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eldrai · 3 years

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Not Worth It

Whumptober 2021 - day 3 - prompt: insult

Character: Reid

Warnings: ableism, r-slur, brief/mild homophobia

Words: 2.2k

Summary: Spencer isn’t naïve. He is young and he looks young but he isn’t stupid. He hadn’t graduated with the expectation that because he was older, had qualifications to back him up, the world would collectively mature in kind. After all, he’d gained his relative immunity to insults because it hurt less to let them taunt him than it had to confront them and end up shoved in a locker or tied up on the football field.

He had hoped things might be different. Not expected. Not assumed.

Just hoped.

ao3 / masterlist

“—were actually invented in the early fifteenth century, though the first versions were, uh, significantly more spherical and made of a wood like beech. It’s also highly likely they used cows’ hair inside leather—”

The cop – Maciewicz – nudges the officer beside him. “Does he ever stop talking?”

Spencer is fairly sure the jab is intended to be audible. It’s an interesting social convention, that sort of insult, where everyone including the target hears it but the person who said it can’t be called out on it because they supposedly directed it at nobody in particular. Interesting, and very high-school of them: Maciewicz is closer to forty than thirty and beginning to bald, and the stale remnants of cigarette smoke follows his colleague wherever he goes.

It doesn’t offend Reid these days. Attending a public LA high school is its own distinct circle of hell but doing so at nine? University at twelve? He’s been called most names under the sun and petty insults don’t get under his skin like they used to.

Which isn’t to say they aren’t annoying.

What he hates the most is the variety of people who insult him: they all have different reactions, different sore spots, and getting them to go away isn’t a one-size-fits-all situation. Reid has dealt with enough bullies to understand that ‘ignore them and they’ll go away’ is useless, if not downright dangerous advice, but there is a whole spectrum of solutions which may or may not work. Get it wrong, and they just grow more persistent.

Spencer isn’t naïve. He is young and he looks young but he isn’t stupid. He hadn’t graduated with the expectation that because he was older, had qualifications to back him up, the world would collectively mature in kind. After all, he’d gained his relative immunity to insults because it hurt less to let them taunt him than it had to confront them and end up shoved in a locker or tied up on the football field.

He had hoped things might be different. Not expected. Not assumed.

Just hoped.

Of course they aren’t.

He pays them no mind and continues to explain the significance of the golf balls their unsub keeps leaving behind. If they didn’t want him to talk, they shouldn’t have asked for his opinion.

This seems like a fairly straightforward case and with any luck, they’ll only have to tolerate the local police department for a couple of days more.

He may have jinxed it.

(Once when they had come to take his Mom to inpatient, Spencer had overheard someone at the front desk talking lowly to someone else, and her words had stuck with him: see, that’s what you get for saying it’s quiet today!

That was always the gist of what was said on TV hospital dramas too. Police chaos isn’t all that different from hospital chaos, he thinks. There’s always too much of it and it’s unpredictable in its unpredictability.)

The curveball this time is their unsub is not a lone male but a male-female duo – he carries out the kills but under her direction. Classic submissive-dominant dynamic. The thing with pairs is they crack. Bend under the pressure until they break and lives are lost in the collateral damage.

Case in point: Marcy Edgeworth, aged twenty-four, Caucasian female, death by blunt force trauma. She is the first female victim and the first to have been left to lie where she’d died. That isn’t a good sign. No indication of sexual assault pre- or post-mortem but there is an incomplete ring of bite marks just beneath her right collarbone, exposed due to her torn shirt.

“What, never seen a naked girl before?” Jamison – Maciewicz’s colleague – mutters. Just low enough for Spencer to hear as he is trying to get on with his job, unlike a certain pair of officers.

“Woman,” he corrects, for her age, “and yes, I have.”

He hopes the lightness in his tone offsets the brusqueness. Spencer shifts his crouching into kneeling and leans forwards to examine her hair. It’s an artificial red – her roots and her eyebrows are blonde – and their previous victims have all had brown hair.

“Only counts if it’s outside a morgue,” Maciewicz chimes in.

He ignores them but their gaze burns the back of his head, and their presence has his guard raised. They stand behind him and their shadows stretch out over the grass either side of him. They’re going for a reaction, Spencer assumes.

Biting is an interesting thing without an accompanying sexual assault. If nothing else it gives them a good estimation of their male unsub’s teeth. The impression he’s getting from the scene is one of interruption, an impulse kill whose victim he had to leave too soon. It is a public park and it was an early-morning dog walker who found her – likely a jogger or someone on a night shift.

Jamison clears his throat once, twice, then taps him on the shoulder. Spencer rears away from his touch. People never ask, they just do.

“Yes?” he asks.

“Oh, nothing,” Jamison says. “I – we – we were wondering why you do that… thing.”

“What thing?” Spencer asks.

Jamison gestures. “You know, the – you know.”

Is that some sort of punchline he’s missing? Spencer glances over at Maciewicz and finds a mild amusement. Nothing to indicate he should be laughing, nor should he know what they do mean.

Maybe he’s missing the cue. He’s better at it these days, but not perfect.

“No, I don’t.”

With a furtive glance at the precinct’s captain, deep in conversation with one of the forensic technicians, Jamison sighs. “The thing with your hands, the—” He shakes his hands in an exaggerated manner.

Spencer’s hands still. He hadn’t thought it was very noticeable and more to the point, Jamison is definitely overexaggerating it like kids in middle school used to do. Only back then they had his unusual gait and meltdowns to mock too. “I don’t do that,” he says firmly.

(He’d answer it if it was a genuine question. Respectful. He loves people who ask out of genuine good intent. They are few and far between.)

Maciewicz snickers.

“Yeah, you do,” Jamison says. “I want to know why, that’s all.”

“Makes you look like a retard,” Maciewicz adds.

…and there it is.

He goes cold from head to toe. It never fails to make him feel as if someone has just dumped a bucket of water right over him, washing away his enthusiasm and excitement and everything else he values. Leaves the bare bones, the weirdness, each of the hundred ways he never quite fits in.

Spencer hates the word.

Because they don’t care about his IQ or eidetic memory or reading skill when they say that, and they don’t care after he tells them.

Nobody calls him that because they think he is. They say it to hurt him.

He wishes it wouldn’t.

Despite how often he’s heard it, he never has a response. His mind goes blank and all he can pull from it is the roots – re,from Latin: back, and tardus, from Latin: slow – as if they give a damn about etymology. As if that’s a normal person’s response. Today is no exception so it’s a blessing when Morgan wanders over.

“You got anything, pretty boy?” he asks. Maciewicz and Jamison snort. If Morgan hears it, he pays it no mind. “They found a guy’s baseball cap over there. No hair but it looks like it’s our man’s.”

And once again, his mind goes blank. Makes you look like a retard. He’d been thinking about – the bite mark, yes, what does that indicate? Spencer catches his hands moving and shoves them in his pockets before they can. “He was interrupted,” he says. “It explains why the bite isn’t complete and why he didn’t notice he’d left his hat.”

Morgan nods. “The person who found the body didn’t recall seeing anyone else around, so you think he’d just left before they got there?”

“Probably,” Spencer says. “I think the woman might be blonde. If they got into a fight, he’d be stressed, he’d be thinking about her. Maybe she reminded him of her.”

“Could be the hair, could be something else,” Morgan says. “He won’t have talked to her, not if he hit her from behind.”

“What if they did? She could have walked away—”

“Maybe,” Morgan says. “But if her hair was dyed, he wouldn’t see that unless they were up close, right? He’d initially go for her because she’s got red hair, not blonde. And if they did talk, Prentiss says no woman’s gonna just turn her back on a strange man. Especially in the middle of the night with no-one around.”

It’s a valid point, and it isn’t condescending. Nonetheless it hurts. Spencer studies the ground for a long moment and tries to forget (retard) Maciewicz and Jamison. “The unsub isn’t going to be someone he’s sexually attracted to,” he says. “He didn’t assault her, and if the victim reminds him of the other unsub, he’d probably have tried to even if someone interrupted him before he really could.”

A burst of laughter from Maciewicz and Jamison. His cheeks go hot with embarrassment—they must be talking about him, what else is there to laugh about? Morgan follows his gaze. “There a problem?” he asks.

Maciewicz holds up his hands in mock surrender. “No, no. Just… the hell is that about, ‘pretty boy’?”

Morgan shrugs. Spencer isn’t sure if it’s as casual as it looks.

“Well, makes sense,” Jamison says. “Course he’s gonna freak out over a naked girl if he doesn’t swing that way.”

…oh, great.

Spencer doesn’t mind exactly what they say as much as the implication—that they know, that they’re entitled to know his sexuality. How they say it as if gay is equivalent to bad. Once again, how utterly high school it all is. And he knows Morgan isn’t going to appreciate it either, probably more insulted on his behalf than Spencer himself.

“And you care, because...?” Morgan says, looking back and forth between them.

“I don’t,” Jamison says.

“He’s…” Maciewicz stammers, “…you know.”

“Smarter than you?” Morgan suggests. “Better at his job than you? A better person than you?”

“You don’t have to stick up for him,” Jamison says. “Must get annoying to deal with a re—”

“It’s fine,” Spencer interrupts. It isn’t. It really isn’t but it isn’t worth the conversation. How tiring it gets to deal with it, how much easier it is to walk away. These officers aren’t going to change their worldview on disabilities all of a sudden. “Morgan.”

Morgan takes in his posture, the unnatural stillness as he forces himself not to fidget, though the look in his eyes doesn’t fade. “The only people I don’t want to ‘deal with’ are both of you.”

The men share a look – not so much chastened as disappointed their fun was interrupted – but they do back off.

“They already seem to think I’m incapable,” Spencer says irritably. “I said it was fine, I didn’t need you to say anything.”

He crouches down to examine the bite again.

“It didn’t matter,” Spencer says. His hands itch and despite needing to, he can’t bring himself to move. Makes you look like a retard.

“Does if it bothers you,” Morgan insists. “And it did, don’t look at me like that.”

He sighs. They’re not even there any more, the two cops out on patrol and them revisiting the penultimate crime scene. “I’m used to it.”

“And?” Morgan says. “Just because you are doesn’t mean you have to put up with it—”

“It was five minutes at most,” Spencer points out. “Everyone else was fine.”

“Yeah, and they were dicks.”

He shrugs.

“What else did they say?”

Spencer rolls the fabric of his sweater between his fingers and feigns ignorance. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, what else did they say when I wasn’t there, ‘cause they said something.”

“Makes you look like a retard.”

He doesn’t mean to say it – wasn’t sure what he had planned to say, but it certainly wasn’t that – but he says it nonetheless, his tone mimicking the disdain and irritation. And now Morgan definitely isn’t going to believe him if he says he’s fine and it’s going to make the situation worse to explain that he mostly is, he just hasn’t heard it for a while, he’s used to it.

Stupid echolalia.

“Like I said,” Morgan says, “they were dicks.”

Spencer doesn’t point out being rude doesn’t automatically mean lying. “I’ve heard worse.”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t give them the right to say stuff like that.”

He rocks back on the balls of his feet. His hands aren’t co-operating but the swaying motion is a good substitute. “I’m okay.”

“You know,” Morgan says casually, “whenever you lie, you stand exactly the same way.”

Spencer looks up. The expression on Morgan’s face falls somewhere between sadness and sympathy but, he thinks, not pity. It’s a nice change.

“Kid, the only thing you’re gonna get from pretending you’re OK is worse,” Morgan says. “It’s not worth it. Not for anyone but especially not morons like that.”

“It’s not worth it,” Spencer repeats. The words catch in his thoughts and he murmurs it again and again and Morgan isn’t even slightly annoyed at him.

(It isn’t worth it—he knows this—but maybe it is. Just a tiny bit. Just for the part where he has friends who tell him things like this, who don’t mind when he’s awkward. Who don’t mind him.

Friends who say nothing about it but when they get back to the station, the pair are getting chewed out by a pissed off captain.)

A/N: I had trouble getting this to flow as well as my other ones, there's something about it I just can't figure out. Regardless, I hope you enjoy it.

#whumptober2021 #no.3 #insults #criminal minds #fanfic #cw: ableism #fanfiction #cm fanfic #cm fanfiction #reid #spencer reid #eldrai does whumptober

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2manyfandoms2count · 4 years

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You can count on me (I will be there for you)

Alya joins the identity dance, and the chapters flirt with the 2k mark again (it’s fine).

Hope you enjoy!

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | AO3

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Chapter 4

Chat Noir detransforms as he lands into Marinette’s room, and goes straight for her sewing box. He knows the code for it; Ladybug had made sure he did after she’d started to find the blackmail letters, in case anything happened to her.

Not that they use it much, these days, mind you.

The Miraculous box unfolds before him, and he swiftly picks up the Fox and the Horse Miraculouses. He’s about to close it when his eyes land on the Turtle bracelet, and he pauses. Even though it would probably be better to have as few people involved as possible, he has to say it might be a good idea to have some backup, just in case.

He mentally scans the guest list. Alix already has her Miraculous with her, and he knows she’ll use it if needed. Luka’s Second Chance could come in useful, but he’s performing with Kitty Section. It would be a little tricky to camouflage his costume on stage, especially with Alya’s Mirage otherwise occupied. Chloé would surely be ecstatic at the idea of seeing Pollen again, but Adrien isn’t sure that she would be very discreet about it. Same for Kim and Xuppu.

