this. I am such a lucky, lucky girl with a loving family, friends, and more. I’m smart, I’m beautiful, I know my self-worth and most importantly-- I know that I can succeed anything I put my mind to. Why am I fucking afraid of yoga, or running, or failing. It’s time to get the fuck up and do it. Did I go to yoga today? Yes. Did I cry twice when Mac Miller came on in the middle? Also yes. But I WENT. And that’s better than the day before!

3. Calm

Everyone who knows me knows I live breathe shit anxiety. It’s something I’ve dealt with my entire life and something I never really put in the effort to fix. Sure I’m on lexapro, I used to spoof my ex’s klonopon every once in a while and at one point I smuggled 100 xanax from Mexico. But like I’ve never gotten to the root of it. Yes, I know I have death-anxiety because my parents are literal dinosaurs. Yes, I know I’m insecure because my ADHD makes me seem annoying. I know all these things, and based off of all the psych classes I’ve taken in the past I could probably hit the nail on the head but I’m not a professional. It’s time to stop self-diagnosing, fixating, and get some damn help. Maybe if I wasn’t so stressed and pushed that stress onto everyone else everyone in my life would be happier? I know my ex definitely would be. 

 4. Work is what it is-- work. It’s not your life

As mentioned above, I live breathe and shit anxiety. I also live breathe and shit my job and it’s time for that to stop. I don’t give two shits anymore if I had a bad day, if someone’s trying to cause shit or my boss is a bitch. At the end of the day I’m there to get money? If the opportunity cost of my happiness versus my paycheck is at such a huge discrepancy it’s time to rethink careers. Not saying I’m quitting my job, but I need to learn to start leaving work at work. They don’t pay me after I go home so I shouldn’t think about it. Easier said than done but I need to work on it. 

5. Acceptance

Let’s be real-- I have an acceptance problem. I refused to accept it when my ex left me, I refused to accept it when my dad got sick (I actually fully never visited him in the hospital after he had a stroke which is one of my most embarrassing secrets. That one felt good to get out!), and sometimes I just blatantly refuse to accept things I can’t change. 

As my wise mother Charlene once said,

You can’t make someone call you back who doesn’t want to.

You can’t make someone love you who doesn’t. 

And most importantly, you can’t change what you can’t change. But what you can change is YOU. And that’s exactly what I intend to do. 

It’s been Day 1 of this journey, and it definitely wasn’t easy. I cried 6 times, ate two donuts, almost passed out in crescent moon pose, heard my ex’s favorite song in MY YOGA CLASS and started crying in front of a group of randos, but I got up. I went to work. I got on the mat and was present. I focused on my breathing. I cried my eyes out to Fleetwood Mac, Selena Gomez, & Lady Gaga all in one day. Weird combination but it’s fine. Will Day 2 be easier? Probably not-- but it’s not supposed to be. Changing and molding yourself isn’t supposed to be easy. If it was then every single time me and my ex had this same exact conversation we would’ve changed. But we didn’t. I know this is going to be hard-- probably one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. But it will also be the most worth it. 

-Caro

[cosmosogler]

aaaa my hands get all sweaty when i hold a game controller. also i should really probably be wearing my glasses.

today i had such a nasty, tiring dream that i slept in! i got up at 9:25. so i slept in less than yesterday... 

my dream was disorienting... i feel like it should have taken place in college, but it looked more like everyone was high school aged, and acted that way too. the topic kept changing, even though i stayed in more or less the same area for the whole dream. it was, like, a marketplace, with a farmer’s market, but also there were a lot of drab gray buildings with paper stuffed into every available space on every window. the road was dirt. everyone was playing some sort of game that i didn’t understand. also i was trying to shop, but i didn’t like anything i saw in any of the stores. and when i thought i had gotten to a store with what i was looking for (i don’t know what i was actually looking for, but i had a feeling it was in there!!!) i saw a bunch of burly, sweaty dudes with no faces. so i backed out haha. then the game changed? people were... trying to get behind each other? i think the technique was different for everyone. but they were trying to suck each others’ souls out and that was how they won for the round. i think... the participants were supposed to get better, at some point... but i wasn’t playing, just watching and trying to figure out the rules. eventually i wandered out into the playing field and started talking to some of the participants. they were friendly enough, but i kind of got the feeling they didn’t want me there. eventually the girl from the shining came out of the crowd, grabbed me by the shoulders, spun me around, and sucked out my soul!!! it hurt a lot, indescribably. like... if your soul could get sucked out, that’s definitely what it would feel like!

i tried to scream but i couldn’t move at all. eventually i tried so hard that i woke up screaming. but i was in a weird unfamiliar place and my face was being shoved into the pillow. then my alarm went off and i woke up for real all sweaty and tired. cool!!!!!!!!!!!

so after that wonderful start to my day, i pet eve for a little bit, and then i got up and got ready for the day and stuff. i tried making some tea that i found in the cabinet... it wasn’t very good. i found the rest of the video games in the pile of stuff dad brought in from the garage last night. and i watched two episodes of cry plays: soma. it’s a really good game, but i wouldn’t be very good at it. horror games aren’t really under my “favorite genres” umbrella. instead of getting scared i get frustrated that i might have to replay a large portion of the game since traditionally save/heal points are pretty few and far between. it took me FOREVER to get through metroid prime because i would hover around the checkpoint nervously before continuing haha. half life was kind of a slog that way too, even though i really liked both those series.

then i went and picked up asher. i almost got hit when i was trying to get on the freeway... it’s always crowded at that particular exit and trying to actually get on the freeway is kind of dangerous. and nobody was using their turn signals today! and getting into the lane i was trying to get into while in my blind spot and also not using turn signals!!! and then i could tell the guy i accidentally cut off was SUPER mad because he started going like 90 miles an hour while everyone else was going 50 and cut in front of me and then swept over to the far lane. ok, buddy. like... yeah, ok, i could have probably spent more time figuring out if he was changing lanes right next to me or not. but when you use your turn signal you gotta hop over pretty quick or else people around you stop making room. i think since phoenix is so big, everyone feels like they have to drive 8-15 mph over the speed limit to get where they’re going in a reasonable amount of time. and also they don’t make room for you in the next lane over unless you turn on your turn signal, wait exactly 1 second, and then butt in. that’s literally the only way to get on the freeway some exits.

i avoid the exit lanes when i’m on the freeway unless i’m getting off at the next exit. honestly i’m shocked that i haven’t been in a crash yet.

anyway, i brought asher over to my house and we hung out in the living room exclusively. i guess that was ok, since the house is a total mess with half-unpacked boxes everywhere. i ripped my room apart today looking for the super nintendo. didn’t find it. mom found it later though in a box grouped with a bunch of my sister’s boxes. it was the only box i never checked because i thought we had already looked through it when we were searching for the wii u. 

asher made me curse while i was in the car. he said something, and i repeated the sentence back to him in a “you’re not...” sort of way, and i didn’t realize i had said it until my mouth made a really unfamiliar shape haha. it wasn’t his fault, but i was kind of annoyed with myself for not paying attention to my words.

while asher and i were lounging around catching up on steven universe, my brother pointed out that doge had pooped on the floor in front of the back door. we didn’t notice... i felt stupid. my brother went and got dad, and then... he picked up diogi, shoved her nose in it, and then literally threw her outside. then he went outside and we didn’t hear anything for a really long time. my brother, asher, eve, wiley, and i kind of stared at each other awkwardly for a while. 

like... hitting a dog is never ok. but i could understand being frustrated with maybe wiley, because he’s a young adult and should know better by now, and also he would theoretically have better control over his bodily functions. and he does go in the house, and it is frustrating. but doogles is hella old, and also disabled. she cannot walk for very long. she can hustle, but sometimes she falls down. i can’t imagine she can hold it for very long. she usually goes right after dinner... i don’t know why my brother didn’t let her outside after he fed them? and then, like, got mad at me when it happened? 