This leaves Nino and Kagami, his best people. Calm, collected, trustworthy. He shoves their Miraculouses in his pocket, closes the box and dashes out of the door. He doesn’t know exactly what their role could be, but he knows that having the Miraculouses on him can only buy some time later.

He slows down as he walks into the reception room, nodding to a few acquaintances his father had insisted should be there, and grabs a canapé from a waiter’s tray as his eyes search the room for his wife’s best friend. He spots her in the middle of a conversation with Marinette, next to the head table, and makes a beeline for them.

“Hello, beautiful ladies.” He clears his throat as he approaches.

“And hello to you, Hot Stuff.” Alya winks and elbows Marinette in the ribs. The bride blushes a deep shade of crimson at the reminder of the time she’d stolen Adrien’s phone, and starts to regret asking Alya to be her Maid of Honour. I’m going to die of embarrassment before the end of the toasts, aren’t I? Her head shake says.

“Marinette, would you mind if I borrowed Alya for a minute?”

“Please, do.” She all but pushes her friend towards her husband, who smiles and starts leading her towards the edge of the room.

“Actually, Adrien?” Marinette calls out before they’re too far away. He turns around and sees her jog up to him.

“Erm… Have you seen Chat Noir yet?” She whispers, looking around them carefully to make sure nobody’s listening. Alya’s eyebrows shoot up and Marinette gestures that she’ll explain later.

“Yes!” Adrien nods. “You can count on me, after the toasts.”

“Okay, good.” Marinette lets out a relieved sigh. “Just wanted to check. I’ll leave you two to it.”

“See you later, love.” He leans in and kisses her on the cheek, ‘for appearances’.

“Y-yeah, sounds good.” She blushes again, her hand flying to her cheek as she watches him and Alya leave. Kwami, his acting is smooth.

“Aw, look at my girl, she’s just as flustered as when we were in collège!” Alya coos, glancing back at Marinette once they’re out of earshot. She waves at her, and Marinette waves back nervously before starting to talk with a guest. “What’s this about Chat Noir though?” She turns towards Adrien and looks him in the eye.

“Actually, he’s what I want to talk to you about.” He shuffles awkwardly on his feet, trying to find the right words. “But first, I need you to promise this conversation will stay between us. No telling Marinette, or anyone.”

“Not even Nino?” Alya clutches her heart. She can keep Miraculous secrets from the public, but she feels bad keeping things from her fiancé.

“Nino will know part of it soon enough, I promise. The rest is something I’ll only tell him once I’ve told Marinette.”

She pouts pensively, weighing satisfying her curiosity against lies of omission.

“I guess that’s alright.” She finally shrugs, and her eyes widen hungrily at the smell of a scoop. “So, what’s wrong with Chat Noir? And what does it have to do with Marinette?”

“Well, I wouldn’t call it a problem, per se, in normal circumstances, but today…”

“Spill it, Agreste.”

“Okay.” Adrien takes a deep breath. “You know how Ladybug is dating Chat Noir?”

“Duh, I was the one who uncovered that story.” She says with a smug smile. Adrien rolls his eyes, an amused smile playing on his lips. It had occurred to him later that Ladybug had made sure it was Alya who found out first, as if to soften the blow of keeping her identity from her later.

“Well, it turns out that…” Adrien looks around them quickly, just to make sure there are no ears lying around, and his voice drops to a whisper. “Marinette is Ladybug.”

“What? ” Alya’s shriek is muffled by Adrien’s hand.

“Shh, this is confidential info, we don’t want people to come poking around.”

Alya blinks, then closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. She takes her time to formulate a coherent sentence, although Adrien can tell from her slight nervous twitching that her thoughts must be all over the place.

When it looks like she's gotten over the news enough that she can control the volume of her voice, he moves his hand away from her mouth.

“So, Marinette is… you-know-who. Okay. This is fine. I can handle it. I just… I was obsessed with her! How did I not notice she was literally right there, next to me, the whole time!!” She facepalms.

“Tell me about it.” Adrien smiles. He'd had the same mini meltdown after he and Ladybug had parted ways on the day she'd called off her transformation in front of him. He’d sat in front of Marinette for years , and never suspected a thing. At least, he thought so. There was something about calling her their everyday Ladybug that had come back to mind when he’d dug deeper in his memories… But he would be lying if he said it had been intentional.

“But… If she’s who you say she is… She’s been seen kissing Chat Noir very recently, while you guys were dating. So, no offense, but… why would she be marrying you? Shouldn’t she be marrying Chat Noir? Unless…” She gasps and points at him. “ You’re Chat Noir!”

Adrien smiles at his friend's excellent deduction skills. “Well, see, this is where it gets complicated. You are correct in saying that I am Chat, but , Marinette doesn’t know that.”

“What? But why?” Alya frowns in confusion.

“The good old ‘no reveal’ rule.” He shrugs. “Long story short, Ladybug is being blackmailed. She revealed her identity to me because she figured it would be better this way. I -Chat Noir- offered to act as her bodyguard until we got to the bottom of it all, but she refused because she doesn’t want to know who I am, in case everything goes wrong. She wasn't sure where to get protection from, though, so I offered the Adrien Agreste option, since I have a bodyguard. Match made in heaven, really.”

“Dayum.” Alya looks at him blankly, taking the time to process his explanation. “So, to sum up: you guys are involved in a fake, fake-wedding situation, where Marinette thinks she married her ex-crush for benefits, instead of the love of her life, when you were the same person all along?” She smirks. “Boy, I wish I’d known that before writing my toast, I would have made so many allusions to it… I would have kept it discreet enough that she wouldn’t have understood, of course, but the satisfaction of her connecting the dots later would’ve been amazing.”

“Don’t worry, I took care of that in my own speech.” He winks. He plans on keeping a phone nearby to record it, so he can play it back to her when she knows everything and have her see how genius it was.

“Okay, now. I’m guessing you didn’t just tell me this to get it off your chest.” Alya clears her throat.

“Indeed. Something happened earlier, and Marinette thinks that the people who are blackmailing her are my father and Nathalie.”

“No offense, but that would check out.”

“None taken, I feel the same way.” He pats her shoulder, lips spreading into a tight smile. “Anyway, we’re going to go back to the Mansion to look for evidence after the toasts, and we’ll probably need Rena Rouge to come out of retirement to make sure there are ‘sightings’ of us here while we’re gone. I'm sure Marinette will tell you all about that part of the plan herself, but before that, I need your help because Marinette wants to speak to Chat Noir and Adrien.”

“Oof. She really isn’t making it easy for you to keep your identity a secret, huh.” Alya chuckles.

“Nope.” He smiles as he digs his hands into his pockets. “But it was bound to happen at some point, I’m actually surprised I managed to dodge the situation for so long. You wouldn’t believe the number of times she wanted to have dinner with Chat Noir and Adrien so we could all discuss the plan.”

“Typical Marinette, to overlook the potential awkwardness of having her boyfriend and her fake fiancé together if she’s working on something.” Alya shakes her head.

“Tell me about it." He chuckles, looking at the ground. His wife really is something else, and he loves her for it. "So, are you up for it?”

“Of course!” Alya replies, eyes twinkling as Adrien hands her the necklace. She slips it in her purse with a satisfied smile. “You can count on me.”

“I never doubted that.” Adrien smiles back, and turns back towards the room.

“I just have one question, though.” Alya holds him back before he can start walking away.

“Yes?”

“Why me? I mean… It’s been a while, and… Why not get your cousin to do it? You guys are pretty much carbon copies of each other, physically speaking, wouldn’t it be easier?”

Adrien pauses. “Maybe in theory, but unlike him, I trust you.”

“Ooh, family drama.” She rubs her hands together. “Why did I assume there wouldn’t be any today?”

“Wishful thinking?” He jokes. “Anyway, I'll give you the signal to Mirage a nice little Adrien later. And then if you could bring the necklace back discreetly so that Marinette doesn’t suspect anything, that would be great.”

“Aye, aye, captain.”

Both head back towards the centre of the room, Adrien finding his way to Marinette’s side, and Alya to Nino’s.

Alya grabs a champagne flute and a knife. She nods at Adrien knowingly before she clinks them together, a sly smile spreading to her lips.

The toasts sure are going to be fun.

#things are getting interesting #miraculous ladybug #the miraculous tales of ladybug and cat noir #mlb #miraculous fanfiction #miraculous fanfic #ladynoir #adrienette #adrinette #alya césaire #one-sided reveal #aged-up characters #fake wedding #inspired by fanart #elle writes

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calleo-bricriu · 5 years

Note

What I want to see is what over 100 years old Calleo and his cards have to say about Voldemort.

The hell do I need cards for that for? I could just tell you outright but, then, I’m sure you’d be back at me going on about how that’s no fun at all.

In the distant past, they’d described him as a bullheaded, reactionary wank cloth who’s prone to having violent tantrums when he doesn’t get his way–I’m condensing that down rather a lot but that was the gist of it; perfectly charming sort until he gets the idea that you think he’s roughly as interesting as watching paint dry.

But, hey, people change and maybe when he’s ready to try again he’ll have improved somewhat.

Which, in his case, would more than likely manifest as just becoming more wildly unpredictable with his meltdowns and moods but, you’ve asked my cards, not me, so here we go.

I wonder if he still does that thing where he tries to go as long as humanly possible without blinking because he could do it indefinitely with a little transfiguration and charms work.

Where was I?

Ah! The cards.

(( Larger resolution image is here. ))

Hermit’s pretty self explanatory; he’s been isolated, and should you find him and ask him he’d likely tell you that it was on purpose and/or for the purposes of enlightenment, introspection and contemplation–hopefully around why he didn’t account for basic defensive Blood Magic but, most likely not that. I know I don’t like to dwell on it when I miss something basic, I like to forget I did that and move on while also keeping it tucked away in the back of my head so I don’t do it again.

I’m going to go ahead and ignore that, all around, when the Empress shows up it she often signifies a pregnancy and considering Voldemort, unless he gets incredibly creative with trying to get himself back into a body (or just possesses the first thing he can manage that’s human) is not likely the sort to be able to get pregnant, which leaves the third option of someone else…letting him…do that to them.

It can also mean that he’ll just make an effort to be a little more creative and inspirational to anyone stupid enough to show up for a second round and with his recruitment efforts but if I had to have the mental image of somebody not only fucking Voldemort but letting him knock the up so the rest of you–and I say the rest of you because I don’t know specifically which one of you asked for this reading so you all get to suffer.

And I don’t think it’s that second one as the Ace of Cups revolves around beginning again which, fair, if you’re half-resurrecting yourself–but it primarily focuses around fertility and pregnancy. Someone is going to let that man knock them up.

Ew.

Getting away from that horrifying set of mental images, the Eight of Wands indicates he’s going to be about as good at being patient and planning things out (complete with contingencies or alternate plans in case the main one fails) as he was the first time around which is to say, not at all. However, since the Ministry is staffed largely by what I can only assume are tranquilised bonobos in suits, nobody here is going to care. Or notice. I’ll notice, I’ve already noticed, but I have enough benzos from Muggle doctors that I legitimately do not care.Or, if they do notice, they’re going to pretend they haven’t so all the progress speed, action, momentum, all that nonsense, is only going to seem speedy to the people who haven’t been paying attention.

The rest of us will have seen it slowly coming since roughly 1982.

He’s got abandonment issues head to toe based on the Eight and Five of cups, which is a large part of what makes him dangerous as, instead of focusing on the cups that haven’t been knocked all over the place and using those to rebuild, all he’s likely to focus on will seem, on the surface, to be a political revolution but that’ll just be a thin and fragile veneer covering the fact that he’s a desperately lonely, fundamentally unhappy, nearly always frightened basket case and that manifests (as it often does) in violent outbursts and an undercurrent of wanting to make everyone else suffer the way he feels he was made to suffer.

That’s not even all that uncommon, you can see it to a much lesser degree anywhere in Knockturn if you stay there long enough or visit often enough.

Queen of Swords is likely to turn out to be his most dedicated defender, coming from a point of power obsession and pity, though if she’s got any brains she won’t ever mention she pities him as it might get her killed, and wants nothing more than to shield and protect him, keeping him from harm; also indicates that she’s married–well, it mentions it in the inverse as a divorce, which would make sense if she’s one of those sorts that were pushed into a family alliance sort of marriage that she never particularly cared to be a part of to begin with.

And, at some point, he may be able to shake off all that flailing about to somehow manage to convince the general public that he’s not that bad, and he’ll do so through gratuitous shows of generosity, charity, investing in community (the community he envisions, at any rate; some of you will have to be his diversionary scapegoats, after all), and while everyone is distracted by someone who’s likely to be able to walk into the Ministry and buy them off with false gratitude, making them feel valued, paying them well, displaying what comes off as fairness unless you scratch the surface, he’ll get to work doing what he wanted to do in the first place.

And what does he want to do in the first place? Get himself into a position where he’s well liked, respected, viewed in a positive light, as a good leader, as someone who is successful, committed, has clear goals, and will lead the Ministry to greater things. This is someone who wants to be loved without having to leave himself vulnerable in the process.

For awhile, he’ll get it, and it’ll seem solid.

It won’t last, however, not for long, because that Eight of Swords is going to leave him feeling trapped, restricted, and lashing out at anyone or anything who he even suspects of holding dissenting views through harsh punishments, executions, imprisonments, persecution, “trials” in front of the Wizengamot that were rigged from the start, and at that point he’ll be at two distinct paths he can take.

I do love the Two of Wands for letting things go in different directions.

First potential path: If he goes that route, he’ll be able to leverage what little political and social capital he’ll have left after that mess I just described and, with a little creativity, should be able to pull it all back together in a way that cements his socio-political views as the new, accepted norm and any rebellion against it won’t be able to gain the following it’d need to challenge him for decades to come.

Second potential path: Nine of Swords circles back to the Eight of Swords, only more intense. Terror, not just fear, seeing enemies everywhere, being the subject of gossip, the narrative of which he will not be able to control as it will be a moving and largely invisible target that is perfectly willing to martyr itself if it means his downfall. As a result, he’ll fall further and further into paranoia, nightmares, despair, and stress, leaving him with an inability to cope with the reality of the situation which will only circle back to him lashing out at anything that comes within range, regardless of who or what it is, and when he hits his breaking point he isn’t likely to survive it.

The card between those two paths, as I was curious as to which route the deck thought he’d take, is a reversed Star.

Hopelessness, despair, the inability to take responsibility for one’s actions being what led them to where they are, lack or loss of trust in those around him and in himself, feeling as though everyone, even his closest followers, are plotting against him.

Considering that, I suspect he’ll go the second route to hang out with the sword filled guy in an egg costume.

Let’s see if one overarching card will give some closure here, shall we?

Regret, refusing help from those who legitimately want to give it (back up a bit and re-read the bits that mention paranoia) because, as surprising as it may seem, there are people who genuinely do care for him–in their own, strange way–disillusionment, becoming even more self-absorbed and depressed, focusing on the fantasy in which he’s–apologies, but I’m going to jump back to how two of my former Archivists often described him–seen as something greater in terms of charisma, success, skill, and political success than Grindelwald.

I watched that mess rise to power and fall from it spectacularly, and my memory has more than enough clarity to state with certainty that the only things I’ve seen that Voldemort is better than Grindelwald at are:

1) Keeping himself out of prison.

2) Being ballsy enough to apply for that Defence Against the Dark Arts position looking the way he did when he got that interview. He had to have known what he looked like, unless he doesn’t cast a reflection anymore and nobody told him how off he looked. Just to note, it’s not that I think he’d have been unqualified for the position so much as he may have come off as only wanting it to use as a recruiting platform which is–one of those things you really need to hide until you’ve got tenure, or at least a signed contract.

3) Being repeatedly thwarted by children yet still having followers willing to both overlook it, stand there with a straight face while he probably blames his wand for it (because they all do, you find any Wizard over 60 that has a spell fail and the first thing you get is some variation of, “I swear this has never happened before! It must be the wand acting up!”), and continue to follow him despite the fact that all they’d really have to do is walk away and start telling people what he’s really like and it’d kill any chances of recruiting anything with any skill or ability to follow through.

4) Talking to snakes, allegedly. Not entirely sure how useful that skill would be but I suppose snakes probably have some interesting things to say now and again.

At any rate, Four of Cups almost guarantees he’s going the Nine of Swords route so it’ll get a bit hairy for awhile but whatever grip he gets on anything is going to be tenuous at best and even holding onto it with both hands his reach is likely going to exceed his grasp.

I never like to see raw talent wasted like that, and he does possess a great deal of raw talent as well as the intelligence to have made it, with right people around him, into something spectacular; it’s just been–misapplied and left in the hands of people who never did have his interests at heart, and it’s easy to take advantage of a kid like that. See it all the time in Knockturn.

Pity, really.

#v: ftbawtft #probably around #1994 #voldemort #(Old Calleo has Negative Fucks to Give about round three with a dark lord)#hp rp #tarot #divination

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crazedlunatic · 5 years

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Dinos and Hoarders

“You can’t leave him home with me! I have three meetings today, a huge trial tomorrow, and arraignment in two days. No, Sarah.”

“I can’t help it. Apparently, they got rid of my assistant—nobody listens when I tell them people steal drugs until a whole freaking bottle goes missing and then they fire the guy. I’m sorry.”

“No. You literally can’t go in. I have to go to the office.”

“He can’t stay by himself, Robbie! He’s seven! If a fifty three year old cannot control a 7 year old, there is a problem.”

“I didn’t say I can’t control him. I can’t control him while doing all of the other stuff that I have to do.”

“You’re a father first!”

“And you’re not a mother first?!”

“I can’t dispense narcotics from my living room! Turn on The Land Before Time and you won’t hear a word from him! God, you’ve been so annoying. Get over the midlife crisis.”

“I’m not having a midlife crisis!”

“If it waddles and quacks like a duck it’s usually a duck, Robbie.”

“Are you pregnant because you’re acting like a bitc— Well, bye then.” Bob scoffed as the door slammed. “Love you too, dear.”

…

“Daddy, if an anthropologist studies humans and the past, does that mean humans and dinosaurs were alive at the same time?”

“I don’t think so.” Bob, who was staring at a paper and squinting, said in an offhand way.

“Because they’d eat the people, right? Charlie said not all dinosaurs eat meat, though. They’re herbitarians.”

“Vegetarian or herbivores.” Bob corrected as Blaine came into the house—without knocking, of course. Anytime he knocked before 9 at night, he’d get a ‘talk’ about it being his house too and that talk just lasted too long.

“I find it hilarious that you made me leave the office to come and help you watch Miles.”

Bob mouthed help me.

“What’s the difference in an herbivore and a vegetarian?” Miles asked after running and hugging Blaine’s leg.

“Humans are vegetarians and herbivores are animals… I think?” Blaine looked confused, scooping Miles up. “I’m sorry you’re sick.”

“But humans are animals too, Blaine!” Miles said energetically. “And I’m not sick! I just have a fever and my head hurts and my tummy and my nose.”

“Uh, yeah, Blaine. He’s not sick.” Bob said and gave Blaine a look—a look of desperation. “Babies are so much easier. Can we trade? Two for one so you’re really saving in the long run.”

“Yeah until they’re 7 and you sell them back?” Blaine laughed.

“Miles will be 14 so I can handle him then.”

“Where’s Kurt?” Miles asked, eyes lighting up.

“Kurt’s Daddy can’t get him out of work and I think Kurt actually likes bossing people around more than he’ll admit.” Blaine booped his nose.

Miles giggled and then turned to face his Bob. “Daddy, Jake said you wanted to have poop thrown at you. Daddy, have you seen a monkey?”

“At least you can get away from the monkeys.” Bob said and then blinked. “Yes, I have seen monkeys. For someone who is sick, you sure do ask a lot of questions.”

“Grandma says I get it from you. She told me you never shut up when you were little and Mommy told me you never shut up now.” Miles rambled as Blaine put his own laptop on their coffee table with the hand that wasn’t holding Miles—since the twins had been born, he did tons of things at once. It was parent multitasking superpowers or something.

Blaine looked surprised at hearing Miles’ statement, seeing as Bob could be talkative but could also go ten minutes without saying anything to someone sitting right next to him.

Then again, nobody made him light up like Sarah so he shouldn’t have been surprised.

And Bob did talk more the longer they’d known each other. It was actually reassuring to hear Bob rushing so many conversations each day but having to literally walk out of Bob’s office sometimes so they could actually work and not talk about… well, everything.

It didn’t happen all the time, of course.

But still.

He wondered what living with Bob and Sarah as parents was like—parents that liked each other, that fought with each other but always made up by bedtime, parents that spent time together willingly, that were affectionate together. Because the only time Blaine’s parents were together was when they needed to look proper in public or when they needed to look like a good family to people that thought they knew the real Andersons.

His parents never argued. Unless it was a family dinner, they usually didn’t even talk.

And they definitely didn’t like each other.

Sometimes Blaine wondered if they ever had.

From what Alex had said, he hadn’t seen them act like a happy couple either.

So… were he and Alex just for show? Accessories to add to the façade?

“Daddy, what’s this one?” Miles pulled himself up on the couch, seating himself between Blaine and Bob.

“Ankylosaurus.” Bob said, barely even having to look at the picture.

“Daddy, it’s Cera from The Land Before Time! Her name is like Mommy’s!” Miles moved his legs up and down excitedly. “Were there dinosaurs in Lion King?”

“I don’t think so.” Bob, who was looking at some paperwork, didn’t look up.

“What’s this one?”

“Two names. Apatosaurus or Brontosaurus.” Bob said after glancing at the page.

“This one?”

“Diplodocus.”

“Daddy, you know everything.” Miles gasped.

“See? Bob knows all.” Blaine gasped too, grinning when Bob sent him a look. “What?”

“Your children will actually think I know all.” Bob sighed.

“But you do.” Blaine scrunched up his nose.

“Aren’t you supposed to be working?”

“Obviously I’m interning again because you’re teaching me about dinosaurs.” Blaine smiled sweetly as Bob glared at him.

“What’s this one?!” Miles asked dramatically, shaking Bob’s arm.

Bob took the book, pointing to pictures as he said, “T Rex, velociraptor, allosaurus, Spinosaurus, deinonychus, carnotaurus, stegosaurus, ankylosaurus, iguanodon, and parasaurolophus.”

Miles clapped his hands and then turned the page. “What about these?”

Bob bent until his head was rested on his knees.

Miles, cute as ever, bent down and patted the back of Bob’s head. “Daddy, it’s okay. I won’t let the dementors get you.”

“The what?!” Bob sat up quickly.

“I dunno. Charlie told me ‘bout them when we watched Harry Potter and they’re sad and mean. But I won’t let them get you ‘cause Daddy should be happy!” Miles forced his way onto Bob’s lap and pressed a loud kiss to his cheek.

“God. I hate that you’re so cute.” Bob wrapped his arms around Miles and kissed the top of his head, prompting loud giggles. He then noticed Blaine actually on his laptop. “Wait… how can you work with him doing this?”

“Uhm, well… I lived with Wes and David for several years. We all three had to learn to block things out. It drives Kurt crazy because he’ll have had a full conversation with me before realizing I didn’t hear a word.” Blaine looked thoughtful. “Although you two are very distracting… Wait. You’ve got five kids. You can ignore everyone in the office with them thinking you’re listening. How can you not ignore your own children?”

“I try but what if I miss something important?” Bob said. “Trust me. I used to ignore them but then Charlie had said something bad and I was like ‘uh huh, that’s great’ and it led to this complete meltdown.”

“What did you say was great?”

“He dropped his grilled cheese but he was so sad and I’ve not been able to tune out a word since.”

“Uh… how old was he?” Blaine asked.

“Four but I still felt horrible.” Bob said as Miles tugged at his arm. “What, son?”

“Brady’s got a boyfriend. Isn’t that silly?”

“Miles… he’s been with the same boy since you were a baby.”

“Is Mommy mad at you?”

“No. Mommy’s just moody.”

“Mommy told Charlie you’re a dick.”

“See? Telling the truth is always a good thing because now I have ammo to make her feel bad. I love having the upper hand.” Bob said cheerfully.

Miles looked at Bob confused, blinking rapidly. He then looked at Blaine.

“I dunno.” Blaine shrugged. “I don’t understand him half of the time either. It may be a midlife crisis.”

“I am not having a midlife crisis! Blaine!” Bob exclaimed. “Miles, I’m going to put on the Land Before Time because Blaine and I have to work.”

“Jurassic Park!”

“No. You cry every time the Dilophosaurus does it’s… thing. Last time Daddy got in trouble.”

“JURRASIC PARKKKK!”

“No.”

Miles pouted and left the living room.

“Should you go get him?”

“Nah. It’ll be fine.” Bob said before there was a loud clang. He then got up and headed towards the kitchen muttering, “Fuck me.”

“Whoops.” Miles said in a meek little voice.

Bob turned back around, carrying Miles into the living room.

“Aren’t you going to clean that up, Daddy?” Miles asked.

“No. This is what I like to call positive reinforcement. She’ll never make me stay home with you again.” Bob sat Miles down between he and Blaine.

“You got in biiiig trouble last time.”

Bob shrugged, turning on the Land Before Time.

Blaine pulled his laptop back onto his lap, looking down. He then reached his hand over, rubbing Miles’ little back when he started to cough.

“I’m going to go clean that. If she is pregnant, she may murder the entire family.” Bob said, mostly to himself, before leaving the room.

“Do you think she is?” Blaine called.

“God, I hope not. I haven’t seen cherry tomatoes yet but you can never be too cautious. Once I had to put a woman in jail who was pregnant and beheaded her husband. Honestly, he kind of deserved it, but… Sarah has a mean side.”

“I want to hear that story.” Blaine said. “The murder one… Sarah would have to have a mean side to put up with you.”

“I take offense to that, Blaine.”

He glanced down, seeing Miles had curled up to him and fallen asleep.

“You really don’t. Like… I’ve seen horrible photos but man. That was pure rage.” Bob came back in. His eyes then widened. “How’d you do that?!”

“Do what?” Blaine looked at him, very confused.

“He’s out.”

“Isn’t he sick?”

“Yes, but he’s a hyper sick person. How did you make him go to sleep?”

“Uhm… he coughed and I… rubbed his back? Then he just cuddled up?”

Bob came and bent, easing Miles up.

Blaine laughed when Miles mumbled something about purple elephants.

“It’s Emily 2.0 with a penis. I swear.” Bob whispered before leaving the room with Miles.

Blaine looked at his laptop, not really paying attention to it, until Bob sat next to him again.

“Well, you can work now.” Blaine said cheerfully.

“Yep… but now I don’t want to.” Bob sighed.