i just need a break from dad for a while. i don’t understand why diogi likes him so much. he calls her a retard and hits her sometimes and doesn’t really brush her or anything. i think he exudes such a powerful “dad” aura that the dogs just defer to him. i mean, that’s how packs work, isn’t it? maybe doge thinks she owes her life to him since he took her from lonnie, who abused her more regularly.

dad interrupted our steven universe marathon but i don’t remember what he said. but, like, the show was actively on, and we were clearly watching it, and he felt the need to insert a conversation (run and participated in by him alone) over the dialogue. i’m not sure if asher really caught the ending or not.

anyway... after that asher and i headed out to michaels to get some markers. we talked about the show for a bit during the car ride. then we went to indian food, as is our habit. the usual waiter wasn’t there today, but i saw some new people. maybe it’s because we were there on the weekend instead of on thursday. then we talked about jojo for like two hours. it was great. we revisited a lot of the same topics that we have talked about before, but it’s been like three weeks since i last saw asher, so i didn’t really mind. 

however my sense of direction was super out of whack for the whole drive, i could not figure out where i was or where the stores we were trying to get to were. i think i was stressed about diogi. 

i was also really jittery. it may have been the tea from this morning... asher noticed. he said it might be anxiety. i would agree, but i’ve been like this for a really long time. as in, always. he also suggested adhd but i don’t seem to display any of the other symptoms of that. but you know what causes the restlessness and twitching? anxiety and depression. so maybe it was. i guess i’ve had depression for basically my whole life. my classmates at christian school used to make fun of me for it. the twitching, i mean. 

however i was REALLY uncomfortable today, physically. i couldn’t get my ankles to sit right and i kept moving my legs while we were trying to watch tv. the jerking really only stops when i am actively exercising. even right afterward i’m right back to twitching and squirming. 

nobody these days acknowledges it (except my group therapist; she points it out when she thinks i am more anxious than usual, but really i just do it constantly until someone notices and then i have to consciously stop). but i know they see it. it’s really hard to keep my eyes on something static for more than a few seconds... like a book or screen. 

when i was filling out paperwork for the sleep study the doctors decided it was restless legs syndrome. but it’s every single muscle in my body ha... it feels like static is building up every time i don’t move and i have to MOVE or else it gets unbearable. i usually just wrinkle my nose, or jitter my knees, or tap or bump something with my palm just above the wrist. 

anyway, it was worse than usual today, and it sucked, and was really annoying. 

when i got home i booted up undertale and got through the mettaton fight, and also burned down undyne’s house. so i just gotta befriend alphys and that should complete everything i need for the pacifist run.

so now it’s 12:30. i’ve been writing for about 50 minutes... i got distracted trying to describe my problem to google. every word i use points back to anxiety... 

but i fidget even on days when i’m not that stressed? i don’t get it. 

tomorrow i find out if i am still going to have therapy at the hospital or not. i haven’t told anyone yet... i figured i would bring it up if it became relevant. like, if i wasn’t able to go any more. if i am allowed to continue, then there isn’t really a point in reporting it. i’m still stressed about it though...

i shall do my pokemons, and check some monday stuff, and then try to sleep. sure hope i don’t die horribly again in my dreams tonight!

[wingsporkhalo]

A Sporking of “Fate’s Flawed Design”-- an old original story by MysticDelphox97

God bless @mysticdelphox97 as usual for allowing me to go savage on her old stories. You’re the greatest. <333 Thanks also to @icykalismsts for reading this over and offering comments as well! If I only had two readers (which I probably do), I’d be glad it was you two.

What I’ll be snarking about today is an old story of Mystic’s called Fate’s Flawed Design, about a boring and awful OC and her possibly even more awful “friends,” as well as some kind of bullshit backstory about a curse and a famous ancestor?? Idk man. It kind of gets lost in all the angsty song lyrics. It was, of course, never finished. But I hope you will enjoy the nonsense that it has to offer, dear reader, assuming you exist.

Excerpt below; the rest beneath the cut!

Fate’s Flawed Design

Tell me I’m frozen, but what can I do?

Can’t tell the reasons, I did it for you!

When lies turn into truth, I’ll sacrifice for you.

You say that I am frozen…

But what can I do?

~Lyrics from Frozen, by Within Temptation

Wing: At least they're not from the movie Frozen.

Chapter 1: Overview

Friday, May 16, 2025

Wing: THE DISTANT FUTURE!

“Okay, students. I hope you know your assignment for the weekend; figure out a plot for your Creative Writing project. For next week, we'll start writing our story—remember, though, it's only the beginning, so we don't want to start directly into it. Do we all understand?” Mrs. Llaydeu addressed her English class.

Wing: Mrs. Who now?

Every head in the room nodded.

Wing: Including the disembodied one in the back, which floated above an empty desk: a glowing, semi-transparent head of a teenage boy with scraggly hair and sunken eyes.  He went by Fred. Everyone had gotten so used to Fred that they hardly paid him any mind anymore.

“Alrighty, then! You're free to head outside,” she concluded.

Everyone cheered and scampered out the classroom door, which lead onto a hill that overlooked the grassy field known as our playscape. I sat atop the hill, looking upon all the kids filing out of one of the three school houses that made up the establishment. Each building taught three to four grades, which shared a playground. I'm currently in the eighth grade, who happens to be some of the best groups of children the school has ever worked with.

Wing: I'm sure they tell that to every group.

The weather today is very hot, almost to the point where it’s extremely uncomfortable.

Wing: So...it's ALMOST extremely uncomfortable...meaning it's...moderately uncomfortable?

I prefer autumn over the insanely warm summer, because you get to wear pretty jackets and long sleeved clothes. And fall is a beautiful season, with all the brown, orange, and yellow hues, although it’s also the same time when school starts. It’s a worthy sacrifice, however.

Wing: ??? What are you sacrificing

Kali: I think the narrator means that having to go to school is a hardship they'll endure for the sake of enjoying fall? I guess? Otherwise it means they'll sacrifice the other schoolchildren to an eldritch being.

Wing: I like that one better.

“Whew! I can't wait until my mom finally opens the pool,” Kyle exclaimed, wiping the back of his hand on his tan forehead. His brunette locks were dripping a bit from sweat, and that was just from the heat.

Wing: Holy crap, the main character isn't alone? Suddenly this dude named Kyle is just there dripping everywhere like something out of Turnabout Matrimony.

That goodness it wasn't humid today—humidity and Kyle don't mix too well.

Wing: THAT goodness it wasn't humid today. But also THIS goodness.

Mystic: ppfffff xD

Wing: And humidity and Kyle don't mix too well because they are of differing states of matter. Also Humidity never gave back Kyle's sweater and he's still salty about it

Mystic: I feel like first three chapters of this story is like, venting my feelings about... whatever I was feeling at the time.

Wing: Also, calling a guy a brunette...myeeeeh...LOL

Kali: Duh, Wing, Mystic's not calling him a brunette, but his LOCKS brunette. He has little anthropomorphized padlocks with brown hair who are sweating profusely.

Mystic: oh you only call women brunettes right? Mystic: or, something like that?

Wing: Yup! It has "ette" in it basically LOL Wing: Calling a dude a blonde or a redhead is fine, but "brunette" is gendered for some weird reason

Mystic: ahhh ok! Mystic: Eighth grader me probably didn't know that xD

He sat down beside me. I let out an exhausted sigh.

“So, what are you doing for your writing draft?” I asked, brushing back my own chocolate-brown bangs.

He pondered a bit before answering me. “Honestly, I do have an idea… but now that I think about it, it sounds pretty stupid.”

“How can anything you write be stupid?” I inquired, laughing. “I mean, you're one of the most creative people I know!”