“Great. Me neither.” Blaine shut his laptop.

Bob closed his own and put his stack of papers on the coffee table. “Hoarders?”

“Yes! You’re the only person that will watch it with me!” Blaine said. “Everyone else judges me.”

“Judgement free zone.” Bob said, turning it on. “I’ve watched this with my dad since it first aired on TLC in 2010.”

“Really?”

“Oh yeah. I hadn’t seen it in a while when you’d gotten your appendix out and forgot how much I liked it.” Bob nodded.

“Do you not want to watch it?” Blaine asked hesitantly.

Bob gave him a look and pushed the start button, turning the volume up a bit.

Blaine scooted closer, resting his head on Bob’s shoulder.

“I have a feeling this one is going to make me want to puke.” Bob said when they showed a clip of a future scene.

“That means it’s going to be a good episode.” Blaine nodded in agreement.

“Yep. I judge hoarders on a wanting-to-vomit scale. Only one has made me throw up a bit in my mouth… In my defense, I was getting over a stomach bug, though. Wasn’t out wisest decision.” Bob said.

“Yeah. I’m going to need to see that episode, Bob.”

“We’ll check Netflix after this one.”

“Yeah!” Blaine said excitedly.

“Did I tell you that Brady’s boyfriend—partner, sorry— is going to propose this summer?” Bob asked excitedly. “I mean, I know it’s just his first partner but he’s been really good for Brady and I like him a lot.”

“You said yes?”

“I believe my exact words are ‘are you sure you want to do that?’” Bob admitted. “I said yes after, though. They’re a good couple and Brady’s happy so that’s all that matters.”

“You’re such a good dad.” Blaine sat up straight, looking at him.

Bob shrugged a bit.

“No.” Blaine shook his head. “You are. You care about your kids so much and all you want for them is to be happy. That’s just… you’re a really good dad and a good person… and you’re probably one of the few people who doesn’t see that. I’m grateful to have you in my life… because you aren’t even mine, you know… but you also are and it means a lot. You mean a lot to me and I appreciate you.”

Bob opened his mouth to respond as Miles hopped back onto the couch announcing, “I’m uuuuupppp! Ew-y, Daddy. Is that trash?”

“That is called Hoarders, Miles.” Bob turned the TV off and pulled Miles onto his lap, meeting Blaine’s eyes with his own. He then stood. “I think it’s time for some more medicine. Grape or strawberry?”

“Surprise me!” Miles squealed as Bob stood and sat Miles next to Blaine.

Miles cuddled right up to Blaine’s side, giggling when Bob came back in with his medicine.

“You just love Blaine, don’t you?” Bob laughed at Miles, handing him the little cup.

Blaine looked surprised when Miles took the medicine—Scarlett and Oliver had definitely never done that.

They were younger, but still.

He looked surprised again when Bob reached over, ruffling Miles’ hair and then his own.

“So… Jurassic Park?” Bob asked.

Miles shot up, the most adorable grin ever on his face, when Bob went to put the DVD in. “THIS IS THE BEST DAY EVER!”

#wbuct drabble #god i love bob prompts #and just bob really #bob bob bob

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paulisweeabootrash · 5 years

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First Impression: Neon Genesis Evangelion

Get in your robots, audience, it's time for Paul is Weeaboo Trash! And today, I'm finally watching a show it seems like everyone just... assumes I must've seen:

Neon Genesis Evangelion (1995)

Episodes watched: 8

Platform: Netflix

The idea of something being a "classic" may be in decline in the anime fandom, or at least be getting very specialized, since "anime" no longer implies a narrow interest in specific sci-fi and fantasy subgenres like it used to, but certain shows still manage to pervade the pop culture indirectly. Neon Genesis Evangelion is one such show, enduring in the modern fandom and general internet culture because of its status as one of those old sci-fi anime classics. It has contributed memes — not just as in image macros or running jokes, but as in units of culture in the form of iconic quotes or character designs or elements of the plot — to the point that you have certainly been in some way exposed to them without any knowledge of the source material. But despite its reputation as a must-see cultural touchstone, it has been out of print in America for years. Used copies of the DVDs sell for absurd prices, and I don't think I knew anyone who owned it when I was a young weeb in the mid-2000s. I'm fairly sure my family did not have cable during the one specific season it was on Adult Swim, and there's no chance I would have been up at 12:30AM on Thursdays to watch it anyway. I am not much of a fan of media piracy and wasn't even aware of that option when it was apparently everyone else's favorite pastime to ruin their computers with sketchy torrents. So there was never a reasonable way for me to watch it, only for me to be dimly aware that this was An Important Show I Need To See. Until now. Because it's on Netflix. As if I hadn't already been awaiting it, I was aggressively reminded of it, because social media and geeky news outlets were soon blowing up with retrospectives and Very Serious Analyses — and fans of the old ADV translation were offering hot takes on how Netflix's release compares. So let me finally check this out for myself.

We start out in the distant future of... 2015, where UN forces are defending Tokyo-3 ("Old Tokyo" is mentioned and depicted later; no mention yet of Tokyo-2 unless I somehow already forgot it) against an attacking "angel", an immensely powerful alien with barely-comprehensible powers. Meanwhile, an officer of a UN agency called NERV, Misato Katsuragi, brings our main character, 14-year-old Shinji Ikari, to an underground NERV base under Tokyo-3 on the instructions of Shinji's father Gendo, who runs a secret research project. Shinji has been brought there to pilot an Evangelion, or Eva for short, a giant robot operated by some sort of neural interface. In combat. With no training. He is, understandably, not happy about this. After seeing how badly injured the other available pilot, Rei Ayanami, is, however, he agrees to do it — and it works far better than he or anyone else expected. He apparently has an innately great ability to "sync" with however exactly the Eva's interface works. But this only gets him as far as starting the thing up. When he actually engages the angel, he has trouble just getting the Eva to walk, and he feels the pain of the Eva taking damage once attacked, a frankly horrifying feature of the interface. We cut to him waking up in a hospital, but having surprisingly won because his Eva "went berserk", operating on its own. A flashback later shows what happened when he lost control of the Eva: it fought the angel by itself, but also took heavy damage, and we see its visor? faceplate? sōmen? of the Eva's armor come off to reveal a fleshy-looking face and a very biological-looking eye. At this point Shinji blacked out, which is really the only reasonable response to this situation.

Over the next several weeks (the time scale is vague, but since Rei apparently fully recovers from the injuries she had when we first saw her before the time she and Shinji are both deployed, it must be at least 3 weeks between eps. 1 and 5), more angels appear, to the surprise of civilians and UN forces alike. The Evas continue to be excellent weapons against them (though Shinji himself is still, uh, not great at using them), but despite having now killed several angels, the Evas are considered a ridiculous boondoggle by personnel of other UN branches, and Gendo's sinister superiors seem to be losing patience with his project. In the words of... uh... that UN navy guy in ep. 8, "Shit! A bunch of kids are supposed to save the world?" The alternatives are wildly ineffective conventional weapons and a remote-controlled nuclear-powered giant robot that almost had a literal Chernobyl-style meltdown, which was averted by Misato and Shinji. Although repairs are expensive, injuries common, and pilots in short supply, Evas indeed seem to be the only effective weapon against the invading cosmic horror, the barely-comprehensible aliens that are impervious to ordinary human technology and also don't fit our concepts of life or... uh... possibly physics. So, instead, in the words of Misato later in the same episode, "This plan may be insane, but I don't think it's impossible."

While this is going on, Shinji has been adjusting to this new life poorly and slowly. Despite being a pilot, he is still after all a 14-year-old, so he is enrolled into the same class as Rei at a local school whose student body has dwindled as more people evacuate over the initial angel attack. He also needs somewhere to live, so Misato arranges for him to move into her apartment. Some of Shinji's classmates think he's incredibly lucky to live with her, and spend a good deal of their screen time drooling over her, but Shinji is highly uncomfortable around her not just because Captain Katsuragi is his commanding officer, but also because she has a tendency to not wear much clothing around the house and is, er, a bit of a drunk and a slob. Oh, and she has an inexplicable, clawed, beer-drinking penguin. You know, all stuff that would make a nervous, lonely, scared 14-year-old completely at home.

Neither NERV training nor school guarantee a community, though, and Shinji, isolated and confused, could sure use one right about now. He seems quite likely traumatized from the first battle. He keeps ending up in situations that make him wildly uncomfortable while other characters take them in stride. He repeatedly attempts to quit NERV or at least defy orders before backing out (or... backing back in?) at the last moment. It would frankly be bizarre that they accept him doing this, except that (1) nobody really seems to take Shinji that seriously anyway, (2) he's the boss's kid, and (3) most importantly, it seems that only a small number of pilots, all the same age as Shinji and Rei, are even capable of using Evas. (Wife and I are starting to suspect reasons why this might be, especially given the whole cyborgs with neural interfaces thing, but... uh... let's not embarrass ourselves with public speculations about the plot of a ridiculously famous show almost as old as we are.) He only slowly gains any support or comfort from his new classmates and colleagues. They don't reach out to him, and he certainly doesn't reach out to them, because who is he supposed to talk to? His roommate/commanding officer who is twice his age? His classmates who treat him as a celebrity, not a person, once they find out he's an Eva pilot? Even if his default state since the very first episode hadn't been basically imploding into despair with no idea how to communicate that anything's wrong, there's nobody that really makes sense for him to try to communicate it to. Except one person: Rei. He notices that she's also isolated at school, and especially after seeing her dark, miserable, unmaintained apartment, he attempts to be friendly towards her. I thought this might be a hint of growth indicating that he understands she is possibly the only person more isolated than him and the only one who might be able to relate to him, but then the next time he threatens to quit NERV after that conversation, he explicitly claims she doesn't know what he's going though, so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ maybe he just has bad social skills.

Sigh.

Shinji does start to make friends with Aida and Suzuhara, two of his classmates, though. And it's interesting because they contrast against him in their reactions to the conflict outside. Aida roleplays being in the military and finds Shinji's role as an Eva pilot glorious and enviable. Suzuhara is initially furious at Shinji because his sister was collateral damage — she was injured when Shinji fought the angel — and his mind is changed only after Shinji rescues him (and Aida) from an angel. Shinji, though, having been thrust into a role he doesn't even understand and about which he is ambivalent and unstable, lacks Aida's optimistic admiration of his role and a full appreciation of either Suzuhara's resentment or gratitude. He not only rejects their praise, he calls himself a coward during (sigh) one of his attempts to quit NERV. It occurs to me that this could be seen as indicating different perspectives about the military (ask any American vet who's sick of being "thanked for their service"), or even different perspectives about adulthood itself — I'll bet any millennial who did not achieve their dreams can recognize Aida's "wow this is amazing I can't wait to be a grownup too" roleplaying vs. Shinji's "I am doomed and isolated by the responsibility that has been thrown at me" actual experience in NERV.

Also thanks to the school scenes, we start to learn some backstory, including the famous "Second Impact". A catastrophic asteroid impact in 2000 melted Antarctica's glaciers, which led to unprecedentedly rapid sea level rise, leading to mass extinction, including that of half of humanity through not only direct climate change impacts like displaced populations and crop failures but also conflict stemming from it. Or so the official story goes. It is later revealed that the Second Impact actually involved somehow the previous arrival of angels on Earth, although this has yet to be explained in detail. (Actually, I accidentally saw spoilers about more detail about this while revising this review, because I went to sanity-check myself about some other detail on one of the fan wikis, so I know part of where this is going, but only part.)

Over the first eight episodes, which must be several weeks at least after the start of the show given that Rei has recovered from her initial injuries (although the time scale is very vague), Shinji fights four angels total and gradually improves, but the biggest improvement comes not from him being an individual hero but from finally working well with others. For example, the octahedral angel that drills into NERV's base has incredible abilities to detect and counter incoming attacks. It kicks Shinji's ass on the first attempt, because duh. But Misato devises a plan to test its abilities and concentrate the power of... uh... Japan's entire electrical grid(?!) at it from a safe distance, and the plan succeeds only because of Rei giving Shinji cover. An angel attacks a UN ship convoy transporting the third pilot, Asuka Langley Soryu, and her Eva, and she and Shinji fight the angel together in a ludicrous fight that involves both cramming in to pilot the same Eva together (which, interestingly, requires them to give it the same, or maybe just compatible, instructions together in the same language for it to work... yay neural interfaces). So maybe/hopefully the direction this is going is "the chosen one is a stupid idea and even talented people need both training and cooperation to not suck at things"?

Episode 8 leaves off with Asuka joining Shinji and Rei's school class, and with the dramatic and creepy reveal of an embryo encased in bakelite which is described by Gendo as "Adam, the first human"... Well. That comes off as the kind of thing that would drive the future plot, and hopefully all the Biblical imagery will finally start to converge into something coherent instead of just sort of serving to draw extra attention to the fact that the humans refer to the aliens as "angels". I've been wondering about that since the beginning. There's the title, of course, but also the sefirot in the opening and on Gendo's office ceiling, the first angel's attacks using what appears to be a directed energy weapon which invariably forms glowing crosses, and the fact that most of the angels themselves are wildly non-humanoid (a choice which echoes the rather... eldritch... classical depictions of angels — see also the seraph in the opening). NERV's motto is even explicitly, well, monotheistic at least, if not sectarian: "God's in his heaven. All's right with the world!", which is counterintuitive at best with the idea of calling the alien invaders "angels".

Well. I'll find out, and I plan to write a followup like I did with Re:ZERO, going into the broad swaths of the rest of the plot and my overall impressions of how they handled things. Especially given that this show has a famously-controversial ending. I jumped into this determined to watch the whole series, so I'm not backing out.

I'll just threaten to quit repeatedly then almost immediately come back.

-----

W/A/S: 4 / 3 / I feel kinda bad about this but 4?

Weeb: I mean, anything with giant robots fighting giant monsters deserves a few points just for that, right? I don't think this requires much by way of Japanese cultural references or assumptions to watch, though.

Ass: Nudity so far has been brief, partial, censored by convenient angles and object placement, and not remotely sexy. Thanks to another contextless spoiler I happen to have picked up, I expect an infamous later scene that is clearly supposed to be sad and disturbing in context, which is, again, not the kind of thing this scale was originally designed to describe.

Shit (writing): Even though I tend to overall like their plots, I always sort of sigh and eyeroll at the "let's put children/teens in combat and/or experiment on and/or just plain torture them to force them to become powerful" storyline formula that’s been semi-popular for the last few decades, and Evangelion is definitely in that category. Friends have said the story is confusing or poorly-paced, and I kind of agree but also think some of the confusion is warranted by the choice to enter the story in media res in order to reveal what's going on to the audience at about the same time it's revealed to Shinji. As for the tendency to have some long shots where literally nothing happens, that does get annoying, and I suspect its primary motivation was to save money, but I think it also usually emphasizes how lonely the whole situation is, at least before Shinji starts to warm up to Misato and Rei to Shinji in the last couple of episodes I've watched so far (which have, appropriately, had much more action and interaction). Mainly, my writing complaints are actually about translation, because there are some noticeable and consequential differences between translations for the sub and dub. Yeah, yeah, I've heard of the love vs. like thing everyone on the internet is already upset about, but I haven't gotten to that episode yet. I'm talking about things like Misato saying "it will work!" in the sub vs. just "okay!" in the dub when Shinji is first able to control his Eva, a choice which suggests very different things about both her level of knowledge of the project and why Shinji has been called on for it at all. The new dub also feels... uh... too at home as a dub of a '90s anime, as it prioritizes matching lip flaps over flowing like believable speech. Having not seen the old dub, of course, I can't make any kind of judgement about whether this is a step up, down, or sideways from how ADV did it. And the sub has many on-screen captions in Japanese are left untranslated — not things like signs in the background, but actual captions the audience is meant to get information from.

Shit (other): Maybe we're spoiled in this age of computer-aided art, but i's surprising to see a show with such limited animation — speech conveyed only with lip flaps, obviously reused shots within the same episode, foreground objects gracelessly sliding against a background to indicate movement — and so I'm willing to give the show a pass on most of that, especially since the characters are distinctive and the setting and aliens and robots so interesting. Much of the limited animation actually serves to show the vast scale of NERV's facilities and the Evas vs. the humans and/or to emphasize loneliness like the pacing. But there really are some painful mistakes from time to time in the art: objects and faces that look utterly wrong, like the artists just did not successfully figure out how to draw that particular character or vehicle from that particular angle. The legendary opening theme is certainly catchy — it’s been stuck in my head almost continuously for the past week — but I just don’t think I enjoy it as much as other people do. Some of the immediate complaints that were apparently worthy of news media attention were about the replacement of Fly Me to the Moon with a piece from the show's soundtrack as the ending theme. I understand why people would be upset by that kind of change, but I am willing to take the controversial stand that it's not a bad change. The piece they chose as a replacement is haunting and tense, which fits in with the mood of most of the episodes so far, while Fly Me to the Moon feels to me like an inappropriate mood change from that.

Content: Actually among the least graphic of the various shows I've covered involving violent or horrifying elements.

-----

Stray observations:

- God it was weird to write this by constantly abbreviating “Evangelion” as “Eva”, considering that Wife's name is Eva.

- A lot of people seem to hate Shinji as a character, but I find him understandable in a way that probably implies uncomfortable things about my own sanity. I just... I understand that sheer degree of doom and misery and indecision and inability to articulate any of those. Man. Ugh.

- I don't know if you've ever seen an undisguised angel, but trust me: they're horrifying. (link NSFW)

#weeaboo trash #anime review #first impression review #neon genesis evangelion #evangelion

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silver-wields-a-pen · 6 years

Text

Illthdar High: An au fan fiction

Saturday

Vyxen, in a fancy set of green dress robes, was spinning across the dance floor of the Yule Ball in the arms of Cedric Diggory. Then Khrome came up to play and Date pulled her up on to the stage to sing with him. Her brother Salem (who looked an awful lot like Neville Longbottom) looked on adoringly and when Cedric tried to pull her from Date, he decapitated him with his bass and proclaimed that all the Horcruxes had been destroyed. While everyone celebrated his demise, Vyxen found herself on the patio with Date, who was now shirtless. Just as he grabbed her arms to pull her in for a kiss, she looked down at his stomach. “Wait. Where is your bellybutton?!”

Vyxen’s light grey eyes fluttered open as she woke up in the pillow fort on Raemina’s bedroom floor. The sun drifting through the multicolored blankets that were tented above sent different patterns across her and her friends’ skin. As she shifted her position, she noticed that Nyima was already up and texting on her phone.

“How’s Jingyi doing?” asked Raemina with a sly grin as she stretched awake on Vyxen’s other side.

Startled, Nyima blushed furiously but couldn’t keep the smile off her face. “He’s good,” she answered. The two of them texted most of the night and, unable to sleep more than a few hours, Nyima sent him a message first thing when she got up.

“So cute!” Vyxen cooed and the three girls giggled, waking up slowly and happily. That was how they spent most of their morning. They ate a breakfast of waffles inside their fort and chatted about the dance and all the possible outcomes of their dates. In secret whispers and with blushing faces, they went through the various ‘end of the night’ scenarios that could happen. Would they get kissed? Would it go further than that? Were they ready? Who knew!? It was all terribly new and exciting for the three girls, none of which had ever had a real date before. They didn’t crawl out of their fort until mid afternoon when it was time to get ready for the dance. They stayed up late watching Youtube tutorials for hair and makeup and while it was certainly no professional job, they all looked pretty when they were through.

“How does this look?” Raemina asked, holding a small mirror in one hand and using the other to slide a pearl comb into her hair. She’d gone with a neat bun tonight and the comb perfectly matched the short, plaid dress she’d gotten earlier in the week. It wasn’t what you would normally think of for a homecoming dress, but it worked on her, and she loved the way it showed off her long legs.

“Gorgeous!” Nyima called from her seat while Vyxen ‘awwed’ her approval. Vyxen stood behind her, pulling half her fluffy, black hair up and pinning little flowers throughout to match the flowers on her pale yellow dress. It was a pretty dress, one that probably would have looked nicer without the addition of the thick grey cardigan over the top.

“Can’t you go without the cardigan?” Vyxen pleaded.

“No,” Nyima said, stubbornly hugging the sweater closer to her body and balling the cuffs around her fingers to keep them warm.

“What if I let you borrow one of mine?” Raemina suggested as she walked over to the other two. “I have a blue one that would match those flowers perfectly.”

Nyima considered for a moment, scrunching her face up in thought, but when Rae brought over a three-quarters sleeved shrug, she flat-out refused. “Nope. I'm not going to freeze for fashion or nobody.” And Jingyi already admitted he thought she was beautiful, and she wore cardigans all the time, so it obviously didn't matter to him. She scrunched up her face happy she got to go out with a nice boy who accepted her as she was and had the cutest smile to boot.

“Fine,” Vyxen relented, tweaking her cheek and adding the last pin to Nyima’s hair. Her own hair was so short that there was nothing much she could do with it. Her dress was short and black, with lace details and an open top. Granted, the top didn’t look too open because of the lace but it was still the most skin she’d shown in her entire life. Typically, she would have gone for a soft pastel color, but she was looking to impress someone tonight. She hoped Date liked it.“This could be the best or worst night of our life,” Vyxen sighed, smoothing her hands over her dress to give them something to do, excited but also unable to stop thinking of everything that could go wrong.

“No negativity allowed!” Rae stopped that train of thought before it had a chance to leave the station. “Tonight is going to be amazing! We all have awesome dates and just look at how cute we are! We are so cute!” This was their first dance, their first real dates and their first late-night out of the house, she was not going to let them sabotage themselves with anxiety before the dance even started. “Come! Let’s take a picture,” she grabbed Vyxen and Nyima’s hands and pulled them both close to her side, holding up her purple cellphone to take a selfie of the three of them together. The first, she hoped, of many more pictures to come this evening.

~*~*~

Since trying to wake Xyl was about as useful as waking the dead, once Salem woke up on his friend’s futon, he made his way into the kitchen. Of each of the band member’s houses, Xyl’s always had the best food. The Allaway household never had anything good because of Vyxen’s allergies, Rhovan’s mom didn't believe in junk food, and Date’s parents refused to eat ‘American food,’ whatever that meant. Xyl’s aunt worked a lot though, so the Kallders were always stocked with every sugary cereal and microwave dinner imaginable, and at least three of their weeknight meals were takeout. Salem excitedly made himself a breakfast of frozen blueberry waffles with extra syrup and Cinnamon Toast Crunch on the side. Just as he was about to sit down and eat, Imogen walked in. “You're up early,” he said, a little taken aback at seeing her so soon.

“The sound of banging cabinets woke me up,” she said pointedly. Even though she was clearly cranky at his disrupting her sleep, he couldn't help but think of how cute she looked with her tangled hair and pjs. Catching him eyeing the logo of the old t-shirt she wore, Imogen folded her arms over her chest.

“I thought vampires were supposed to be quiet,” Rhoe grumbled a minute later, emerging from her own room. It was eerie how alike the two girls looked when they were angry.

“I need more practice,” Salem answered with a grin, not feeling all that bad for waking them up. The two weren’t remotely alike in day-to-day life but they were both awfully cute with their frizzy hair and pjs. You could see the resemblance between them, but he was sure they’d both stab him if he pointed that out.

“Stop looking at me like I’m a cute bunny or I’ll punch your teeth in,” Rhoe threatened, marching past him to get a bowl of cereal herself, making much more noise than he did because if they had to be up, Xyl did too. It was his fault that Salem was even here, after all.

With Rhoe’s back turned, Salem was free to continue looking over Imogen. It was unlikely that he’d ever get to see her like this again and so he needed to commit every detail to memory while he could. “You look cute,” he mouthed to her and carefully did not snicker when a blush stained her cheeks.

Rolling her eyes, Imogen grabbed a quick breakfast herself and headed back up to her room to take a shower and get dressed. Zercey would be here to pick her up soon and Scyanatha would have no mercy if they dared to show up late to the beauty appointment Seth booked them.

“She’s out of your league, glitter boy, you might as well stop ogling her.” Rhoe sat down and ate with Salem, half amused and half disgusted by how he’d been staring at her sister when he thought no one was looking. “Imo has a stick up her ass anyway. I don’t know what you or anyone else sees in her.”

Salem made an affirmative noise to show he was listening but didn’t say anything about it. He was too used to the triplets talking about each other to be annoyed by her comment, their attitudes towards one another made him feel much better about his relationship with his own siblings. “You think this whole thing is going to go according to plan?” He figured it was best to change the subject anyways, if Imogen thought he was talking bad about her with her sister then whatever little thing they had going on was sure to be over.

“It should, I’m the one that planned it.” Unless Imogen decided to actually look at the votes beforehand, no one would notice they’d been switched until it was too late. “Don’t worry your sparkly little head, it’ll be fine.”

They finished breakfast and Salem went to physically drag Xyl out of bed, but paused when he passed Imogen in the hallway. He grabbed her arm before she could hurry out and into the ugly red car that Zercey drove and placed a quick kiss to her lips before she could stop him. “Hey, I know you’ll be busy at the dance but if you get a moment, meet me in the back of school. Maybe around ten-thirty?” The dance would be winding down by then and most of her duties should be over.

“I’ll think about it,” Imogen snipped, already making plans to be there but not willing to let him know that. Unable to resist his stupidly cute face and the taste of cinnamon on his lips, she grabbed a fistful of his shirt and dragged him into another kiss. It lingered on until Zercey started to blare her horn outside and Imogen sighed, giving Salem one last look before she was down the stairs and out the door.

Not one for school spirit – or just excitement in general – Rhoe now found herself in a predicament: stay comfortably at home ignoring the rest of the world as was her usual preference, or join the student body as they dressed themselves up like prize-winning pigs so that she could watch the world’s worst couple have a public meltdown. She scowled. There was no way she could miss the train wreck that was going to unfold, especially since it was mostly thanks to her own evil genius and hard work. Decision made, she got up from her bed and walked towards her sister’s room to find something ‘appropriate’ to wear, treading on clothes that littered her floor every other step. Imogen might not be useful for much, but at least she was the same size and all of her clothes were clean.

~*~*~

Across town, another set of girls were in a frenzy. “I knew we shouldn’t have waited so long to come shopping,” Anna bemoaned, already nervous about not being able to find anything she liked in the short window of time they had to shop.

“It’ll be ok,” Nina assured, her arm hooked through Laura’s as they made their way through the mall. Last night she and Richard had found Laura crying in a corner after the talent show. Scyanatha had apparently said something very mean about her brother and Laura was upset about it. “Friends shouldn’t be cruel to each other,” Nina had said after learning about the exchange. In an effort to make her feel better, she added, “A few friends and I are going shopping tomorrow to find dresses for the dance. I’d love if you joined us.” Seth had already bought Laura the dress Scy approved of, but after last night… it was time to start making her own choices.