Wing: "Uh, I have a severe problem with dyslexia, remember? GOD, Main Character, you are SO INSENSITIVE!" the male brunette sobbed, running away to drip somewhere else.

Mystic: PFFFF BAHAHAHHAHAHA

“Well … it's about this race of humans, and they take control of these odd species of animals which they use as weapons against another intelligent race.

Wing: ...Pokemon

Mystic: OH MY GOD Mystic: IT'S POKEMON

Wing: LOL

Mystic: Iluminati theme song starts playing

Wing: ROFL

I haven't figured out exactly what the animals are, or what the opposing race is. It still needs some work,” Kyle told me, with an embarrassed smile on his visage.

“Ooh,” I complimented. “That sounds really interesting. I can't wait to see how it turns out.”

Wing: I like how "Ooh" is considered a compliment. Maybe among monkeys it is, but...

“Me too,” he agreed. “What about you? What are you going to write?”

I blinked. I never actually thought of what story I was to create until Kyle just asked me. The characters are all sorted out, since we worked on that last week, and themes were this week. The only problem was the issue now being addressed.

“Uh…” I started to say, “probably something horror-themed. I'd like to include some romance in it too, though. But, it's hard to incorporate the two themes,” I finally responded.

Wing: Oh really?? Then why do all stereotypical horror movies have makeout scenes??

“Romance? From you? Now that's something, Remy,” he remarked.

Wing: Remy?? Is this a boy or a girl?? Both? Neither?? I'M SO CONFUSED

Mystic: It's a girl, not very well clarified ill admit ^^'

Wing: I've decided to headcanon them as a girl strangely named Remington after the kind of rifle. Her dad wanted her to be a boy Wing: (or a gun, whichever) Wing: Oh, okay! So at least I got the girl part right! LOL

Mystic: full name is Remeleen, I don't know where the fuck I got it from but I liked it because it looks like my name: Rosaleen

Wing: Remeleen?? Doesn't that evolve into Octillereen

Mystic: yes Mystic: and then it Mega Evolves into Mega Octillereen

Wing: Rofl, yes, exactly

Mystic: my god I'm on the second chapter and it just got so dark all of a sudden what the heck

I rolled my eyes at my nickname. “Well, expanding one's horizons is never a bad thing, is it?”

“Never said it was.”

I lifted myself to my feet, and stretched my arms. Kyle did the same, before running off to play soccer with several other boys. Just then, a crushing weight pounced on my back, causing me to stagger forwards a bit.

“Remy! I missed you, girl!” a familiar voice squealed.

Mystic: Okay also apparently Remeleen means 'white antelope'... which is somehow significant to this story. I don't know why, but. I guess I thought it was cool. gdi

Wing: That's okay. The main characters in my story I was writing in early high school were Apollan, Candella, Leandor, Hakaisha, and Aralyn. HOWEVER the fact that they are a phoenix, unicorn, gryphon, dragon, and...human(?) may explain that a little, idk. LOL

“Leaf! Ge' off me!” I choked, because a pair of white extremities had wrapped themselves around my neck.

Wing: Leaf?? What are you doing here. Get back to Gen 3! Wing: Secondly, who the hell says “Ge' off”? Wing: And lastly, “white extremities”? What the heck? Does Leaf have albino tentacles? D:

She finally let go. I turned around, confronted by a jumping, overly-hyper strawberry-blonde girl that wouldn’t be quiet.

“Remy, Remy! Guess what, guess what, guess what?” she exclaimed, waving her hands in front of her tomato-red face.

Wing: "Tomato red face"?? Holy shit, she's having an allergic reaction!!

I couldn't tell if that was from being in the sun or from the exercise she was getting at this very moment.

“What?” I asked, laughing at her display. Leaf eventually calmed down, taking deep breaths.

“You ready yet, Spaz?” I inquired, a smile playing on my lips. It was starting to hurt my cheeks though.

She took one more breath before answering me. “I just, JUST found out that I'm going to be moving into your homeroom class on Monday!” she cried.

Wing: Idk why, but when "Leafie" says she's going to be "moving into your homeroom," I pictured her actually MOVING IN to the homeroom. Like, "I live here now."

Mystic: pffffffffffff omg

“Oh my gosh, Leafie! That's amazing!” I cheered. We both grabbed our hands and began launching ourselves up multiple times.

Wing: One climbed on the other's shoulders and then the one on the bottom FLUNG the other up into the sky à la Catastropika Mystic: "launched ourselves into the air" why didn't I just say they jumped a lot xD Wing: I don't know. That wouldn't have given me the Catastropika image, had it been worded like that, LOL Mystic: pffffffff xD

“So, how come you moved?” I said after we stopped our antic.

“Um,” she started, brushing some of her hair out of the way,

Wing: Oh come on. She's obviously in love with the main character. What? What do you mean, that's not it? SHHHH. YES IT IS. I SAY SO

“well, as you know, I was in a class with all the jocks and the female athletes -- you know, the ones who are very competitive and rather stuck-up? I had a break-down about it yesterday, in front of Ms. Zhanei –thank god her and no one else— and she admitted that it was a bad idea to have put me in that class. So, she emailed my mom about a possible switch-over for rooms, and she replied agreeing to it. Now my classes are arranged so I can be with you and Kyle and everyone else! Tada!” Leaf ended her speech with a pose.

Wing: Was it this one?

Mystic: BAHAHAHHA FJKDNSHMLFKJEJFNB

Wing: I have to admit I am still giggling roflllll

I clapped. “Bravo, Master Spaghetti!” I complimented her with her spy name, for when we play our detective games that started when we were in the first grade together.

Wing: Master Spaghetti has to be the most disappointing Spy Name ever conceived. Missed opportunity to make it "Master Spyghetti" for one thing

Mystic: yeeahhhh, I felt The Cringe hard when I saw that

We basically create our own crime-scene and them we try to solve it. I assumed my White Antelope gesture, which is stroking my fake handlebar mustache.

Kali: This is the White Antelope gesture... why...?

Wing: obviously because white antelopes have mustaches, Kali

“Now that we have solved that crime,

Wing: What crime? The crime of a spy being named Master Spaghetti?

how about we try to spill the beans from our current suspect to the hangover case?”

Leaf placed her hands on her hips. Her voice assumed the “Popular” clique tune.

Wing: Is that in the key of E? Hum a few bars for me; I'm not familiar

Mystic: coulda described it better as shrill and dramatic I guess?

Wing: No, it was the fact that it said "tune" instead of "tone"

“Like, totally! I would, like, so want to annoy the shizzles out of Bernie Bergetti!” She mimicked pulling the lip on her invisible black baseball cap.

I roared with laughter, ignoring the few glances that it received from some of the higher status students.

Wing: So like, that group of Duchesses over there, I guess

Kali: No comment on "annoy the shizzles out of?" =_=

Wing: I...I honestly don't remember that phrase being in there LOL

Kali: “Like, totally! I would, like, so want to annoy the shizzles out of Bernie Bergetti!” She mimicked pulling the lip on her invisible black baseball cap. I died a little inside reading that line I think XD

Wing: OH THAT'S RIGHT also how is the invisible baseball cap black how do you determine the color of a fuckin invisible hat

“But I'm really happy,” she smiled. “I'd rather be in your classes than in the Popular class.”

“Hey, Emmerson! Ryder!” Well, speak of the devil, shall we?

Wing: We shan't.

Mystic: obviously middle schoolers call each other by their last names. of course.

Our eyes traveled to the source of the voice, which led us to the snobbiest group of chicks you've never seen before.

Wing: https://www.cdc.gov/healthypets/images/chics.jpg But...they're so cute...

They were strutting our way. Oh, and this clique was made up of the few sporty girls.

Wing: ............ http://www.punjabigraphics.com/images/11/tennis-balls.jpg okay....

Most of which were in Leaf's previous homeroom.

“Whadaya want, Sullivan?” I shouted at their leader.