Laura’s tear-streaked face had cautiously broke into a smile. “That sounds nice.”

The dress shop was crowded but the group of four, Nina, Anna, Laura and Miu, managed to find and lock down an empty dressing room. It was decided that Miu would stay there to hold down the fort (and loudly tell off anyone who tried to use it) while the other three ran around in a tizzy to find outfits.

Anna was the first to find her homecoming dress, which was a pretty dark blue color with a sparkly bodice. “It’s perfect!” she shouted. “This is one of the few colors that doesn’t clash with my hair!” Her orange locks were a source of constant frustration. Excitedly, she dashed back to Miu and the dressing room. It looked beautiful against her lily white skin and the smile upon her face made it even more obvious that she’d found the right pick for her. She was so taken with it that she wore it out of the store, and hurried across the mall to find a set of shoes to match it while the others kept their search.

“Hey, where do you think you’re going?” Miu yelled at another girl who tried to sneak into the dressing room that Anna vacated.

Nina and Laura looked around from the rack and giggled.

Not even a full hour later, both Miu and Nina had also managed to find something to their liking. Miu decided to go with a dress that was as loud as her personality. It was so short it could almost be called a shirt and the color was a bright neon green, so much so that it probably glowed in the dark. The top was peppered with clear crystals to make the dress stand out even more and, like Anna, Miu decided to wear it out of the store, snickering at all the horrified looks she got in it.

Nina ended up settling on a short golden dress that was covered in glitter and had a ruffled peplum going right across the waist. It fit her like a glove, but was still modest enough to be proper for a young lady. She was sure Richard would like it and she picked up a gold tie so that they could match.

Laura looked high and low but she couldn’t find a dress that she liked. She rarely ever bought herself nice things but, just this once, she decided to splurge and head back to the fancy boutique she’d shopped at with Scy earlier in the week. The dress she’d wanted was still there and she fell even more in love with it once she had it on. “What do you think?” she asked when she had finally had mustered up enough courage to leave the dressing room and show the other three girls. She was nervous to see their reactions, especially because of how much she liked the silver dress. The top was little more than a crop-top, made up almost entirely of dazzling crystals, and the bottom was a simple and short grey tutu.

A wide grin immediately split Nina’s face and Anna clasped her hands and squealed in delight. Miu, for once, was speechless.

Laura felt a wave of relief wash over her.

“Wait there!” Nina called suddenly, jumping up and rushing across the room. “Here,” she said triumphantly when she returned, handing over a sparkly pair of cat ears to the other blond to finish the look.

Laura had never felt more accepted than she did in that moment. She was never going back to Scyanatha and her friends. Never.

~*~*~

“Do you think you could clasp this for me?” Zercey asked Imogen, carefully pulling her brown hair to the side with one hand and using the other to hold the lace-front red dress to her chest so that nothing slipped out.

“Sure,” she replied, having just stepped into her own dress. Her wine-colored frock was more modest than Zercey's, and the zip on the back made it low-maintenance, which she was grateful for.

Scyanatha was still in her pale pink silk robe, glancing at the other girls behind her through the vanity mirror. She had paused with her eyeshadow brush in midair at the sound of Zercey’s question and now went back to looking at herself.

“Thanks,” Zercey said, finally letting go of the front and letting her long hair fall behind her once again. While Imogen joined Scy to do her own makeup, she turned to look at herself in the full-length mirror and pivoted so that she could view the cutout in the back over her shoulder. I look hot. She played with one of her curls appreciatively. Since her cheerleading schedule usually dictated Zercey’s hair, it was in a high pony more often than not. Naturally she was thrilled when Scyanatha had informed her and Imogen that Seth offered to pay for appointments at the beauty salon so that the three girls could get their hair and nails professionally done. Tonight, she braided the top half of her hair across the front like a headband of sorts and the rest hung gracefully, bouncing ever so slightly when she moved.

Imo, whose responsibilities would keep her busy for most of the night, struggled between finding something that would be both stylish yet practical. In the end, the hair stylist curled her auburn tresses into bouncy coils and then ‘pinned them into oblivion.’ “And you’re sure this will keep for the rest of the night?” she asked for at least the fifth time.

The stylist gave her a strained smile, her patience clearly wearing thin at being questioned by the teenager. “Hun, even if you hung upside down for a full day, I promise nothing’s gonna come loose. It’ll take at least two washes before gravity wrecks this masterpiece.”

The memory brought a smirk to Zercey’s face. She wondered if Imogen would get to test out the hairspray’s strength with her mystery hickey-giver tonight. Her gaze flicked over to her friend’s neck, which had by now cleared up, before wandering over to Scy, who was still busy with her meticulous makeup routine beside her.

In a move that had surprised no one, Scyanatha went for the most extravagant style she could find. She twisted her hair every which way, ending in a fancy side-pony. Painstakingly placed little rhinestones dotted throughout her do to make it look as if her hair shimmered. The top was weaved into a circlet, the perfect resting place for the Homecoming Queen crown she knew she’d be wearing.

A buzzing and the sound of Ellie Goulding’s voice interrupted Zercey's thoughts. “Yeah?” She answered her phone.

“We’re here.” Lerki’s came voice from the speaker, sending shivers of anticipation down Zercey’s spine. She smiled and turned to inform Scyanatha, who was finally shimmying into the sparkly pink dress she had picked out days before.

A moment later the doorbell rang and the girls heard the muffled sounds of the boyfriends being greeted by Scy’s parents in the foyer.

“Ok,” Scyanatha checked her appearance in her fancy full-length mirror one more time before turning to her friends, checking them both over as well to ensure they were up to her standards. “Seth got us a hummer limo so we can arrive in style. It’s a little high off the ground so just be aware of where you put your feet,” she warned before giving them both a serious look. “Do NOT fall out of that car in front of everyone, do you understand me?”

Zercey and Imogen assured her that they wouldn’t fall and then followed her out and down the sweeping staircase that served as the focal point of her parents mansion. Seth and Lerki were waiting for them at the bottom, both dressed in smart looking tuxedos and each holding a corsage and a bouquet of roses. Standing between them was another member of the football team, holding a corsage and a bouquet of his own.

“Scy!” Imogen hissed, knowing the third boy was there for her and already dreading the conversation that was going to happen between her and Salem later because of this. “I told you I didn’t want a date.”

“Too bad,” Scy hissed back. “You’d look stupid if we got out of the car with dates and you didn’t. He’s hot, you’re hot, it works. Don’t be a brat.”

They were at the end of the staircase before Imogen could say anything else, forcing her to silently seethe as her surprise date told her how sexy she looked while slipping an ugly carnation on her wrist.

“There’s my queen,” Seth descended on Scy as soon as she reached him, wasting no time in pulling her into a deep kiss. She looked as beautiful as he thought she would and he was glad now that he’d chosen to buy her a diamond, flower bracelet instead of a normal corsage. Something as common as a rose wouldn’t look right with the rest of her outfit.

Lerki opted to go the traditional route and slipped a corsage of red and white roses onto Zercey's slim wrist, pulling her hand up so he could kiss the back of it once it was on her. “You look beautiful,” he told her, pulling her close and remembering the way she’d teased him with this dress at the boutique. It was tempting thought to just skip the dance and go back to the beach they were on last night. He might have done just that if he didn’t already know that Scyanatha, and therefore Seth, would never allow it.

They posed for the obligatory photos in the front hall before the six of them crawled into limo to be on their way. They spent most of the ride in silence as the two couples opted to make-out instead of talk. The football player, Imogen couldn’t be bothered to remember his name, dropped not-so-subtle hints that he’d like to do the same but she’d resolutely ignored him. After a while he just sighed in irritation and pulled out his phone to text. From what Imogen caught of the conversation, it seemed be a very heated, very gross, conversation with another girl in their school. It would be a long, long night.

~*~*~

“Do you want a brownie?”

“What?” Vyxen turned around to see two girls she only knew by sight.

The taller one, Avari, had red hair twisted into two buns at the top of her head. Her color-blocked white and pink strapless dress ended in a psychedelic floral skirt and a mass of vintage costume jewellery adorned either arm.

The other girl, Ghenha, was holding out what looked like a homemade brownie to Vyxen, Raemina, and Nyima. Her turquoise blue dress had cherry-blossom-looking flowers embroidered on top of it, the color of which seemed to match the redness around her caramel brown eyes.

“I have food allergies,” Vyxen said, not sure she heard the question correctly. Nyima’s eyes were wide beside her and Raemina frowned and shook her head.

“Suit yourselves,” Ghenha replied happily, passing half to Avari. The two walked away giggling.

“Are they high?” Vyxen asked, watching the two girls giggle and frolic down the hallway.

“Most definitely,” Jingyi answered, knowing both of the girls in question and just how much they enjoyed their ‘special’ brownies. “It’s a good idea to decline any kind of food or drink they offer you,” he added before turning to Nyima. “You look really beautiful,” he told her and held out a pin-on corsage comprising a pale blue rose with shiny beads suspended around it on wires. “It reminded me of Shiva from your game.” Jingyi had forgotten to ask what color her dress was and so he’d just winged it. He regretted it now since the flower didn’t match her outfit at all and he was just about to offer to ride his bike clear across town to get her a different one when a soft smile appeared on her face.

“I love it,” Nyima said.

“You could put it on for her,” Raemina suggested and then watched as the shy couple blushed all the way down their necks and seemed to short circuit. The most obvious place to pin the flower would be close to Nyima’s chest but Jingyi was clearly having issues putting his hands anywhere near that area.

Vyxen ended up taking pity on them both and pinning the corsage onto Nyima herself.

That minute hiccup now over, the four of them made their way into the gymnasium that was serving as a dance hall for the evening. They decked the space out in jewel tones and fairy lights with dangerously lopsided foam trees placed sporadically along the walls, some of which had strange looking creatures and smiling cats painted on them.

“What was the theme supposed to be?” Nyima asked, eyeing the evil looking, three-eyed cat painted on the tree nearest to her.

“Originally it was supposed to be Faery Wonderland, but it looks like the dance committee got uninspired and gave up halfway through.” Raemina had expected little from them to begin with and wasn’t surprised. Hopefully, the school hired professionals to do prom or it would be a train wreck. “At least the lights are pretty.”

“I wish they hadn’t chosen the gym, it’s always so cold in here.” Nyima knew the room would heat up once everyone got here and danced, but it would never be as warm as she preferred.

“I know a way to keep you warm,” Jingyi was quick to suggest, offering his hand out for Nyima to take. The proposition might have sounded dirty coming from someone else, but Jingyi wasn’t the type to make innuendoes. He led the girls across the room and to a table situated right by an exit into a side hall and directly beneath the heater. A warm breeze blew from above that would likely become sweltering as the night went on. Nyima seemed happy with it though and Jingyi was happy that he made her happy.

It was cute and Raemina decided that it was worth sweating through her dress to see the two have a good time.

~*~*~

It wasn’t long before more and more students showed up. The DJ got his area sorted out and soon the gym was alive with music and dancing. Raemina was determined to have a good time and pulled Vyxen and Nyima out and onto the dance floor when a fun pop song played. “Just one dance, you guys promised!” Rae was quick to remind them when Vyxen and Nyima tried to deny her offer. Their fates sealed, they had no choice but to follow along, dragging Jingyi with them because if they had to suffer, so did he. It was painfully awkward at first, but eventually the girls loosened up and had fun. They formed a little dance circle that poor Jingyi had no choice but to be a part of. He shuffled as a dance, but he was happy to be included and so he didn’t complain. The girls didn’t dance much better, but they were having fun with it and that’s what counted.

One dance turned into two and somewhere near the end of the second song a wolf whistle sounded from behind them. At the exact same moment, a pair of arms grabbed Vyxen around the waist and pulled her close. “Got you,” Date whispered in her ear kissing her cheek before pulling back to look her over. “You look gorgeous, I love your dress.” He couldn’t help but smirk, he knew that the mini dress wasn’t her usual style and that she’d obviously done it to impress him. Mission accomplished, all that black lace looked good on her and would look even better if it ended up tossed into the backseat of his car later on.

“I wondered if we were going to see some of those bedroom dance moves.” Rhovan, the culprit behind the whistle, arrived with Date and wasted no time in taking a spot next to Raemina, He loved how short her dress was and recalled that the skirt she’d been wearing that day when they caught her dancing was around the same length. It was probably sleazy to hope that she’d get down and dirty so he’d be treated to another panty flash, but he was hoping for it anyway.

“Bedroom dance moves?” Jingyi asked before he could stop himself, picturing something that was much worse than what had actually occurred.

“These two walked in on us dancing at Vyxen’s house,” Raemina explained before his imagination ran too wild.

“Oh,” he said awkwardly. His eyes darted over to Nyima, but she was stubbornly staring a point on her shoes.

Date looked as if he were about to say something else when a tan hand clapped one of his shoulders.

“There you two are! Xyl and I have been looking for you.” Salem wedged his way between his friend and his sister with a too-innocent smile on his face.

“Come dance with me?” Rhovan asked Raemina, eager to put some space between himself and the budding tension between Date and Salem. He took her hand when she agreed and lead her to another part of the dance floor, just barely remembering to call a goodbye to the others over his shoulder. He was better at making music than moving to it, but he could mimic the moves of those around him well enough, all that really mattered was that he got to be close to Rae. He gave her what he hoped was a dazzling grin and moved closer so that their bodies would be almost touching. “I like your dress, you look really beautiful tonight.”