Wing: I'm just thinking of Sully from Monsters, Inc.

Mystic: gdi now I'm thinking of that too

Audrey Sullivan. She has brown hair (which the color looks awful because it looks like it’s been dyed),

Wing: UGH! HOW DARE SHE WANT A COLOR OTHER THAN THE ONE SHE WAS BORN WITH!! But no I know what you mean. What kind of person dyes their hair brown though? Isn't blonde the popular choice, if not fire engine red? Like I'm sure people DO dye their hair brown but I never saw it in middle school.

very tan skin, and an unpleasant face to look at. Mostly because it's not exactly attractive, and it screams for a nose-job.

Wing: Good god, the Girl Hate in this story

Mystic: there's a shit ton of girl hate in this story I'm afraid Mystic: mostly towards "popular" girls

And that sultry voice—oh, my god it's disgusting; too much sweet and not enough of it in her soul.

Wing: "Sultry"? Sounds like this is more than just a clash of cliques... ;D Wing: My first thought was this though https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_f_6w_bVKM4

Mystic: PPFFFF HOLY SHIT YES Mystic: Y E S

Wing: The Glinda x Elphie is real

Mystic: tbh sultry wasn't a good word choice ^^'

Wing: And nope. It absolutely wasn't. LOL

Mystic: oh my god I'm reading the third chapter now and I just Mystic: I hate it so much Mystic: nothing in it makes any sense Mystic: all this drama from KIDS IN MIDDLE SCHOOL Mystic: WHY

It's a wonder how she maintained her popular status.

When their group was face-to-face to us, I nearly died from the waft of perfume that hit me.

Wing: Thinking of the scene where SpongeBob has to go through... the Perfume Department.

Mystic: NOT THE PERFUME DEPARTMENT Mystic: and I like body spray now so pfft this is incredibly outdated xD

Leaf's body seemed to shrink as she cowered behind me.

Wing: So like...why is her name Leaf, though

Mystic: it's literally because of the female protag for FRLG lol

Wing: oh my god Wing: rofllllllllllll

Mystic: i did say this was a very old story xD

She had terrible experiences with them in the past, and trust me, it's not a pretty subject. They target her because she has mental disorders, which separates her from them, and they pick on anything that she does. I bet you anything that that's what this is about.

“Nothing bad about you,” Audrey stated. I had to grit my teeth and ball up my fists to stop myself from hitting her.

“We'd like to talk to your friend, if that's okay,” one of her sidekicks explained.

Wing: They sure are polite for bullies

Mystic: my question is WHERE ARE THE ADULTS

Although there really was no need to do that. I have no problem with dealing with these girls; it's Leaf that needs the support right now.

“If you got something to say to her, you say it to me,” I retorted. I could feel Leaf trembling behind my back.

“What are you, her mother?” A rather fat student sassed.

Wing: Ooh, fatshaming, too. What's next, slutshaming? They're in middle school so I'm guessing there will be lots of accusations that so-and-so kissed x many boys

Mystic: ...yeah, there's slutshaming.... Mystic: my god i hated so many things Mystic: yeesh

“That's right, bitch. And if you say anything to anyone else I'll be their mother, too, because at least mothers have feelings for others! And I don't mean that wishy-washy, one-sided crushes or dates, either,” I told them.

Wing: Literally the worst and most nonsensical comeback I have ever seen

The looks on their visages amused me, because they're of shock and bewilderment.

Wing: The tenses in here amused me, because they're suddenly in the present tense. Also LOOKS ON THEIR VISAGES LOOKS ON THEIR VISAGES

I stumped them for a good minute before one piped up:

Wing: Yeah I don't blame them. I'm pretty stumped and bewildered myself about that response

“Well, then, can you answer us as to why she switched homeroom classes?”

“Yeah,” I said, “I can. She felt miserable in the athletic classroom, so she changed it to ease the pressure. And unlike you guys, she's horribly shy and has trouble socializing.

Wing: Gee Remy, don't hold back or nothin'

This is understandable, at least from someone who does understand, as to why she did what she did.”

Wing: Uh...what?

Mystic: i ah Mystic: i got nothin

Wing: Also I like how it's "the athletic classroom" Hell yeah. That classroom is ripped. 2 hours on the treadmill every morning, yo

Mystic: i head that classroom has an 8-pack, that classroom is shredded

Wing: ROFL

“Well, yeah, we know that. But, I want to hear from her, not you,” Audrey said. I got up real close to her face and sneered.

“You don't trust my word then, Sullivan?” I spat. She wiped her face from the saliva droppings.

Wing: "saliva droppings"??? What the fuck, that's awful and gross Also, these bullies are being pretty tolerant, considering this girl is being actually really rude, shouting about her friend's shortcomings, and getting all up in their grill and spitting at them

Mystic: plot twist: the MC is the bully

“No—but I hate being biased.”

I scoffed. “Sure. Like in those drama episodes you construct with your friends to get sympathy from your mom and the teachers?”

“You know, I don't like you're tone, Emmerson,” Audrey pointed out.

Wing: At least she isn't tune

“Neither I to yours.”

Wing: oh my god I hate this main character ROFLLLLL Wing: THAT DOESN'T EVEN MAKE SENSE, REMY

Mystic: GDI Remy

Wing: "Neither I don't like you are tone to yours" is what she's saying basically

Mystic: oh my god that is literally shit

Wing: "Nor I yours" is, I think, what she was going for Wing: that is, "Nor do I like the tone that is yours"

Mystic: oh yeah that makes MUCH more sense Mystic: or, wait, way more sense Mystic: fuck

Wing: Much more sense is fine!

There was a dead silence amongst us. The sounds of the other kids playing were ignored as we stared each other down. It went on for what seemed like an hour, but I knew better than that.

Wing: Did you, Remy? I'm beginning to doubt anything you say you know.

Then, with a final scoff, and a disgusted look on her, she flipped her hair and turned around, her posse close at hand.

Wing: On her. Just...all of her. Covered in that disgusted look. It was everywhere. Also, the bully is again being pretty gracious. She basically said "Hey I wanna hear it from her why she switched classes" "FIGHT ME BITCH RRRRAAWWWWRRR" "Whooooaaa okay sorry didn't realize Mama Bear was here to protect the little cub" "RRRRRRRRRRRRRAAAAAWWWRRR SOMETHING ABOUT BEING EVERYONE'S MOTHERS AND POSSIBLY A REFERENCE TO HOW MANY DATES YOU GO ON(??)!! [SPITS!!!]" "Uh...ew. Anyway, yeah, why can't your friend speak for herself?" "SILENCE, FOOL!! DON'T YOU KNOW HOW SOCIALLY AWKWARD MY FRIEND IS AND HOW HARD IT IS TO BE SOCIALLY AWKWARD????" "Allllrighty then. Just wanted to hear it from her." "U CALLIN ME A LIAR, DOLLFACE???" "No, I kinda just wanted the whole story." "RRRRRRRRAWRRRRR YOU'RE AN ATTENTION WHORE!! NOTHING ABOUT YOU IS REAL, NOT EVEN YOUR UGLY HAAAAAAAAAAIR!!" "Dude, harsh. I don't like those things you're saying." "I DON'T LIKE WHAT YOOOOOOOOUUU'RRREEEEE SAYINGGGGGGG! ALSO MINE GRAMMAR ARE GOODISH!!" "....A'ight, I'm out. Let's go, guys."

Mystic: basically that's what happens once you take my hypocritical storytelling out of the picture xD

Wing: Basically. LOL

Mystic: jesus why did i think this was any good back in the day, this is terrible xD

Wing: Even if you just have the dialogue by itself it comes off like Remy's a crazy person. LOL

Mystic: i think she becomes a schizophrenic later in the story soo, yeah, kinda messed up in the head a bit

Wing: Jfc. [holds head in hands]

Mystic: y-yeeahhhhhhhhhh Mystic: tbh if this story doesn't give you cancer by the end id be surprised

I turned to face Leaf, whose face was redder than usual. I couldn't tell if she had cried or not, but her body language clearly spoke to me: she definitely was not okay right now.