“Thank you.” Raemina wasn’t much of a dancer either but she didn’t care, she was just here to have fun and it was nice being close to him. She had wondered what being near him would feel like for months and she was happy to say that she wasn’t disappointed. “You look nice too,” he was wearing a pair of black trousers and a grey button-up shirt. It wasn’t anything spectacular, but it looked nice on him.

“Thanks,” he smiled down at her and pulled her in closer.

~*~*~

“Wow, Imo, this is what you call a ‘Faery Wonderland?’” Scyanatha sneered as the group of six walked into the made-over gym. As her eyes wandered over the decor, her nose scrunched more and more intensely.

“I didn’t have a hand in any of this, actually,” Imogen replied, trying to control her temper. When he wasn’t texting vulgar messages to other women, the dumb jock she was forcibly paired with had spent the entire limo ride trying to get up her dress. She was fed up and just about done with the rest of the group around her for all the help they were. “The budget was laughable, and some bimbo freshman practically begged to be in charge of the decoration.”

“And you let her?” asked a surprised Zercey.

“Only on the condition she wouldn’t lay a finger on prom,” Imogen said triumphantly while also swatting away the hand from creeping down her shoulder.

“V.A. don’t like to talk about himself, but…” he started.

“I have to pee!” she shouted. Clearly not caring that his advances were unwanted, V.A moved closer and tried to grab Imogen’s waist, and she had to squirm away from his grip. “Zercey, come with me?” she begged her friend, and though Zercey wasn’t too happy to be leaving Lerki’s side so quickly, she nodded.

“All right.” Getting up on her tiptoes, she brought her lips so that they barely grazed her boyfriend’s ear. “Don’t do anything naughty while I’m away,” she whispered before playfully nibbling at his lobe.

“Whatever,” said Scyanatha as the other two girls quickly vacated the gym. She was bored of Imogen being a drag and complaining. Sure, V.A was an idiot, but he was hot and she should really just get over it. “Come on, babe, let’s show the peasants how a king and queen ought to behave.”

Dutifully, Seth held out his arm so his girlfriend could lace hers through and hold onto his bicep. “Lerki, V.A, you comin?” The two other footballers, momentarily dateless, followed the couple around the ‘wonderland.’

In the bathroom, Imogen was venting to Zercey. “...And he constantly talks about himself in third person. I didn’t even know his name before tonight, but I’m pretty sure V.A is going to be burned into my memory for eternity.”

“There are plenty of things you could be doing besides talking,” Zercey said with a smirk. “Or do you save those for the neck-sucker?”

Flushing, Imogen responded, “I don’t want to talk about that.”

“I know, I know.” Zercey held up her hands in surrender. “So what’re you gonna do?”

“Avoid him, I guess? I’m sure I can find something. Can you just make something up for the others? I don’t think Scy’s going to care if I don’t see you all for the rest of the night anyway.”

Zercey agreed and headed back into the dance to join the boys and Scyanatha.

“Where’s Imogen?” Seth asked when only one of the girls returned from the bathroom.

“You know, homecoming dance stuff,” she lied, casually flicking her wrist to sell it further. “I swear, this school is filled with idiots. It’s amazing she’s put up with all of the things she has.” Deciding it was best to start steering the conversation away from Imogen she asked, “What have you all been up to?”

“Just rating the ensembles,” Scyanatha drawled, having only barely registered the Zercey's presence. She felt on top of the world tonight. Seth was by her side, they both looked hotter than ever, and in just a couple hours she’d be wearing a tiara and he a crown. There wasn’t much that could bring her down and she didn’t intend to let it anyway. This night was about her and her king. Scyanatha brought her fingers to Seth’s face and then slowly crawled them down his neck until she was playing with the collar of his shirt and the peek of skin underneath. “Want to dance?” she asked as she bat her eyelids at the tall, dark, and handsome boy.

Seth smiled and, taking the hand that she’d been using to tease him, kissed her fingertips. Staring into her eyes, he said, “I’d love to.” The two got up from the table without another word and left their friends, and all thoughts of other people, behind them. Once out on the dance floor, the couple held each other close, gyrating and grinding without ever taking their eyes off one another.

Unable to hold out any longer, at the end of the second song, Seth pulled Scy’s hair away from her neck, now starting to glisten with sweat, and pressed kisses to it. “You are the most beautiful girl I have ever seen,” he said still keeping his lips close to her skin.

She smiled. Putting a hand on either side of his face, she directed his mouth to hers and pulled him in for a kiss. She gently held onto his bottom lip for a second between her teeth before saying, “I love you, babe.”

“I love you too,” he replied. With a mischievous grin he added, “I’ve got an idea,” and quickly led her out of the gym.

Scyanatha always looked beautiful, but tonight she was particularly radiant in her boyfriend’s eyes. Earlier that day he and the rest of the football team had won their sixth straight game and their victory had put him in a particularly good mood. After making a few stops in dark corners of the school so that they could exchange more hungry kisses, the couple finally made it back outside to the parking lot.

“What’re we doing?” Scy asked, though she had a pretty good idea.

Seth responded by flashing another smile and then rapping on the window of the limo. The limousine driver, who had been sleeping in the front seat, jolted awake at the sound.

“Ready to go already?” he asked groggily, starting to fumble for the keys.

“No,” said Seth. “But we’d like to use your car.”

~*~*~

“Aw, how pretty!” Nina chirped, walking in on the arm of Richard and being one of the few students who thought the gym looked nice. Anna, Miu, Laura were behind her, alongside a few other girls that Nina was friends with. Richard was the only boy with them and seemed to take it upon himself to be their escort, pulling out all of their seats at the table they chose and hurrying to get them each a glass of punch.

“He’s such a gentleman. I can’t wait till I find a guy like that.”

“You will.” Nina promised, proud of her boyfriend and hoping that the others might find their future one and only at the dance tonight. She knew a couple of Richard’s friends were interested and hopefully they’d gather their courage and make a move before the dance ended. Her hopes may very well become reality, she thought with a smile, when she noticed that when Richard came back, he was closely followed by the aforementioned boys. The three of them were working together to bring all the punch to the table and, with a little help from Richard, the two new additions were soon part of the group.

They had fun chatting before Miu loudly declared, “Time to dance!” She grabbed the nearest person's hand and dragged her right into the center of the dance floor to get moving. It wasn’t hard to get there, since the area was being cleared by Ghenha and Avari, both of whom were spinning around with their arms outstretched, either not noticing or not caring that they were accidentally smacking people as they twirled.

“I agree,” Richard gave a bow to Nina and offered his hand out to her. A pointed look towards his friends had them quickly following his lead and offering their own hands out to Anna and Laura respectively.

~*~*~

When Scy and Seth finally made their way back into the gym, their faces were flushed and their clothes askew. She made a quick adjustment to her skirt before leaning over to her boyfriend and recentering his tie. To most people, the limo driver’s requested ‘tip’ would have seemed like an obscene sum, but for the rich boy it was hardly a week’s allowance. And man was it worth it.

It seemed the couple had timed their rendezvous perfectly. More than half the students were on the dance floor, bouncing around and thoroughly enjoying themselves when the current song ended and another didn’t immediately start up. Mr. Culvers walked onto the makeshift stage that had been set up for the occasion, wearing a ridiculously bright red plaid suit and a shiny grey tie. “What an awesome dance!” The man started, as overly excitable as usual. Luckily for him, most of the students were in a good enough mood to clap and humor him instead of ignoring him as usual. The history teacher went into the typical spiel, thanking the dance committee for all of their hard work and the student council for organizing and promoting the dance. Mostly everyone tuned out until he got to the part that most of them were waiting for. “And now, to introduce the homecoming court,” Culvers’s voice boomed as he fished a piece of paper out of his dress jacket. “Ladies first,” he added, before reading down a list of four names. “Scyanatha Dubhgaelach, Nina Du Blanche, Yyvone Black and Temia White!” There was polite applause as each name was read and the girls made their way onto the stage, though Scyanatha obviously got the loudest cheers. They all knew their place and everyone knew that she was going to win.

Somewhere in the crowd, Salem and Rhoe locked eyes. This was either going to be perfect or horrible.

“Now for your nominees for king,” Culvers continued, “Seth Idle, Richard Graevale, Bjorn Bergan, and Linuad SoHangry.” Just like for the girls, applause followed each name as the guys took their places to the side of the girls, all except for one. “Linuad SoHangry?” Culvers called again and in the crowd, Xyl, Salem and Date lost it. The three of them were bent over, laughing so hard that they could barely breathe.

Rhovan was less amused. He cursed when the name was called and shot a death glare at Salem, who was the only member of the band who was within sight.

Raemina was amused, she rose a brow at the angry face he was pulling and tried not to laugh. She didn’t know exactly what Linuad SoHangry meant to him, but it was clearly a sore spot. “An alias of yours?” She dared to ask, watching Salem’s face turn red and wondering if he was going to laugh so hard that he’d end passing out.

“Something like that,” Rhovan admitted begrudgingly. “It’s a long story.”

“It seems that Linuad isn’t with us tonight,” the teacher went on and somewhere behind him, Rhovan heard Date snort.

Raemina looked up at Rhovan with a question still on her face. It’d be a lot easier to ignore if she didn’t also look ridiculously cute when she did it.

Rhovan sighed. “Apparently I get mad easily when I’m hungry. One day, Xyl and Salem decided to name it and now I never stop hearing jokes about ‘Linuad’ escaping when I haven’t eaten in awhile.” She grinned while he talked, and by the time he was done explaining, he had a begrudging smile on as well. “I guess it’s kinda funny when you think about it.”

Back on stage, Mr. Culvers pressed on. “Don’t they look lovely?” He gestured to the assembly behind him before fishing out another piece of paper from his jacket. “Without further ado,” his loud voice rang out, “this year’s Homecoming King and Queen are,” he paused for dramatic effect, “Richard Graevale and Nina Du Blanche!”

~*~*~

Like most of the student body, Laura was stunned.

For a moment after the King and Queen were announced nobody moved. But then whoops and whistles started from the back of the room and washed forward in a wave of euphoria.

Nina jumped up and down with wild abandon, not caring that Scyanatha could probably see her reaction.

“YEAH!�� Miu shouted next to her, punching the air.

“Richard Graevale and Nina Du Blanche,” Mr. Culvers repeated, clearly confused by the shocked faces of the contenders before him. Finally the couple moved toward the teacher, Richard first heading over to his girlfriend to offer up his arm so that they could approach together.

Rhoe was casually leaning against the wall, watching the scene unfold from behind the refreshment table.

“It looks like you made the right choice, Xyl,” she heard Cowan say to her brother as they watched the couple place the crown on each other’s heads. They wore matching grins on their faces and the gold in their outfits accented the headpieces wonderfully.

“Er, thanks,” Xyl said, pulling down the sleeve of his shirt. The poor kid had grown so fast in the last year that his only dressy outfit looked as if it had shrunk on his form, the cuffs of both the shirt and pants at least two inches higher than they should be. He might not have been so uncomfortable if his own friends hadn’t deserted him, but Rhovan and Date had left as soon as they spotted Raemina and Vyxen, and Salem had disappeared on him without a word.

“Yeah, I guess you’re not a complete waste of space after all. Congratulations,” Rhoe added sardonically. Cowan gave her a look that told her she was being ‘mean’ again. “Fine,” she shot her friend a scowl before turning back to Xyl. “This still doesn’t mean that I like you—and I don’t know why anyone would want such a stupid title anyway—but I’m glad the people you chose aren’t total monsters.” She turned her back on them again, not wanting to give her brother any ideas about them being friends now.

The music changed, and a slow, smooth beat pumped through the speakers. “And now the King and Queen’s dance,” Mr. Culvers announced.

Rhoe observed the other students coupling up around the dance floor with Richard and Nina in the middle under a spotlight. Scyanatha’s face had turned such a fierce shade of red it was rivalling her hair as she stomped furiously out of the room, her boyfriend only steps behind her. Her own pale face lit up with unrestrained glee.

Cowan noticed the girl’s expression change immediately. “That can’t mean anything good,” he commented.

She turned to him, her face aglow in schadenfreude. “I can’t miss that,” she said, pointing to the unhappy couple over her shoulder. “Don’t wait for me! I’ll find my own way home,” she called excitedly, already stalking into the crowd to pursue her entertainment for the night.

Cowan shrugged, he was used to his friend’s flights of fancy. He caught Xyl looking at him out of the corner of his eye and barely suppressed his smirk. Rhoe would probably hound Scyanatha and Seth until they acted disgusting again, and then she’d likely go to the skatepark before holing herself up for the night in that cave she called a room. He couldn’t have asked for a better opportunity to make a move on her brother. “Wanna get out of here?”

~*~*~

“Well, that won’t end well.” Zercey knew Scyanatha well enough to know that a blow-up was coming and she wanted no part of it. Looking around at the terrible decorations and nerdy couples taking over the dance floor, she quickly came to the conclusion that staying at the dance was not worth the self-important rant she’d have to deal with once Scy was done yelling about it to Seth. She turned to Lerki, the look on his face telling her that he was thinking the same thing, it was time to go. “Should we ditch this place?”