“Thanks, Remeleen,” Leaf smiled, now relieving herself from the stress those Populars gave her.

“Anytime, Leafie,” I grinned.

The vibrant look faded,

Wing: What vibrant look? It said she smiled, but like, it didn't say she suddenly looked Okay or All Better or anything

and when she spoke, it was rather choked. “You know … I wish I could be brave like you, Remy.”

“Brave? Leaf, I'm not--” I began, but then she cut me off.

“Well, at least you have the courage to stand up to the popular clique! I can't even do that! I cower at even the slightest glimpse of them!” she yelled. I was taken aback-- why was she mad at me?

Wing: Uh, maybe she's just frustrated at her own weakness? NOT EVERYTHING'S ABOUT YOU, REMY

Mystic: ohhhhh boy you're coming to the really angsty part of the story Mystic: buckle up it's gonna be baaaad

“Leaf--” I stuttered.

“I know you'll usually be there to stand up for me, but there's gonna be a day where you're not here and they're gonna target me. And what'll I do then? Cry? Run away in shame? I hate doing that, Remeleen! And I can't defend myself anyway, because of my damned disorders, and being so fucking socially awkward!

Wing: Okay, like, as someone with disorders also, can I just say how ridiculous this is She's basically saying "I am a little baby who can't speak for myself." If her anxiety was THAT crippling she'd probably be in special ed or homeschooling. And also, I was plenty capable of defending myself usually. I was bullied a LOT, but I had my ways of handling it

So no matter what you say, or what you do, IT’S NOT GONNA FUCKING HAPPEN!

Wing: Uh, okay, but...what isn't?

Mystic: i honestly can't exactly explain the purpose of that dialogue tbh. maybe i was venting again? in a very unclear way apparently xP

Wing: LOL Maybe.

It's not like you can write in a book or whatever and whatever you write down will come true!

Wing: http://img-cache.cdn.gaiaonline.com/82e8563ff1b434c4aec200497f0fef6c/http://i785.photobucket.com/albums/yy135/RowennaandPittie/the_Death_Note.jpg

Mystic: OH FUN FACT: original plot of the story is actually similar to death note

Wing: …Oiy... Wing: So basically, her friend is like "Thanks for helping out, friend! :D" "Oh yeah sure no prob" "OH MY GOD YOU NEVER LET ME DO ANYTHING FOR MYSELF!! YOU'RE NOT MY REAL DAD!! I HATE YOU!! [runs off crying]" "...wtf"

Life doesn't work that way--instead, it throws shit into your face until you crack and start to shut down. That's what's gonna happen to me someday, Remeleen. Just you wait.” After her rant, she left, stomping with every step.

I stood at my spot, stunned, feeling my own tears bubble up inside me.

Wing: yo, if she feels tears bubbling inside her, I think she should see a doctor

Mystic: everyone in this story needs doctors tbh Mystic: they're all insane i swear

Wing: like, actually insane, not fictional insane, which is "cool" and "edgy" Wing: (It irks me when people write about mental disorders just to make things interesting or portray mental illness like it's hip or cool. > >)

Mystic: Yeah, that portrayal irritates me as well.

Wing: It's like Ebony Dark'ness Dementia Raven Way cutting her wrists all the time. She doesn't actually want to die. She doesn't even want someone to help her. She just wants to look edgy. Shit or get off the pot, Enoby

Mystic: although apparently that's what happened somehow in this story [shudders] Mystic: oh good lord

Leaf had always poured her fears and beliefs onto me,

Wing: Sounds messy

Mystic: BEEP BEEP HERE COMES THE CRINGE TRAIN

but not with this much emotion. I knew what she had to deal with for her whole life: a mom with two of Leaf’s younger half-sisters,

Wing: Leaf's a mom with her two younger half-sisters??

Mystic: Leaf has a mom and two younger half sisters ^^' coulda been worded better

Wing: Ohhh ok Wing: I was like "isn't she too young to be taking care of orphans" Wing: Suddenly, Leaf's entire history

Mystic: yup, all condensed into a paragraph summary Mystic: which i thought was somehow necessary

who believes that Leaf isn't trying hard enough, even though she knows about the disabilities she has; a stepfather who is kind on the outside, but has a quick temper and a stern voice on the inside; and a real father who has slept with every woman imaginable and treats Leaf like crap every time she visits him. Good god, she nearly got raped by him six years ago when she was seven years old, which got him into jail and she never saw him again. Even though he apologized, because that night he was drunk and all, she absolutely refused to see his, and I quote, “dirty, disgusting face again.” Leaf told me about almost everything that happened to her in her lifetime; and I listened. And most times, I couldn't get a word of advice to her because of how awful or sad or horrible her experience was. All I really could do was hug and cry with her. The only happy moments Leaf ever had were when we had our sleepovers, or when I invited her for a family vacation if my parents allowed it (which, they have always done).

Wing: Jfc

I really do want Leaf to be my sister, because when she's not depressed or angry, she's the best friend a friend could be--maybe even more.

Wing: More than a friend? :D

She's funny, supportive, a great team player, amazing with younger children, and really creative. If she was my sibling, we could be twins, and have so much fun together. We could play with Amy, my little sister, and our Akita/Husky mix, Rocky, all the time. Amy absolutely adores Leaf, and even calls her 'sister' when she sees her. My parents love Leaf too. They know as much about Leaf as I do and they see her as another daughter. They just about love her almost as much as me.

“Oy, Remy!” I heard Kyle's voice. He ran up to me, his forehead even more drenched with sweat. It must have been from playing soccer with his friends. “Hey, what happened to Leafsters?

Wing: “Leafsters”

She looked awful upset running into the building,” he said.

I was about to answer when the bell for the end of school rang.

“I'll tell you when I get home,” I told him. He nodded as we raced into our classroom.

I got to my locker and began putting my materials inside. I had only gotten three needed subjects in when the loudspeaker clicked on, announcing for the pick-ups to head to the school's front entrance. Five more minutes until the first bus wave is called.

I thrust my English folder into my backpack and then reentered my homeroom. I left it on my desk to search for Leaf.

Wing: She left her entire homeroom on that desk. That must have been a huge desk

I slipped between the classrooms, hoping to find my best friend. I have to catch her before she departs for the first-wave buses … because she needs to know. She just has to know that I'll always be her person to cry to, to laugh with, and to always buddy up with when doing team-projects. That she'll never be alone, as long as she's got me, even when I'm not there. Leaf may not have a cell phone, and neither do I, but there's a kind of telepathy link between us that acts like an instant messenger, so we can tell what we're thinking most of the time.

Wing: ..................Sure, honey

But this is something that has to be communicated though words.

I spent almost the entire five minutes looking in all three of them when the realization hit me like a ton of bricks. Leaf would've gone to the Resource Room. It's considered the “safe haven” for special needs students … like Leaf.

I was just about to head out from Mr. Gorgon's room,

Wing: Mr. Gorgon?? That poor man. I wonder if people are afraid to look at him

which is just across the hallway from it, when the announcement that I've been dreading clicks on:

“PLEASE DISMISS FIRST-WAVE STUDENTS RIDING BUSES ONE, THREE, FIVE, AND SEVEN!” the woman's voice projected, sounding like a sonic boom.

Wing: I highly doubt her voice broke the sound barrier LOL

Mystic: definitely broke my ear drums plenty of times hahaha xD

I hit myself mentally in the head. Idiot! Leaf’s on the first wave! Now what? I cursed in my mind.

Wing: Okay, you said "bitch" earlier and Leaf said "fucking." What part of your thoughts right there were curses??

Mystic: very good question Mystic: and i have no answer thank god

I began to search frantically through the crowd of seventh and eighth graders, now filing out of the rooms and out to the bus pick-up circle. I caught Leaf’s fluorescent-blue tee shirt emerging from the Resource Room,

Wing: What the hell is fluorescent blue

Mystic: uhhh, very bright blue? i guess? pfft Mystic: course i coulda just said bright blue

Kali: Maybe it's literally a shirt made of fluorescent lights...?

Wing: Holy shit that sounds uncomfortable and also capable of causing burns

Kali: Appropriate for this story.

Wing: PFFFF

and I knew that I had to get her attention. But with all the kids talking, my own voice was drowned out.

“Leaf!” I shouted anyway, clapping and jumping. Her face found mine.

Wing: I knew they were gay!!/kidding

I then pointed to myself, made a heart with my hands, and pointed back to her. I knew I had succeeded because she smiled brightly and laughed as she disappeared through the glass double-doors.

Wing: That was easy.

I did a small fist-pump when I felt a tap on my shoulder. I turned around and found one of my other friends, Marybeth. She’s half African American, but she has straight black hair with brown natural highlights. Not like Audrey’s fake dye.

“Heya, Mary,” I greeted her as we slapped our hands together. She smiled me a picture-perfect white smile with colorful braces.

“Remy, my friend, you are so going to love me,” Marybeth replied.

“What for?” I asked.

“I,” she takes a dramatic pause, “got both of our names in for volunteering at the Northern Vet Clinic!”

I was stunned. “…Seriously?” I gasped in delight. “Marybeth… you ARE AMAZING!” I cried.

Wing: Apparently, Remy and I have different definitions of the word “amazing.”

Marybeth shrugged, the bright grin on her visage never ceasing. “I know,” was all she could say.

“Hey, mind if I join in?” Kyle approached us.

“Well, look who’s tardy to the party,” Marybeth mocked, rolling her eyes.

Kyle chuckled and rubbed his forehead. “Sorry, babe, didn’t mean to be late.” Oh, I think I forgot to mention the fact that Marybeth and Kyle are girlfriend and boyfriend.

Wing: I literally do not care.

Suddenly, the room comm. beeped on again:

“PLEASE DISMISS SECOND-WAVE STUDENTS ON BUSES TWO, FOUR, SIX, AND EIGHT.”

Kyle, Marybeth and I raced back to our rooms to collect our backpacks (or in Mary’s case, her book bag),

Wing: ????? What??? is the difference????

then we made a mad dash out the double doors. As we arrived into the bus pick-up area, we were greeted by four long, yellow, revving engines.

Wing: So wait, not only were the engines yellow, but it was JUST the engines waiting out there? I'm no expert on car mechanics, but I don't think that would work very well.

Kyle parted from us and went to bus 2 as Marybeth and I turned tail and headed for bus 8.

Marybeth and I claimed a backseat and settled down as the other kids began to board onto the bus.

“So, when do we start volunteering?” I inquired to Marybeth. She took out her iPhone and started looking at some songs.

“Well, we have to shadow a vet first to get the feel of the environment.” As she said this, she handed me a sheet. Obviously a permission slip to shadow a veterinarian. “After that, the vets will select a few people to volunteer once for one day. Before you do, you have to take a test of basic veterinarian knowledge. And then after the volunteering, they make you take another survey about what you saw and what you liked and disliked. And then, poof—you’re selected based off the surveys,” Marybeth finished explaining. Then she popped her ear-buds into her ears and began to blast music.

I took out my own MP3 Player and began to play my own media. As I listened to the random selection of soundtracks, I dosed off,

Wing: What no, don't mess with the dosage of your medicine, Remy

the warmth of the day soothing my nerves. The mighty vehicle rattled as the bus driver put it into drive and began to pull out of the bus-circle.

Wing: "THE MIGHTY VEHICLE" THO OMG

Mystic: AYE Mystic: THE MIGHTY VEHICHLE Mystic: AS FORETOLD BY THE PROPHECY

Kali: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BmmLtPEsRZw

Wing: oh my god

The music that lulled my brain slowly ticked away the time, since it took the bus a near hour to drop me off at home. I woke up as it hit the familiar bump that came ten minutes before my stop. I looked over at Marybeth, who moved to another seat and was lying on the cheap leather, asleep.

The bus finally came to a stop near my house. When I leapt off the final stair, the doors closed behind me with a hiss. As it pulled away, I caught a glimpse of Marybeth waving to me,

Wing: I guess Mary's waving in her sleep

which I returned. I only stopped when the vehicle rolled out of sight, the acid stench streaming from the exhaust pipe.

I began to hum a made-up tune as I skipped to the door, catching the blue color of my mom’s Subaru Forester. I let myself into the house, throwing my bag on the floor nearby. Immediately, the scent of cleaner perfumes hit me full force.

Wing: I don't think that's a thing.

Clearly, the cleaning lady had just left.

“Mom, I’m home!” I called. My mom had always been a stay-at-home person, because she has this thing about the house being robbed if she wasn’t there to look after it. She could get a job, having got her Bachelor’s Degree in college, but her OCD of the house is so bad she refuses to get one—which, as of late, has led to my parents arguing often. My mom also has it over Rocky, because she’s afraid he’ll make an accident indoors,

Wing: “Look at this accident! I made it all by myself!! :D”

even though he’s very good with using the doggy-door my dad installed for him so he could go into the backyard and do his business.

“Remeleen?” my mom responded. She came from the corner of the kitchen door frame and approached me. “Oh, there you are—the bus came later than usual, I was worried there had been something wrong,” she said. Another example of one of my mom’s many obsessive thoughts.

“Mom, I’m fine. Stop being such a worry wart,” I joked.

She sighed, although a nervous smile still played on her face. “Well… what can I say? After Charlie had that accident…” Her voice choked and she stopped, a saddened expression taking over.

Charlie is my big brother, who’s in his second year of high school. Three weeks ago, some drunken bastard decided to t-bone his bus at a cross-light.

Wing: Must've been a pretty tall car.

The outcome was really bad—almost all of the people on the bus were injured, but Charlie got the worst since the car t-boned the side where his seat was. He got cracked ribs, an open fraction in his leg, and several breaks in both of his arms.

Wing: Not really sure what an "open fraction" is, or how Charlie's leg had one

Mystic: oh I've almost had one of those. it's basically when the bone breaks thorugh the skin

Wing: Wouldn't that be "open fracture" then?

Mystic: if it's a closed fracture it's when the bone breaks but the skin is still intact Mystic: wait Mystic: did i spell it as fraction

Wing: You did, my dear.

Mystic: whoops

Charlie is still in the hospital, and for how much longer I don’t know. They have to keep him there to keep a close eye on his wounds, perform rehabilitation therapy, and reapply the bandages and casts. I hope he comes back soon, though.

“Mom, Charlie is still alive, isn’t he? The doctors and nurses are taking good care of him, and he’s a natural fighter. Don’t you remember when he was little—you have to because you told me this story—when he was only four years old? He drank the Orange Glow in the bowl that the previous housekeeper left on the ground, thinking it was some kind of juice. The people at Poison Control thought he wouldn’t make it… and guess what?” I left that for her to answer.

“I know…I just worry a lot, that’s all,” Mom defended.

Wing: Charlie: I'm gonna become a mathematician!! There's math inside me! Remy: That's great! Charlie: It's in my soul! It's in my blood! Remy: Go for it, bro! Charlie: It's in my bones!! Remy: That's the spirit!! Charlie: No!! I mean really!!! It's iN MY FUCKING BONES AAAAAH I NEED AN AMBULANCE Remy: FUCK

Mystic: PFFFFFFFF BAHAHAHAA OH MY GOD

“Well, I’m still alive, and you don’t have to worry about me all the time. Things in life always happen when you’re not looking, whether for better or for worse,” I reassured her.