“Absolutely.” Lerki liked Seth but he didn’t want to get in the middle of discord caused by who won a plastic crown at a half-rate high school dance. He took Zercey’s hand and the two of them exited without a backwards glance. “If I knew things were going to go south, I would have brought my own car.”

“It can’t be helped now, you want to call a cab?”

“Nah.” Lerki brought Zercey’s hand to his lips to kiss. “There’s no sense in calling it a night so soon, let’s head to a club.”

Downtown was a short walk away from the school and while they technically weren’t old enough to get into a club, it only took a few hundred dollar bills to make the bouncer let them in and then forget he saw them. Lerki wasn’t as rich as Seth, but he wasn’t poor and he was fairly used to throwing dollars around to get what he wanted. He hadn’t gotten a chance to dance with Zercey at the school and he didn’t get dressed up in this stuffy suit for nothing.

The suit became a lot less stuffy as he lost his tie and coat. The dance floor in the bar was a lot more active and exciting than the one at school. With no teachers to interfere with them, Lerki’s hands were free to wander wherever they liked.

So were Zercey’s.

When they had started dancing they were in his hair, playing with the strands that grazed his neck. Then they had moved down to his collar, and then trailed the line of his buttons, her fingers grazing teasingly along his chest. They had ended at his waist and she pulled him by the belt loops to bring him closer. Finally they were untucking his shirt, lifting it just enough to get her own hands onto his moist skin. He was usually insanely hot, but she lost it when he started to sweat. There was something so satisfying and primal about seeing a guy perspiring. It was part of the reason she had only ever found jocks attractive. They always hungered for more; they knew the gratifying taste of salt. It was too loud to talk, so Zercey settled for giving Lerki a sultry look and tugging on his flesh to let him know he should follow her. His hand found hers and the two zigzagged through the crowded floor sticky from spilled drinks.

The club’s bathroom was as gross as any bathroom could be. The walls, mirrors and sink were covered in graffiti and discolored stickers, the urinals had beer cans in them and all but one of the stalls was missing its door. Had the two of them been paying attention, they might have reconsidered staying there. A short cab ride to anywhere else would have been a better call, but they were not paying attention and they quickly claimed the stall with the door. It didn’t have a lock, but that was hardly important. Hands and lips were going everywhere, it was a crazy mess of thoughtless touch and stupid, hormonal need. Lerki’s hands followed the familiar path up Zercey’s thigh before he realized something and stopped.

“Are you not wearing anything under that?” He asked, unable to stop from snickering.

“I got sick of losing bras. Do you know how much those things cost?”

“What would have happened if you bent over at the dance?”

“Some underclassmen would have gotten the show of a lifetime,” Zercey responded with a wry grin, wrapping her arms around her boyfriend’s neck and pulling him closer. “A show that you’re missing by asking stupid questions.”

“I adore you,” Lerki told her honestly.

“I know,” Zercey mumbled, fingers working to undo all of the buttons on his dress shirt.

~*~*~

Jingyi had been surprised that Seth and Scy didn’t win, but didn’t care enough to wonder about it. He was glad they lost, they were jerks, and he was going to celebrate their downfall by doing something he’d thought about doing for months. “Would you like to dance?” he asked Nyima as a slow song started to play. “Not in here though, he amended quickly when he saw her glance around nervously. Taking her hand, he walked them out of the gymnasium and into a dimly lit side hallway. Taking it one step further, he tried the door on one of the darkened classrooms and, finding it open, led Nyima inside. If they left the door open a crack, the music from the gym could still be heard and this way, there was no chance of them being seen or interrupted. Jingyi had never slow danced before, but Nyima didn’t seem to mind. Sheepishly, he brought hands to her waist and she put hers on his shoulders. Then slowly they rocked from side to side in time with the music, breaking eye contact every so often from sheer nervousness. The room was dark and smelled like dry erase markers, it was far from being a magical first dance for them, but it was only their own and Jingyi loved it. “I’m really glad you decided to come with me tonight,” his voice was little more than a whisper in the darkened room, as if speaking too loudly could break the spell.

“I’m glad you asked me,” Nyima’s voice was just as soft and her eyes were now locked with his, unable and unwilling to look away. Almost as one, their faces moved closer together until their lips touched in a soft and sweet kiss.

When they pulled apart Jingyi gave Nyima the dorkiest lopsided grin and she felt her face burn from the cuteness of it. It hadn’t been a long kiss but all that mattered was that she had just had her first kiss and it had been with Jingyi.

Feeling brave from her sudden realization, Nyima took a deep breath before saying, “So I’m staying at Raemina’s tonight, but I’ll be home early tomorrow—probably like twelve or so – and I was thinking—that is, if you want to, maybe you could come over and we could play Final Fantasy like we’d talked about?”

Jingyi had to blink a couple times before he understood what she’d proposed. The question had come out in one quick jumble with the words all sort of melting into each other. “Yeah!” His voice sounded entirely too excited even to his own ears. “I mean yeah, yes…that would be great,” he amended quickly.

Nyima laughed and soon he joined her, both of them giggle ridiculously in the dark until the sound of footsteps breezing by their classroom hide out forced them both to quiet down. “We should head back to the dance now,” Nyima suggested. “Raemina will be worried if she sees me missing.”

They shared another small peck and joined hands, hurrying across the hall and back into the gym. The sound of loud music and shouting as everyone screamed and jump up and down caused the two to pause.

“What about a walk before we go back?” Jingyi suggested, not interested in trying to weave his way through the mosh pit that the gym had become.

“Let’s,” Nyima agreed, hooking her arm through his. The hallways of the school were empty mostly and the quiet was calming. If he was alone, Jingyi might have been a little freaked out, schools were kind of scary at night, but Nyima made him feel braver than usual. She talked as they walked, telling him everything he needed to know about the new Final Fantasy game and the several layers of lore that went into it. It all seemed a lot more complicated than his simple Mortal Kombat games, but she looked so excited about it that Jingyi couldn’t help feel excited too.

“And then they died! All four of them! I was wrecked initially, but there are some theories online that them dying isn’t the real ending and so I’m going to….” Her words cut off by a weird noise from around the corner and they stopped dead in their tracks. It sounded like heavy breathing, mingled with wet noises and Nyima didn’t know exactly what it was, but she knew that they shouldn’t investigate it. “Let’s go back,” she whispered, trying to remain as quiet as possible now that she knew they weren’t alone. Sadly, the quiet sound of her voice wasn’t soft enough to save her from being noticed.

“I think I heard someone,” a mystery voice sounded, followed by the sounds of quick movements and a zipper being pulled.

Nyima and Jingyi, now understanding the situation better, flushed right down to their toes. Panic took over the shy couple and they did what anyone with anxiety would do in their situation, they ran all the way back to the gym without looking back.

They weren’t fast enough to not be seen though. Cowan’s head craned from behind the corner that had hidden him and he saw their retreating forms just before they vanished around a corner at the opposite end of the hall.

“Who was it?” Xyl asked, hastily trying to smooth out his clothing and praying to whatever god was willing to listen that they weren’t seen and Rhoe would remain safely unaware of what they were doing.

“That Asian couple—you know, silent boy and anxious girl,” Cowan answered, retreating back into their hidey hole beside the water fountain. “I wouldn’t worry about it, neither of them talk normally and so they’re not gonna say anything about this. I don’t even think they saw us.”

~*~*~

Imogen was angry. Seth and Scyanatha should have won, she saw the votes when they first came in and those two had the most. Someone had tampered with it and considering that Rhoe was here, wearing a dress she didn’t ask to borrow, Imogen bet that she was responsible. She would never hear the end of this from Scy and on top of that, she couldn’t shake the creepy jock she’d been set up with to save her life. She’d had to jump through figurative hoops to get away from him and now she was creeping through the hallways like a crazy person and trying to make it outside and to Salem before V.A found her again. She almost succeeded, he was a few feet out the door and she could see the spot where she was supposed to meet Salem when a firm hand clasping around her wrist stopped her.

“Hey sexy, leaving so soon?” Imogen felt the hot, wet breath on her neck and couldn’t fight off the repulsed cringe that followed it.

“Hey! Let go of me!” she yelled in surprise, squirming to the best of her ability as she tried to break free, but V.A held on tight.

“Oh come on,” he said as he edged closer and forced her back towards the wall. “Don’t make a scene. I know I can show you a good time if you just let me.”

“Seriously V.A, this isn’t funny. Let me go.”

“The lady said ‘no,’ creep,” came a forceful voice. Salem had just walked out of a side door to see Imogen scared and cornered, and a menacing figure huddled over her like a predator. He might spend more time putting on glitter than working out, but he knew what it meant to be a decent guy and this wasn’t it. “I think you should leave now.”

“Oh yeah? And who asked you? This isn’t any of your business,” V.A jeered, now turning his attention from Imogen to him.

Sensing she had a very narrow window with which to escape, Imogen put all of her force into her right leg and drove it directly up between V.A’s.

“You fucking bitch!” he snarled, hands moving to protect his dangling parts from further harm. Salem wound back his arm and brought his fist to the side of V.A's face.

V.A’s head snapped to the side and his curses grew louder. It would have been cool to have a ‘movie moment’ where the bad guy ran away and the hero saved the day, but that was not what was going to happen here. Salem felt like his knuckles were broken from the impact of the hit and it took very real effort not to start cursing himself. He wasn’t a big guy and the sad reality was that he was never going to take on a football player and win. Not tonight, not ever.

The options he had in this situation were slim and became even slimmer when V.A straightened up, the shock of getting hit in the groin and then the face finally having passed, and growled at him. He was in a full Neanderthal rage and Salem realized that the only two things he could do in this situation were run back into the school or to run for his car in the parking lot.

The sound of the school door slamming open and the tall, imposing and angry figure of Ms. Queline stomping her way towards them made Salem’s decision for him. He grabbed Imogen’s hand and bolted for the parking lot.

“Wait. I can’t. Breathe,” Imogen panted a few minutes later, letting go of Salem to bring a hand to either knee and gasp for air.

“Okay,” he agreed. He didn’t want to admit it, but he was struggling to catch his own breath and now had a stitch in his side to add on top of his stinging knuckles. “I think we lost him anyway. My car is just up there,” he pointed at the end of the row. “We can sit in there and make sure he’s gone.”

Once they were both safely inside, Salem peered over to the girl beside him. He wanted to help her, wanted to do something, but he didn’t know how or what. “Are you okay?”

Imogen closed her eyes. Am I okay? No, of course she wasn't. She was shaken up by V.A’s actions and there was still adrenaline coursing through her veins that made her feel jumpy. The feeling of V.A’s skin on hers had made her panic and act purely out of survival instinct. But then Salem had been there. She returned his gaze and gave him a wan smile. “No, not yet. But I think I will be.”

“I wish I had done more. Someone else could have given him the ass kicking he deserved. I'm sorry…”

She laughed without humor. “You’re sorry? You didn’t even have to help me! You shouldn’t be apologizing –”

Salem cut her off. “Of course I did! Do you really think so little of yourself that you don’t think you’re worth helping?” She looked away, trying to blink back tears. “I’m sorry.” He started again, “That’s not what I meant, I…”

“No, it is what you meant.You’re right,” said Imogen quietly. “At any rate, thank you. I appreciate what you did for me.”

He sat back in his seat, at a loss for anything else to say. He almost made to reach out to her in comfort a couple of times but stopped and ended up bringing his hands under his legs to keep himself from touching her. That’s not what she needed after what just happened.

“Listen,” she said, breaking the silence, “I don’t really want to be alone right now. Do you think we could drive around for a little bit?”

Salem agreed, grateful that he finally had something to do. He pulled out of the parking lot and brought them around the town, trying to fill the silence by sharing anecdotes and facts about the places they were passing and was relieved when she let out a few small chuckles. Finally they pulled over at the lookout. Usually the spot was filled with couples in cars, but since almost everyone was still at the dance, tonight it was deserted.

“The lookout?” Imogen queried. “Are you trying to say something?” Salem could tell by her tone of voice that she meant to ask it in a teasing way, but the tension she kept in her body gave away her discomfort.

“No. I just really like the view. Have you ever taken the trail further down?” She shook her head. “Great!” He jumped out of the car and ran to open the passenger side door for her before leading her down a mostly-hidden footpath.

“I didn’t even know this was here,” she said surprised.

“Not many people do. But it gets better, just wait.” Finally they came upon a ledge just big enough for two people to sit side-by-side. The town looked like a toy model from that height and they were far enough to not hear the noise that usually came with so many people and cars going about their lives. “I like to come up here to think sometimes,” Salem explained once they had sat down.

“It’s beautiful.” Imogen turned to Salem. “Thank you -- for sharing this and for everything else you’ve done for me. Just… thanks.” She picked up his hand, gently running her fingers along his scraped knuckles. “Does it hurt?”

“Yeah.” He didn’t see any point in lying.

She looked him full in the face then, her eyes sweeping over his brows, his kind grey eyes, his smooth sparkly skin, before finally coming to rest on his lips. He had surprised her over and over tonight, comforting her, just being there and keeping her company. “I like you,” she confessed. “I mean like like you.”

“I like like you too,” he replied and interlaced his fingers with hers.

Imogen smiled. “Good,” she said. Gently, she brought her lips to his.

“We should go find them,” Raemina didn’t think it was a good idea for the two to be alone. She’d seen how Date looked at Vyxen and Vyxen’s blind adoration of him would get her in trouble.

By @guardians-of-las-vyxen & @yogiwithabook

#writeblr #illthdar fan fiction #au fan fiction #high school au

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