Suddenly, Leaf’s rant came back to me:

“…No matter what you say, or what you do, ITS NOT GONNA FUCKING HAPPEN! It's not like you can write in a book or whatever and whatever you write down will come true! Life doesn't work that way—instead, it throws shit into your face until you crack and start to shut down.”

Will that really happen to you, Leaf? The last thing I want to see is for you to just vanish off the face of the Earth, not knowing what to do or how to react.

Wing: Well, in fairness, at least if she vanishes off the face of the earth, you won't have to see her reaction.

“Oh, speaking of which—where’s Amy?” I asked.

“She’s sleeping over Tanya’s house today, because, you know, it’s a Friday,” she responded.

Wing: Sleeping over her house. Like, in a giant hammock above the roof.

“Oh, alright. Well, I’m gonna work on weekend homework—fun, right?—up in my room. I’ll take Rocky for his walk after supper,” I said, grabbing my backpack and marching up the steps.

“Okay, honey.” My mom’s voice sounded tired, and sad. For one moment, I felt like I should’ve done something. But the feeling fled as my air-conditioned room called to me, and I obliged.

I just want to feel alright.

The times you don’t want to wake up,

cause when you sleep it’s never over when you give up.

The sun is always gonna rise up.

You need to get up, gotta keep your head up.

Look at the people all around you.

The way you feel is something everybody goes through.

Dark out, but you still gotta light up.

You need to wake up, gotta keep your face up.

~Lyrics from Face Up, by Lightsa

I deeply apologize for how long that was! Maybe I should have split it up, huh?...Well, in any case, I hope you enjoyed it! More to come soon!

[demitgibbs]

Love and Understanding: A Conversation with Cher

Cher is so low-key about being Cher that calling her is like calling your mom. “Hi,” she purrs with signature simplicity when I phone her presidential suite. We are speaking matter-of-factly about gay things, political things, Twitter things (“I’m finished with the emojis that we have”). About going to Walgreens and trying to remember why she went to Walgreens. This seems so very … normal?  

Certainly, Cher is the most multi of multi-hyphenates – fiery human rights activist, Auto-Tune pioneer, a unicorn, the Phoenix – but no, not at all normal. Not from down here, where we’ve basked in the long-reigning diva’s treasure trove of film and music and bedazzled Bob Mackie costumes, and admired her ability to get down, do a five-minute plank (seriously), and somehow get back up again. That motion is the time-tested motion of Cher’s enduring six-decade career. It’s where grit meets guts meets glitter.

Our Oz, our Wonderland; a safe, shimmering space providing escapist refuge since the 1960s, a span which has seen Sonny (Bono, her late ex-husband) and Cher, anthemic rock and gay dance, inventions and reinventions – Cher’s mere existence brought us closer to those within our own community, and closer to ourselves.

She has three Golden Globes, a Best Actress Oscar (for Moonstruck), a Grammy (for “Believe”) and an Emmy (for Cher: The Farewell Tour), and in December, she’ll be the recipient of the prestigious Kennedy Center Honor for her indelible contributions to culture. But Cher’s superheroine, Hollywood-royalty sheen isn’t without genuine normal-person realness. Unlike “Believe,” there is nothing artificially manufactured about Cher’s no-nonsense, everywoman, Walgreens-shopper persona. Because even when her sequins glisten like a galaxy of stars on a lit Vegas stage, when she’s floating high above you in majestic-goddess fashion, and when she’s still wearing a variation of her “If I Could Turn Back Time” music video one-piece at her current age of 72, Cher does the least pop icon thing a pop icon can do: remind you she’s still living in your world.

In July, she did her gay-icon due diligence by helicoptering onto the set of Mamma Mia 2! Here We Go Again to play the role she’d been playing in front of the world, most discernibly to generations of baby-gays and grown-up gays: maternal pillar. When I met Cher in 2016 on Halloween at a fundraiser stop for Hillary Clinton in the suburbs of Michigan, I was struck by her Cher-ness, the glitzy legend momentarily eclipsed by her warm, inviting humanness.

Armed with a cannon of glittery ABBA bops, Cher has come to our rescue once again with an ode to the Swedish disco-pop supergroup titled – what else? – Dancing Queen, her 26th album and first since 2013’s Closer to the Truth. In December, The Cher Show, the musical about her life, which she is co-producing, officially opens on Broadway. And next year, because she just can’t help herself, she will embark on a tour appropriately titled Here We Go Again.

The night we spoke, Cher was laid-back, reflective and full of hearty chuckles as she talked about that Walgreens detour, kissing Silkwood co-star Meryl Streep, the wedding dress she’d wear to Trump’s impeachment party, the “breadcrumbs” of her legacy, Twitter, the devil, jumping out of a window – and not only her long-standing influence on the LGBTQ community, but our influence on her.  

Cher, I have a story you probably haven’t thought about in some time: its 2016, you’re at a Walgreens in Flint, Michigan, on Halloween. You were there campaigning for Hillary and some Walgreens shopper told you they loved your Cher costume.

Yes! Oh my god! Wasn’t that, like, the weirdest experience at the Walgreens?!

You tell me. I wasn’t there!

Haha! I needed to go into the Walgreens for something. Or: I had a moment to breathe …  I don’t know. I went into Walgreens and I was looking for something, and then the girls who were helping me realized it was me, and then there was a whole kind of hubbub thing and all these little trick-or-treaters came in as I was leaving. So they were all outside and I piled them into the limousine and we were hanging out in there. I mean, I was supposed to be going to a whole bunch of fundraisers – I ended up making them, of course – and I was busy playing with the kids.

Are you frequently mistaken for a Cher impersonator? Because, I mean, how often would the real Cher be at a Walgreens?

Right? And in Flint! Well, probably not often. Ha! But you know, the minute I start talking, they pretty much know it’s me.

You’re hard on yourself when it comes to your music. Are you happy with Dancing Queen?

I think I did a good job. Now whether people are gonna like it…

Less studio drama than that time you stormed out on producer Mark Taylor after recording “Believe”?

Well… yes. Haha! But I have to tell you something: These songs are not easy. You’d think, “Oh, they’re pop-y and Björn (Ulvaeus) and Benny (Andersson) and the girls start to get into them,” and they’re not. No more Mr. Nice Guy! They’re rough songs. And they’re much more intricate than I thought, but I had a great time. Some of them are easier, and some of them have some rough spots.

You could’ve easily found enough inspiration in the world’s current plight for another album like your 2000 indie album Not Commercial, which was dark.  

But we don’t need that right now! We need ABBA right now! If anything, we need to not be brought down because everything is so terrible. I was just talking to this one boy who came in and he was asking me what did I really think and I said, “Babe, I think the picture’s bleak. I think everyone’s gotta vote.”

Thankfully, Dancing Queen is a slice of gay heaven in hell.

Well, look, I wasn’t doing it for that, but I’m happy if it can make people happier than they were before they heard it.

When were you first aware that the LGBTQ community identified you as a gay icon?

I don’t think I was when I was with Sonny. I think it happened on The Sonny and Cher Show (which ran from 1976-1977), somehow. I don’t know – I don’t know how that happens. I mean, how does it happen? I have no idea! It’s just like, we made a pact and we’re a group and that’s it.

But you were seeing more of the LGBTQ community come out at some point? There was a switch?

Yeah, there was a change, there was definitely a change. And I think it was when I was not with Sonny anymore, and then somehow it all started to click. But I always had gay friends. I actually almost got arrested at a party with my best friend at school. He was gay but he couldn’t let anybody know, and he wanted me to go with him to a party and the party got raided. And we jumped out the bathroom window! It was high. We had to go over the bathtub into the window and jump out.

And you got away?

Yep.

Do you recall the moment that galvanized you to stand up as an ally for the LGBTQ community?

I’m not sure there was a moment; I’m not sure what it was. I just feel that, probably, there was a moment where guys thought I was just one of you. It’s like, there’s a moment where you’re either part of the group and you’re absorbed into the group and people love you as part of the group, or they don’t even know you’re alive, you know? Gay men are very loyal.

Look, I have a friend (makeup artist) Kevyn Aucoin – he’s dead now – but he told me when he was young, he was growing up in some place in Louisiana and said how horrible it was to have to hide and be frightened, and he said he loved listening to Cher records. I think that’s a dead giveaway! Haha! If you want to hide being gay, do not buy Cher records!

And I had another friend who had a Cher poster on his wall. I don’t remember where he came from – some small town too – and his dad ripped it off the wall and he bought another one, put it inside his closet and said it was a way to really be who he was in spite of who his dad wanted him to be.

When in your life have you felt like the LGBTQ community was on your side when the rest of the world maybe was not?

Always. I remember when I was doing (the play) Come Back to the Five and Dime (in 1976) and we had standing room only before we got reviewed, and after we got reviewed nobody came except the community – the community, and little grey-haired old women who came to matinees. We managed to stay open until we could build back up the following. Also, the gay community, they just don’t leave you, they stay with you; that’s one thing that always keeps you going.

What does that loyalty mean to you?

There’s been sometimes where I was just, you know, heartbroken about things, but it always gives you hope when there are people who think that you’re cute and worthwhile and an artist. It’s a great thing to have in your back pocket.

Your mother once told you when you were a child: “You won’t be the prettiest, you won’t be the most talented, you won’t be the smartest, but you are special.” What kind of mark did that leave on you?

It just left some sort of indelible, interior tattoo. Because I have gone through so much shit in my life. I can’t tell you how many times people have written, “She’ll be gone by next year.” I remember I got really pissed off at somebody and I went, “I’ll be here and you’ll be gone.” I don’t think I believed it at the time, but I was just angry.

So what you’re saying is what I’ve longed to hear: You’re immortal.

Well, no, I’m not saying that. Ha! I’m just saying I can be really pissy.

At the Mamma Mia! Here We Go Again premiere in July, you and Meryl Streep kissed on the lips. Was that meant to be the Silkwood reunion the internet wanted it to be?

Haha! No! We were just thinking it was stupid! It was so dumb! Meryl came behind me and I didn’t know it, and then we turned to each other, she looked up at me and she said, “You weren’t this tall yesterday!” And we laughed. And we just kissed! I had on my 10-inch heels, and you can see how tall I am next to her and we just thought it was funny. I said, “Kiss me!” And we just kissed!

I have to tell you something: She is funny. She is wicked funny! And I don’t know that she gets to show that side all that often, but she’s wicked funny and she just will do anything for a lark. She’s got a really great serious side, but she’s got this really hysterical side too.

How do you hope your role as the mother of a trans son, Chaz Bono, has influenced other parents of LGBTQ kids?

This is what I think, and this is what I would hope: I would hope that, look, I didn’t go through it that easily. Both times. When I found out Chaz was gay, I didn’t go through it that easily; when I found out Chaz was (transitioning) … except we talked about it a lot, actually. But then Chaz didn’t mention it anymore, so I kind of forgot. And what I think is, there’s such a fear of losing the child you love, and what will replace that child.

I think it’s about the fear, mostly. I felt, who will this new person be? Because I know who the person is now, but who will the new person be and how will it work and will I have lost somebody? And then I thought of something else: I thought, my god, if I woke up tomorrow and I was a man, I would be gouging my eyes out. And so I know that if that’s what you feel then that must be so painful that it doesn’t make any difference what anyone else feels or what anyone else thinks. Chaz is so happy now and we get along better than ever.

You’re known to speak your mind. When’s the last time your mouth got you into trouble?

I think it was my fingers that got me into trouble last time. I had to delete a couple of things that I tweeted, which now what I do is: If I’m gonna just go off on a rant, I do it first, I look at it, I delete it, but I take a picture of it first and then I have it. Then I decide if I really wanna put it on my Twitter or if I really wanna tweet it – or if I got it out of my system. I said something that I thought was really funny but obviously the people on Trump’s side didn’t feel it was funny and I got so much shit that I didn’t expect.

There seems to be a fair amount of homophobes who you end up calling out.

Yeah. I mean, I don’t know what they are. There’s just so much phobia of everybody. You’ve gotta be the same color, you’ve gotta like the same things, you’ve gotta be the same religion. It’s like if you’re not one of them, you’re an enemy.

You’re known for your emojis – do you have a go-to?

Well, I have a few of them. I have cake when I’m really happy, I have a ghost when I’m really happy, and when I’m really, really happy I put them together. I wish I had something that was more than the guy who’s got the blue head that is screaming. I wish I had somebody with a scream and his head was coming off the top of his body. I really wish there were better emojis. I’m finished with the emojis that we have.

Am I hearing right: You’re done with emojis?

Yeah, stick a fork in ’em! I just want there to be more. I like the emoji that’s the red-faced one with all the little signs over his mouth, which I always imagine is “fuck.” That’s what I put instead of the letters because they just get so angry. But also, I use the guy with the zipper across his mouth because I can’t say that. I have little fans, so I have to stop using that.

You could send out the shit emoji and you know what, Cher, the gays would go wild.

Oh, I’ve done that before! I put a bull and that together for when I think, “Oh, this is such bullshit.”

What will you be wearing to Trump’s impeachment party?

Well, I think that we’re all a little bit too premature for that, because I don’t think that’s gonna happen. But in my dreams I will be wearing something – oh, I think I’ll wear a wedding dress! Haha! I think I’ll just wear a white wedding dress. And a veil.

To symbolize?

Just purity and excitement and something new. A new phase!

And we’ll all go on a honeymoon after.

Yes, we’ll go on one big honeymoon forever afterwards. I don’t see that happening because I think that there too many really smart people, in the devilish kind of way. All those people who are advising him, they’re really smart. But they’re really from the dark side. I don’t mean the actual devil in reality – not that I think that there is a devil in reality – but just a real dark side of gutting the entire government and gutting everything that was meant to preserve our safety and the water and the air and the land and schools and healthcare and all of it.  

When it comes to our current pop landscape – Beyoncé, Taylor Swift, Lady Gaga, et cetera – who do you think does or doesn’t have the staying power that you’ve demonstrated throughout your entire career?

Gosh, I don’t know. It’s really hard to know until there’s more time under their belts, do you know what I mean? There’s got to be a little bit more time under their belts to know that. I think they’ve all done a pretty good job so far, but I think you’ve gotta have … like, I’m 54 years into this business, so I think we have to wait a minute.

I’ve been thinking a lot about how we interpret an artist’s legacy after Aretha passed, and every time an icon passes on. Do you think about yours and what you hope that will be?

You know, I don’t really think about it. The only provision I’ve made is: I want all my friends and family to go to Paris and have a big party. I’m gonna fly everybody to Paris and have a big party. But no, I don’t think about it too much because it’s like, thinking about it can’t do me any good. It is what it is, and to think about it, what will that get me? Kind of nothing. Also, what’s really great is there’s music left behind and there’s film left behind, you know? I’m gonna leave a trail. I’ll leave breadcrumbs.

Cher’s new CD “Dancing Queen”  is available for purchase and her new tour “Here We Go Again Tour” hits 4 Florida cities: Fort Meyers (Jan 17); Fort Lauderdale (Jan 19); Orlando (Jan 21); Jacksonville (Jan 23). To purchase the new CD or tickets to her tour go to: Cher.com.

from Hotspots! Magazine https://hotspotsmagazine.com/2018/10/11/love-and-understanding-a-conversation-with-cher/ from Hot Spots Magazine https://hotspotsmagazine.tumblr.com/post/178950420815